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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

Gift of
LOOMIS HAVEMEYER, Yale 1910s

RUSSIA.
DESCRIPTIVE AND ILLUSTRATIVE.

(iii)

li

The Nevsky Prospect, St. Petersburg

RUSSIA

BY
THEOPHILE GAUTIER
Author op ''Italy," "Constantinople," "The Orient," Etc.
AND BY
Other Distinguished French Travelers and
Writers of Note

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, WITH AN
ADDITIONAL CHAPTER UPON THE STRUGGLE
FOR SUPREMACY IN THE FAR EAST
BY
Florence MacIntyre Tyson

Illustrated by Numerous Photogravures

in two volumes
Vol. One

the international press
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
PHILADELPHIA

COPYRIGHT 3 90G
The JoHis^ O. Winst^oi^ Co.

CONTENTS

VOLUME I.
PAGE
On the Way  i
Hamburg  19
Schleswig  35
Lubeck  67
The Voyage  85
St. Petersburg  loi
Winter — The Neva  135
Winter  153
Races on the Neva  175
Russian Homes  189
A Ball at the Winter Palace  205
The Theatres  219
The Stchoukine-Dvor  233
Zichy  247
St. Isaac's  281
Moscow  '.  355
The Kremlin  391
Troitza  419
Byzantine Art  447

ILLUSTRATIONS

VOLUME I. PACE
The ISTevsky Peospect^ St. Peteesbukg . . .
Fro7itispiece
Palace Beidge and Museum, Berlin  8
The Admiralty' Quay, St. Petersburg. ... 90
Equestrian Statue of Petee the Great,
St. Peteesburg  106
Cathedral of Oue Lady of Kazan, St.
Peteesbueg  116
A Eussian Deosky  124
A Russian Teoika  152
A Teoika Race  1Y2
The Bourse, St. Petersburg  182
Moika Quay, St. Petersburg  202
The Winter Palace, St. Petersburg .... 208
A Palace Guaed, St. Petersburg. . .'  222
Types of Peasant Women from the In
terior OF Russia  242
(vii)

viii illustrations.

PAGE

Tomb of Peter the Great  268
St. Isaac's Cathedral, St. Petersburg. . . 2S4
Interior of St. Isaac's Cathedral, St.
Petersburg  3-34
Church I^ipekial, St. Petersburg  366
Cathedral of Vassili Bla.iennoi, Moscow. .380
The Kremlin, [Moscow  394
The Walls of the Kremlin, Showing the
Spasskoi Gate, Moscow  396
The Great Bell, Moscow  402
The Great Gun, Moscow  416
Convent of Troitza  422
Place Sonisrinski, iloscow  452
The Opera House, iloscow  480

ON THE WAY.

(1)

RUSSIA.
DESCRIPTIVE AND ILLUSTRATIVE.

RUSSIA IN WINTER.
I.
ON THE WAY.
By the time we had come to a full realization
that we had indeed started, France was left far be
hind. We will say nothing of the country crossed
in the nocturnal flight of our modern winged-horse.
Here we are at Deutz, on the other side of the
Rhine, watching from its bridge of boats the profile
of Cologne, made so familiar by the boxes of Jean-
Marie Farina, silhouetted against the glowing sun
set sky. At six to-morrow, we will be in Berlin —
yesterday, as they were lighting the lamps, we were
in Paris, though there is nothing very surprising in
that in this wonderful eentury of ours.
The train flies between carefully cultivated
fields, illumined with the radiance of the setting
orb of day. Soon night comes and with it sleep.
At the stations, which are quite far apart, German
voices call out German names, in accents that
(3)

4 RUSSIA.
effectually prevent us from recognizing them in
our guide books. Magnificent stations, brilliantly
lighted, flash out, only to disappear in the dark
ness. We have passed Hanover, Minden; the train still
rolls on and the dawn is upon us. On eaeh side
stretch great plains of peat, over which the morn
ing mists produce the most singular effects of mi
rage. We seem to be on a road that crosses the
middle of an immense lake, whose waters roll in
transparent wavelets to the banks of the rampart.
Here and there a cluster of trees, a cottage, emerge
like islands to complete the illusion, for it was only
that. A sheet of blue mist, floating a few feet
above the ground, touched lightly from above by
the rays of the rising sun, produced this aquatic
phantasmagoria, which resembled the "Fata Mor
gana" of Sicily. Our geographical knowledge
protested in vain against this interior sea, that no
map of Prussia ever shows. Our eyes refused to
confess themselves deceived and later, when the
day, grown older, had dried up these imaginary
waters, they looked about in vain for some sort of
a boat to substantiate their position.
Suddenly on the left are massed the trees of a
great Park ; Tritons and Nereids appear as if bath
ing in the basins; a dome and a circle of columns
rising above great buildings. It is Potsdam.
In spite of the rapidity of the train, we catch a
glimpse of a sentimental couple wandering down

ON THE WAY. 5
a deserted avenue of the garden. The lover will
have a fine opportunity of comparing his sweet
heart to Aurora, and doubtless he was reciting a
sonnet on the charms of early rising.
In a few minutes we were in Berlin, and a cab
had deposited us at the Hotel de Russie.
One of the greatest pleasures of a traveler is
this first drive through an unknown city, which
destroys or realizes the picture his fancy had
painted of it. The differences of form, the char
acteristic peculiarities and varying architecture,
seize the eye unaccustomed as yet to novel im
pressions and ready to note them with eagerness.
Our idea of Berlin had been taken in great part
from the fantastic stories of Hoffmann. It was a
strange and bizarre Berlin, peopled with aulic
councilors, men in rich sables, with Kreislers,
archivist Lindursts, students like Anselm which,
amid clouds of tobacco smoke, had taken form
within our brain. And instead there rose before
us a regular city, grandiose in aspect, with broad
streets and great promenades, superb edifices, half-
English, half-German, marked with the seal of the
most recent modernity. As we passed, we glanced
curiously into those cellars, whose steps were so
slippery and well-scoured, that it seemed a break
neck piece of hardihood to step upon them, to see
if we might catch a glimpse of Hoffmann himself
seated on a hogshead, his feet crossed over the
gigantic bowl of his pipe, in the midst of grotesque

6 RUSSIA.
scrawls, as his picture in his "Stories," translated
by Loewe-Weymar, represents him. But there waa
nothing in the least like it in these subterranean
shops, which their owners were beginning to open.
The cats, far from rolling their phosphorescent eye
balls, like "Pussy Murr," presented a most benevo
lent appearance, seeming quite incapable of either
writing their memoirs or tearing with their claws
a score of Richard Wagner.
It is impossible to find a city less fantastic than
Berlin, and it would require a vast amount of
delirious poetry to lodge phantoms in a town so
clear, so straight, so correct, where the bats of hal
lucination would find it indeed difScult to discover
a corner in which to conceal themselves. These
great, beautiful houses, which could be readily
taken for palaces, if one may judge from their
columns, their frontals, their architraves, are gen
erally built of brick, for stone is apparently scarce
in Berlin. But the bricks are covered with cement
or colored plaster made to simulate cut stone : false
joints indicate the fictitious layers, and the illu
sion would be complete, were it not that the frosts
of winter, detaching the plaster, discover patches
of the red bricks underneath. The necessity of
painting the entire facade, to mask the nature of
the materials used, gives a highly decorative effect
to the buildings when seen in full daylight. The
prominent parts, such as the mouldings, cornices,
entablatures and consoles are of wood or cast iron.

ON THE WAY. 7
to which suitable forms have been given, and when
not seen too close, the effect is excellent. To all
this splendor there is lacking nothing but— sin
cerity. In London the porticoes and columns of the
palaces bordering each side of Regent's Park are
also of brick covered with a layer of plaster, and
then painted to look like stone or marble. Why
should they not be built simply of brick, whose
warm tone and shape are capable of furnishing a
thousand delightful devices? In Berlin we saw
some houses treated in this way that were abso
lutely charming, with the added advantage of being
TRUE. A make-believe material always inspires a
sort of distrust.
The Hotel de Russie is capitally situated, so we
will make its broad steps our first point of de
parture, whieh will give us a tolerable idea of the
general character of Berlin.
The foreground is a quay bordering the Spree. A
few ships, with slender masts, sleep on its brown
waters. Ships on a canal or river, in the heart
of a town, always produce a delightful effect.
On the other side is a row of houses, of which
some old ones have preserved their peeuliar style.
The royal palace occupies the angle. A cupola
resting on an octagon tower lifts its graceful con
tour above the roof, its carved sides giving grace
to the arch of its top.
A bridge crossing the river calls to mind the
bridge of St. Angelo, Rome, from the groups of

8 RUSSIA.
white marble that decorate it. These groups, eight
in number, if our memory does not fail us, are
composed each of two figures, one allegorical and
winged, representing the country or glory, the other
real, representing a youth led by means of several
trials to triumph or to immortality. These groups,
entirely classic in treatment, in the style of Bridan
or Cartellier, are by no means lacking in merit,
and present parts of the nude, evincing careful
study. Their pedestals are ornamented with me
dallions to whose decoration the Eagle of Prussia,
half real, half heraldic, lends itself with happy
effect. They form rather too rich a decoration,
according to our taste, for the simplicity of a
bridge which opens in the middle to allow the pas
sage of boats.
Further on, across the trees of the public gar
dens, appears the Old Museum, a large building
in the Greek style with Doric columns, standing
out from a background of paintings. At either
end, bronze horses held in cheek by grooms, are
outlined against the sky.
When the view is taken from the rear, the tri
angular facade of the New Museum can be seen.
A church, imitated from the Pantheon of
Agrippa, fills the space on the right, and the whole
forms a grandiose perspective, quite worthy of a
great capital.
After crossing the bridge, one comes upon the
dark fagade of the palace, preceded by a terrace

Palace Bridge and Museum, Berlin

ON THE WAY. 9
with carved balustrades. The sculptures of the
portal are in the old German rococo, exaggerated
style, bunchy, luxuriant, bizarre, which distorts
ornament into a wild confusion of heraldic designs
that we had already admired in the palace in Dres
den. This sort of savagery in decoration possesses
a certain charm, and amuses eyes, satiated with
chefs-d'oeuvre. It abounds in invention, original
ity, caprice, and at the risk of passing for a man of
bad taste, we acknowledge a preference for this
exuberance to the coldness of the Greek style of
our modern monuments, imitated with more erudi
tion than success. On each side of the door, great
bronze horses, in the style of those of Monte
Cavallo, paw the ground and are held in curb by
naked grooms. We visited the apartments of the
castle, which are beautiful and luxurious, but offer
nothing of interest to the artist, unless perhaps,
the old ceilings, all carved and curlicued, full of
loves, of queer plants, of shell-work in the most
curious taste.
In the concert hall is a tribune for musicians, of
exquisitely sculptured work, covered with silver,
producing the most charming effect. Silver is not
used sufSciently in decoration, too much reliance
being placed in the classic use of gold with other
combinations of color. The chapel, whose dome
rises high above the palace, ought surely to please
Protestants. It is light, well-arranged, comfort
able, and decorated with conservatism. But to

10 RUSSIA.
him who has visited Spain, Italy, Prance and Bel
gium, it does not seem at all impressive. We were
rather surprised to see Melanchthon and Theodore
de Beze painted on gold, but perhaps that was as
it should be.
Let us cross the "Place" and make a tour of the
Museum. We must stop to admire an immense
porphyry vase, upon a platform of the same mate
rial, before the staircase leading to the portico,
painted by different artists under the direction of
the celebrated Pieter von Cornelius.
The paintings form a deep frieze which con
tinues along the sides of the portico, but is inter
rupted in the middle of the fagade to permit en
trance into the Museum.
On the left a poem of mythological cosmogony
is shown, treated with that scientific philosophy
that the German brings into all his compositions.
On the right the subject is purely anthropo
logical and represents the birth, development and
evolution of humanity.
If we were to describe in detail these two im
mense friezes the reader would assuredly be
charmed with the ingenious invention, profound
learning, and critical acumen of the artist: it
would be something worthy of the symbolism of
Creuzer. The mysteries of our earliest origin are
penetrated and science displays its latest discov
eries. If we were to show them to you in the beau
tiful German engravings, whose lights and shadows

ON THB WAY. H
are so exquisite, whose drawing is so exact, and
as clear as those of Albrecht Diirer, with a har
mony of detail that is enchanting to the eye, you
would indeed admire the order of the composition,
equalized with so much art, the groups placed iu
such happy relation to each other, the ingenious
episodes, the perfect choice of attributes, the sig
nificance of the smallest trifle: you would flnd a
grandeur of style, a dignity of pose, charming
draperies and haughty figures, characteristic types,
the boldness of muscular development of Michael
Angelo, and a certain German savagery that is
wonderfully attractive. You would be struck with
the grandeur of conception and continuity of lofty
ideas, generally lacking in French artists, and you
would agree with the Germans in their estimate
of Cornelius ; but in the presence of the work itself
the impression made is totally different.
Everyone knows that frescoes, even in the hands
of those past-masters of the art, — the Italians,—
do not possess the seductions of oil paintings. The
eye needs to beeome accustomed to the fiat,> brusque
tones before it is able to pick out its beauties.
Many people who do not dare to say so, for noth
ing is more rare than to have the courage of one 's
opinion, think the frescoes of the Vatican and the
Sistine Chapel commonplace: the great names of
Miehaei Angelo 'and Raphael are of themselves suf
ficient to impose silence, and most people murmur
sentences of very vague enthusiasm, then turning

12 RUSSIA.
away grow sincerely enthusiastic before some Ma
donna of Guido, or some Virgin of Carlo Dolci.
But even making every allowance for the smaller
attraction of the fresco the work here is extremely
unattractive : if the mind is satisfied the eye suf
fers. Painting, as is the case with all the plastic
arts, can only express its ideal through form and
coloring. It is not enough to think, it must be
done. The most beautiful intention must be trans
lated by means of a skillful pencil, and if in great
performances of this kind we willingly admit the
simplification of detail, the absence of tricks to
deceive the eye, a neutral color that is according
to the best traditions, it is unfortunate we eould
not have been spared terrible discordances and
awkwardness, together with extreme heaviness of
touch. Whatever respect we may owe to the crea
tion, the first quality of painting is that it should
be painting, and truly such coarse execution is a
veil between the spectator and the conception of
the artist.
The only representative of this philosophic art
in France is Chenavard, the author of drawings
destined for the decoration of the Pantheon. A
gigantic work, that the restoring of the church to
religion has rendered useless : but for which some
place should be found, for the study of these
charming compositions would be very beneficial to
our painters, whose defects are the reverse of those
of the Germans, and who certainly do not err on

ON THE WAY. 13
the side of redundancy of ideas. But Chenavard
very properly will never leave the pencil for the
brush. He writes his thoughts and does not paint
them. But if some time in the future they should
ever be placed on the walls of a building, expert
practicians would not be lacking to color them
properly. We have no intention of making an inventory
of the Museum of Berlin, which is rich in paint
ings and statues. All the great masters, who form
the glory of royal galleries, are to be found here,
more or less represented. But what is more re
markable than anything else is the numerous and
very complete collection of the early paintings of
every country and every school from the Byzan
tine period to those artists immediately preceding
the Renaissance. The old German school, so un
known in France and so curious in every way, can
be studied here as nowhere else. In a rotunda
are tapestries after designs from Raphael, of which
the drawings are in England, at Hampton Court.
The staircase of the New Museum is decorated
by the remarkable frescoes of Kaulbach, which en
gravings and the French Exposition have caused
to be well known. "The Dispersion of the Races"
is especially flne, and everybody went to the shop-
windows of Goupil to see that poetic "Defeat of
the Huns," where the struggle begun by the
bodies, is continued among the souls above the bat
tle field covered with the dead. ' ' The Destruction

14 RUSSIA.
of Jerusalem" is well conceived, though a trifie
too theatrical. It is like the end of the flfth aet,
and utterly unsuited to the dignity of the fresco.
Homer is the central figure in the panel, epitomiz
ing Hellenic civilization. This composition seems
to us the least happy of all. Other unfinished
paintings represent the climacteric epochs of the
human race. The last will be, I am sure, quite
of our time, for when a German sets himself to
painting, universal history passes before him; the
great Italian masters did not require so much for
their masterpieces. But every civilization has its
own tendencies, and this encyclopedic painting is
one of the characteristics of the time. It would
almost seem, that before throwing itself into new
destinies, the world feels the need of making a
synthesis of its past.
These compositions are separated by arabesques,
emblems, and allegorical flgures relating to their
subjects, and are surmounted by a frieze in grey,
full of ingenious and charming motifs.
Kaulbach seeks the beauty of coloring, and if
he does not always find it, he at all events avoids
lack of harmony; he uses too freely reflections,
transparencies, luminous points and butterfly-like
touches, and his frescoes resemble those of Hayez
or Theophile Fragonard. He spreads a mesh of
tones where a single one would be better. By too
vigorous a treatment he hollows out the wall he
should only cover: for fresco is a sort of tapestry,

ON THE WAY. I5
and it should not attempt the depths of perspective
suitable to architecture. In a word, Kaulbach is
more occupied with the execution than the ideal,
and his painting, although excellent, has nothing
in it of the divine.
This staircase, colossal in size, is adorned with
casts taken from the beautiful statues of antiquity.
On the walls are copies of the metopes of the
Parthenon and friezes from the Temple of Theseus,
and on a landing stand the Pandrosion caryatides,
in all their tranquil beauty and strength. The
effect of the whole is grandiose.
And, are you asking what about the inhabitants ?
You have only spoken of houses, paintings and
statues: Berlin is not a deserted city. No, of
course not, but we were there only one day and
were unable, especially as we spoke no German,
to make very profound ethnological studies. Now
adays there is really very little visible difference
between one nation and another. All have ac
cepted the uniform of civilization: no particular
color, no especial cut of the garment reminds you
that you are abroad. The Berlinese men and
women we meet in the streets or parks were not
deserving of special mention, and the loungers
under the Lindens resembled precisely the loungers
of the Boulevard des Italiens.
This promenade, bordered by magniflcent hotels,
is planted, as its name indicates, with lindens, a
tree whose "leaves are in the shape of a heart,"

16 RUSSIA.
according to Heinrich Heine, a peculiarity which
should accord it the favor of all lovers and especial
charms as a rendezvous. At its entrance rises the
equestrian statue of Frederick the Great, of which
a model in reduced size was shown at the Exposi
tion. As with the Champs Elysees in Paris, the walk
ends with a triumphal arch, surmounted by a car
and four bronze horses. After passing the tri
umphal arch, one finds oneself in a park, not un
like the Bois de Boulogne. Amid the lawns of
this park, shaded with great trees, which have the
vivid verdure of the vegetation of the North, and
refreshed by the windings of a little stream, are
flower-bedecked gardens, beyond which are pleas
ure houses and summer abodes, which are neither
chalets nor cottages nor villas, but Pompeian
houses, with their tetrastyle porticoes and walls of
antique red. Greek taste is held in high honor in
Berlin. On the other hand, they seem to despise
the style of the Renaissance, so fashionable in Paris,
for we did not observe a single building of that
kind. Darkness came all too soon, and after paying a
hasty visit to a zoological garden, where the ani
mals were all asleep except the cockatoos and par
rots, who were swinging themselves on their perches
and chattering the while, we returned to our hotel,
strapped our luggage and betook ourselves to the
train for Hamburg, that left at ten o'clock, which

ON THB WAY. 17
prevented us from going to the Opera, as we so
greatly desired to do, to hear the "Two Days" of
Cherubini, and to see the "Sevillana" danced by
Mademoiselle Louise Taglioni.
What! A single day in Berlin! There are but
two ways of traveling, a rapid impression or a long
study. We were sorely pressed for time. Deign
then to be contented with this simple and rapid
impression.

HAMBURG.

(19)

II.

HAMBURG.

To describe a railroad journey at night is indeed
a difScult thing. One goes like an arrow across a
cloud: no sort of traveling is so indeflnite. One
erosses provinces, and kingdoms, without being
conscious of the fact. From time to time, the
head of the conductor appears like a comet, then
disappears seemingly headlong towards the
ground; a sudden blaze of wax dazzles our eyes.
heavy with the golden powder, of sleep : a ray of
moonlight clothes in fairy-like garb a landscape
that is probably poor enough by day. There is
absolutely nothing more to be said, and it would
certainly not be in the least amusing were we to
take from the guide book the names of the places
through whieh the train earried us from Berlin
to Hamburg.
It is seven in the morning when we reach this
exeellent, Hanseatic city of Hamburg. The town
is not yet awake, or at least is rubbing its eyes as
it stretches its arms. While awaiting, our break
fast, we start off for a walk, as we always do, with
out guide or cicerone, in pursuit of the unknown.
The Hotel de I'Europe, where we are stopping, is
(21)

22 RUSSIA.
situated on the bank of the Alster, a basin about
the size of the Lake d'Enghien, and like it, full of
swan. On three sides it is surrounded by hotels
and magniflcent houses, built in modern style. A
dam, planted with trees and supporting the drain
pump, forms the fourth side: beyond stretches a
great lake. A cafe, painted green and built on
piles, advances into the water from the most
crowded quay, like the Cafe of the (jolden Horn,
in Constantinople, where we have smoked many a
chibouk, as we watched the flight of the sea birds.
As we gazed upon this quay, this basin, these
houses, we were conscious of an indefinable sensa
tion, as if we had seen them all before. A con
fused remembrance rose from the depths of our
memory. Could we have been in Hamburg with
out knowing it? Assuredly all these things are
not new to us, and yet we are seeing them for the
first time. Could we have kept the impression
of a picture or photograph? Not at all.
While we were seeking the philosophic reason,
for this recognition of the unknown, the idea of
Heinrich Heine presented itself to us and then we
understood. The great poet had often spoken of
Hamburg in those plastic words, of which he pos
sessed the secret, which is reality. In his "Reise-
bilder" he describes the cafe, the basin and the
swan, and also the people of Hamburg walking
about the streets. Heavens ! how he has portrayed
them! And in his poem, "Germania," every-

HAMBURG. 23
thing is so alive, so vivid, so real, that the actual
sight of it all adds nothing more. We walked
around the basin, graciously accompanied by a
snow-white swan, beautiful enough to make one be
lieve that Jupiter had formed the design of se
ducing a Hamburg maiden, and in order the bet
ter to complete his disguise was pretending to ac
cept the crumbs of bread offered by a traveler.
At the end of the basin, on the right, there is a
sort of garden or public promenade, crowned with
an artificial hillock, resembling the labyrinth of
the garden of "Plants." After visiting the gar
den, we retraced our steps. In every eity there
exists a beautiful quarter, a rich quarter, a new
quarter, a fashionable quarter, whose inhabitants
are very proud and whose servants look at one
with hauteur. The streets are wide and straight,
intersecting each other at right angles; the side
walks of stone, brick or macadam, border the
streets. The whole is brilliantly lighted. The
houses look like hotels or palaces: their classically
modem architecture, their irreproachable color,
their varnished, bronze-decorated doors, fill all
lovers of progress with joy. Everything is so
clean, correct, healthy, full of light and air, recall
ing Paris or London. Look at the Exchange! it
is superb ! as fine as the one in Paris, and then one
is allowed to smoke there! which is something.
Further on are the Courthouse, the Bank, etc., etc. :
built in the same style that Philistines of every

24 RUSSIA.
country adore. But it is certainly not there that
the artist goes. Without doubt this house is ex
pensive and unites every possible comfort and
luxury. One feels that the inhabitant of such a
shell must be a millionaire. But for my part I
vastly prefer the old house with its overhanging
stories, from whose roof some tiles are lacking,
which is marked with a thousand characteristic de
tails, revealing the existence of previous genera
tions. In order to be interesting, a city must have
the appearance of having been lived in, and man
must have in some fashion endowed it with a soul.
What makes these magniflcent streets of yesterday
so cold and tiresome is that they are not yet im
pregnated with human vitality.
Leaving the new quarter, we gradually plunged
into the labyrinth of old streets, and we soon had
before us a picturesque, characteristic Hamburg,
a veritable ancient city with its impress of the
Middle Ages, that would flll Bonington, Isabey and
William Wyld with delight. We walk along
slowly, stopping at every street corner to take in
some detail, and rarely has a walk delighted us
more. There were houses with rows of gables, or
with overhanging stories, each with its rows of
windows, or perhaps a single window with panes
of glass separated by carved framework.
At the foot of each house were deep cellars,
bridged across by the iron steps like a drawbridge.
Wood, brick, stone, slate, mingled in a manner that

HAMBURG. 25
would enchant a lover of color, covered the little
space of the fagades that was left free by the win
dows. And above it all, roofs of red or violet tiles,
with tarred boards, gay with dormer-windows in
their steep slopes.
These steep roofs do well under northern skies:
both rain and snow run off readily : they harmonize
with the climate, and do not have to be swept off
in winter.
It was Saturday, and Hamburg was making its
toilette. Servants, perched up high, were cleaning
windows, and the sashes which opened outward
were jutting out, up and down each side of the
street. A light mist, turned into gold by the rays
of the sun, illumined the perspective and the light
shining on the window panes was reflected on the
house on the opposite side. It is difScult to imag
ine the rich, varied, strange tones assumed by a
row of windows under the sun's rays, darting
obliquely from the end of the street. Those win
dows of mysterious dwellings, with green, bubbling
panes, in whieh Rembrandt loves to lodge his
alchemists, offer nothing warmer, more transparent
or more splendid under their vari-colored glaze.
When the windows were closed, of course, this
bizarre effect disappeared ; but there still remained
the signs and bills which attracted the attention
of the passer-by, by their symbolism and letters
standing out from the walls into the public street.
Doubtless a strict municipal government would for-

26 RUSSIA.
bid projections out of line : but they break the out
line, amuse the eye and vary the view by unex
pected corners. Sometimes it is a sign in colored
glass, whieh the sunshine transforms into emeralds,
rubies and topazes, which announces the shop of an
optician or confectioner: sometimes suspended
from a flourish of ironwork there is a lion holding
a compass in one paw and a mallet in the other, the
emblem of a guiid of coopers. And again, there
are the utensils of the barber, of copper so shining
as to make the celebrated helmet of Mambrino seem
green in comparison; signs on which are painted
oysters, crabs, herring, sole — everything that is
taken from the sea, and so on.
The portals of some of the houses are orna
mented with rustic columns, curlicued projections,
sloping frontals, chubby caryatides, little angels
and loves, fruit and shells, the whole covered with
a coat of paint, doubtless renewed every year.
The tobacco shops of Hamburg are simply too
numerous to mention. Every few steps you see a
negro, bare to the waist, in the act of cultivating
the precious weed, or a Grand Seigneur, costumed
like a Turk in a carnival, who is smoking a colossal
pipe. Boxes form the sole ornamentation of the
windows, with their pictures and labels, more or
less true, placed with a certain degree of taste.
Very little tobacco can be left in Havana, if one
is to place confidence in these exhibitions, so rich
in promises. As we have already said, it was

HAMBURG. 27
early. Servants, kneeling on the steps, or standing
on the edge of the windows, were proceeding with
the great Saturday cleaning. In spite of the
sharpness of the air, their arms were bare to the
shoulders, strong, red, spotted with those little
crimson splotches which one notices in the pictures
of Rubens, whieh are explained by the bite of the
cold air joined to the action of water on blonde
skins. Young girls of the bourgeoisie, with care
fully dressed hair, low-necked and bare-armed
were on their way to market. Wrapped in our
overcoat, we trembled to see them so lightly clad.
It is strange how the women of the North cut out
their dresses and go with their heads and arms
bare, while the women of the South cover them
selves with jackets, cloaks and warm clothing.
To complete our pleasure, the 'quaint costume
the traveler seeks so far to-day without always
finding it, showed itself to our delighted eyes, quite
simply in the streets of Hamburg, in the persons of
the milksellers, who made us think of the female
water carriers of Venice. Their costume consists
of a skirt caught up on the hips, and finely pleated
and held in place with stitches so that it spreads
out only some distance below the waist, with a dark
green or blue jacket fastening at the wrist. Some
times the skirt is striped or is crossed with wide
bands of cloth or velvet. Blue stockings, of which
the short skirt allows a liberal view, and wooden

28 RUSSIA.
soled shoes complete this costume, which is by no
means lacking in character.
But the head-gear is especially strange. On the
hair, which is caught together at the back of the
neck with a bow of ribbon, like a great black but
terfly, is placed a straw hat in the form of a hollow
plate turned upside down and cut away at the
bottom, so that a pitcher or burden of any sort can
be held in place.
Most of these milksellers are young, and their
costumes make them seem almost pretty. They
carry their milk in quite an original way. A sort
of yoke, hollowed out around the neck to flt the
shoulders tightly and painted a bright red, holds
two buckets of the same color, and balancing eaeh
other on either side of the carrier allow her to
walk straight and quickly between her double bur
den. There eould not be a better way found in
which to carry heavy weights. These milksellers
display a freedom of ease and sureness that is in
deed admirable.
As -we saunter along, where chance may take us,
we reach the maritime portion of the city, where
canals replace streets. The tide is low and the
ships are lying fast in the mud, their hulls ex
posed in attitudes that would enchant a painter
in water-color. Soon the tide is in, and everything
comes to life. We would suggest Hamburg to
those artists who are following in the footsteps of
Canaletto, Guardi, and Joyant. They will find at

HAMBURG. 29
every step subjects as picturesque and much newer
than they ean discover in Venice. This forest of
salmon-colored masts, with their numberless ropes
and yellow sails drying in the sunshine, the tarred,
green-bordered poops, the yards blocking up the
windows, the cranes covered with a wooden roof
shaped like that of a pagoda, the pulleys lifting
great weights and depositing them in the houses,
the bridges that open to allow the passage of ships,
the clusters of trees, the gables that ever and anon
overtop the spires and domes of the churches, all
bathed in smoke, lit up with sunshine, penetrated
by a thousand lights and shadows, produce effects
full of beauty and a most piquant novelty.
A bell-tower covered with copper, springing from
the midst of all this rigging and houses, brings to
mind, with its queer green tint, the tower of Galata
in Constantinople.
We must not omit to mention several unusual
things : carts, composed of a single plank and two
little wooden wheels, to which two horses are at
tached are driven a la Daumont, the booted driver
mounting one of his horses, instead of walking
alongside of them. When there is but one horse
the driver leads him, as they do in America. The
narrowness of the streets, and the necessity of wait
ing till the bridges which have been opened to allow
ships to pass are closed, occasion constant block
ades, but the phlegm of both bipeds and quad
rupeds prevents any thought of danger. The post-

30 RUSSIA.
men, clad in greatcoats of antique pattern, attract
the attention of the stranger by their unusual ap
pearance. It is so rare to see red in our modern
civilization, so fond of neutral tints, whieh is so
eager apparently to make the profession of the
artist an impossibility.
In the markets, green vegetables and fruits pre
dominated. It has been said that cooked apples
are the only ripe fruits in cold countries. But on
the other hand, flowers were abundant: great
barrowfuls and basketfuls, fresh, brilliant and
fragrant. Among the peasants who were selling
all these things, we noticed some who wore round
jackets and short trousers. They, as well as the
milksellers, eome from an island in the Elbe, where
these old costumes are carefully kept, and whose
inhabitants only marry with each other.
Not far from the market we espied a pink omni
bus which went from Hamburg to Altona and
back. Its construction struck us. The front was
a sort of coupe, with a top in which were windows,
which eould be lowered to keep the wind and
rain from travelers, without obstructing their view.
The body of the carriage, pierced with windows,
is occupied with two benches opposite eaeh other,
and in the back the sides of the imperiale shelter
the conductor, enabling him to go up or down
under cover. Well, dear reader, are you saying
that is a fine thing to talk so much about ! ' ' Tell
us rather how many tons are taken in at the port:

HAMBURG. 31
in what year Hamburg was built ; what is its popu
lation?" We really know nothing about all that,
but the first traveler's guide will tell you it all.
But had it not been for us you would never have
known that in this good, Hanseatic town there
were pink omnibuses.
Since we are on the subjeet of the peculiarities
of Hamburg, we must not forget to mention the
signs on certain shops: Shop de galanterie, gravid
assortiment de delicatesses. What! Is gallantry a
commodity in Hamburg? Is delicacy sold on the
counter? Is it by weight or measure, in boxes or
bottles? The spirit of barter and exchange must
indeed be intense, when such articles are offered.
A careful examination informed us that the shops
of gallantry were but stores for novelties and gew
gaws, and the shops of delicacy are but stores for
eatables. As we were wandering about the streets we sud
denly remembered how much Rabelais talks of the
smoked beef of Hamburg, whieh he praises highly,
and which we expected to see piled up mountain
high in front of the butcher shops. But there is
no more Hamburg smoked beef at Hamburg than
there is Brussels sprouts at Brussels, Parmesan
cheese at Parma, or Ostend oysters at Ostend. Per
haps some may be found at Wilkins's, where you
ean just as well ask for bird's-nest soup, for mock-
turtle in whieh a ealf's-head does not count, for
kari a, I'indienne, for elephant 's-f eet dressed like

32 RUSSIA.
chicken, for bear hams, for bison steak, sterlets
from the Volga, ginger from China, preserves of
roses, and a few other cosmopolitan dainties. Sea
ports have this good quality, that almost anything
can be found in them. They are just the places
where eccentric people ought to live — that is if they
do not wish to be talked about.
As it grew later the crowds in the streets in
creased, women predominating. They enjoy great
liberty, apparently, in Hamburg. Very young girls
were walking about quite alone, and what seemed
wonderful to us, the children went to school by
themselves with their little baskets and slates in
their hands. With us, if they were left to their
own devices, they would run off to play hop-scotch
or entertain themselves in some way equally de
lightful to the youthful fancy.
In Hamburg the dogs are muzzled all the week
except on Sunday, when they have an opportimity
to bite if they feel so inclined. They are taxed and
are highly esteemed; but the cats look sad and
neglected. Recognizing in us a friend, they looked
at us sadly and said, in their cat language, to which
long habit has given us the key : ' ' These Philistines,
busy making money, despise us and yet our eyes
are as yellow as gold dollars. In their foolishness
they think we are good for nothing but to catch
rats, we the wise, the dreamers, the free-thinkers,
who turn the wheel of mystery as we repose on tlie
sleeve of the prophet. We will allow you to pass

HAMBURG. 33
your hand over our backs so full of electric sparks,
but please tell Charles Baudelaire that he must
deplore our sorrows in a charming sonnet. ' '

SCHLESWIG.

(35)

III.

schleswig.

The city of Altona, to which runs the pink omni
bus which we have mentioned, commences with an
immense street on the sides of which are little
theatrical booths and shows. It is somewhat like
the Boulevard of the Temple in Paris, though that
is a queer resemblance on the frontier of the State
of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. But then Hamlet
loved comedians, and would give them advice like
a reporter. At the end of the street is the station of the rail
road which leads to Schleswig, which is our desti
nation. Going to Schleswig? Yes. Is there anything
very remarkable in that ? We promised, if ever we
were to pass near Denmark, to pay a visit to a
charming friend, the mistress of a chateau, but a
few hours distant. Here we are then, started on
our way, a prey to uncertainty, having had much
difficulty in making the ticket agent understand
where we wished to go ; for here German is further
complicated with Danish. Happily our traveling
companions, very distinguished young people, came
to our assistance in a French like that spoken by
(37)

38 RUSSIA.
Sehmucke and Baron de Nucingen in Balzac's
"Comedie Humaine," but which does not on that
account sound any the less like the most delicious
music to our ears. They begged to place them
selves at our disposal. When in a strange land
one is reduced to the condition of a deaf mute,
one cannot help overwhelming with maledictions
the man whose idea it was to build the tower of
Babel, and through his pride bring on the confu
sion of tongues. Seriously, to-day, when the hu
man race circulates, like the strong blood, through
the arterial net-work of iron roads, in all the quar
ters of the globe, a congress of nations should be
called together to decide upon the adoption of a
common language — French or English — which, like
the Latin of the Middle Ages, should be the gen
eral, universal human language, so to speak. It
should be taught by law at all schools and coUeges,
eaeh nation keeping, of course, its own native
tongue. But let us leave this dream, whieh will
surely happen in the near future, through one of
those means, that necessity alone can invent, and
while awaiting its fulfllment let us congratulate
ourselves that the noble language of our country
is spoken, or at least stammered wherever one may
wander, by all those_ who claim to be educated,
learned, or well-bred.
Night comes quickly in these short autumn days,
and the landscape, which is rather flat, disappears
in the uncertain shadows that change the form

SCHLESWIG. 39
and character of objects. We might just as well
have gone to sleep, but we are one of those tire
some, conscientious travelers, so every now and
then we felt it incumbent upon us to thrust our
head out of the window and endeavor to distin
guish something by the grey light of the rising
moon. Fatal imprudence ! We had never thought
of our hat, and the wind, increased by the rapidity
of the train under full steam, seized it with a dex
terity worthy of Robert Houdin or Macaluso, the
Sicilian prestidigitator. For an instant we saw it
whirl round like a wandering star; in a few sec
onds it had totally disappeared and we ruefully re
mained inside — hatless. A young man opposite
us began to laugh gently, then opening his bag took
out a little student's cap which he begged we would
accept. It was not a moment that admitted of
ceremony; we could not stop the train to get an
other hat, and moreover the countryside was not,
apparently, absolutely strewn with hat shops. So
thanking our good-natured fellow-traveler as best
we could we placed on our head, taking care this
time to fasten the cord, the narrow cap, which made
us look like a peat-covered house of Heidelberg or
Jena, of uncertain age. This melodramatic inci
dent was the only one that happened on our way,
though it gave us a fine idea of the hospitality of
the country. At Schleswig the railway goes be
yond the station and stops in the middle of a field
like the last line of a letter suddenly interrupted.

40 RUSSIA.
An omnibus took possession of us and our
trunks, and feeling sure it would go somewhere,
we let it go on without a protest. The intelligent
vehicle deposited us before the best hotel in town,
and there, as the papers say, "we entered into con
versation with the natives." Among them was a
boy who could speak enough French to give us a
glimpse of his meaning, and — what was stiU more
wonderful — could understand sometimes what we
said to him.
Our name inscribed in the travelers' book was
a flash of light! Our hostess had been warned
of our impending arrival and word had been left
that we would be sent for as soon as we arrived,
but as it was late we determined to wait until to
morrow. Our supper consisted of warmed-over
partridges, without sauce or preserves, and we be
took ourselves to bed, without hope of sleep, be
tween the two eider-down cushions which compose
the German and Danish beds.
The messenger, dispatched the night of our ar
rival, did not return till quite late the next day, the
distanee from Schleswig to L  being nine
leagues. The report he brought back was not
very reassuring. The mistress of the chateau was
at Kiel or Eckernfoerde, or perhaps at Hamburg.
She may even have gone on to England. It is sad
to make a visit to Denmark and to leave a card
turned down at the corner, saying: "I \vill not
return this way."

SCHLESWIG. 41
Three telegrams were forthwith sent to three
places, and while awaiting an answer we wandered
about Schleswig, which has an individuality of its
own. The city stretches out on each side of a long
street into whieh smaller streets run, like small
bones to the chief bone of a flsh. There are beauti
ful, modern houses which, as usual, are quite with
out character ; but the smaller houses have a char
acter their own. They are of one story, not higher
than nine or ten feet, with a fluted tiled roof.
Wide windows occupy the entire front; and there,
in porcelain, faience or terra-cotta pots, are bloom
ing all sorts of flowers — geraniums, verbenas,
fuchsias, green plants, and that without exception.
The poorest house is full of flowers like the others.
And under the shade of this fragrant blind the
women were sitting, knitting or sewing and glanc
ing out of the corners of their eyes at the rare
passer-by, reflected in the little window mirror,
the noise of whose footstep resounded on the quiet
street. The cultivation of flowers is one of the
passions of the North : in a country in which they
grow naturally no one thinks much about them.
The church of Schleswig was a great surprise.
Protestant churches are generally very uninterest
ing from an artistic point of view, unless the re
formed religion should happen to be" installed in
a one-time Catholic sanctuary. The naves are gen
erally white-washed, the white walls guiltless of
pictures or bas-reliefs, and the body of the ehurch

42 RUSSIA.
is filled with shining, polished benches. It is clean,
comfortable, but by no means beautiful. The
church here encloses a chef-d'oeuvre of a great,
unknown artist, a triptych rotable of carved wood,
representing in a series of bas-reliefs, separated
by exquisite designs, the different scenes of the
drama of the Passion.
The name of the artist is Briiggemann— and he
is worthy of a place with Michel Columb, Peter
Vischer, Montagna and Cornejo Duque, — and yet
he is almost unknown to fame. And apropos of
this, have you ever noticed how sculptors of equal
or superior talent are less known than painters?
Their heavier work, fastened to a monument, can
not be moved or sold, and their severe beauty,
denuded of the seductions of color, does not at
tract the attention of the crowd.
Around the church are mortuary chapels, well
designed and producing a fine decorative effect.
A vaulted chamber contains the tombs of the an
cient Dukes of Schleswig — massive stones, embla
zoned with arms and historical inscriptions, by no
means lacking in character.
Around Schleswig stretch large salt-ponds which
communicate with the sea. We walked along the
highway, watching the while the play of the sun
light on the wind-wrinkled wavelets. Sometimes
our walk extended to the chateau, turned now into
barracks, or to the public garden, a sort of minia
ture St. Cloud, with its falling cascade, its dol

SCHLESWIG. 43
phins and other aquatic monsters, but not one
drinking a drop of water. What a sinecure is the
office of a Triton in a basin of the Louis XV. sort !
I would ask nothing better. Finally, quite worn
out with waiting and having exhausted the amuse
ments of Schleswig, we determined to take a car
riage and start for L  ourself.
We rolled along, noticing on each side lagunes
considerable in size, bordered with sorb-trees whose
rich, crimson blossoms were emblazoned by the
rays of the setting sun. Nothing could be more
charming than this alley of carmine umbrellas. It
might have been an avenue of coral leading to the
enchanted castle of Undine.
Birch, ash and pine-trees succeed the sorb-trees,
and we reach the post-house, where the horses are
not changed, but merely fed, while we take a glass
of beer and smoke a cigar in a low-ceilinged,
quaintly-windowed room, and the maids stand
chatting with the postilions, who are drawing great
puffs from their porcelain pipes, in attitudes and
colors loved of Ostade or Meissonier.
In the meanwhile twilight fell, then night, if a
superb moonlight may be called night. The way
was longer than we had expected, increased, more
over, by our impatience to reach the end, and the
horses kept up their gentle little trot* caressed on
the flank by a most phlegmatic driver.
At each group of houses, whose lights flashed be
fore our eyes across the openings in the foliage,

44 RUSSIA.
we bent forward to see if we had reached our goal,
for we held in our hand a card upon which was
engraved a vignette of the chateau, where we had
been invited to pass several days long before, but
the end of the journey seemed ever to recede,
and the postilion, who did not appear at all sure
of his way, spoke to several peasants whom he met,
or who were drawn to their doors by the sound of
wheels. The road, for the rest, was magniflcent,
sometimes shaded with great trees, still in full leaf,
or sometimes bordered with evergreen hedges
through which the moon darted a thousand rays
of light, and which cast shadows upon the sand in
a thousand queer shapes. When the trees allowed
us to catch a glimpse of the sky, we saw Donati 's
comet, glowing, disheveled, enmeshing the stars in
the lines of its tail. A few days ago we had seen
it in Paris, so feeble, so vague, so uncertain ! With
in a week it had grown in a fashion to terrify an
age more superstitious than ours. In this strange.
blue light, pierced with deep shadows into whieh
the horses entered with fright, everything assumed
strange, fantastic shapes. The road ascended in
gentle slopes. Between the trees and the hedges
we lost sight of the sky, and were uncertain how
to proceed. One moment we thought we had
reached the end of our eourse. A habitation of
charming aspect, all silvered by the moonlight,
stood out from a dark mass of verdure, its light
trembling on a piece of water that corresponded

SCHLESWIG. 45
perfectly to our description of L  , but the
postilion kept on. Soon the carriage entered an
avenue of trees so old they must form the entrance
to a chateau. On the left, water gleamed in the
moonlight, and we fancied we caught glimpses of
buildings of considerable size. Suddenly the car
riage turned and the wheels sounded on a bridge,
crossing a wide moat. At the end of the bridge a
low gate opened into a sort of bastion, to whieh
only the portcullis was lacking. The gate opening
we found ourselves within a circular court like the
interior of a donjon, and for the second time the
carriage was swallowed up by the darkness. All
this dimly seen amid the moonlight and shadows
possessed a feudal, medieval air, the appearance of
a fortress, that was rather disquieting. Gould the
postilion by any chance have made a mistake and
taken us to the manor of Harold Harfagar, or of
Biorn, of the Shining Eyes? All our surround
ings were full of legend and fantasy.
At last we emerged into an immense open space
bounded by great buildings forming a semicircle,
whieh the night prevented us from seeing accu
rately, but whose aspect was indeed formidable.
The chord of this arc was formed by the manor-
house itself, whose imposing mass rose from the
bank of a lagune, and its lofty facade was fiooded
with moonlig'ht, while here and there a window
flashed like the scales of a fish.
Although it was by no means late, the entire

46 RUSSIA.
chateau was to all appearances wrapped in sleep.
It seemed like a chateau in a fairy tale, under the
power of enchantment, where the prince is arriving
who is to break the charm. The postilion reined
up his horses before a bridge which, in the olden
time, must surely have been a drawbridge, and
then at last lights appeared at the windows. The
door was opened a little way; servants approached
the carriage, spoke a few words in German and
took possession of our luggage, casting at us the
while looks of surprise, mingled with distrust. It
was quite impossible for us to ask a single ques
tion, and we were uncertain whether we were ab
solutely in L  or not.
The bridge crossed a seeond moat filled with
water, silvered here and there with the moonlight,
which ended at a portioo flanked by two granite
columns that gave entrance to a broad vestibule
with a floor of black and white marble and walls
of carved oak, gilded at the top. Stags' heads
were hung on the walls, and two little cannon of
polished brass pointed their muzzles towards us —
which seemed to us rather inhospitable— cannon
in a hall in the nineteenth eentury! We were
conducted into a salon furnished with all the ele
gance of modern luxury.
Among the paintings which adorned the walls
we discovered a portrait, the work of a eelebrated
painter, representing the mistress of the house in
Oriental costume, and we beheld it with joy. We

SCHLESWIG. 47
had not then made a mistake ! A young governess,
who had come down to receive us, spoke only in
unknown tongues, and truth to tell appeared quite
alarmed by our invasion.
We pointed to the portrait, pronouncing the
name of the owner, and presented our card. All
distrust disappeared at once and a charming little
girl of twelve, who had been standing some dis
tance away looking at us with the inscrutable eye
of childhood, advanced and said: "I ean speak
French." We were saved. The mistress of the
place, who had been absent for two days, was to
return on the morrow, and had given orders in
regard to us. A supper was served and afterwards
we were conducted to our room up a monumental
staircase that would readily have held an entire
Paris house. The maid placed on the table two
candlesticks, in which were two great German
candles as large as church tapers, and retired.
The room, one of a suite of three or four, looked
passing strange. Over the mantelpiece little loves,
painted in red and looking much more like little
devils, were warming themselves at a brazier, and
were meant to represent winter. The moon poured
in a flood of light through the great windows
which, in spite of the candles, assumed fantastic
shapes on the floor.
Moved by a feeling similar to that of the hero
ines of Anne Radcliffe who loved, lamp in hand,
to wander through castles' halls before going to

48 RUSSIA.
sleep, we made a tour of discovery through the
spot wbere fate had placed us. At the end of the
suite a little salon, furnished with mirrors, offered
no hiding place suitable for ghosts. Even the en
gravings were most reassuringly modern.
The room next my bedroom was not so satisfac
tory. Old pictures, darkened with time, hung on
the walls. They represented formidable dogs, held
in leash by negroes, and underneath were written
their names, as on the portraits of the dogs of
Godefroy Jadin. By the uncertain light of the
candle they all seemed ready to lash their tails,
open their huge throats with deep growls, and tug
on their collars preparatory to hurling themselves
upon us. The negroes rolled the whites of their
eyes at us, and one dog especially, Raghul by
name, looked at us with a cruel flerceness. The
three rooms were surrounded by a corridor which
was also a picture gallery, the walls of which were
covered with the portraits of ancestors and his
torie personages.
They were men of fierce appearance, wearing
wigs and steel armor studded with gold nails and
crossed by great orders. Their hands grasped a
commander's baton like the statue of Don Juan,
and their helmets were placed on cushions at their
sides. There were haughty and puissant dames
in costumes of different reigns, looking from the
depths of their frames with long-forgotten co
quetries and old-fashioned graces. There were im-

SCHLESWIG. 49
posing, crabbed dowagers, young ladies powdered
and in court costume, with pointed corsages and
vast panniers, displaying ample skirts of rose or
salmon damask embroidered in silver, pointing
haughtily towards jewelled crowns on velvet-cov
ered tables.
These noble personages, pale, discolored by time,
assumed an alarmingly ghostlike appearance. Cer
tain colors resisted the passage of the years better
than others, whieh produced the most curious ef
fects. A youthful countess of exceeding grace
had kept, along with her extreme pallor, lips of
intensest red and eyes of intensest blue, and these
features, apparently instinct with life, contrasted
with the deadly pallor of the face, produced an
extraordinary effect. Some one seemed to be gaz
ing at you through this canvas as through a mask.
These portraits, as numerous as those shown by
Ruy Gomez to Charles V. in Hernani, reached to
the corner of the corridor.
Arrived there, not without experiencing that
shiver which comes to even the bravest who flnd
themselves in a dark, unknown and silent spot,
surrounded by representations of those who have
onee lived, but whose form seen here, has long ago
fallen into dust, we stopped in hesitation at 'sight
of the corridor stretehing out indefinitely, full of
mystery and shadows. The light of our candle
could not reach the end, but projected on the wall
a grinning silhouette of ourselves which had fol-

50 RUSSIA.
lowed us like a dark servant, parodying our ges
tures with melancholy fidelity.
Being unwilling to turn craven in the presence
of our shadowed self, we kept on. In the middle
of the corridor, at a place where a projection of
the wall would seem to indicate the passage of a
chimney, a grated door attracted our attention.
Placing the light at the opening we caught sight
of a winding staircase that was lost in unseen
depths below and ascended. Heaven alone knew
where. The color of the plaster around the door
indicated that the opening had been made long
after the stairs had been built, doubtless when
the secret of the staircase was discovered.
Decidedly the chateau of L  was made after
that of Angelo, the Tyrant of Padua, and at night
surely "steps must be heard within the walls."
The eorridor ended in a carefully closed door, more
recent than its surroundings, and had we kno\vn
the legend attached to the condemned chamber
our dreams would surely have been bad. Happily
we did not, and in the morning it was with a dis
tinct feeling of satisfaction that we watched the
pure light of day filter through the windows and
curtains. With the fancies induced by night all fled, the
feudal manor-house showed itself simply under the
form of an ancient chateau, modernized. It was
the ancient form brought out by the moonlight
which we had seen the night before, and the effect

SCHLESWIG. 51
produced was not altogether an illusion. Amid
the ancient fortress the peaceful life of our time
had taken up its abode without at all destroying
the principal lines, and amid the darkness the
error was quite permissible. The lofty semicircu
lar buildings, worthy of a princely residence, be
fore serving as stables and offices, must have been
fortresses. The entrance, with its two low arch
ways, its drawbridge changed into a bridge, and
its broad moat, seemed quite capable of resisting
an assault. Above the first gate a bas-relief, faded
by time, shows Christ on the cross surrounded by
the Holy Women, protecting two rows of stone
coats of arms, incrusted into the massive briek
wall. The chateau, surrounded ori all sides by water,
rises from a foundation of blue granite, its red
walls crowned with a roof of violet tiles and
pierced with windows of charming contour.
On the opposite side a second bridge crosses the
first moat, and a little further on, after having
traversed quite a bit of land, one comes to a seeond
bridge across the second canal, circling like a rib
bon around the habitation.
Beyond lie the gardens. Great trees, vigorous
in spite of their age, keeping still their foliage,
though the autumn was well advanced, and
grouped with taste, bordered this exquisite spot.
A vast lawn, green as an English one, over which
are scattered beds of geraniums, fuchsias, dahlias.

52 RUSSIA.
verbenas, chrysanthemums, Bengal roses and other
hardy flowers, stretches in velvet loveliness to a
hedge, from which extends a long avenue of lin
dens, terminating in a ha-ha, beyond which are
rich pastures dotted over with cattle.
A ball of burnished bronze, placed upon a trun
cated column, detracts greatly from the dignity of
this superb view. It is a German fashion, and is
not to be laid at the door of the chatelaine. A
similar ball is placed in the courtyard of the cha
teau in Heidelberg.
On the right, a rustic pavilion, covered with
clematis and running vines, offers to one its sofas
and armchairs made from curiously knotted
branches, and a succession of hothouses reach out
their glass roofs to the rays of the noontide sun.
These hothouses, though of different temperatures,
communicated with each other. In one, orange,
lemon and cedrat-trees, loaded with fruit in dif
ferent stages of maturity, looked as if they were
in their native soil, and by no means regretted,
as did the chilly Mignon, "the land where the
lemon ripens." In another cacti bristled with
thorns, banana-trees displayed their long tender
leaves, and orchids, in hanging pots of pink clay,
tossed about their frail garlands. A third enclosed
camellias in full bloom, on whose brilliant green
leaves nestled snowy buds; still another was re
served for rare, delicate plants, which absorbed
the sun 's rays from a series of steps ; cages, paint-

SCHLESWIG. 53
ed, gilded, adorned with glass trinkets, hung from
the ceilings, full of birds who, deceived by the
warmth, caroled and trilled as in the springtime.
A last room, painted like a trellis, served as a
gymnasium for the children of the chateau.
In front of the conservatories a little rockery,
covered with running plants terminated in a sort
of fountain whose basin was made of an enormous
shell. How great must have been the size of the
primitive inhabitant of this shell, which was quite
capable of carrying Aphrodite over the azure seas.
Further on peaches hung their ruddy, velvet cheeks
from branches fastened against the wall, and
grapes, whose roots alone were exposed to the open
air, ripened behind glass fastened to the wall.
A wood of fir-trees stretched its dark foliage to
the rear of the garden, to which it was joined by
means of a light foot-bridge that spanned a deep
trench half filled with water. We crossed. Every
one knows that the lower branehes of the fir dry
up as the tree develops and points heavenward
its spire of verdure. The whole floor of the forest
resembled a painting in sepia, to which the artist
has not yet added the touches of green.
Into the warm red shade, the sunlight flashed
its brilliant beams from branch to branch, shed
ding a flood of glory on the brown, needle-covered
earth. A sweet, aromatic odor was wafted to us
by a gentle breeze, and the forest quivered with a
vague murmur, like a sigh from a human breast.

54 RUSSIA.
An avenue led from the end of the wood, which
was separated by a ditch from the meadows in
which were the cows and horses. We retraced our
steps and entered the chateau.
After awhile the little girl, who spoke French,
ran to tell us that her mother had arrived. We
told the lovely chatelaine of our nocturnal inva
sion of her manor-house, expressing our regret
that we had not had a dwarf to sound the olifant
at the foot of the donjon. She asked if we had
slept well, in spite of the weird position of our
chamber, and if the ghost of the lady who had
"starved to death" had appeared either in dreams
or reality.
"Every castle has its legend," she continued,
"especially if it is ancient — old. You have doubt
less noticed that mysterious staircase that looks
like the projection of a chimney. It leads to a
room that cannot be seen from the outside and
descends into the cellars. In this chamber a Lord
of L  onee kept hidden from all eyes, and
especially from those of his wife, a charming and
devoted mistress who had accepted this seclusion
in order to be able to live under the same roof
as did he whom she loved. Every evening the Lord
of L  had a supper prepared, which he himself
took from the cooks in the cellars below and
carried up to his captive. One day, while away
on an expedition, he lost his life and the prisoner,
receiving no more food, died from hunger. Long

SCHLESWIG. 55
afterwards some workmen making repairs discov
ered the secret door and found at the foot of the
staircase a little female skeleton, leaning in her
rich robes in an attitude of despair against the
wall, and found also the magnificently furnished
apartment which had become for the poor unfor
tunate a tower of hunger, more ghastly than the
prison of Ugolino, who had at least 'his sons and
nephews to devour. Sometimes at night her ghost
walks in the corridors, and if she meets with a
stranger, she implores food with frenzied gestures.
I will have you given a less lugubrious chamber."
Under the guidance of the chatelaine we visited
the state apartments, furnished in the style of the
last century. In the dining-room, massive pieces
of silver and services of old Dresden shone from
behind the glasses of curiously carved sideboards.
The immense salon, with five windows in front,
all gold and white, contained royal portraits, and
from the ceiling were suspended chandeliers of
roek crystal, superbly decorated. Next to it a
smaller salon, furnished in green damask, offered
no special object of interest except a portrait of
a knight in armor across whose breast shone the
orders of the Elephant and of Dannebrog, and
who was smiling with a grace worthy of Versailles.
Through the inadvertence of the artist he had
turned his back on his fellow, a young lady in
powdered hair and a superb court costume
of apple-green taffeta, shot with silver, which

56

RUSSIA.

seemed to greatly annoy her, for she had turned
her head half over her -shoulder. This youthful
dame would have been exceedingly pretty had it
not been for a nose of too aristocratic a curve
which hung over her mouth like the beak of a
parrot about to eat a cherry. Her gentle, sad
eyes seemed to deplore this nose, so absurdly Bour
bon, which spoiled a charming face, in spite of
the artist's effort to attenuate it.
As we were lost in the contemplation of this sin
gular visage, at the same time attractive and ridicu
lous in spite of its grand air, the lady of the
house said to us: "There is also a legend about
this picture, but do not be frightened ; it is not at
all terrible. If one sneezes in passing before the
countess of the 'long nose' she will reply by a
motion of the head, or a 'God bless you,' like the
portraits in inn chambers in fairy stories. Be
careful not to take cold and the picture wiU give
no sign of life." The bedchambers contained great
tapestried or damask beds, their heads against the
walls and little alleys on each side. According
to the old fashion, the hangings of one consisted of
paintings on linen in distemper, representing shep
herd scenes in which the German artist had es
sayed to imitate the gallantries of Boucher, but
which resulted in gauche affectation and queer
effects of color.
"Would you like this chamber?" we were asked.
"It is rococo and warranted against nocturnal in-

SCHLESWIG. 57
vasions." We declined, for we are not fond of
seeing around us in the silence and solitude, light
ed only by a feeble candle, those figures that seem
to desire to leave the walls and implore us for
the souls the artists had forgotten to give. Our
choice fell upon a pretty little room, furnished in
chintz, with a little, modern bed, situated in an
angle of the castle, with two high windows and
which was quite free from mysterious staircases
or dark halls, and whose walls, struck with the
hand, returned no hollow sound. The only draw
back to it was that in order to reach it we must
pass before the "lady of the parrot nose," and
we acknowledge it quite shamelessly, too polite
portraits are not to our taste; but we were quite
free from cold and the young countess eould re
main tranquilly within her crested frame.
But what was most curious of all in this manor
was a hall of the sixteenth century, preserved in
tact, which made us regret that the owners of the
castle had thought it necessary, towards the be
ginning of the present century, to renew their
apartments in the style of the period of Versailles.
It is difficult to understand the despotic influence
of that period on fashions, or to enumerate the ex
quisite things it destroyed.
This hall was panelled in oak, carved to form
frames of equal size and relieved with light ara
besques of gold, softened to harmonize with the
wood. Bach panel contained an emblematic paint-

58 RUSSIA.
ing in oils, accompanied by a device in Greek,
Latin, Spanish or Italian, German or French,
suitable to the subject represented. They were in
turn moral, gallant, chivalrous. Christian, philo
sophic, haughty, resigned, plaintive, witty, ob
scure. Conceits entered into rivalry with sarcasms.
Puns prided themselves upon their wit. Latin,
scowling enigmatically, assumed sphinx-like airs to
the limpid Greek. Platonism a, la Petrarch and
amorous subtleties were inextricably entangled in
impossible explanations. Thus written over from
ceiling to floor this hall could readily have fur
nished devices for a tilting-yard, the garters of
Tembleque, the navajas of Albacete, the seals of
an engraver's shop, the sweetmeats of a confec
tioner. But amid such nonsense and many puer
ilities, there sparkled some lofty phrase of unex
pected dignity that was worthy of being inscribed
on the setting of a jewel or the blade of a sword.
We know no other example of a similar decora
tion. Doubtless legends and interlaced ciphers
are often met with, but nowhere else the emblem
and motto taken for the only theme of decoration.
Now that you know all about the castle, let us
take a turn in the environs. Two coal-black ponies,
attached to a light phaeton, are tossing their manes
and pawing the ground at the end of the bridge.
The chatelaine takes the reins in- her lovely hands
and we are off. We cross great pasture fields
where more than three hundred cattle are chewing

SCHLESWIG 59
the cud in peace, in attitudes that would fill Paul
Potter or Troyon with delight. The bulls, more
gentle than those of Spain, let us pass without
other manifestation than a passing look and kept
on browsing. The horses, stirred to emulation by
the gait of the ponies, galloped along with us for
awhile, but flnally they too abandoned us. Gently
undulating flelds stretched all around us, bounded
by hedges. A crossed bar served as a gate for
each fleld, and we had to jump quickly from the
phaeton to raise it, else would the flery little ponies
have jumped over it, carriage and all.
In twenty minutes we reached a wood most pic
turesquely placed on a little hill. Elms, oaks, ash
trees with great trunks and thick foliage grew in
shapes and forms so often assumed by trees on a
slope. The wood was full of deer, and badgers
dug their homes, sure of being undisturbed by
man, while here and there, as if to remind us of
the North, pine-trees stretched out their sombre
green limbs.
We were amazed at the freshness of this vegeta
tion, but a stone's throw from the sea, whose salt
breath generally burns the leaves; but the trees
grow strong in the damp earth and resist with im
punity the strong winds. On issuing from the
forest we beheld just before us the gulf,* emptying
into the North Sea, whose other extremity beats
against the ice of the pole, upon which in winter
float icebergs full of white bears.

60 RUSSIA.
At this moment it certainly presented no such
appearance. A clear sky, flecked with clouds, was
reflected on its smooth bosom. A gentle breeze
was waving the tops of some plants, tossing about
some little shells, leaving a long line of foam on
the shore.
On other days we made longer excursions; but
big, white, gentle Mecklenburg horses replaced
our little, black whirlwinds. A coachman of mar
tial appearance drove us.
We visited a residence, surrounded like L  ,
with a double moat. There we admired greatly a
hall whose ceiling was sculptured in medallions,
representing the Muses, winged genii, and the em
blems of music. An organ, placed on a beautiful
platform, made us wonder whether it was meant
for a concert hall or a chapel. The artists of the
eighteenth century were not very particular in such
matters ; but were apt to mix up angels and loves,
the glories of the opera and those of Paradise.
The aged mistress of the house received us in a
salon full of flowers, whose ceiling was curiously
adorned with coats of arms in shell-work. A tray,
full of peaches, pears and grapes, was brought in,
according to the hospitable custom of the country
where visitors are always served with refreshment.
Near the house was a garden, or rather a park,
with two avenues of superb lindens. In a basin,
entirely covered with duckweed, a swan sailed
about pushing aside the growth without effort.

SCHLESWIG. 61
The sight of the swan made us remember there
were none at L  , although my little picture
showed some. The winter before they had been
eaten up by some foxes whieh had come over the
ice and attacked them in their nests. Less melodi
ous than their brothers of the Meander, no song
had, at the supreme moment issued from their long
necks, and only a few feathers remained to tell the
tale. Every now and then the carriage met with a
more humble and quite grotesque vehicle; a great
peasant, with hat on one side, pipe in mouth, and
heavily booted, curled up in a child's carriage, was
lazily having himself drawn along, not by great
mastiffs such as Stevens paints on his canvases,
but by three or four terriers, veritable "bow-
bows," to borrow a word from baby's dictionary,
so utterly disproportioned to the weight they were
carrying as to make one burst into peals of laugh
ter. These poor beasts were "leading a dog's life"
in the saddest acceptation of the term. While we
are on the subject of dogs, we would say that
since we have been in Denmark, we have not seen
a single Danish dog, that is of the sort that are
white, spotted with black, and frequently with one
blue and one brown eye. They here are generally
of no special breed, mongrels without points, pre
senting no particular type, but resembling street
dogs, but who conscientiously do their duty of
escorting carriages amid ceaseless barking from

62 RUSSIA.
the entrance to the end of the village. These ham
lets are clean and comfortable to a degree difficult
to understand. The houses, built of brick, after a
regular plan, generally roofed with tiles, though
sometimes with thatch, with their clean square
windows, in which are blooming rare plants in
china pots', have rather the air of cottages than the
dwellings of peasants. The little villas of the out
skirts, rented at such high prices to Parisians, do
not compare with these charming little red houses,
with their background of verdure, and nearly
always in close proximity to a sheet of water.
The appearance of the inhabitants does not di
minish the effect of the picture. Their dress is
neither poor nor ragged. The man wears a cap
with a Prussian visor, his trousers stuck in his
boots, a short waistcoat find a coat with long skirts.
The women's dresses are short-sleeved, rather low-
necked, and their heads are bare. It made us cold
only to look at them in this cool weather in their
thin dresses, either white, pink, lilac or blue. Their
red arms, spotted as in Jordaens' pictures, had
that robustness, assumed by portions of the body
exposed to the air. But this fashion is only fol
lowed by the women of the lower classes, and
servants. The women of position dress in the
French manner.
Another day was occupied with an excursion to
Eckernfoerde, a little town some leagues distant
from L  . The road winds between hedges.

SCHLESWIG. 63
starred with berries of every color, mulberries,
sorbs, prunellas and the coral buds of the eglan
tine ; it was charming. Or else we would pass be
tween great trees, through villages, or past fields,
that were being worked by superb horses, who
were going round and round. At last we reached
the sea by a road, one side of which was bathed
by the ocean, and along the other were lovely cot
tages, half hidden in flowers, that are rented in
the season to bathers, for Eckernfoerde is a bath
ing resort, like TrouviUe or Dieppe, in spite of its
rather northern latitude.
Carriages and bath-houses, scattered over the
beach, bore witness to the fact that there were
brave ones of both sexes who did not fear to ex
pose themselves to the assaults of the icy waves.
Some brigs were dancing on the waves of the port,
and near by, shaking and quivering, were quanti
ties of those jelly fish which are animals although
they do not look like it, and that we used to see
when we were floating in the Gulf of Lepanto,
on our return from Corinth, "where it is not per
mitted to every one to go," as runs the proverb.
Eckernfoerde, except for the peculiar air, that
the masts of ships mingling with trees and chim
ney-tops always give a town, does not differ mueh
in appearance from Schleswig. There- are the
same brick churches, the same houses with crossed
beams, giving glimpses from behind pots of
flowers of the same women sewing in low-cut

64 RUSSIA.
gowns. An unaccustomed animation enlivened the
generally quiet streets of Eckernfoerde. Heavy
carts were carrying into their respective cantons,
soldiers on leave of absence. Although piled up
together most uncomfortably, they seemed drunk
with happiness, and perhaps also with beer.
At the castle the days glided by quickly in walk
ing, fishing, reading, conversation and smoking,
and the nights were troubled with no intrusive
phantoms. The lady "who starved to death" did
not come to beg bread; the princess with "the
parrot nose" had no occasion to say "May God
bless you." Only once a storm of rain, whipped
by a terrible wind, dashed against the window-
panes with sinister noise, like the fiapping of owls'
wings. The sashes shook, the woodwork creaked
ominously, the trees groaned, the water poured
from the roofs. From time to time the uproar
struck against the door with blows like a man who
is determined to enter and has not the key. But
no one came in, and gradually the sighs, the mur
murings, the groans— all the inexplicable noises
of the night and the tempest— faded away in a
decrescendo, that Beethoven could not have better
graduated. The next morning the day was ra
diant, and the storm-swept sky shone with deepest
blue. We would fain have lingered longer, but
if it is certain that all roads lead to Rome, it is by
no means sure that they lead to St. Petersburg,
and we had already too long forgotten the end of

SCHLESWIG. 65
our journey, amid the delights of the enchanted
castle. A carriage carries us to Kiel, where we
will take the cars for Hamburg, from which point
we start for Liibeck, where we are to embark on
the liner the "Neva."

LUBECK.

(67)

IV.

lubeck.

It was necessary to go to Kiel in order to reach
the railroad. We made the journey in a carriage
without incident other than a halt at a half-way
house to rest the horses. While we were drinking
a glass of beer in the principal room of the inn
we espied written on the window-pane with a dia
mond this Spanish name: "Saturnina Gomez,"
which set our imagination to work in fine style.
Doubtless the woman who wrote it was young
and beautiful and forthwith we began to weave
a romance, through which ran a remembrance of
"The Spanish in Denmark" of Merimee. At Kiel
it began to rain and was soon pouring in torrents,
which, however, did not prevent us from taking
a fine walk along the sea beach while awaiting the
Hamburg train.
Hamburg is a town good to see again, and we
found as much pleasure as ever in strolling through
the streets, so picturesque, so full of gaiety and
life. We observed, too, numerous little details
which had before escaped our notice. For exam
ple, chests studded with nails and padlocked, in the
corners of the bridges, with a picture attached in
(69)

70 RUSSIA.
which, in order to stir the compassion, were de
picted every imaginable accident that could hap
pen at sea — lightning, fire, enormous waves, jagged
reefs, overturned ships, and sailors clinging to the
rigging, and finally Virgil's celebrated verse—
"Rari nantes, in gurgite vasto."
Often a sailor, bronzed by the sims of many
lands, fumbles in his tar-stained pocket and
throws a shilling in the opening, or a tiny girl
raises herself on tiptoes to deposit her little mite.
The money is distributed among the families of
those who are drowned. This chest, whieh gathers
alms for the victims of the ocean, but two steps
away from ships about to sail among the perils of
the sea, expresses a feeling both religious and
poetic. Human society abandons none of its mem
bers, and the sailor goes on his way more peace
fully. We must not forget the "beer tunnels," a sort
of subterranean drinking saloon peculiar to the
country. The customers descend, like hogsheads,
into a cellar, by .several steep steps, and sit down
in a cloud of tobaeco smoke through which it is
often difficult to pereeive the gas jets. The beer
is excellent, for Hamburg is a city "for the
mouth." The number of sellers of delicatessen,
which include delicacies from every part of the
world, attest that fact. There are also a great
many confectioners. Germans, especially the

LUBECK. 71
women, are like children over sweetmeats, and
these shops are well patronized. People go there
to munch bonbons, drink syrups and eat ices as
with us to a cafe. At every step one sees signs,
brilliant with gold, containing the word, condi-
torei. Surely there must be at least three times as
many confectioners in Hamburg as in Paris.
Since the boat for Liibeck does not leave until
the morrow, we took supper at Wilkins's, the res
taurant-keeper of whom we have already spoken.
This Hamburg Collet's shop is on the first floor,
the ceilings are very low, and the little rooms into
which it is divided are adorned with more luxury
than taste. Oysters, turtle soup, a fillet with truf
fles, and a bottle of Widow Cliquot champagne
frappe composed our simple menu. The windows,
according to the Hamburg custom, are filled with
more or less impossible dainties to which the world
has been asked to contribute. They showed us in
the kitchen great tubs, in whieh sea turtles raised
their heads till they looked like serpents caught
between two plates. Their queer little eyes re
garded distrustfully the light that had been flashed
upon them, and their feet, like oars each side of a
dismantled galley, reached out to the sides of the
vessel as if seeking an impossible flight. We hope
they are not always the same ones 'that are shown
to the curious, but that the personnel of the ex
hibition is occasionally changed.
The next day we breakfasted in an English

72 RUSSIA.
restaurant, in a glass pavilion from which we en
joyed a superb panorama-like view. The river
rolled majestically amid a forest of tall-masted
ships of every shape and size. Tugs tossed the
water from their wheels, drawing in their wake
great sailing ships that required the breath of the
open sea. Others threaded their way among ob
stacles with that precision which makes a steam
boat seem like an intelligent being, gifted with a
will of its own and served by organs instinct with
life. From this elevated point, the Elbe stretches
wide as it approaches the sea. Its waters, sure of
their destination, no longer hurry along, but flow
quietly, placidly as a lake. Its other side lies low
and green, dotted with dainty pink little houses
half concealed by the smoke of the steamers. A
ray of sunshine illumined the plain with a bar of
gold. It was indeed charming, superb.
In the evening we went by train to Liibeck,
across exquisitely cultivated flelds, filled with sum
mer houses, whose lawns were bathed with water
over which hung willow trees. This German
Venice has its canal, de la Brenta, whose villas,
although not designed by San Michele or Palladio,
are not the less charming with their lovely back
ground of fresh verdure.
An especial omnibus took us and our luggage
to the Hotel Duffeke. Prom the glimpses we
caught in the dark, from the uncertain light of the
lamps, the town appeared most picturesque, and in

LUBECK. 73
the morning, when we threw open our windows,
we saw that we had not been mistaken. The house
opposite was thoroughly German in aspect. It
was extremely high and terminated in a sharp
gabled roof in the old fashion. It was not more
than seven stories, but the windows decreased in
number from the gable down, the last story con
taining but a single one. At each story the cross
bars expanding into masses of carving serve both
as a support to the building and means of adorn
ment. A very good method of architecture, which
is too much lost sight of nowadays. It is not by
concealing but, on the contrary, by accentuating
the supports of the building that character is
gained. This house was by no means unique in
its construction, as a few steps taken in the street
showed us. Liibeck is actually now, at least in
appearance, the Liibeck of the Middle Ages, the
ancient, chief city of the Hanseatic league. Mod
ern life is played amid the old scenery, without
much shifting of side scenes or change of back
ground. What a pleasure it is to walk thus in
the midst of forms of the past, to contemplate
untouched the dwellings lived in by generations
that have disappeared! Of course living man has
a perfect right to model his shell to suit his habits,
his tastes, his ways; but a new town is much less
interesting than an old one. When we were chil
dren we used to get as a New Year's gift a Nurem
berg box containing a miniature German town.

74 RUSSIA.
We used to arrange in a hundred shapes the little,
carved, painted, wooden houses around the church
with its slender spire and pink walls in which
the outlines of the bricks were indicated by fine
white lines. We would plant the two dozen curled
painted trees and would go into raptures over that
deliciously strange and wonderfully gay appear
ance that when spread out on the carpet was as
sumed by these tiny apple-green, pink, lilac, or grey
houses, with their rows of gables and sloping roofs
shining with red varnish. We thought that such
houses did not really exist, but were made by
benignant fairies exclusively for good little boys.
The imagination of childhood gradually enlarged
the boundaries of the gay little town, and we used
to walk through its streets with the same precau
tion as did Gulliver in Lilliput. Liibeck brought
back this long-forgotten childish sensation. We
felt as if he were walking in a city of fantasy,
taken from a gigantic box of playthings. And
after all we really deserved this compensation to
make up for all the architecture in good taste,
that as a traveler, we have been forced to gaze at.
On coming out of the hotel a piece of sculpture,
encased in a wall, arrested our eyes, on the lookout
for curiosities. Sculpture is generally rare in a
country where briek is used. This represented
nereids or syrens, rather crude perhaps, but of
an ornate and legendary individuality that filled
us with delight. They formed part of some great

LUBECK. 75
coats of arms in the German taste — an excellent
theme of decoration when its use is understood,
and the Middle Ages did understand it to perfec
tion. Our eyes next fall upon a cloister, the remains
of an ancient monastery. This portico is at one
side of a square, at the end of which rises the
Marienkirche, a briek chureh of the fourteenth
century. Continuing our walk we soon find our
selves in a market place, where is awaiting us one
of those spectacles which recompense the traveler
for many an annoyance. A monument, novel, un
expected, original in appearance, the old City Hall,
in which was the hall of the Hanseatic league, sud
denly stood before us. It occupies two sides of the
square Fancy in front of the Marienkirche,
whose spires and copper-covered roof tower above
it, a lofty brick fagade, blackened by time, pierced
by three bell-towers with pointed, copper-green
roofs, lighted by two great rose windows, carved in
openwork and emblazoned with escutcheons in the
trefoils of its round windows, sable, two-headed
eagles, on a field of gold, shields of gules and silver,
ranged alternately and of the loftiest heraldic
fashion. To this facade is joined a palazzino of the Re
naissance, in stone, utterly different in style, whose
grey-white tone shows to wonderful advantage
against the red background of old bricks. This
palace, with its three voluted gables, its fluted

76 RUSSIA.
Ionic columns, its caryatides or rather Atlases
(for they are men), its arched windows, its round,
shell-like niches, its gallery pierced with three-
cornered projecting windows, its arcades adorned
with figures, its basement cut into diaraonds, pro
duces the most surprising and charming architec
tural dissonance. Very few buildings of this style
and epoch are to be met with in the North. The
Reform movement accommodated itself with diffi
culty to a return to pagan ideas and classic forms,
modified by a graceful fancy.
The old German style reasserts its rights in the
fagade. Brick arcades with short granite columns
support a gallery with round windows. A row of
shields display their enamels and rich colors to
advantage against the blackened wall. It is almost
impossible to imagine the richness and effect im
parted by means of so simple a decoration.
This gallery leads to a detached building, than
which the imagination of the Middle Ages could in
vent nothing more singular or picturesque. Five
turrets, hooded with steep roofs, lift their sharp
points above the top of the fagade, and are pierced
with high, round windows, most of which are "now
unfortunately half blocked up, owing probably to
the necessities of interior repairs. Eight great
disks of gold representing full suns, two-headed
eagles, and the silver and gules escutcheon, the
coat of arms of Liibeck, are scattered with mag
nificent effect over this bizarre architecture. At

LUBECK.

77

the bottom, arcades, with squatty little pillars, half
conceal the shop of a goldsmith.
Returning towards the square, one catches a
glimpse of the green spires of another ehurch, and
over the heads of the market women, selling their
fish and vegetables, appears the outline of a little
building with brick pillars which, in its time, must
have been a pillory. It gives the final touch to the
absolutely Gothic physiognomy of the square,
which is not marred by a single modern house.
While we were thinking that this splendid Stadt-
haus should have another fagade, we passed
through a vaulted opening and found ourselves in
a broad street and our admiration assumed new
force. Five bell-towers, jutting out from the wall and
separated by long ogive windows, partly stopped
up, repeated with a difference the fagade we have
just described. Rose windows displayed their
curious designs, like models for tapestry. At the
foot of the sombre edifice a delicious little logette
of the Renaissance, built as an afterthought,
served as an entrance to an exterior staircase which
ran ¦ diagonally along the wall to a sort of over
hanging cabinet, in exquisite taste. Delicate statues
of Faith and Justice, charmingly draped, decorated
the portico.
The staircase, carried over the arcades, whose
arches increase in size as it ascends, are adorned
with caryatides and grotesque heads. The cabinet

78 RUSSIA.
placed under the arched door leading to the market
is crowned with a frontal on which a figure of
Themis is holding scales in one hand and a sword in
the other, not however forgetting to coquettishly
puff out her draperies. A queer arrangement of
fluted pilasters, fashioned like Hermes, and sup
porting busts, divided the windows of this aerial
cage. Consoles with mythical mascarons completed
this exquisite ornamentation, over which Time had
passed his hand just enough to give to the sculp
tures that flou that nothing can imitate.
The architecture of the rest of the edifice was
more simple, consisting of a stone frieze represent
ing masks, flgures and foliage, but so worn, black
ened and injured as to be scarcely discernible:
Under a porch, which was supported by columns
of bluish granite, alongside of the door, we ob
served two benches whose sides were formed of
thick sheets of bronze, representing an emperor
with his crown, globe and sceptre ; and a savage as
hairy as a beast, armed with a club and a shield,
with the coat of arms of Liibeck, both very old.
The Marienkirche which, as we have already
said, is behind the Stadthaus, is quite worth a
visit. Its two towers are four hundred and eight
feet high. A beautifully carved spire rises from
the centre of the roof, at the point of intersection
of the nave and transept. The towers of Liibeck all
have this peculiarity, of being out of line, very
perceptibly leaning to the right or left, but without

LUBECK 79
disquieting the eye, as in the ease of the tower of
the Asinelli in Bologna, and the leaning tower of
Pisa. At a short distance from the town its tow
ers, drunken and tottering, with their pointed
hoods which seem to salute the horizon, present a
strange, yet attractive outline.
On entering the church, the first curious thing
one sees is a very old copy of the todtentanz, or
"Dance of Death," from the cemetery at Bale.
We do not need to describe it in detail. The Mid
dle Ages have embroidered numerous variations on
this ghastly theme, of which the chief are assem
bled in that lugubrious painting, covering the
walls of the chapel. From the pope and emperor
to the child in its cradle, every human being enters
in turn into the dance with the inevitable bugbear.
But Death is not portrayed as a skeleton, clean,
polished, white, with hooks at the joints, like the
skeleton of an anatomical closet ; that would be too
pretty for the vulgar crowd. It appears as a dead
body, in a more or less advanced state of decom
position, a few hairs bristling on its skull, blaclc
earth fills its half-empty eyes, the skin hangs from
its breast like a ragged napkin, its flat stomach
adheres horribly to the vertebrae of the spinal
column, and its nerves, all bared, float around the
muscles like broken strings around the neck of a
violin. Not one of the awful secrets hidden in the
tomb is forgotten. The Greeks respected the de
cencies of death, representing it only under the

80 RUSSIA.
form of a charming youth asleep. But the less
delicate Middle Ages tore it from its cofSn and
exposed it naked, in all its horror and wretched
ness, in the pious intention of edifying the living.
In this mural painting Death has shaken off so
little of the black soil of the grave that a careless
observer could easily take him for an emaciated
negro. Very rich, highly ornamented tombs, with
statues, allegories, attributes, escutcheons, lengthy
epitaphs hung on the walls or pillars, making a
chapel for the dead, as in the church Dei Frari at
Venice, give to the Marienkirche an interior worthy
of Pieter Neeffs, the painter of cathedrals.
The Marienkirche contains two canvases by
Overbeck, "The Descent from the Cross," and
"The Entry into Jerusalem," which are greatly
admired in Germany. They are full of the pure
religious feeling, the grace and sweetness of the
Master, which atone, in our opinion, for their
archaic stiffness and crudity. Then, too, the deli
cacy of the execution shows that Overbeck studied
the charming, early painters of the Umbrian
school. Here, as in the picture in the Pinakothek
in Munich, blonde Germany implores brown Italy
for her artistic secrets.
There are still other paintings of the old Ger
man school, among the rest a triptych by Jan
Mostaert, the examination of which must, perforce,
be abandoned in order that at the instance of a
beadle, eager for a fee, we may plant ourselves at

LUBECK. 81
the foot of one of those complicated mechanical
clocks which mark the course of the sun, the moon,
and the date, — ^year, month, day, and even the
hour, — and also witness the passage of seven little
gilded, painted flgures, representing the Seven
Electors, which advance in a semicircle, each in his
turn shaking his head with such vehemence and
force that it is difficult, in spite of the sanctity of
the spot, to help bursting into peals of laughter.
His bow is made, the little flgure turns with a jerk
and disappears through a door.
The cathedral, which is also called the dom, is
interesting in itself. In the middle of the nave,
filling an entire arch, a colossal Christ is nailed on
a cross, carved and adorned with arabesques; the
foot of the cross rests on a beam, reaching from
one pillar to the other, which is filled with holy
women and pious personages, in postures of adora
tion and sorrow. On either side, Adam and Eve
are arranging as decently as possible their cos
tumes of the earthly paradise. Above the cross the
keystone of the arch projects and serves as a sup
port to a long- winged angel.
This suspended group, which looks light in spite
of its size, is of wood, carved with great taste and
skill. We do not know how to better define it than
by calling it a sculptured portcullis, hialf lowered
before the choir. And certainly it is the first time
we have seen a similar arrangement. In the rear
is the jube, with its three arches, its gallery of
6

82 RUSSIA.
statues, its mechanical clock, where the hour is
struck by a skeleton, and an angel bearing a cross.
The baptismal fonts are shaped like little, care
fully carved buildings with Corinthian columns,
the space between representing Jacob struggling
with the angel. The dome-like top is lifted by a
cord suspended from the ceiling. We will say
nothing of the tombs, the mortuary chapels, the
organs, and only a few words of two ancient fres
coes, whieh have a long inscription in Latin pentam
eters, telling of the miraculous deer set free by
Charlemagne, with a collar telling the date of its
freedom, which four or five hundred years after
wards was caught by a hunter on the spot where
now stands the church.
The Holstenthor gate, a few steps from the
wharf, is one of the most curious and picturesque
specimens of German architecture of the Middle
Ages. Two huge brick towers united by a build
ing, through whieh opens an arch like the handle
of a ba,sket, is the design roughly sketched.
But it is difficult to imagine the effect produced
by the height of the building, the steep roofs of the
towers, the varied shapes of the windows, the dark-
red and violet tones of the time-worn bricks. It is
an entirely new experience for the painters of
buildings or ruins, whom we shall send to Liibeck
by the next steamer.
We would also recommend to them, quite near
to the Holstenthor, close by the bridge, on the left

LUBECK. 83
bank of the Trave, a half dozen old, crumbling
houses leaning against each other as if for sup
port, bulging out, bending over with six or seven
rows of windows and denticulated gables, which
cast their crimson reflection in the water like a
red tablecloth a servant is washing. Heavens,
what a picture Van der Heyden would have made
of it all ! Walking along the quay through which
the railroad carries its freight trains, many an
amusing and varied scene rivets the attention. On
the farther bank of the Trave, among the little
houses and clusters of trees, ships are in various
stages of construction. Sometimes it is a wooden
framework, like the skeleton of a stranded whale,
sometimes it is a hull covered with its timbers, near
which bubbles and smokes the caldron of the
calker. On all sides sounds the gay hum of human
activity. Carpenters hammer and nail, porters roll
hogsheads, sailors swab the ships* decks, or half
raise the sails to dry them in the sunshine. A
newly-arrived boat is moored near the quay, dis--
placing the flotilla which opened a little to give it'
passage. Tugs are getting up steam, and on re
turning to the town one perceives, above the rig
ging of the ships, the towers of the churches grace
fully bent, like the masts of clipper ships.
The "Neva," which was to take us to St. Peters
burg, was composedly loading its boxes and bales
and did not seem anything like ready to depart at
the appointed time. Indeed it turned out she

84

RUSSIA.

would not sail till the day after, a delay that would
have annoyed us in a less charming town, but of
whieh we took advantage to go and see Don Juan
sung in German by a German troupe. The theatre
was quite new and very pretty. The windows in the
fagade have as supports the Muses arranged as
caryatides. We were less pleased by the manner
in which Mozart's chef-d'oeuvre was executed in
his own eountry. The singers were mediocre and
permitted themselves strange license, as for ex
ample, that of replacing often the recitatif by a
lively dialogue, doubtless because the music inter
fered with the action. Leporello laid himself open
to charges of execrable taste, and displayed under
the nose of the weeping Elvira a roll of paper on
which were pasted the portraits of his master's
thousand and three victims, and these portraits
were all alike, and represented a woman with a
head-dress like a giraffe, in the fashion of 1828!
Was not that quite delightful?

THE VOYAGE.

(85)

THE VOYAGE.
The "Neva" got under way at the appointed
hour, moderating her speed to follow the windings
of the Trave, whose banks are crowded with
charming country houses, the homes of the wealthy
inhabitants of Liibeck. As we approached the sea,
the river grew wider, the shore sank away, and
buoys marked the channel we were to follow. We
love these level landscapes. They are more pic
turesque than is generally believed. A tree, a
house, a spire, a sail, looms up with wondrous dis
tinctness, sufficing with the vague background for
the motif of a picture.
The outline of a great town is drawn on the nar
row horizon between the pale blue sky and the
pearl-grey sea. It is Travemiinde. Then the
shores recede more and more, grow indistinct, then
disappear. The water around us turns green.
Undulations, gentle at flrst, gradually increase into
great waves that toss the foam from their crests.
The horizon is blended with the cold blue of the
ocean. We are at sea.
The chief aim of marine painters seems to be to
make the water transparent, and when they sue-
(87)

gg RUSSIA.
ceed in so doing the word is applied to them aa
high praise. But in reality the sea looks heavy,
thick, almost solid and opaque. It is not possible
for an attentive observer to confound this thick,
strong water with a more gentle stream. Doubt
less when a sunbeam strikes across a wave, there
may be a certain transparency, but the general
tone is heavy. The local strength is so great that
those parts of the sky which touch it appear color
less. By the depth and intensity of its coloring it
proclaims itself a formidable element, an irresisti
ble energy, a prodigious power.
This entrance into the sea produces a certain sol
emn effect, even upon the most frivolous, the most
courageous or those most habituated to it. You
leave the land where death, of course, can reach
you, but where at least the earth does not open
under your feet, to skim across the huge salt plain,
the top of an abyss that conceals so many lost
ships. You are separated from the boiling chasm
but by a thin plank or sheet of iron that a wave
eould break, a reef tear open. A sudden squall, a
change of the wind would suffice to capsize it all,
and then your skill as a swimmer would only serve
to prolong your agony.
To these grave thoughts is soon added the inex
pressible torture of seasickness. It seems as if the
incensed element is determined to throw you like
some vile thing among its flotsam and jetsam. All
wilLpower disappears, the muscles lose their ten-

THB VOYAGE. gg
sion, the temples are bound with iron, the head is
in a whirl of agony, the air grows nauseatingly
bitter. The face is livid green, the lips violet, and
the color abandons the cheeks for the nose. Every
one then has recourse to his own little remedies.
One munches Maltese bonbons, another bites a
lemon, a third inhales English salts, another begs
for a eup of tea that a sudden pitch or roll sends
all over his shirt front, the bravest walk about
with tottering gait and chew the end of a cigar
they have forgotten to light, almost all end by
clinging to some support; happy are those who
have presence of mind enough to flnd one away
from the wind.
In the meanwhile the ship continues to go up
and down, in ever-increasing measure. If you
compare the line of the horizon with the masts and
smoke-stack of the steamer you will see a difference
in level of a number of yards and your discomfort
is augmented. All around you the waves follow
one another, swell, toss their foam, are spent. The
restless water roars with a giddy noise ; masses of
it fall on the decks where it is turned into a salt
rain, which disappears through the scuppers, after
having administered to the passengers a most un
expected bath. The breeze stiffens, the rigging
whistles like the cry of a sea-bird. The captain
declares that the weather is delicious, to the amaze
ment of the wretched travelers, and orders the jib
to be raised, for the wind that was forward has

90 RUSSIA.
become aft and is blowing now in a favorable direc
tion. Steadied by the jib the ship rolls less and its
speed quickens. From time to time brigs and barks
pass by, more or less near, their high sails spread,
a reef in the lower ones, plunging their noses into
the foam, executing pyrotechnics that bring the
conviction to the beholder that perhaps the sea is
not as good as it has the reputation of being.
In the midst of these thoughts comes the servant
to announce that dinner is served. It is by no
means an easy operation to go down stairs by a
staircase whose steps disappear under your feet
like the rounds of the mysterious ladder, in the
ordeals of the Free Masons, and whose walls chase
you like a game of battledore and shuttlecock. At
last you are in your place with a few other braves.
The rest, enveloped in their cloaks, are stretched
out on the deck. You eat, but with care, at the
risk of punching out an eye with your fork, for
the ship is dancing merrily. When you attempt to
drink, with all the precaution of a rope walker, the
liquid plays the role of Leon Gozlan's piece — "A
tempest in a glass of water." This difficult exer
cise over, you return to the deck a little on all
fours, and the fresh breeze tones you up. You
even risk a cigar, it does not taste altogether bad :
you are saved ! The hostile gods of the ocean will
demand no further libations !
While you are walking the deck and keeping
your balance with legs and arms, the sun is setting

The Admiralty Quay, St. Petersburg

THE VOYAGE.

91

behind a bank of grey clouds which turn to crim
son under his beams and are swept away by the
wind. The horizon is deserted, no more ships pass.
Under a sky of pale violet the sea grows dark and
gloom settles upon it; later the violet turns into
steel-blue. The water becomes black, the foam
shines upon the crests of the waves like tears of
silver upon a funeral cloth. Myriads of golden
stars powder the flrmament and the comet, spread
ing its enormous tail, seems eager to dip its head
into the ocean. For an instant its tail disappears
behind a little passing cloud.
The limpid beauty of the heavens does not pre
vent the wind from blowing with all its might, and
we begin to grow cold. Our clothing is penetrated
by the dampness seized by the wind from the
crests of the waves. The thought of going into
our cabin and breathing the warm, mephitic air of
the room gives us nausea, and we rise and seat our
selves by the smoke-stack of the steamer, placing our
back against the warm iron under the shelter of
the paddle-box. The night was far advanced when
we at last sought our berth for a broken sleep
haunted by weird dreams.
The next morning the sun rose in dimmed glory,
struggling mightily to chase away the curtain of
fog. Pale, yellow rays pierced the mist and lighted
up the clouds, like the halos around the saints in
church. The wind was strong and the vessels that
showed themselves occasionally against the horizon

92 RUSSIA.
described strange curves. Seeing us stagger about
the deck, like a drunken man, the captain, doubt
less with the thought of comforting us, called out :
"Splendid weather!" His strong German accent
gave to his sentence an ironical meaning, at least to
our ears.
We went down to breakfast. The plates were
steadied by wooden bars, the carafes and bottles
were solidly moored, without which precaution
everything would have been overturned. In bring
ing in the dishes the servants executed wonderful
gymnastics. They looked like mountebanks balanc
ing chairs on the end of their noses. The weather
Avas, perhaps, not as superb as the captain would
have us believe.
Towards evening the sky clouded over and it be
gan to rain, slightly at first, then in torrents ; and,
according to the proverb: "A little rain lays a big
wind, ' ' the violence of the wind diminished. Every
now and then a lighthouse flashed through the
darkness, its brilliant light, either white or red,
stationary or rotary, indicating a shore to be
avoided. We had entered the gulf.
With daylight, there appeared on the right, low,
flat lands, making an almost imperceptible line be
tween the sky and the sea, and seen with difficulty
through the mists of the morning and spray of the
waves. Sometimes, owing to the sloping of the sea,
they entirely disappeared. Only rows of trees
seemed to spring from the water. The same thing

THE VOYAGE. 93
was repeated with the houses and lighthouses,
whose white towers often blended with sails. On
the left, we caught sight of a rocky, barren little
island, or at least it seemed so at a distance. The
shores were quite gay with ships, and before having
recourse to the marine glasses we at flrst took some
sails spread to the rising sun for the fronts of
houses. But seen more closely the island was a
desert, containing nothing but a lookout placed on
a hill. The ocean had grown more quiet, and at
dinner there issued from their cabins, like spectres
from their tombs, unknown figures of passengers,
of whose existence we had no idea. Pale, famished,
tottering, they dragged themselves to the side of
the table. But all did not succeed in dining. The
soup was too stormy, the roast too tempestuous.
After a few spoonfuls the most of them rose and
fled with uncertain steps towards the staircase of
the hatchway.
The third night fell upon the sea. It was to be
the last, for on the morrow at eleven o'clock, if
nothing retarded the vessel's course, we should be
in sight of Cronstadt. We remained late on deck,
watching the darkness, pierced here and there with
ruddy flashes from the fires of the lighthouse, and
devoured with an eager curiosity. After two or
three hours' sleep we were again on deck, ahead of
the dawn, which remained indolently abed that
day, at least so it seemed to us.
Who has not felt the uneasiness that precedes the

94 RUSSIA.
hour of dawn ? It is damp, chilly and penetrating.
Robust people are sensible of a certain vague anx
iety, a certain sinking of the heart, and delicate
ones feel ready to faint, and every effort becomes
a burden. The spirits of darkness, the terrors of
night, seem, as they take flight, to touch you with
their bat-like wings. Everything disagreeable that
has happened comes up in your mind. You regret
your home, left of your own accord. But with the
first ray of sunshine all is forgotten.
A steamer, dragging after it its long plume of
smoke, passes on the right. It is going westward
and comes from Cronstadt.
The gulf grows constantly more narrow. Its
shores appear at times barren, at times covered
with sombre verdure. Lookout towers stand out.
Ships, barks, come and go, following the buoy-
marked channel. The water, grown more shallow,
has changed color near the land, and some sea
gulls, the first seen, describe graceful evolutions.
In the far distanee ahead one sees two pink
spots, dashed with blaek, a gold spangle, a green
spangle, some threads as slender as spiders' webs,
some columns of white smoke ascending into the
air, whieh is motionless and perfectly pure. It
was Cronstadt.
At Paris, during the war, we had seen many
plans of greater or less accuracy of Cronstadt with
the crossed fires of cannon indicated by lines like
the rays of a star, and we had taxed our imagina-

THE VOYAGE. gg

tion to form an idea of the actual aspect of the
town. The most detailed plans do not give the
least idea of the real outline.
The turn of the wheels, stirring the quiet, almost
sluggish water, brought us along rapidly, and
already we could clearly distinguish a round fort,
with four rows of loopholes, on the left, and on the
right a square bastion commanding the pass. The
yellow spangle had turned into a golden dome of
wonderful beauty and lustre. All the light was
concentrated on the upper part, while the parts in
shadow assumed amber tones of exquisite delicacy.
The green spangle was a cupola painted in that
color, which might readily be taken for oxidized
copper. A gold dome, a green cupola: Russia, at
first sight, shows herself to us under a characteris
tic coloring.
On a bastion was planted one of those tall sig
nal masts, used so effectively by navies, and behind
a granite mole were massed the war ships ready
for their winter quarters. A crowd of ships, flying
the flags of all nations, filled the port, looking,
with their masts and cordage, like a half-stripped
forest of pines.
A machine for raising masts, with its beams and
pulleys, stood in a corner of the quay, which was
covered with cut timber, and in the background
rose the houses of the town, gay with different
colors, many of the roofs of green but all very
low; only the domes of the churehes, with their

96 RUSSIA.
accompanying cupolas, broke the uniform line.
These fortified towns offer the smallest possible
resting place to the eye or to cannon. The most
delightful result would be that they should not be
seen at all, which doubtless will happen sometime.
From a building, with a Greek front, either cus
tom or police house, rowboats were sent out to our
steamer which had already cast anchor. It made
us think of the "health visits" in the seas of the
Levant, where great fellows, much more fuU of
pest than ourselves, breathing through papers sat
urated with vinegar, examined our papers with the
aid of long pinchers. Everybody was on deck, and
in a barge that was waiting to take, after the neces
sary formalities had been accomplished, a traveler
to Cronstadt, I espied my first moujik.
He was twenty-eight or thirty, his hair was
long and parted in the middle, his beard slightly
curled, as one sees in the paintings of Christ. He
was well built and easily managed his two oars.
He wore a pink shirt fastened at the waist, whose
ends hung outside his trousers, like a sort of tunic.
His trousers were broad, full of pleats and stuck
into his boots. His head-gear consisted of a little
flat hat, compressed in the middle, widening at the
top with a round brim. This one specimen at onee
assured us of the fldelity of Yvon's drawings.
Brought by their boats the police and customs
employes, dressed in long coats, with the Russian
cap, most of them decorated with medallions, as-

THE VOYAGE. 97
cended to the deck and fulflUed the duties of their
office with mueh courtesy.
We had to go down into the saloon to receive
back our passports, deposited with the captain, at
the moment of departure. There were English, Ger
mans, French, Greeks, Italians and many others.
Greatly to our astonishment, the police officer, al
though a very young man, changed his language
with each person, replying in English to the Eng
lishman, German to the German, and so on, with
out ever mistaking his nationality. Like Cardinal
Mai, he seemed to be acquainted with every lan
guage. When our turn came he handed us our
passport, saying with the purest Parisian accent:
' ' They have been expecting you for a long time in
St. Petersburg." In faet we had been imitating
the students and taken a month for what could
readily have been accomplished in a week. To the
passport was attached a three-cornered paper, in
dicating the formalities to be gone through with
on reaching the city of the Tzars.
The steamer resumed its course, and standing on
the forward deck, we gazed eagerly at the extraor
dinary spectacle spread before our eyes. We had
entered into the arm of the sea, into which the
Neva empties. Its appearance was rather that of a
lake than a gulf. As we kept to the middle of the
channel, the shores on each side were scarcely dis
cernible. The water, spread out into a large sheet,
seemed higher than the land, which was marked by

98 RUSSIA.
a tiny line sueh as is seen in a water-color. The
weather was magnificent. A dazzling but cold
light fell from a clear sky. It was an azure polar
borealis with tints of milk, opal, and steel, of which
our sky gives us no conception — a clearness, pure,
white, starry, apparently not coming from the sun,
but such as one would fancy when a dream carries
us to another planet.
Under this opalescent vault the broad expanse of
the gulf was brilliant with indescribable colors,
among which the ordinary tones of water took no
part. Sometimes they were pearl white, like cer
tain shells ; sometimes pearl grey, of extraordinary
delicacy; farther on flat blues, like Damascus
blades, or deep purple reflections, like the flim on
melted pewter; to a zone of polished glass suc
ceeded a goffered band of moire-antique; but aU
so light, so limpid, so graceful, so exquisite, as no
palette or tongue eould describe. The lightest
touch of a human pencil would have been like a
spot of mud on this ideal transparency, and the
words that we make use of to describe this wonder
ful light produce the effect of blots of ink faUing,
from a pen that sputters, on azure tinted vellum.
If a boat passed near us, in aU the realism of its
tones, its salmon-colored masts and every detail
clearly outlined, it resembled, in the midst of this
elysian blue, a balloon floating in mid-air. One
can fancy nothing more fairy-like than this lumi
nous infinitude.

THE VOYAGE. 99
In the distance, between the opalescent water and
the mother-of-pearl sky, surrounded with its walled
crown, crenelated with towers, there emerged the
magniflcent silhouette of St. Petersburg, whose
tones of amethyst separated with a line of demarca
tion the pale boundaries of the sea and sky. Gold
sparkled in spangles and embroidery on this dia
dem, the richest, the most glorious ever worn by the
front of a city. Soon St. Isaac's showed between
its four towers, its cupola gilded like a tiara. The
Admiralty flashed its shining spire, the Chureh of
St. Michael-the-Archangel raised its dome in the
fashion loved of the Muscovite; that of the Horse
Guards displayed its countless little pyramids
crowned with crosses and a crowd of more distant
bell-towers threw back the light from their shining
roofs. Nothing could be more glorious than this city of
gold on the horizon of silver, to which evening con
tributed the delicious coloring of the dawn.

ST. PETERSBURG.

(101)

VI.

ST. PETERSBURG.

The Neva is a beautiful river, about the width of
the Thames at London bridge; its course is not
long. It rises in Lake Ladoga, which is not far
off, and empties into the Gulf of Finland. A few
tums of the wheels brought us alongside of a stone
pier near whieh lay at anchor a flotilla of small
steamboats, schooners and barks.
On the other side of the river, that is on the right
in going up, are immense sheds covering the ships
in coarse of construction. On the left are great
palace-like buildings which, we were told, were the
naval academy and school of engineers.
It is by no means an easy matter to unload the
baggage, trunks, valises, hat-boxes, luggage of all
sorts, that encumber the deck of a steamer, at the
moment of debarkation and to recognize one's own
amid such a eonfusion. A crowd of moujiks, how
ever, soon carried it all off to the custom house on
the pier, followed by the anxious owners..
The most of these moujiks wear a pink shirt out
side of their trousers, like a jacket, wide panta
loons and high boots. Others, although the weather
was unusually mild, were already wrapped up in
(103)

104 RUSSIA.
their sheepskin tunics. This "touloupe" is wom
with the wool inside, and when it is new, the tanned
skin is of a light salmon color, very pleasant to the
eye. It is stitched by way of omament, and is by
no means lacking in individuality; but the moujik
is as faithful to his toulope as the Arab to his
burnous : once put on, it never leaves him ; it is his
tent and his bed ; he wears it night and day ; sleeps
with it in any corner, on any bench or on any
stove. So before long the garment grows greasy
and spotted, assuming those brown tones to which
the Spanish painters show so much partiaUty in
their peasants * pictures, but contrary to the models
of Ribera and Murillo, the moujik is clean under
this dirty covering, for he goes to the public baths
once a week. These long-haired, long-bearded
men, clothed in the skins of animals, on this mag
nificent pier, surrounded on all sides by golden
domes and golden spires, engross the imagination
of the stranger from pure force of contrast. Do
not fancy anything fierce or alarming. The faces
of these moujiks are gentle and intelligent and
their politeness would put to shame the rudeness
of our own porters.
The examination of our luggage is made without
other incident than the discovery of Balzac's "Les
parents pauvres," and Carl Bernhard's "Ailes d'
Icare" lying on top of our linen. They were
taken possession of and we were told to ask for them

ST. PETERSBURG. 105
at the Office of Censure, where doubtless they
would be returned to us.
These formalities accomplished, we were free to
go where our fancy dictated. A multitude of
droskies and little carts for carrying baggage were
waiting in front of the custom house, sure of find
ing customers. We knew perfectly well the name
of the place where we had been advised to go, but
it was necessary to translate it into Russian for
the coachman. One of those domestiques de place,
who claim no particular language as their own and
end by composing a sort of "Frank language,"
similar to that used by the false Turks in the
ceremony of the "Bourgeois Gentilhomme, " saw
our embarrassment, understood that we wished to
go to the Hotel de Russie, kept by M. Klee, piled
our luggage on a rospousky, jumped up himself
and we were off. The rospousky is a low chariot
of most primitive construction, being apparently
little more than two roughhewn logs placed on four
little wheels.
When one has just left the majestic solitudes of
the oeean, the whirlwind of human activity and
the noise of a great capital give one a sort of dazed
feeling. The traveler passes, as in a dream, by
unknown objects, wishing to see everything and
seeing nothing. It seems as if the waves were still
tossing you, especially when a vehicle of the con
struction of a rospousky rolls and tumbles you
over a rough pavement, producing on terra firma

106 RUSSIA.
the illusion of seasickness. But in spite of our
terrible jolting we did not lose a moment, but de
voured with our eyes the novel aspects presented
to them.
Soon we reached a bridge which we knew later
was the Bridge of the Annunciation, or more fa
miliarly the Nicholas Bridge. It is reached by
two movable roads which are opened for the pass
age of boats, so that from the river the bridge
looks like a Y -with shortened stems. At the point
of meeting of these stems is a Uttle chapel of ex
treme richness, of whose mosaics and gilding we
caught a glimpse as we passed.
At the end of the bridge, whose piers are stone
and arches iron, the carriage turned and ascended
the English quay, along which are palaces with
frontals and columns, or private residences of
equal splendor, painted in gay colors, with balco
nies and marquees jutting over the sidewalk. Most
of the houses of St. Petersburg, Uke those of Lon
don and Berlin, are built of brick that is rough-
coated with plaster of different colors, that pro
duces a charming effect. As we passed we admired
behind the glass of the fuU-length windows, banana
trees and tropical plants in bloom in these rooms
of the temperature of hothouses.
The English quay ends at the corner of a broad
plaza, in which is an equestrian statue of Peter the
Great, by Falconet. From the top of a rock, which
is used as a pedestal, the great Tzar sits his pranc-

Equestrian Statue of Peter the Great,
St. Petersburg

ST. PETERSBURG. 107
ing charger, one arm extended towards the Neva.
AVe recognized it at once from the description of
Diderot and the drawings we had seen. At the
bottom of the square rose the gigantic silhouette of
St. Isaac's, with its golden dome, its tiara of col
umns, its four bell-towers, and its octostyle frontal.
At the entrance to a street, on our way back to the
English quay, we caught a glimpse of the figures of
Victory, with bronze wings, holding palms in their
hands, on columns of porphyry. All this, hastily
seen as we drove rapidly along, formed a magnifi
cent and Oriental whole that filled us with de
lighted amazement. As we continued our eourse
in the same direction we soon were before the im
mense palace of the Admiralty. A square tower in
the form of a temple, ornamented with little col
umns placed on its top, supported that slender,
golden spire with a ship for a weathercock, that
we had seen so far off, which had indeed caught
our attention in the Gulf of Finland. Avenues of
trees, stretching in every direction from the build
ing, had not yet lost their leaves, although the au
tumn was weU advanced — (10th of October).
Further on, in the middle of another square, on
its base of brass, rose the column of Alexander, an
enormous monolith of pink granite, surmounted
by an angel holding a cross. We only caught a
glimpse of it as the carriage turned and entered
the Nevsky Prospect, which is to St. Petersburg
what the Rue de Rivoli is to Paris, Regent Street

108 RUSSIA.
to London, the Calle de Alcala to Madrid, The
Toledo to Naples, that is to say, the principal
artery of the city, the most crowded and popular
spot. What struck us more than anything else was the
immense number of carriages — and a Parisian is
not easily astonished in this respect — which were
in this street, and especially the extreme speed of
the horses. The droskies are, as everyone knows,
little, low, light phaetons which, at the most, hold
but two persons. They go like the wind, driven
by coachmen who are both skillful and daring.
They grazed our rospousky with the swiftness of
swallows, crossed each other, passed by, went from
the wooden to the stone pavement -without ever
touching each other. Blockades, to all appear
ances inextricable, were dissolved as if by enchant
ment, and each one went on his own side and
found a place for his wheels where one would have
thought a wheelbarrow could not have passed.
The Nevsky Prospect is at the same time the
shopping street and the beautiful street of St.
Petersburg. The shops rent for as high prices
there as on the Boulevard des Italiens. Shops,
palaces and churches are mingled together in a
most original manner. On the signs shine in gold
the beautiful characters of the Russian alphabet,
which has retained certain Greek letters, whose
statuesque forms lend themselves readily to in
scription.

ST. PETERSBURG. 109
AU this passed before our eyes like a dream, for
the rospousky was going very fast, and before we
knew where we were, we were mounting the steps
of the Hotel de Russie, whose landlord scolded
roundly the domestique de place for having placed
our high mightiness in so wretched a vehicle. The
Hotel de Russie, situated at the corner of the
Place Michael near the Nevsky Prospect, is fully
as large as the Hotel du Louvre in Paris. Its cor
ridors are longer than many a street, so that it is
quite a walk to go through them. The lower floor
is occupied by large dining-rooms, which are deco
rated -with hothouse plants. In the flrst room, on
a sort of buffet, are laid out caviar, herrings, sand
wiches of white and brown bread, cheese of several
kinds, bottles of bitters, kiimmel, and brandy,
served in the Russian fashion to tempt the appe
tite of the consumer. The hors d'oeuvre is eaten
here before the repast, and we have traveled too
mueh to feel any astonishment at this custom.
Every country has its own ways. In Sweden, do
they not bring the soup with the dessert ?
At the entrance of this room was a coat rack
surrounded by an enclosure, where everyone hung
his overcoat, his nose-protector, his plaid, and also
put his rubber shoes. And yet it was not cold, and
the thermometer marked in the open forty-eight or
fifty degrees. These extraordinary precautions,
in so mild a temperature amazed us, and we looked
outside to see if the snow was already whitening

110 RUSSIA.
the roofs, but the feeble light of the setting sun
alone colored them.
And yet double windows were placed every
where. Great piles of wood filled the courtyard,
and they were preparing to receive winter in fine
shape. Our bedchamber was also hermetically
sealed. Sand was spread between the sashes in
which were planted little horns full of salt, meant
to absorb the dampness and prevent the formation
of frost flowers, for without this precaution the
cold would crack the glass. Registers were aU
ready to pour forth their volume of heated air.
But winter was late, and the double sashes kept
the room very pleasantly warm. The fumiture
was in no way at all remarkable, except for one of
those immense sofas in pressed leather, that are
seen everywhere in Russia, and which, with their
numerous pillows, are more comfortable than the
beds, whieh indeed are usuaUy very bad.
After dinner we went out without a guide, as we
always do, trusting to our bump of locality to bring
us back home. A big clock at one corner, and a
watch-tower at another ought to serve as land
marks. This flrst stroll at hazard, through an unknown
and long-dreamed of eity, is one of the greatest
delights of the traveler, which pays him with in
terest for the fatigues of the journey. Is it too
much to add that the night, with its shadows
mingled with light, its mystery, and fantastic

ST. PETERSBURG. m
forms, greatly increases this delight? The eye
catches a glimpse, and the fancy flnishes. The
reality of thiags is not portrayed too strongly, and
objects group themselves in large masses like a
picture that the artist means to flnish later.
Here we are then, sauntering along the sidewalk
slowly, on our way down the Prospect towards the
Admiralty. Sometimes we looked at the passers-by, some
times at the brilliantly lighted shops, or we peered
into the basements, which recalled the cellars of
Berlin or the "tunnels" of Hamburg. At every
step we saw exquisite fruits, artistically arranged
in the handsome shop windows— pineapples, grapes
from Portugal, lemons, pomegranates, pears,
apples, plums, watermelons. The love of fruit is
as universal in Russia as that of bonbons in Ger
many. Fruit is very dear, which makes it even
more highly prized. On the sidewalks, moujiks
offered green, sour-looking apples for sale, and
they seemed to flnd purchasers. There were piles
of the fruit at every corner.
This first examination finished, we returned to
the hotel. If children need to be rocked to
sleep, men prefer motionless slumber, and for
three nights the sea had rocked us enough in our
steam cradle to make us long for a stable bed. But
across our dreams the undulations of the waves
made themselves felt. We had experienced this
strange sensation several times. The ever-blessed

112 RUSSIA.
dry land, so highly appreciated by Panurge, is not
as prompt a remedy as is generally believed for the
wretchedness caused by the moving surface of the
liquid plain.
The next day we were out betimes to see by day
light the picture half divined the evening before
by the uncertain light of twilight and night. Since
the Nevsky Prospect is to a certain extent an epit
ome of St. Petersburg, you will pardon me if I
give a rather long and detailed description of it,
whieh will at once make you conversant with the
city. Please pardon some remarks that may seem
puerile and tedious. It is just these little things,
generally neglected as too humble and unworthy of
observation, which constitute the difference be
tween one plaee and another, making you sensible
that you are not in the Rue Vivienne or Piccadilly.
The Nevsky Prospect starts from the square of the
Admiralty and runs for a long distance, as far as
the St. Alexander Nevsky Convent, where it ends
with a slight curve. The street is wide, as is
the ease with all streets in St. Petersburg. The
middle of the street has been paved rather roughly,
and the two sides slope towards the middle where,
at their intersection, is the gutter. On each side a
strip of wooden pavement borders the granite
stones. The sidewalk is paved with flags.
The spire of the Admiralty, whieh resembles the
mast of a golden ship planted on the roof of a
Grecian temple, forms, when seen from the end of

ST. PETERSBURG. II3
the Prospect, a point of view that has been man
aged with exquisite skill.
The smallest ray of sunshine is focused into a
brilliant point of light on it, and catches the eye as
far as it can be seen. Two neighboring streets
enjoy the same advantage and by means of a skill
ful arrangement of lines ean also enjoy a view of
the golden spire. But for the moment let us turn
our baek on the Admiralty and ascend the Pros
pect as far as the Anitschkov bridge that is in the
most animated and crowded part. The houses on
either side are lofty and large, with the appearance
of palaces or hotels. Some of the oldest recall the
ancient Italia nized-French style with a mingling
of Mansart and Bernini that is full of dignity.
Corinthian pilasters, cornices, windows with
frontals, consoles, voluted oed-de-hceufs, pillared
doors, the ground floor all carved and sculptured
on a foundation of pink rough plaster. Others are
in the style of Louis XV., shell work, and gewgaws
of various kinds, while the Greek taste of the Em
pire lifts its colonnades and triangular frontals in
white on a yellow background.
The modern houses are in the Anglo-German
style, and seem to have taken as a model those
magniflcent hotels at seaside resorts^ pictures of
which enchant all travelers. But it is not well to
study the details too closely, for the use of stone
alone gives value to the execution, or the orna
mentation, by preserving the direct impress of the

114 RUSSIA.
artist. The whole, as we were saying, forms an
admirable coup d'ceil, making the name of Pros
pect, that this street bears, as well as many others
of St. Petersburg, seem wonderfully fitting and
just. Everything is combined to impress the eye ;
and the city, created in a moment by a wiU that
knew no obstacle, sprang ready-finished from the
marshes underneath, like a decoration of the
theatre at the whistle of the mechanician. If the
Nevsky Prospect is beautiful, let us hasten to say it
enjoys its beauty. Fashionable and full of shops, it
alternates the one and the other. Nowhere else,
unless it may be Berne, do signs display such
luxury. To such a point of perfection is this art
carried that it must almost be admitted as an order
of modern architecture, and added to the five or
ders of Vignole. Gold letters are boldly placed on
fields of azure, on black or crimson panels, are
applied to the front windows, are repeated at
every door, take advantage of the corners of the
street, cling in curves to round places, stretch
along the cornices, utilize the projections of the
marquees, descend the stairs to the basement, and
seek by every possible means to attract the atten
tion of the passer-by.
But perhaps you do not understand Russian, and
the form of these letters means nothing more to
you than the drawing: of an ornament or a piece of
embroidery. Here alongside is the French or Ger
man translation. Still you do not understand.

ST. PETERSBURG. II5
The complaisant sign pardons you for your ignor
ance in these three languages ; it even supposes the
ease that you are utterly uneducated, and it gives
the natural form of the object which is offered in
the shop it announces. Golden bunches of grapes,
carved or painted, indicate the wine merchant.
Further on hams, sausages, beeves' tongues, boxes
of caviar point out a shop for eatables. Boots,
slippers, rubber shoes, most realistically painted,
say to the feet that cannot read : ' ' Enter, and you
will be shod." Gloves crossed over each other,
speak a language intelligible to all. There are also
women's cloaks and gowns, surmounted by a hat
or bonnet, to which the artist has not judged it
necessary to add the figure. Pianos invite you to
try their painted key-boards. It all is very amus
ing to the loiterer and possesses its own individ
uality. The first thing that attracts the attention of a
Parisian on entering the Nevsky Prospect is the
name of the print-seller, Daziaro, whose Russian
sign he has already seen on the Boulevard des
Italiens. In ascending to the right he will stop at
the shop of Beggrow, the Desforges of St. Peters
burg, who sells colors, and has always exposed in
his window a water-color or oil painting.
Numerous canals intersect the city, which is
built on twelve little islands like a northern Ven
ice. Three of these canals cross the Nevsky Pros
pect, but without breaking its continuity, the

116 RUSSIA.
Moika canal, the Catherine, and further on, the
Ligovka and Fontanka canal. The Moika is crossed
by the Police Bridge, whose ascent is so steep that
it arrests for a moment the rapid pace of the
droskies. The Kasan bridge and the Anitschkov
bridge span the two other canals. When one
passes over these bridges before the winter comes
one is fllled with a strange pleasure in gazing at
the opening made in the midst of the houses by
these waters kept in check by great stone waUs
and covered with boats.
Lessing, the author of "Nathan, the Wise,"
would have loved the Nevsky Prospect, for his
ideas of religious tolerance would have been put in
practice in the most liberal maimer. There is
scarcely a communion that has not its church or
temple on this broad street, exercising its reUgion
in perfect liberty.
On the left, as we are walking, is the Dutch
ehurch, the Lutheran temple of St. Peter, the Cath
olic church of St. Catherine, an Armenian church,
without counting in the adjacent streets, the
Finnish chapel, and the temples of other reformed
sects. On the right is the Russian Cathedral of
Our Lady of Kazan, another Greek church, and a
chapel of the old religion, called Starovertzi or
Raskolniki. All these houses of God, except Our Lady of
Kazan, whieh breaks the line by the formation of a
great Plaza where is built its superb semicircular

Cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan,
St. Petersburg

ST. PETERSBURG. 117
portico, imitated from the colonnade of St. Peter's
at Rome, are mingled familiarly with the houses of
men. Their fagades are set baek a little, but they
offer themselves without pretence of mystery to the
piety of the passer-by, and are recognized by their
style of architecture. Each church is surrounded
by a broad piece of land, conceded by the Tzars,
but the ground is now covered with rich manufac
tories that have rented it.
Keeping on our way, we reach the tower of
Douma, a sort of watch-tower for flres, like the
tower of Seraskier in Constantinople. On its top
is placed an apparatus for signalling, in which red
or black balls indicate the street where the flre is.
Quite near, on the same side, is the Gostiny-
Dvor, a great, square building, with two rows of
galleries, which looks something like the Palais
Royal, and encloses shops of all sorts, fllled with
every luxury. Next comes the Imperial Library,
with its curved fagade and Ionic columns. Then
the Anitschkov palace, that gives its name to the
adjacent bridge, ornamented with four bronze
horses held in check by grooms, and prancing on
their stone pedestals.
Here the Nevsky Prospect ends ; but, do you say»
"there is no one in your picture? It is like those
poor things that the Turkish scribblers make."
Please, I beg, wait a moment. We are going now
to tUl your view with animation and people. The

118 RUSSIA.
writer, less fortunate than the painter, can only
present objects one at a time.
We have promised to put people in our Nevsky
Prospect. Let us try to sketch them ourselves, not
having, like the architects, the resource of borrow
ing a pencil more graphic than our own and writ
ing at the base "Figures of Duruy or of Bayot."
It is from one to three o 'clock that the crowd is
the greatest. Besides those who are attending to
their business affairs and who walk rapidly, there
are loungers, whose only end is to see, to be seen
and to take a little exercise. Their coupes or
droskies meet them at a given point, or even foUow
them slowly as they walk along, in case they should
desire to use them at any moment.
First you will notice the officers of the Guard, in
grey mantles with a mark on the shoulder to indi
cate their rank. Their breasts are nearly always
starred with decorations, and they wear caps on
their heads. Next come the tchinovniks (Govern
ment officials), in long overcoats pleated at the
back and drawn in by a belt. Instead of a hat
they wear a dark cap with a cockade. Young men,.
who are neither officers nor officials, wear coats
trimmed with fur, whose price fills the stranger
with astonishment, going beyond the wildest
dreams of our exquisites. These overcoats are
made of cloth of the finest quality, and lined with
marten or muskrat and have sable collars, costing
from one hundred to three hundred roubles, ac-

ST. PETERSBURG. Hg
cording to the manner in which the skin is finished,
to its depth and richness of color, and if it has
white hairs longer than the rest of the fur. A coat
costing a thousand roubles is no unusual thing,
and frequently they are worth much more. It is
a luxury unknown with us. At St. Petersburg the
proverb "Tell me who are your friends, and I will
tell you what you are, ' ' might be changed into this
northern variation : ' ' Tell me about your furs, and
I will tell you what you are worth." One is
judged by one's furs.
What! you are probably thinking as you read
this description, furs in the commencement of
October, in weather that is exceptionally mild, that
must seem to these men of the North like spriag!
Yes, the Russians are not at all what many people
fancy them to be — hardened by their climate till
they rejoice like white bears in ice and snow.
Nothing is farther from the truth. They are, on
the contrary, very chilly and take precautions to
guard against the least inclemency that strangers
at first neglect, though they adopt them later— after
they have been ill. If you see anyone pass lightly
clothed, by his olive skin, his thick, black beard, you
may be sure he is an Italian, a Southerner, whose
blood has not yet been chilled. Take your wadded
overcoat, put on your rubber shoes, envelop your
throat in a nose protector, do you say? But the
thermometer marks forty-six or forty-seven de
grees. Never mind, there is here, as in Madrid, a

120 RUSSIA.
little wind that would not blow out a candle but
wiU extinguish a man. We used to put on a cloak
in Madrid when it was fifty degrees. We certainly
have no reason for not using a winter overcoat in
the autumn at St. Petersburg. It is best to be
lieve in the wisdom of the nation itself. The over
coat, then, lined with light fur, is for the half
season. At the first fall of snow people wrap
themselves up in their pelisses, not to take them
off till the month of May.
If the Venetian women never go out but in a
gondola, the women of St. Petersburg never go out
but in a carriage. They scarcely ever leave it even
for a little walk on the Prospect. They have
adopted the hats and fashions of Paris. Blue
seems to be their favorite color. It goes well with
their fair complexions and blonde hair. Of the
elegance of their figures, one cannot judge, at least
in the street, for wide pelisses of blaek satin or
Scotch plaids envelop them from head to foot.
Coquetry here gives way to climatic considerations,
and the most beautiful feet are ruthlessly shod in
enormous boots. The Andalusian woman would
rather die; but in St. Petersburg this sentence,
"take cold," is a sufficient answer for everything.
These cloaks are trimmed with zibeline, marten,
with Siberian blue fox, and other furs, of whose
extravagant prices we Westerners have no idea.
The luxury in this matter is unheard of, and if
the rigor of the climate allowed the women to wear

ST. PETERSBURG. 121
but a shapeless bag, you may be sure this bag would
cost as mueh as the most splendid toilettes.
After fifty steps, the beautiful, indolent
creatures return to their coupes or caleches to pay
visits or return home.
Of course, all this has reference to society women,
that is to the women of the nobility. The others,
even if as rich, or as beautiful, are more humble
in their manners — rank sets the seal. These who
are now passing are Germans, wives of merchants,
distinguishable by their Teutonic type, their air
of gentle dreaminess, their neat, but simple clothes.
They wear talmas, with short skirts, or long-haired
cloth mantles. And these are French women in
conspicuous toilettes, a velvet coat, a hat covering
the whole top of the head, which here on the pave
ment of the Nevsky Prospect carries one back to
the Mabille or Folies-Nouvelles.
Strictly speaking, so far, you could very well
believe you were on the Boulevard! A little pa
tience, please. You are going to be shown the Rus
sian types. Look at this man in a blue caftan, but
toned on one side of the breast like a Chinese dress,
gathered over the hips in symmetrical folds and
exquisitely clean. A flat-crowned hat with a visor,
low on his forehead, completes his costume. He is
an artelchtchik, or merchant's servant. His hair
and his beard are both parted in the middle. His
face is honest and intelligent. To him are trusted

122 RUSSIA.
the payments, the demands and the commissions,
which require honesty.
At the very moment that you are bewailing the
absence of the picturesque there passes by your
side a nurse in the aneient, national costume. On
her head is the povoinik, a sort of toque in the
shape of a diadem, of red or blue velvet, em
broidered with gold. The povoinik is open or
closed. Open, it means a young girl; closed, a
married woman. That of the nurses has a top and
their hair comes out from underneath in two plaits
that hang down the back. Maidens have but a
single plait. The dress is of wadded damask, with
the waist under the arms, and a short tunic-like
skirt, disclosing a second one of less richness. This
tunic is red or blue, like the povoinik with a broad,
gold band on the edge. This purely Russian cos
tume possesses both style and dignity when worn
by a handsome woman. The great gala costume,
in the court fetes, is taken from this design; and
rustling with gold and studded with diamonds, it
contributes no small share to their splendor.
In Spain, too, it is considered a point of ele
gance to have a nurse wearing the costume of her
pasiega, and we used to admire these beautiful
peasant women on the Prado or Calle de Alcala,
with their jackets of black velvet and their scarlet
skirts, with their bands of gold. One might think
that civilization, becoming sensible of the gradual
effacement of the national cachet, desires to im-

ST. PETERSBURG. 123
press its memory upon its children, and so brings
from the depths of the country a woman in ancient
costume who is the image of the mother-country.
And apropos of nurses, let us talk of the chil
dren. The transition is quite natural. The Rus
sian babies are very sweet in their little blue
caftans and their flat hats decorated by a peacock's
feather. Dvornicks, or concierges, are constantly at work
on their pavements, sweeping in summer and tak
ing away the ice in winter. They are very rarely
in their lodges, if lodges they have in the sense
which we give to the word. They stay up all
night ; have no thought of a bell and open the door,
when a person first calls. For they think, ex
traordinary as it may seem, that a porter is made
to open the door at three in the moming as much
as at three in the afternoon. They sleep as they
can, and never undress. They wear blue shirts
outside their trousers, wide, short trousers, and
heavy boots — a dress whieh they change with the
first cold weather .for the invariable sheepskin.
From time to time a boy with an apron tied
around his waist issues from a shop, walks rapidly
up the street and enters a house or shop. It is an
apprentice sent by his master on an errand.
The picture would be incomplete were we not to
mention several dozen moujiks, their touloupes
spotted with dirt and grease, who sell apples and
cakes, bring provisions in their karzines (baskets

124 RUSSIA.
of plaited fir shavings) mend with their axes the
wooden pavement, or in groups of five or six carry
with measured tread a piano, a table or a sofa upon
their heads.
One rarely ever sees the moujik women; either
they stay at home on the lands of their masters, or
they are occupied in domestic labor. Those that
one sees from a distance have nothing worthy of
mention in their appearance. A handkerchief,
tied under the chin, covers their heads. A wadded
cloak, of common material, of neutral color and
doubtful cleanliness, reaches to the knee, disclos
ing a cotton skirt with felt stockings and wooden
shoes. They are by no means pretty, but look
sad and gentle. No flash of en-vy brightens their
eyes at the sight of a beautiful, well-dressed lady,
and coquetry is apparently unknown to them.
They accept their inferiority, which is more than
any woman with us would do, no matter how
humble might be her position in the social scale.
Then, too, one is struck with the small number
of women, proportionally, in the streets of St.
Petersburg. As in the East, the men, alone, seem
to have the privilege of going out. In Germany
it is quite the contrary, for there the female por
tion of the population is always out.
But as yet we have only peopled the sidewalks
with flgures. The middle of the street does not
present a less animated and vivid spectacle. A
perpetual stream of carriages pours down it at

A Russian Drosky

ST. PETERSBURG. 125
full speed, and to cross the Prospect is an operation
not less perilous than to cut across the Boulevard
in Paris. People walk very little in St. Peters
burg, taking a drosky for even a few steps. A
carriage is not considered here as an object of lux
ury, but as of the flrst necessity. Small merchants
and clerks on little salaries economize in many
ways, even pinch themselves that they may have
a eareta, drosky, or a sleigh. To go on foot, im
plies a sort of dishonor. A Russian without a
carriage is like an Arab without a horse. His
nobility would even be doubted, and he might be
taken for a mechanic or a serf.
The drosky is, par excellence, the national car
riage. There is nothing analogous to it in any
eountry, and it is quite deserving of a description.
Here is one, which is waiting, drawn up by the
sidewalk, while its master is paying a visit, and
which seems placed for our especial beneflt. It is
a fashionable drosky belonging to a young noble
who is a judge of carriages.
The drosky is a small, low, open, four-wheeled
carriage, of which the back wheels are not larger
than those of a victoria; those in front, than the
wheel of a wheelbarrow. Pour round rings sup
port the body, which is divided into t-wo seats, one
for the coachman, the other for the owner. This
last seat is round, and in elegant droskies is called
an "egotist," because only one person can sit in it.
In others there are two places, but so narrow that

126 RUSSIA.
one is obliged to pass one's arm around one's neigh
bor, whether male or female. On each side are
bands of varnished leather which pass over the
wheels and serve the double purpose of protecting
the inmate from the mud and affording a step
that is but a few inehes from the ground. Under
the coachman's seat is the swingletree and there
are no patented boxes on the wheels, the reason
we will tell in describing the mode of harnessing.
The color of the drosky varies. Sometimes it
is jet black picked out in light blue, or Russian
green, with apple-green facings. But no matter
what tint is chosen, the body color remains dark.
The seat is of pressed leather or dark cloth, and
a Persian or moquette rug is under the feet. There
are no lamps to a drosky, and it flies about at
night without two stars in front. It is for the
passer-by to be careful and for the coachman to
cry: "Look out!"
Nothing could be prettier, lighter or more deli
cate than this little equipage that eould be carried
under one's arm. It might have issued from the
carriage shop of Queen Mab.
Harnessed to this nutshell, with which it eould
easily jump over a fence, a magnificent horse,
which has probably cost six thousand roubles, paws
the ground with nervous impatience — a horse of
the famous Orlov breed, of rich iron-grey, with a
superb mane and tail powdered with flashes of
silver. He stamps, tosses his head, prances about

ST. PETERSBURG. 127
and is with difficulty held in check by a powerful
coachman. He stands bare in the shafts, no har
ness preventing us from admiring his beauty.
Some Ught leather cords, scarcely a half inch in
width, caught here and there by silver or gold
ornaments, adorn without annoying or covering
him or hiding the perfection of his form.
The mountings of the head-piece flash with little
metal scales, and it is quite free from those heavy,
black blinders which hide the most beautiful part
of a horse, his flashing, dilating eyes.
Two little silver chains cross gracefully over the
forehead. The bit is covered with leather, for
fear the eold iron may injure the deUcacy of the
mouth, for a simple bit is sufficient to guide the
noble beast. The collar which is very light and
simple, is the only part of the harness that at
taches the horse to the carriage, for a Russian har
ness has no traces. The collar is joined directly
to the shafts, fastened by straps wrapped round
several times, but without buckles, rings or any
metal attachment. At the point of junction of the
collar and shafts, are fastened by means of the
same straps, the cords of a flexible wooden arch
which rises over the shoulders of the horse, like
the handle of a basket, drawn in at the ends. This
arch, called the douga, bent slightly backwards,
serves to hold the collar and shafts in such a man
ner that they shall not hurt the horse, and also to
suspend the reins from "a hook.

128 RUSSIA.
The shafts are not attached to the body of the
drosky, but to the axle of the front wheels, which
passes beyond the hubs, passing through them, and
are kept in place by an exterior pin. Por greater
solidity a trace placed outside is fastened by straps
to the collar.
This manner of harnessing aUows the front part
to tum easily, the traction operating on the ends
of the axles like a lever.
Such is a description, very minute without doubt,
of the drosky, but vague descriptions do not amount
to anything, and perchance the sportsmen of Paris
or London may not be sorry to know how the
drosky of a St. Petersburg sportsman is made and
harnessed. But we have said nothing of the coachman, and
a Russian coachman is a very characteristic per
sonage, full of local coloring. On his head is a
low hat with a bulging crown, and a brim turned
up at the sides and sloping down over the fore
head and neek. He wears a long, blue or green
blouse, closed under the left arm by hooks or sil
ver buttons and pleated around the hips and fas
tened at the waist by a Circassian belt embroidered
with gold, his muscular throat encircled by a
cravat, his long beard falling over his breast, his
arms held out straight, a rein in each hand, and
it must be acknowledged he presents a magnificent,
triumphal appearance, that he is indeed the coach
man of his equipage. The bigger he is, the higher

ST. PETERSBURG. 129
his wages; entering into your service thin, he de
mands increase of wages as he increases in flesh.
As they drive with both hands, the use of the
whip is unknown. The horses increase or lessen
their speed by the sound of the voice. Like the
Spanish muleteers, the Russian drivers address
compliments or invectives to their animals. Some
times they are diminutives of charming tender
ness; sometimes horribly picturesque insults, that
modem modesty forbids us to translate. Presi
dent de Brosse would not have failed to have done
so. If the animal goes too slow or makes a false
step, a little blow with the reins on his back suffices
to hurry or help him. The drivers warn you to
take care by calling, ' ' Beriguiss ! beriguiss ! " If
you do not obey the injunction quickly enough they
say, with increased accentuation : ' ' Beriguiss ! — sta
—eh!" It is a point of honor with coachmen of
good houses never to raise their voices.
But just here the young lord steps into his car
riage. The horse starts off at a brisk trot, stepping
high as if he would like to danoe, though his
coquetry of gait does not impede his swiftness.
Sometimes another horse is harnessed to a drosky,
and is called "pristiaska," whieh may be trans
lated as a "wheeler." He is guided by an out
side rein and gallops, while his companion trots.
The difficulty is to keep the two gaits equal, yet
dissimilar. This horse, which looks as if he were
gamboling along with the equipage, accompanying

130 RUSSIA.
his comrade for his own pleasure, imparts a gaiety,
freedom and grace to the turnout that is seen no
where else.
The hired droskies are exactly like the others,
except for the elegance of their shape and manu
facture, and the freshness of their paint. They are
even driven by a coachman, in a more or less clean
blue blouse, who has his number stamped on a
copper plate, and suspended from his neck by a
leathern cord, which he always throws behind him,
so that his customer may have his number before
his eyes and not forget it. The harness is the
same, and the little horse from the Ukraine, al
though not of such flne stock, does not, on that
account, go less fast. There is also a long drosky,
which is the oldest and most national. It is noth
ing more than a bench covered with cloth earried
on four wheels, across which one must sit astride
unless one desires to sit sideways, as in a woman's
saddle. The droskies wander about or wait at the
corner of the streets or squares, before wooden
troughs, supported by a hollow foot, that are re
ceptacles for oats or hay for the horses. At any
hour of the day or night, in any place in St. Peters
burg, one needs to call but two or three times,
" Isvochtehik ! " and a little carriage, from Heaven
knows where, will come galloping up.
The coupes, berlins, caleches, which are always
ascending or descending the Prospect have nothing
unusual about them, and are generally of English

ST. PETERSBURG. 131
or Viennese manufacture. Very frequently mag
nificent horses are harnessed to them, which go at
a great rate. The drivers wear the blouse, and
sometimes by them are seated military-looking per
sonages with a copper helmet terminating in a ball,
instead of the flame that forms the top of the sol
dier's crests. These men wear a grey mantle, with
a red or blue collar, according to the rank of their
colonel or general master. The privilege of hav
ing a chasseur belongs only to the carriages of am
bassadors. Here is an equipage with four horses,
the wheeler is mounted by an outrider in ancient
livery, holding a great whip straight up. It is
the metropolitan, and when he passes everyone
bows. Amid this whirlwind of fine carriages are
mingled chariots of exceedingly primitive construc
tion. The most ignorant rusticity rubs against the
highest civilization. In Russia this contrast is by
no means unusual. Rospouskys, made of two logs
placed on axles, whose wheels are held up by pieces
of wood running through the center and coming
out at the sides of the rude vehicle, graze the swift
caleche shining with varnish. The principle of
the harness is the same as with the drosky. Only
a larger rim, queerly painted, replaces the delicate
curve of the light wheel. Cords are substituted
for the fine leather reins, and a moujik in sheep
skin is crouched among the bales and bundles. As
for the horse, all bristling with a coat that has

132 RUSSIA.
never known a currycomb, he shakes, as he walks,
his dishevelled mane which almost touches the
ground. It is with the aid of these vehicles that
people move. They are enlarged by planks, and
the furniture goes along, with its legs in the air,
fastened down with ropes. Further, a hay rick
seems to be walking of its own volition, drawn
by a horse that is well-nigh buried. A tub full
of water is being carried by the same process. A
telega passes in great haste, without troubling it
self about the jolts it inflicts on the officer carried
on its springless boards. Where is it going ? Five
or six hundred versts— further still, perhaps to the
outmost confines of the Empire, to the Caucasus
or Thibet. Never mind! But you may be sure
of one thing, that the Ught cart (it is not deserving
of any other name) will be pushed always at fuU
speed. So that the two front wheels, with the seat,
arrive at their destination, it will be enough.
Look at this chariot which looks exactly like a
trough on wheels. Behind it is a long pole, sepa
rating like the side of a box the two horses at
tached to the body, which thus have no need of
grooms. Nothing could be simpler or more con
venient. Those heavy carts, that are moved with diffi
culty by five or six horses urged by the whip of a
brutal driver, are never seen in St. Petersburg.
Here the horses carry light loads, but are expected
to go very rapidly ; and they are swift rather than

ST. PETERSBURG. 133
strong. All heavy objects, which can be divided,
are distributed among several wagons instead of
being piled up in a single one, as with us. They
go in companies, and their union forms caravans
that recall, in the midst of the town, the traveling
customs of the desert.
Every civilized city must have omnibuses.
Some, to which three horses are harnessed, go about
the Nevsky Prospect, coming from distant quar
ters. But the droskies are generally preferred, for
they cost very little more and take you wherever
you want to go. The long drosky costs fifteen
kopecks the course; the round drosky, twenty-
something like twelve or sixteen cents. It is not
high. One must be either very miserly, or very
poor, to walk.
But the twilight falls, the pedestrians, urged
by visions of dinner, quicken their steps; the car
riages disappear, and the luminous ball is raised
on the watch-tower, which is the signal for lighting
the gas. Let us, too, go home.

WINTER— THE NEVA.

(135)

VII.

WINTER — THE NEVA.

Fob several days it has been growing perceptibly
colder. Every night it freezes, and the north
east wind has swept the last crimson, autumn
leaves in the square of the Admiralty. Winter,
though late for this climate, has started on its way
from the polar regions, announcing its approach
by the chill that has enveloped everything around
us. Nervous people feel that vague discomfort
caused to nervous organizations by snow suspended
in the air, and the isvochtchiks, who are quite with
out nerves but possess as a compensation an atmos
pheric instinct as infallible as an animal's, lift
their noses towards the sky, covered with an im
mense yellow-grey cloud, and joyously make ready
their sleighs. But still the snow did not eome,
and people made critical observations on the tem
perature, but in a totally different vein from that
in which Philistines of other lands indulge when
talking of their native air. In St. Petersburg
people complained that the weather was not severe
enough, and looking at the thermometer would say :
"What! it is only two or three degrees above zero!
Decidedly the climate is changing!" And old
(137)

138 RUSSIA.
people tell you of those beautiful winters, when
they ENJOYED thirty-five degrees below zero from
the month of October to the month of May.
But one morning, on raising the blind, we per
ceived through the double window sashes, damp
with the night-frost, a roof of dazzling whiteness
standing out from a sky of light blue, while the
rising sun turned into gold some delicate clouds
and spirals of smoke. The projections of the
palace opposite were enriched with silver Unes,
like those drawings on colored paper, heightened
with touches of white paint, and over the ground
there was spread a thick layer of -virgin snow, im
printed only as yet by the pointed toes of pigeons,
as numerous in St. Petersburg as in Constantinople
or Venice. The flock, dotting with grey-blue the
background of immaculate whiteness, circled about,
flapping their wings, apparently in greater impa
tience than was their wont, before the basement
shop of a provision merchant, for the distribution
of grain which he made every morning with a
charity worthy of a Brahman. Indeed, although
the snow looked like a tablecloth, the birds did
not find it set for them, and the ring-doves were
hungry. You may fancy their delight when at
last the merchant opened his door. The winged
band flew lovingly to him, and for an instant he
disappeared in a feathered cloud. Some handfuls
of grain thrown at a distance restored him his
liberty, and standing on his doorsill he smiled at

WINTER— THE NEVA. 139
the sight of his little friends enjoying their break
fast with so much eagerness, scattering the snow
to right and left the while. You may imagine
that certain uninvited sparrows profited by the
windfall, shameless parasites that they are, and
did not allow the crumbs of the feast to fall to
the ground. But, then, everyone must live!
The city began to wake up. Moujiks in quest
of provisions, their pine baskets on their heads,
plunged their great boots into the untrodden snow,
leaving marks like elephants' feet. Some women,
a handkerchief tied under the chin, wrapped in
their cloaks, crossed the street lightly, gathering,
as they went, a band of silver embroidery on the
hem of their skirts. Gentlemen in long mantles,
their collars turned up over their ears, passed
along gaily on their way to their offices ; and sud
denly there appeared the first sleigh, driven by
Winter in person, under the form of an isvocht
ehik. On his head was a bonnet of red velvet,
with four skirts edged with fur, dressed in a blue
blouse lined with sheepskin, and his knees were
covered with an old bearskin. While awaiting a
customer he was taking it comfortably on the back
seat of his sleigh and guiding across the front seat,
with hands immersed in great gloves, whose thumb
alone was separated, his little Kazan horse, whose
long mane well-nigh swept the snow. Never, since
our arrival in Russia, had we felt so distinctly
the sensation of being in Russia. It was like a sud-

140 RUSSIA.
den revelation, and in a flash we understood many
things that heretofore had been obscure to us.
As soon as we saw the snow we began to dress
hastily. At the sight of the sleigh we put on our
pelisse, thrust our feet in galoches, and in a minute
we were in the street, crying with aU our might:
' ' Isvochtehik ! Isvochtehik ! ' '
The sleigh came up to the sidewalk, the isvocht
ehik stepped over his seat, and we ensconced our
selves in the back, which was full of hay, drew to
gether the skirts of our pelisse and pulled the cover
of skin over us. The construction of the sleigh is
very simple. Imagine two bars or ruimers of pol
ished iron, whose front end turns up like the point
of a Chinese shoe. On these bars a light iron joint
fastens the seats for the passenger and driver.
This box is usually painted mahogany color. A
dashboard that swells out and turns like the neck
of a swan gives grace to the sleigh and protects
the isvochtehik against the particles of snow that
fly like silver foam about this delicate, swift equi
page. The shafts flt into the collar as in the har
ness of the drosky, and the traction comes upon the
runners The whole affair weighs nothing and
goes like the wind, especially when the frost has
hardened the snow and the track has been made.
And we were off for the Anitschkov bridge, at
the other end of the Nevsky Prospect. This choice
of a goal flashed into our mind only because the
way was long, for we had really nothing at all to

WINTER— THB NEVA. 141
say at this early hour to the four bronze horses
which decorate the end; but then we were en
chanted to see the Prospect powdered with frost in
full winter toilette. It is almost beyond belief
how much more beautiful it was. This immense
silver strip, stretched out be3'ond one's view be
tween a double line of palaces, hotels, churches—
themselves adorned with white touches, produced a
truly magical effect. The colors of the houses-
pink, grey, yellow — that ordinarily may seem a
little bizarre, beeome wonderfully harmonious in
conjunction with the dazzling network of brilliant
spangles. The Cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan
we saw with delight was completely metamor
phosed. She had indued her Italian cupola with
a hood of Russian snow, drawn its cornices and
Corinthian capitals in pure white, and placed upon
the terrace of its rounded colonnade a balustrade
of massive silver, similar to that ornamenting its
iconostase. The steps leading to its portal were
covered with a carpet of ermine, flne, soft and
splendid enough for the golden shoe of the Tzarina
to press.
The statues of Barclay de Tolly and Kutusoff
seemed from their pedestals to rejoice that the
sculptor, Orlovski, knowing the climate, had not
dressed them in Roman garb, but in good bronze
mantles. Unfortunately the artist had forgotten
their hats, and the snow powdered their heads
with its cold powder till they looked like marshals.

142 RUSSIA.
Near Our Lady of Kazan, crossing the Prospect
under the bridge, is the Catherine canal. It was
entirely frozen over, and the snow was piled up
in the corners of the quay and on the steps of the
stairs. A single night had sufficed to congeal
everything. The ice that had been drifting along
the Neva for several days was stilled, surrounding
with a transparent mould the outsides of the ships
fixed in their winter quarters.
In front of the houses the dvorniks, armed -with
shovels, were clearing the sidewalks and piling the
snow up in the street, like stones on a roadway.
Sleighs were pouring in from all sides and, strange
to say, the droskies so numerous the night before
had totally disappeared. Not a single carriage
was anywhere to be seen. It was as if during a
night Russia, returned to her primitive civilization,
had not yet invented wheels. The rospousky, the
telegas— every sort of a wagon— was on runners.
The moujiks, harnessed with a rope, were drawing
their parcels on tiny sleighs. The little, wide hats
had perforce given place to the bonnets of velvet.
When the road has been made, and the frost
has solidified the snow, one may fancy the enor
mous economy of force the sleigh brings about. A
horse moves without effort, and with double the
quiekness, three times as much as he could ordi
narily do. In Russia the snow for six months of
the year is like a universal railroad, extending in
every direction and permitting people to go where

WINTER— THE NEVA. 143
they wish. This silver railroad possesses too the
advantage of costing nothing— a point which even
the most skillful engineers have never been able
to attain. It is perhaps on that account that the
iron roads have traced as yet but two or three
furrows through the immense territory of the Em
pire. We returned home delighted with our ride.
After having breakfasted and turned into ashes a
cigar, a delicious sensation in St. Petersburg, where
it is forbidden to smoke in the streets under pain
of a rouble fine, we started off to walk to the banks
of the Neva to enjoy the change of seene. The
broad river, that a few days before, we had seen
dancing in perpetual movement, brilliant with the
play of innumerable lights, furrowed by the cease
less movement of ships, barks, tugs, and barges,
and itself broad as a gulf, rushing impetuously
towards the Gulf of Finland, had totally changed
its aspect. To the greatest animation had suc
ceeded the immobility of death. The snow lay in
a thick layer over the ice, and as far as the eye
could reach, between the stone piers, stretched a
white valley from out of which here and there
emerged the black points of masts, whose ships
were half buried underneath. Pine branfehes and
poles indicated where holes had been pierced in
the ice for water, and marked the course to be
followed from one bank to the other, for already
foot passengers were crossing, and boards were

144 RUSSIA.
being placed for the horses and sleighs, though as
yet wooden obstructions barred the way, since the
ice was not sufficiently thick for safety.
In order to get a better view we went over to
the Nicholas Bridge, about which we said a few
words the evening we arrived in St. Petersburg.
This time we were able to examine in detail the
charming chapel built in honor of St. Nicholas,
the Thaumaturge, at the point where the two mov
able parts of the bridge unite. It is a delicious
little affair, in the Byzantine-Muscovite style,
which so perfectly suits the orthodox Greek wor
ship, that we could wish it were universally adopted
throughout Russia. It consists of a sort of pavilion
in blue granite, flanked at each corner with a
eolumn whose capital is composite in style, en
circled in the middle with a band and fluted from
top to bottom. The double pedestal is carved in
diamond point. Three projecting windows are
cut in three sides of the monument, and the end
waU is resplendent with mosaics of precious stones,
representing the patron saint of the chapel, draped
in his priestly robes, a golden halo behind his head,
an open book in his hand, and surrounded by
celestial flgures in adoration. Balconies of richly-
wrought iron-work elose the two arcades on either
side. That of the fagade, where is a staircase,
gives access to the chapel. The cornice, covered
with historical inscriptions in Slav characters,
adorned with stars, has a series of ornaments in

WINTER— THB NEVA. 145
the form of reversed hearts, alternating with
sharply pointed carvings. The roof, pyramidal
in shape, is supported by an arch on each side, and
is entirely covered with golden scales. On its apex
is one of those round Muscovite towers which looks
so exactly like the bulb of a tulip, all starred with
gold, and terminated by a Greek cross, whose foot
is fastened in a crescent which is itself held in
place by a baU. These golden roofs fill us with
delight, especially when the snow has powdered
them with its silver filings, and given them the air
of old silver-gilt, whose gilding has partly worn
oft', producing tones of incredible delicacy, and
effects absolutely unknown elsewhere.
A lamp burns night and day before the icon.
When they pass by the chapel the isvochtchiks
take their reins in one hand, raise their hats and
make the sign of the cross. The moujiks prostrate
themselves on the snow. The soldiers and officers
repeat a prayer with an air of ecstasy, standing
motionless and bareheaded, which is indeed praise
worthy in ten degrees below zero. The women
climb the staircase and after many genuflections,
kiss the feet of the statue. And these are not
merely, as one might imagine, the common people,
but also the highest class. No one crosses the
bridge without giving a sign of respect— a saluta
tion at least — to the saint who protects him, and
the kopecks rain into the two chests placed on
TO

146 RUSSIA.
either side of the chapel. But let us return to the
Neva. On the right, looking towards the city, a little
baek of the English quay, appears the flve-pointed
towers of the Church of the Horse Guards, their
gold lightly frosted with white. Further on is
the cupola of St. Isaac's, like to the diamond-
starred mitre of a king magi, the briUiant spire of
the Admiralty and a corner of the Winter Palace.
In the background further to the left flashes from
an island in mid-river the graceful, bold spire of
the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul, whose golden
angel sparkles against a sky of turquoise, flecked
with rosy cloudlets arching above the waUs of the
fortress. On the left (we are talking always as if
we had turned our back to the sea) the bank does
not display so rich a mass of lofty gold domes.
There are fewer churches on this side, and they are
enclosed within the interior of Vassili-Ostrov— as
this quarter of the city is called. But stiU the
palaces and hotels along the quay present long,
lofty lines, most happily accentuated by the snow.
In front of the bridge at the Exchange stands the
Academy, a great palace of classic architecture,
enclosing a circular courtyard within its square
enclosure. Here a colossal staircase, adorned with
two great Egyptian sphinxes with female heads,
chilled and astonished to feel on their backs of
granite a fretwork of frost, descends to the river.

WINTER— THE NEVA. I47
The obelisk of Roumianzov lifts its pointed top in
the middle of the square.
If you cross the bridge and go up the river, pass
ing the Winter Palace and the Hermitage, as far
as the Marble Palace, then turn just before reach
ing the Troitski Bridge you will discover a new
view which is well worth obser-ving. The river sep
arates into two arms that form the Great and the
Little Neva, making an island, whose point op
posed to the current of the water— when the water
flows— is decorated with grandeur and beauty.
At each corner of the esplanade, where the island
ends, rises a sort of lighthouse, or rather rostral
column of pink granite, with prows of ships and
anchors in bronze, surmounted by a brass beacon,
which stands on a pedestal surrounded with seated
statues. Between these two columns one catches
a glimpse of the Exchange which is a copy of the
Parthenon, a parallelogram surrounded with pil
lars. Only here they are Doric, and the building itself
is higher than the row of columns surrounding it,
and terminates in a triangular gable, like a Greek
frontal, in which is an arched window half hidden
by a group of sculpture placed on the cornice of
the portico. At the right and left are respectively
the University and Custom House, built in a sim
ple style. The two lighthouses, with their lofty,
dignifled outlines, form a charming relief to these
slightly cold, classic buildings. In the arm of the

148 RUSSIA.
Little Neva are crowded together ships in winter
quarters, whose unrigged masts cut the horizon
with their slender lines. Now, to this slight sketch,
on pearl-grey paper, add a few touches of pure
white and you will have a pretty little picture to
place in your album.
We will go no farther to-day. It is not abso
lutely hot on these quays and bridges where a
wind straight from the pole is blowing. Everyone
walks as fast as he can. The two lions placed at
the entrance of the Imperial Palace look numb,
as if they could scarcely hold the balls placed
under their paws.
The next day there was a most brilliant display
of sleighs and caleches on the English quay and
the Prospect. It seems strange that in a country
where twenty degrees below zero is by no means
unusual that closed carriages should be used so
little. It is only in the last extremity that Rus
sians use a eareta and yet they are a chilly people.
But the pelisse is a protection against the cold,
whieh they know so well how to use that they
laugh at weather that would freeze the mercury.
They put but one sleeve on at most and hold it
tightly closed by inserting the hand in a little
poeket placed in the front. It is an art to wear
a pelisse, and one not to be learned in a moment.
A Russian, by an imperceptible movement, can
cross, double or throw it around his body, like the
swaddling clothes of an infant or the wrappings

WINTER— THE NEVA. 149
of a mummy. The fur keeps for several hours
the temperature of the room in which it has been
hanging, and isolates you completely from the
outside air. In the pelisse you have the same de
gree of warmth as at home, and if, renouncing the
vain elegance of the hat, you put on a wadded
cap or a fur bonnet you are no longer prevented
by the protruding brim from turning up your
collar, with its fur touching the skin, and your
neck, eyes and ears are protected. Your nose
alone, between the two furred enclosures, is ex
posed to the inclemency of the weather. If it
tums white people kindly tell you, and by rub
bing it with a handful of snow its natural color
is readily restored. These little accidents only
happen during an exceptionally severe winter.
Old dandies, rigid observers of the Paris and
London fashions, unable to resign themselves to
the cap, have had a hat made for themselves that
has no brim in the back and only a visor in front,
for no one can think of wearing his collar
turned down. The wind would cut your bare neck
with its icy touch, which is as disagreeable as the
contact of steel to the neek of a patient.
The most delieate women do not fear to drive
in open carriages and breathe the freezing air for
an hour, for it is salubrious and life-giving, re
freshing the lungs oppressed by the hothouse tem
perature of the houses. One sees nothing but their
faces, rosy from the cold. The rest is nothing but

150 RUSSIA.
a pile of pelisses and muffs, amid which it is well
nigh impossible to distinguish a form. Over their
knees is drawn a great white or black bear's skin,
edged with scarlet. The carriage looks like a boat
piled up with furs from which emerge smiling
heads. Confounding the Dutch sleighs with the Rus
sians, we had fancied anything but the reaUty. In
Holland there glide over the canals sleighs shaped
like swans, dragons, or seashells, gilded and paiated
by Hondekoeter, or Vest, whose panels have been
carefully preserved, to which are harnessed horses
with pompons, feathers and beUs, but more fre
quently pushed fi-om the back by a man on skates.
The Russian sleigh is not a plaything, an object
of luxury and amusement for several weeks, but
an article of daily use and the highest utility.
Nothing has been changed in its necessary shape,
and the sleigh of the master is similar in all struc
tural points to that of the isvochtehik. Only the
iron runner is handsomer and more gracefuUy
curved, the body is of mahogany or wicker-work,
the trimming of the seats is of pressed morocco,
the dashboard of varnished leather. A carriage-
boot replaces the hay, a costly fur the old, moth-
eaten skin. The details are more luxurious, that
is all, though the luxury consists in great measure
in the livery of the coachman, the beauty of the
horse and the rapidity of his gait. As with the

WINTER— THE NEVA. 151
drosky, a seeond horse is frequently harnessed to
the sleigh as a wheeler.
But the height of everything is the troika, a
vehicle eminently Russian and full of local color
and picturesqueness. The troika is a large sleigh
that will hold four persons sitting opposite each
other, beside the driver, and is harnessed with
three horses. The middle one, who is in the shafts,
has the collar and round douga over his neck.
The two others are fastened to the sleigh by an
outside trace, and a loose strap attaches them to
the collar of the middle horse. Pour reins guide
the three, for the outside ones have but' one. Noth
ing is more charming than to see a troika dash by
on the Prospect or the Admiralty Square during
the fashionable hour. The middle horse trots
straight ahead, the two others gallop and turn
from one side to the other. One must look fierce,
untamed and pretend to kick and shy; the other
must toss his mane, rear, dance about, touch his
knees to his lips, caper to right and left, with
gaiety and caprice. He is the "coquet." These
three noble chargers, with their metal chains, their
gossamer-like harness, shining here and there with
gold ornaments of delicate workmanship, recall
the antique horses who drew through the tri
umphal arches red-bronze chariots to which they
were held by nothing. They seem to play and
gambol before the troika according to the dictates
of their own fancy. The middle horse alone has

152 RUSSIA.
a serious look, like a wise friend between two
giddy companions. You may readily imagine, it
is by no means an easy matter to maintain this
apparent disorder when they are all going at full
speed, and each animal has a different gait. Some
times, too, the flery one plays his role in earnest,
and the "coquet" is rolled in the snow. It is
necessary then, in order to drive a troika to have
a coachman of consummate skill. But what a
charming sport ! We are astonished that no ' ' gen
tleman-rider" of Paris or London has imitated it.
Of course, the snow does not last so long in Eng
land or France.
As the sleighing continues good, at the end of
several days, coupes, berlins and caleches appear
on runners. These carriages, whose wheels have
been taken off, present a rather extraordinary ap
pearance. They look like half flnished equipages
placed on trestles. The sleigh has infinitely more
grace and style.
When we saw the pelisses, the sleighs, the troi
kas, the carriages on runners, and the thermometer
descending one or two degrees every morning, we
thought winter had surely arrived. But the wise
habitues shook their old heads and said skeptically :
"No, it is not winter yet." And indeed this was
not winter, the true winter, the Russian winter,
the Arctic winter, as we discovered to our cost
later.

A Russian Troika

I

T ''';¦¦ ¦}Y\ •"-

'¦t^n>,

W^INTER.

(153)

VIII.

WINTER.

The winter this year has not been up to the
good, old Russian traditions, but has shown itself
as capricious as a Parisian season. Sometimes the
wind from the pole has frozen one's nose and
turned one 's cheeks wax-color, and again the south
west wind has melted and turned into rain its
mantle of ice. Dazzling snow was succeeded by
grey snow. The track, crisping under the sleigh's
runners like powdered marble, became a miry
mixture, worse than the macadam of the boule
vards. Or else in a night the thermometer would
descend twelve or thirteen degrees, a new white
covering would bedeck the roofs and the droskies
would disappear.
Between ten and twelve degrees below zero the
winter assumes character and grows poetic, be
coming as rich in beauty as the most splendid sum
mer, though both painters and poetsJiave failed to
do it justice.
Now, for several days, we have had a true, Rus
sian cold, and we will tell of some of its aspects,
for at this intensity the cold is visible, and can
(155?

156 RUSSIA.
be readily seen, without being felt, through the
double sashes of a warm room.
The sky is clear and blue, though of an entirely
different shade from the azure of the South. This
is steel-blue, or ice-blue of a charming tint never
yet produced by any brush, not even by Aivasov-
ski's. The dazzling, cold light, the frozen sun
brings a blush to the cheeks of some Uttle pink
cloudlets. The snow, sparkling like diamonds, as
brilliant as Parian marble, has grown doubly white
under the hardening touch of the frost. The trees,
covered with icy crystals, seem turned into silver
flowers, flt for the Garden of the Fairies.
Put on your cloak, tum up the coUar, pull your
furred bonnet over your eyebrows, and hail the
first isvochtehik that passes. He will run up to
you and place his sleigh close to the sidewalk. No
matter how young he may be, his beard will be
entirely white. His breath, condensed into icicles
around his face, blue with cold, gives him the
beard of a patriarch. His stiff hair whips his
cheeks like frozen serpents, and the skin whieh he
spreads over your knees is sown with a mUlion
little white pearls.
Now you are off. The cold, penetrating, icy,
but healthful air, cuts your face. The horse,
warmed by his rapid pace, breathes out jets of
smoke, like a dragon of fable, and from his flanks,
all wet with perspiration, rises a mist of vapor.
As you keep on, you see the horses of other isvocht-

WINTER. 157
chiks eating before the mangers. The perspiration
has frozen on them, till they are coated with a
crust of ice, like a layer of glass. When they start
oft' again, the coating breaks and falls in pieces
only to be again formed when they are still. These
changes, that would be the death of an English
horse before the end of a week, do not affect the
health of these little animals, who are quite in
different to the inclemency of the weather. In
spite of the severity of the season, only the most
expensive horses are ever covered. Instead of the
leather coverings, with embroidered crests in the
corners, that are used in England or France for
valuable horses, here they throw over the smoking
flank of a blooded animal a piece of Persian or
Smyrna carpet of the most brilliant colors.
Closed carriages pass, mounted on runners, their
windows covered with a thick layer of ice, a cur
tain of quicksilver spread by winter, which pre
vents the inmates from being seen or from them
selves seeing. If Cupid were not chilled in such a
temperature, he would find as much mystery in
the caretas of St. Petersburg as in the gondolas
o£ Venice. We cross the Neva in a sleigh. The
iee, which is two or three feet thick, in spite of
several little thaws that melted the snow, will not
budge till spring, at the great breaking up. It
is strong enough to bear heavy chariots, even ar
tillery. Pine branches designate the road to follow
and places to avoid. At certain places the ice is

158 RUSSIA.
cut in order that the water that is running under
this crystal floor may be drawn out. The water,
warmer than the outer air, smokes through these
apertures like a boiling teakettle; but everything
in this world is relative, and it would be just as
well not to trust too much in its warmth.
It is an amusing sight, when one is passing
along the English quay or walking by the Neva,
to watch the fish that are taken from the tanks
to be eaten in the city. When the scoops bring
them alive from the tanks and throw them on the
deck of the boat, they wriggle about, but in a
moment are stiff and still, imprisoned in a sheath.
The water clinging to them has been frozen around
them. In this intense cold, objeets are frozen -with a
rapidity that is amazing. Place a bottle of cham
pagne between the two sashes, it wiU be chilled
in a few moments, better than in any ice bucket.
I will crave here permission to relate a little anec
dote of personal experience. Impelled by our old
Parisian habits, just as we were going out, we
lighted an excellent Havana cigar. On the door
sill we suddenly remembered the prohibition
against smoking in the streets of St. Petersburg
under the penalty of a fine of a rouble.* To throw
away an exquisite cigar, from which two or three
puffs have been taken, is a grave thing for a
smoker. Since we were going but a few steps we
? This prohibition has been removed.

WINTER. 159
hid the cigar in the hollow of our hand. To carry
a cigar is not an infraction of the law. When
we took it out in the protection of the house whither
we were going, the end that had been in the mouth
and was a little damp, was transformed into a piece
of ice, but at the other end the generous flame was
still burning.
But so far it had been only thirteen or fourteen
degrees below zero, and that is not at all the real
cold that generally arrives about the Feast of the
Epiphany. The Russians were complaining of the
mildness of the winter and saying that the climate
was changing. They had not deigned yet to light
the wood piles placed under the iron pavilions of
the Imperial Theatre and of the Winter Palace,
where the coachmen can warm themselves while
awaiting their masters. It was too mild! But in
spite of that a chilly Parisian eould not help ex
periencing a certain arctic, polar feeling when,
on coming out of the opera or the ballet, he saw,
by a moonlight of dazzling cold on the broad,
snow-covered Place, the lines of private carriages
with their coachmen, powdered with partieles of
the shining ice, the horses fringed with silver, and
a pale light struggling through the frozen lan
terns, and was conscious of a terrible fear lest he
sbould be himself frozen in his sleigh. But his
pelisse is impregnated with heat and preserves
around him a delicious atmosphere. If he should
live at the Malaia Morskoia or upon the Nevsky

160 RUSSIA.
Prospect, in a direction that forces him to pass
near St. Isaac's, he must not forget to throw a
glance on the church.
Pure, white lines indicate the great divisions of
architecture, while on the cupola, half blotted out
by the darkness, there shines at the highest part a
single brilliant point of light, just opposite the
moon, which seems to be looking at herself in this
golden mirror. This luminous spot is of so in
tense a brightness that it eould be readily taken
for a lighted lamp, and the effect is magical. But
then nothing is so beautiful as this great temple
of gold, bronze and granite, standing on a carpet
of spotless ermine under the blue rays of a winter
moon. Are they going to build, as in the famous winter
of 1740, an ice palace, that long files of sleighs are
carrying enormous blocks of ice, eut like stone,
as transparent as diamonds, fit to form the diaph
anous walls of a temple to the mysterious Genius
of the Pole? Not at all. They are the supplies
for the icehouses. In order to provide for the
summer, at the most favorable time, these immense,
transparent blocks, with sapphire shades, have
been cut from the Neva, and eaeh is so large as
to require a cart for itself alone. The drivers are
seated on the ice or lean on it as if on cushions,
and when the train of sleds, owing to some ob
struction, stops, the horses, with an entirely North
ern gourmandise, bite the ice in front of them.

WINTER. 161
In spite of all this frost, if you are asked to
join a party to the island, go by all means without
fear of losing your nose or ears. If you are weak
enough to care about these appendages, is not your
fur there ready to answer for everything?
The troika, or large sleigh, with five places and
three horses, is there before the door. Liurry up
and go down. Your feet in a foot-warmer of
bear's skin, enveloped to the chin in your satin
cloak, lined with sable, pressing to your
breast a wadded muff, your veil drawn and al
ready covered with a thousand brilliant spots, they
have only been waiting for you to be off, and to
buckle the fur carpet to the four tholes of the
sleigh. You will not be cold— two lovely eyes
warm the most glacial temperature.
In summer the islands are the Bois de Boulogne
of St. Petersburg. In winter they scarcely de
serve to be called islands. The cold solidifies the
canals, and the snow covering them, they are
joined to the mainland. During the cold months
there is but one element— the ice.
You have crossed the Neva and passed the last
streets of Vassili-Ostrov. The character of the
buildings changes. The houses are less scattered
among the gardens with wooden fences, placed
transversely, as in Holland. Everywhere wood
takes the place of stone or rather of brick. The
streets become roads and you bowl along over a
sheet of untouched, level snow. It is a canal. The
11

162 RUSSIA.
little signboards that are placed along the side of
the road to prevent carriages from losing their
way amid the widespread whiteness, look for all
the world at a distance Uke gnomes, hooded in high
white felt bonnets, and clothed in narrow brown
robes. Some, whose beams are vaguely outlined
under the drifted snow, alone indicate that we are
traveling on a water course completely frozen and
' covered over. Soon a great forest of fir trees comes
in sight, from out of whieh peep restaurants and
tea houses, for delightful parties are made up to
come here, frequently at night, when the tempera
ture makes the mercury freeze at the bottom of the
thermometer. Nothing can be more beautiful than those im
mense white alleys, gleaming amid the dark cur
tain of pines where the traek of the sleigh is
scarcely perceptible. The wind had shaken the
snowfall of several days from the branches, till
there remained but a few brilliant patehes here
and there on the dark foliage, like touches left by
a skillful painter. The trunks of the firs stood
straight and slender as pillars, justifying the title
of "Nature's Cathedral," given to the forests by
the romanticists. Amid a snow a foot or two deep,
a pedestrian is an impossible being, and in the
long avenue there were but three or four moujiks
wrapped in tJieir touloupes, and plunging their
leather or felt boots into the depths of white dust.
An equal number of black dogs, or those that

WINTER. 163
looked so by contrast, ran around in circles like
Faust's spaniel, or addressed each other with the
signs of canine free-masonry, the same all the
world over. This part of the islands is called
Krestovsky, and it contains a charming cluster of
chalets, or summer-houses, occupied during the
summer by a colony of Germans. The Russians
excel in wooden buildings, and carve the pine with
quite as much skill as do the Tyrolese or Swiss.
They make embroideries, lace, fret-work, flowers,
every sort of ornament, of which the saw or ham
mer is capable. The little Krestovsky houses, con
structed in this Swiss-Muscovite style, must be
delicious homes in summer. A great balcony, or
rather a lower terrace, like an open room, occupies
the whole first story of the front. It is there, amid
the flowers and shrubs, the family live during
June and July. Pianos, tables and sofas are
placed there that they may enjoy the luxury of
living in the open air, after having been shut up
for eight months in the atmosphere of a hothouse.
The first fine days after the breaking up of the ice
on the Neva, every one moves. Long lines of carts,
loaded with furniture, start from St. Petersburg
for the islands. As soon as the days grow short
and the evenings become cold, they return to town,
and the cottages are closed till the next year. But
they are not less picturesque under the snow,
which changes their wooden laee work into silver
filigree.

164 RUSSIA.
If you keep on, you will soon come to a broad
glade, where there is what is called in Russia
"mountains of ice." These Russian mountains
created a great furor in Paris at the time of the
Restoration; but the difference of climate necessi
tated difference of construction. Wheeled cars
glided down a sharply inclined groove, and as
cended another, though lower one, pushed by the
flrst impulsion. Accidents were by no means rare,
for sometimes the cars were derailed, which caused
this dangerous amusement to be given up. The ice
mountains of St. Petersburg are surmounted by
a light pavilion, terminating in a platform, which
is reached by a wooden staircase. The course is
made of boards, protected by planks at the sides,
held in place by strong beams. The angle of de
scent is rapid at first, then more gentle, and over
the boards water is poured whieh, freezing, makes
a slide as smooth as glass. The corresponding pa
vilion has a separate track, so there is no danger
of collisions. Two or three persons go down to
gether in a sleigh, guided by a man on skates who
holds it in the rear, or else one goes down alone
on a little board, that is guided by the foot, the
hand or a stick. Some fearless people throw them
selves on it head foremost, or in some other ap
parently hazardous position, though there is no
real danger. The Russians are very adroit in this
eminently national game, whieh they practice from
infancy. They find in it the pleasure of extreme

WINTER. 165
speed in a biting cold. An entirely Northern sen
timent which, at first, a stranger from warmer
lands finds it difficult to understand, though soon
he grows to enjoy it too.
Often on coming out of the theatre or from an
evening reception, when the snow gleams like a
pile of marble, and the moon shines clear and
cold, or in the absence of the moon, the stars scin
tillate with that brightness produced by the eold,
instead of thinking of returning to their warm,
comfortable, bright homes, a group of young men
and women, well wrapped in their furs, form a
party to go to the islands for supper. They get
into a troika and the swift equipage, the three
horses abreast, dashes off amid the ringing of bells
and flying of silver dust. The sleeping inmates
of the inn are awakened, lights flash, the samovar
steams, champagne of Veuve Cliquot is chilled,
plates of caviar, and ham, strings of herring, and
cold fowl, and little cakes are spread on the table.
Then foUows laughter and chatting and eating
and drinking and smoking, and for dessert every
one rushes down the iee mountains, amid the
gleaming torches held by moujiks. Then at two
or three in the moming they drive back to town,
enjoying in the midst of a whirlwimd of speed in
the sharp, healthful, living air, the voluptuousness
of the cold.
Let Mery, who cannot endure anyone to say
"a beautiful freeze," declaring that cold is always

166 RUSSIA.
horrid, shiver and put on another cloak, as he
reads this article bristling with frost. Yes, the
cold is a delight, a fresh intoxication, a vertigo
of whiteness, that we, heretofore so chilly, are be
ginning to enjoy like a man of the North!
If this icy description of a Russian winter has
not already fallen from the numb fingers of the
reader, and if he has still the courage to breast,
in our company, the rigors of the thermometer, let
him come with us after a good, hot cup of tea for
a turn on the Neva and a visit to the camp of the
Samoiedes who have settled themselves exactly in
the middle of the river, as the only spot in St.
Petersburg cold enough for them. These polar
beings are like white bears. A temperature of
twenty degrees seems to them quite spring-Uke,
making them pant with the heat. Their migra
tions are not regular, and follow unknown reasons
or caprices. They have not made their appear
ance here for several years, and it is a piece of
good luck that they should have arrived during
our sojourn in the city of the Tzars. We wiU
descend to the Neva by the stairs of the Admiralty
into the slippery, trodden snow, not without, how
ever, glancing at Peter the Great, upon whose
head the frost has placed a white wig, and whose
bronze horse must be sharp-shod to hold its equilib
rium on the blocJi of Finnish granite, which is its
pedestal. A curious crowd formed a black ring around

WINTER. 167
the huts of the Samoiedes. We slipped between
a moujik in his touloupe, and a grey-coated sol
dier, and over a woman's shoulder we peeped into
the tent of skins held by sticks buried in the ice,
which looked like a paper cornucopia, with its
point turned upwards. A low opening, that could
only be entered on all fours, allowed a glimpse
among the bundles of furs, which might be either
men or women. Outside some skins were sus
pended on ropes, and skates lay on the ice, and
a Samoiede, standing near a sleigh, appeared quite
indifferent to the ethnographical investigations of
the crowd. He is dressed in a bag of skin, the
hair inside, to which is added a hood, with a little
opening for the face. Great mittens that covered
the wrist, so that no air could penetrate; thick
boots of white felt, fastened with straps, complete
this costume, of little elegance to be sure, but her
metically closed to the cold, and, moreover, by no
means devoid of individuality. The color is that
of leather tanned by primitive methods. The face
framed by the hood, is tanned, reddened by the
air, with prominent cheek bones, a flat nose, a
large mouth, steel-grey eyes, with light eyebrows;
but it is not ugly, and its expression is sad, intelU
gent and gentle.
The industry of the Samoiedes consists in ask
ing a few kopecks for a drive on the Neva in their
sleighs harnessed with reindeer. These sleighs,
of an excessive lightness, consist merely of a

168 RUSSIA.
bracket-seat, covered with a strip of fur, where
the passenger sits. The Samoiede, standing at the
side, on one of the wooden runners, controls the
reindeer by means of a long pole. The animals
are harnessed three abreast or four in pairs. It is
curious and interesting to see reindeer, so small
and delicate in appearance, with their slender legs
and branching antlers, run and drag burdens with
docility. These deer go very swiftly, or rather
seem to go very swiftly, for all their movements
are extremely quick. But they are very small, and
there is little doubt but that a trotter of the Orlov
breed would readily distanee them, especially if
the course were a long one. But nothing could
be imagined more graceful than these light equi
pages, describing great circles, revolving around
and returning to the point of departure, having
scarcely brushed the surface of the river. Con
noisseurs declare that the reindeer are not seen
here to their full advantage, because it is too hot
for them— ten degrees above zero.
In fact, one of these i)oor beasts had been un
harnessed and seemed to be suffocating, and in
order to restore him they were piling snow on
him. These reindeer and these sleighs carried
away our imagination towards their icy native
land with a queer longing. We, whose life had
been passed in seeking sunshine, were seized -\yith
a strange love of the cold. The madness of the
North was exercising its magic influences over us.

WINTER. 169
and had not a matter of importance detained us
in St. Petersburg, we would have gone away with
the Samoiedes. What a delight it would have
been to fly with all speed towards the pole crowned
with aurora borealis, past the forests of snow-
laden flrs, past the half buried woods of birch,
past the spotless, white plain, over the dazzling
snow which, with its tint of silver, would make
us almost believe in a voyage to the moon, through
an atmosphere pure, invigorating, cutting as steel,
uncorrupted by aught, not even by death. How
we would have loved to have lived a few days
under a tent shining with the frost, half buried
in the snow, that the reindeer toss with their
hoofs, in the hope of flnding a short, rare moss.
Happily, one fine morning, the Samoiedes went
away, and when we went to the Neva to see them
once more, we found nothing but a grey ring mark
ing the spot where their huts had been. And with
them disappeared our aberration. Since we are
on the subject of the Neva, let us say a word of
the great blocks of ice cut from its frozen bosom
and piled up here and there like blocks of stone,
waiting till they shall be earried away. It looks
like a quarry of crystal or diamond works. These
transparent cubes, illumined by the light, are
clothed in all the prismatic tints of the solar spec
trum. In certain places, where they are piled
up, one could fancy them a palace of the fairies
m ruins, especially when the sun is setling under

170 RUSSIA.
a sky of golden green, striped with bands of crim
son. These are effects that astonish the eye, and
which are never reproduced in painting, lest the
artist should be accused of lack of reality and
truth. Fancy a long valley of snow formed by
the river, with pink lights, blue shadows, strewn
with enormous diamonds, flashing with flre, and
terminating in a deep red horizon line. And for
a foreground, a boat imprisoned in the ice, a pe
destrian, or a sleigh crossing from one side to the
other. When night has fallen, if you wiU retum to
the side of the fortress, you will see two paraUel
lines of stars flashing across the river. They are
gas lights on posts placed in the ice at the height
of the Troitski bridge of boats, that is taken away
in the winter ; for the Neva, directly it is frozen
over, becomes for St. Petersburg a second Nevsky
Prospect, the principal artery of the city. We
people of temperate regions, with whom, in the
most rigorous winters, the rivers scarcely freeze,
flnd it difficult not to experience a feeling of ap
prehension, as we cross in a carriage or sleigh an
immense river, whose deep waters are rolUng silent
ly under a crystal floor which could break and
close over you like a trap. But gradually the
perfectly composed air of the Russian reassures
you. Then, too, it would require enormous weights
to break that layer of ice, two or three feet thick,
and the snow covering it gives it the appearance

WINTER. 171
of a road. Nothing distinguishes the river from
the land, unless it may be now and then the pres
ence of some boat caught by the cold and forced
into winter quarters.
The Neva is a power at St. Petersburg. They
do it homage and bless its waters in flne style.
This ceremony, that is called "the Baptism of the
Neva," takes place on the 6th of January, ac
cording to the Russian calendar. We viewed it
from a window of the Winter Palace, to which
a Gracious Protection gave us access. Although
the weather was very mild for the season, whieh
is generally intensely cold, it would have been
very painful for us, unacclimated as yet, to re
main several hours bareheaded on that icy quay,
which is always swept by a flerce wind. The broad
halls of the palace were fllled with people of the
highest rank: high dignitaries, ministers, the dip
lomatic corps. Generals, covered with gold,
starred with decorations, went up and down be
tween the hedges of soldiers in full uniform, await
ing the opening of the ceremony. First divine
service was eelebrated in the chapel of the palace.
Hidden in the back of the gallery, we followed
with respectful interest the rites of this wor
ship, new to us, and impressed with the mysterious
majesty of the East. From time to time at pre
scribed moments, the priest, a venerable old man
with long hair and'beard, mitred like a magi, in
a robe stiff with gold and silver, and supported

172 RUSSIA.
by two acolytes, came out of the sanctuary, whose
doors flew open, and recited the sacred formulas
in a feeble, but well-modulated voice. While he
was chanting the psalm, we caught a glimpse,
within the sanctuary amid the shining of gold and
candles, of the emperor and the imperial family.
Then the doors closed, and the service continued
behind the dazzling veil of the iconostase.
The chapel singers, in great velvet robes, trimmed
with gold, accompanied and sustained, with the
marvelous precision peculiar to Russian choirs,
the hymns, in which is probably to be found more
than one theme of the lost music of the Greeks.
After the mass, the cortege walked across the
palace halls, to the baptism, or rather the benedic
tion, of the Neva. The emperor, the grand dukes,
in uniform, the clergy in their robes, embroidered
with gold and silver, the exquisite costumes of
Byzantine fashion, the varied uniforms of gen
erals and high officials, amid the compact mass of
soldiers drawn up on either side of the great halls,
made a spectacle both magnificent and imposing.
On the Neva, opposite the Winter Palace, close
to the quay to which stairs covered with carpet
united it, a pavilion, or rather a chapel, had been
erected, with light columns supporting a cupola,
painted green, from which was suspended a Holy
Ghost, surrounded by rays.
In the middle of the platform under the dome,
surrounded by a balustrade, \\'as a well, communi-

A Troika Race

i »•*.¦

¥

WINTER. 173
eating with the waters of the Neva, from which
the ice had been cleared away. A row of soldiers
placed at long intervals kept a space clear for a
large circle around the chapel. They stood bare
headed, their helmets placed near them, their feet
in the snow, so absolutely motionless they might
have been taken for sign posts.
Under the windows of the Palace, held in by
their riders, pranced the horses of the Circassians,
Lesghines, Tcherkesses and Cossacks, who com
pose the escort of the emperor. It gives one a
strange feeling to see, except in the circus or
opera in this day of advanced civilization, war
riors like those of the Middle Ages, with helmet
and coat of mail, armed with bows and arrows,
clothed in Oriental fashion, having Persian ear-
pets for saddles, for a sabre a curved Damascus
blade, inscribed with verses from the Koran, look
ing quite ready to take their places in the caval
cade of an emir or a caliph.
What haughty, warlike faces and savage purity
of type ! What slender, nervous, supple bodies and
elegance of bearing, joined with those costumes
so characteristic in shape, so happy in color, so
well calculated to heighten every point of manly
beauty! It is singular that those people who are
called "barbarians" alone know how to dress.
Civilized nations have utterly lost all sense of cos
tume. The cortege issued from the Palace, and from

174 RUSSIA.
our double-sashed window we saw the emperor,
the grand dukes, the priests, enter the pavilion
which was soon so full that the movements of those
officiating at the edge of the well eould with diffi
culty be distinguished. At the supreme moment
the cannon placed on the other side of the river,
thundered one after the other. A cloud of blue
smoke, a flash of light, floated between the snowy
carpet of the river and the grey-white sky. Then
the detonation shook the windows till they rattled.
There is something about a cannon that is ter
rible, solemn, and at the same time joyous, as there
always is with strength. Its voice that roars in a
battle, mingles equally well in a fete. It adds that
element of joy unknown to the ancients, who had
neither bells nor artillery — noise! — which alone
can speak amid great multitudes and make itself
heard, amid the immensities of space.
The ceremony was over. The troops marched
away, and the spectators retired quietly, without
hurry, or tumult, as is the habit of the Russian
crowd, the most tranquil of all crowds.

RACES ON THE NEVA.

(175)

IX.

EACES ON THE NEVA.

What! will we not return home soon? Indeed
it is outrageous to keep us out of doors so long,
in such weather! Are you determined to freeze
our noses and ears? You have promised us "a
winter in Russia," and you have indeed kept your
word! But the thermometer marks scarcely more
than fifteen degrees above zero to-day, quite a
springlike temperature, and the Samoiedes, who
were camping on the frozen river, have been
obliged to go away, because it was too hot. So do
not feel anxious, but follow us bravely. The horses
to the troika are prancing and rearing with im
patience. There are races on the Neva to-day: we
must on no account neglect this opportunity of
becoming acquainted with the Northern sport,
which in its own way is as elegant, as high-bred,
as odd, as capable of arousing intense passion as
is the English or French amusement.
The Nevsky Prospect and the streets leading into
the broad Place, where rises the column of Alexan
der, that gigantic monolith of pink granite, which
towers over the enormous Egjrptian monuments,
present a spectacle of unusual animation, very
(177)
12

178 RUSSIA.
much like the avenue of the Champs Elysees when
a steeple-chase has drawn hither all the fashiona
bles. The tro'ikas, drawn by three horses abreast, each
with a different gait, dash past, their bells ringing
gayly ; sleighs glide by on steel runners, harnessed
to superb high-steppers, that are controlled with
difficulty by the coachmen in their velvet, four-
skirted bonnets and blue and green blouses. Other
sleighs with four places and two horses, berlins,
caleches, taken off their wheels and placed on
iron runners, are all turned in the same direction,
forming a crowd of vehicles of ever increasing
density. Sometimes a sleigh of the old Russian
fashion, with its snow-protector stretched like a
boom-sail, and its tiny horse with dishevelled mane
galloping alongside of the trotter, slips into the
inextricable labyrinth, frisky and swift, covering
its neighbors with white particles. A similar con
course in Paris would produce a great noise, a
prodigious uproar; but in St. Petersburg the pic
ture is only noisy to the eye, if one may be allowed
sueh an expression. The snow, interposing its
padded carpet between the cobble-stones and the
vehicles, extinguishes all sound. The steel runner
makes scarcely more noise on these roads, cush
ioned by winter, than a diamond on a pane of
glass. The little whips of the moujiks do not
crack; the masters, enveloped in their furs, do not
talk, for were they to do so, their words would be

RACES ON THE NEVA. 179
frozen, like those that Panurge met near the pole.
And all moves on in silent swiftness, amid a mute
whirlwind. Although nothing could be more un
like, it produces a little the effect of Venice.
Pedestrians are rare, for no one walks in Russia,
except the moujiks, whose felt boots allow them to
walk on the pavements, that are cleared of snow,
but are often covered with an icy coating that is
dangerous, especially when one has on the indis
pensable galoches.
Between the Admiralty and the Winter Palace
is the wooden floor, that descends from the quay to
the Neva: here the sleighs and carriages, several
rows deep, are forced to reduce their speed, and
even to stop and await their turn to descend.
Let us take advantage of this pause to examine
our neighbors of both sexes, among whom chance
has thrown us. The men wear cloaks with a mili
tary cap, or a fur bonnet, with a castor back; a
hat is rarely seen. Besides not being warm itself,
its brim prevents the turning up of the pelisse
collar, so that the back of the head remains ex
posed to the bitter winds. But the women are
more lightly clad; apparently they do not suffer
as much with the cold as do the men. A black
satin cloak, lined with sable or Siberian blue
fox, a muff of the same, is all they add to
their toilette, which is similar to that of the most
elegant Parisiennes. Their white necks, which
somehow the cold does not redden, are quite un-

180 RUSSIA.
covered by their fur tippets, and their heads are
only protected by a coquettish French hat, which
of course leaves much of them uncovered. We
thought with terror of the rheumatism, the neu
ralgias, the influenza, to which these reckless beau
ties were exposing themselves, for the pleasure of
being in the fashion, in a country and in a tem
perature where to lift one's hat in returning a
salutation is often a dangerous action. Animated
by the flre of coquetry, they did not apparently
suffer from the cold.
Russia, throughout its immense stretch of terri
tory, contains many different races, and the type
of feminine beauty varies greatly. But certain
traits may be considered as characteristic, such as
a very fair complexion, grey-blue eyes, blonde or
chestnut hair, and ^ certain emhonpoint , caused by
the lack of exercise, and the seclusion brought
about by the winter of seven or eight months' dura
tion. One might say these Russian beauties were
odalisques, that the genii of the North kept shut
up in a hothouse. They have a skin of cold cream
and snow, with camellia-like tints, like those women
of the serail who are always veiled and whose skin
has never been touched by the sun. Amid the
^^"hiteness of their faces, their delicate features are
slightly marked like those of the man-in-the-moon,
but the uncertain outline imparts to them an ex
traordinary sweetness and polar grace. As if to re
fute our description, here in a sleigh, stopped elose

RACES ON THE NEVA. 181
by our troika, is a beauty of an altogether Southern
type, with velvet-black brows, aquiline nose, oval
face, dark skin, and lips red as a pomegranate; a
Circassian of pure race, perhaps but yesterday a
Mahommedan. Here and there, eyes, whose out
side corner runs toward the temple, remind us
that on one side Russia touches China. Tiny Fin
nish women, with blue eyes, hair of pale gold, and
pink and white skins, add a Northern variety of
type, in strong contrast to certain beautiful Greeks
from Odessa, recognizable by their straight noses
and black eyes, like the Byzantine Madonnas. The
ensemble is altogether charming, and these lovely
heads issue like winter flowers from a pile of furs,
that is itself covered with white or blaek bearskins
over the sleighs or carriages. The descent to fbe
Neva is made through a broad inclined plane, be
tween the bronze lions on the quay, whose pedestals
mark the wharf, when the river, free of ice, is cov
ered with a crowd of boats.
The sky, on this day, had not the deep azure it
has when the cold reaches ten or twelve degrees
below zero. A soft grey sky, a forerunner of more
snow hung low over the city, seeming to rest on
bell-tower and steeple as on pillars of gold. This
quiet, neutral tint, showed to great advantage the
ediflces glowing with bright colors and adorned
with gold. Opposite, on the other side of the river,
like avalanches scattered over a vaUey, rise the
granite columns of the classic monument of the

182 RUSSIA.
Bourse. At the point where the Neva separates,
the spire of the fortress lifts its golden shaft, made
more intense from contrast mth the grey sky.
The race-course, with its wooden stands and track,
marked by cords stretched on posts planted in the
snow, and a hedge of pine branches, runs trans
versely to the river. The crowd of people and
carriages was enormous. The privileged ones oc
cupied seats in the grand-stand, if it is a privilege
to sit in an open gallery in the cold. Sleighs,
troikas, caleches and even simple carts and other
more or less primitive vehicles (for no restriction
interfered with the popular pleasure) crowded
two or three rows deep around the race-course.
The river bed belongs to everybody. Men and
women, in order to see better, took the coachman's
place on the box. Nearer the barriers were the
moujiks in sheepskin touloupes and felt boots,
soldiers in grey caps, and others who could not do
better. This vast crowd swayed back and forth on
the ice-floor of the Neva, apparently quite indiffer
ent to the fact that a deep river was running under
this frozen crust of two or three feet. There were
packed close together thousands of people and a
considerable number of horses, to say nothing of
all sorts of vehicles. But the Russian winter is
faithful and is incapable of playing such a trick
as of opening under them traps for their destruc
tion. Outside the track, grooms were exercising ra-

The Bourse, St. Petersburg

RACES ON THE NEVA. 183
cers who had not yet run, or walking about,
under their Persian carpets, those who had al
ready finished. The track formed an elongated
ellipse; the sleighs do not start from the front,
but are placed at equal intervals, which are dimin
ished or increased according to the swiftness of
the trotters. Two sleighs opposite the tribune, two
others at the lower extremity of the circle, await
the signal to be off. Sometimes a man on horse
back gallops alongside of the trotter to stir him to
his best, by every means in his power. The horse
in the sleigh must only trot, but sometimes he goes
so fast that the galloping horse can scarcely keep up
with him, and once started the race-horse is aban
doned to his own will. Many coachmen, sure of
their animals, disdain to make use of this trick and
run alone. Any trotter that breaks into a gallop
more than six times is put out of the running. It
is a wonderful sight to see these magnificent beasts,
for whom insane prices have been paid, tearing
over the ice, swept clean of snow till it looks like
burnished glass. Smoke issues in streams from
their scarlet nostrils, a mist covers their flanks and
their tails are strewn with diamond powder. The
nails of their shoes eut the smooth surface, and
they devour space with as proud a security as if
they were on the best built road in the world.
The coachmen hold their reins with all their might,
for the horses with but a trifling weight to draw,
and unable to gallop, need to be held in, rather

184 RUSSIA.
than urged. The tight reins, too, are a support to
them, as they dash along, till their knees touch
their mouths.
As near as we could teU, no particular age or
weight are requisite to those participating; only a
certain speed in a given time being demanded.
Often troikas contend with one or two-horse
sleighs. Eaeh one chooses the vehicle or harness,
most to his liking. It may even be that a spectator
just arrived in his sleigh is seized with the desire
to take his chance and forthwith he enters the
lists. At the races of which we are teUing, quite a
picturesque incident happened. A moujik, from
Vladimir, it was said, taking to town a load of
wood or frozen meat, was watching the race from
his rustic troika. He was dressed in a touloupe
spotted with grease, with a bonnet of old, worn
fur, and boots of shapeless, white felt ; a stiff, neg
lected beard bristled around his chin. His turnout
was composed of three little thin, ungroomed
horses, as hairy as bears, too dirty to talk of, cov
ered with icicles, their heads hanging down, while
they ate snow piled up on the river. A douga, gay
with vivid colors in lines and zigzags, probably
the work of the peasant himself, formed the finest
part of his equipage. This wild, primitive vehi
cle presented the strangest contrast to the lux
urious sleighs, the conquering tro'ikas, and the
elegant equipages careering around the race-

RACES ON THE NEVA. 185
course, and more than one sarcastic remark was
made at the expense of the humble vehicle. And
truth to tell, it produced amid all this luxury the
effect of a spot of black on an ermine cloak.
But the little horses, their hair matted with
frozen sweat, gazed slyly through the stiff meshes
of their manes at their blooded brethren, who drew
away from them disdainfully, for animals, too, de
spise poverty. But fire fiashed from their eyes,
and they struck the ice with their tiny feet.
The moujik, standing on the seat, contemplated
the race-course, without appearing surprised at the
prowess of the trotters. Sometimes a smile pene
trated the crystals of his mustache, his grey eyes
shone with malice, and he seemed to say: "We can
do quite as well as that." Then all at once he
resolved to enter the lists and tempt the goddess
fortune. The three little beggars shook their
heads proudly, as if they comprehended it was a
question of supporting the honor of the poor horse
from the steppes, and without being urged, started
off at a speed that soon filled the other contestants
with alarm. Their slender, little legs went like
the wind, and they won by one minute several sec
onds from the pure blooded English horses, the
Orlovs and all the rest. The moujikJiad not over
estimated his rustic team.
The prize was decreed to him— a magnificent
piece of silver, wrought by Vaillant, the fashion
able silversmith of St. Petersburg. This triumph

186 RUSSIA.
excited the people, generally so quiet and silent, to
the highest pitch of enthusiasm.
As he came out of the course, he was over
whelmed with proposals to buy his horses. He
was oft'ered three thousand roubles apiece for them,
an enormous sum for the man and the horses. To
his credit be it said, he refused positively. Wrap
ping his piece of silver in an old cloth, he climbed
into his tro'ika, and retumed to Vladimir, as he
had come, unwilling to be separated at any price
from the beasts which had made him for a mo
ment the lion of St. Petersburg.
The race was over, and the carriages left the
river bed for the various quarters of the town.
The climbing the wooden incline, connecting the
Neva with the quays, would furnish the subject
for an interesting and characteristic painting.
To ascend the steep slope, the noble beasts bent
their necks, dug their hoofs into the slippery floor,
and pulled with all their force. It was a confused
scene full of picturesque effects, that would have
been full of danger, too, but for the skiU of the
Russian coachmen. The sleighs went up three or
four abreast in irregular line, and more than once
we felt, on the back of our neck, the warm breath
of an impatient steed, who would wiUingly have
passed over our head had he not been held vigor
ously in check. And often a flake of foam, fallen
from a silver bit, would alight on the head of a
terrified woman. The sleighs made one think

RACES ON THB NEVA. 187
of an army of chariots, making an assault on the
granite quays of the Neva, themselves not unlike the
parapets of a fortress. In spite of the tumult,
there were no accidents, — the absence of wheels
makes an encounter more difficult — and the equi
pages dispersed with a swiftness that would have
thrown a prudent Parisienne into spasms.
It is a great pleasure, when one has been in the
open air for hours, exposed to a wind straight from
the icy recesses of the pole, to return home, to free
oneself from one's pelisse, to take off one's galoches,
to wipe from one's mustache the melting snow,
and to light a cigar, which we could not do out
side. The warm atmosphere envelops the body,
like a caress, making the limbs supple. A glass
of hot tea, — in Russia, tea is not drunk in cups-
makes one deliciously comfortable, as the English
say. The circulation, suspended by immobility, is
re-established, and you taste that delight of the
liouse, unknown to the South. But already it is
growing dark, for night comes quickly at St.
Petersburg, and at three o'elock the lamps must
be lighted. From the chimneys come curls of
smoke, fragrant with culinary odors; everywhere
the stoves flame up, for people dine earlier in St.
Petersburg than in Paris. Six o'elock is the ex
treme limit, and then only among people who
have traveled and assumed English or French
ways. As it happens, we are to dine out, so we
must dress and over our evening toilette put the

188 RUSSIA.
pelisse and once more thrust our flne boots into
furred galoches.
With night it has grown colder; an arctic wind
whirls the snow over the sidewalks Uke smoke.
The ice creaks under the runners of the sleigh.
Great, pale stars shine from out the depths of the
clear, violet sky and over the darkness shines, from
the summit of the golden dome of St. Isaac's a
point of light, like the lamp of a sanctuary, that is
never extinguished.
We tum the collar of our pelisse to our eyes,
tuck the bear-skin around our knees, and without
inconvenience from the thirty degrees of differ
ence between our chamber and the street, we soon
flnd ourselves, thanks to the sacred "na prava, na
leva" (to the right! to the left!) before the porte-
cochere of the house where we are expected. At the
foot of the stairs the atmosphere of a hothouse
envelops us, melting the ice from our beard, and
in the ante-chamber, the servant, an old soldier,
who has kept his military cloak, takes off our furs
and hangs them among those of the other guests,
who have already arrived — for exactitude is a
Russian quality. In Russia Louis XIV. could not
have said : " I almost had to wait. ' '

RUSSIAN HOMES.

(189)

X.

EUSSIAN HOMES.

An ante-chamber in Russia is not like such a
room in any other quarter of the world. The
pelisses hung on the rack, with their sleeves and
broad pleats, look something like human flgures
suspended there. The galoches underneath simu
late feet, so that the effect of all these furs in the
dim light is iadeed strange. Achim von Arnim
would, in fancy, see the cast-off clothes of M.
Peau d'Ours, paying a visit. Hoffmann would
place his archivists or councilors under their mys
terious folds. And the French, reduced to the
tales of Perrault, would hide the seven wives of
Blue Beard within yonder black cabinet. The
furs, hung near the stove, are impregnated with a
warmth they keep for several hours. The servants
have a wonderful instinct in recognizing them;
even when the number of guests gives to the ante
chamber the appearance of Michel's or Zimmer
man's stores, they are never wrong, but place on
the shoulders of each one the garment that is his
own. A Russian apartment unites with comfort
all the luxury of English and French civilization.
At first sight one could fancy himself in London
(191)

192 RUSSIA.
or Paris, but soon the local character betrays
itself in a thousand minute details. First of all,
the Byzantine Madonna, with her child, surrounded
with carvings of silver or enamel, illumined by
the flame of a lamp that is never extinguished,
makes you realize that you are neither in London
nor Paris, but in orthodox. Holy Russia. Some
times the image of the Saviour replaces that of
the Virgin.
There are saints, too, ordinarily the patron
saints of the master and mistress of the house,
clothed in carapaces of gold and shining halos.
Then the climate demands certain requirements
that cannot be ignored. Everywhere the windows
are double and the space between them is fllled
with sand, which is often covered with moss. On
account of the double sashes, the windows in Rus-
"sia have neither shutters nor blinds, they ean
neither be opened nor shut, for the sashes are
fixed for the entire winter, and are carefuUy
fastened. A narrow easement serves to renew the
air, a disagreeable and even dangerous operation,
on account of the great difference between the in
terior and exterior temperature. Thick curtains
of rich stuffs deaden the feeling of any cold that
might come through the glass, which is more open
than is generally believed. The rooms are larger
and higher than in Paris. Our architects, so in
genious in modeling modern bee-hives for the
human bee, could make an entire flat and often two

RUSSIAN HOMES. 193
stories out of a St. Petersburg drawing-room.
Since all the rooms are hermetically sealed and thc
halls heated, the temperature is sixty-six to sixty-
eight degrees, which allows the women to wear mus
lins and have their arms and necks bare. The
furnaces emit heat at night as well as during the
day. Hot steam pipes or great stoves of monu
mental proportions, of fine white or painted porce
lain, and reaching to the ceiling, scatter heat where
the furnaces cannot reach. Open fires are rare,
and are only used in spring or autumn. In win
ter they would draw away the heat and chill the
room; so the chimneys are closed and fllled with
flowers. Flowers are indeed a truly Russian lux
ury ! The houses overflow with them ! Flowers re
ceive you at the door and mount the stairs with
you. Irish ivy festoons the balustrade, jardi
nieres are on every landing. In the embrasure of
the windows are tall banana trees; talipots, mag
nolias, camellias in flower, reach to the gilded ceil
ings, orchids hang suspended from glass, china or
terra-cotta pockets. Pieces of Japanese or Bo
hemian glassware in the centre of the tables or the
corners of the sideboards overflow with exotics.
They live there as well as in a hothouse, and in
point of fact, every Russian house is that. In the
street you are at the arctic pole, but in the house
you could fancy yourself in the tropics.
It is as though by this profusion of bloom the
eye were seeking to console itself for the intermin-
13

194 - RUSSIA.
able whiteness of winter. The longing to see
something that is not white must become a sort of
agony in a land where the earth is covered with
snow for more than six months of the year. They
have not even the satisfaction of looking at the
green painted roofs, for they do not change their
white shirts till springtime. If their apartments
were not transformed into gardens, they would
think that green had disappeared forever from
the world.
As for the furniture, it is Uke ours, only larger,
more ample, as it must be, in view of the dimen
sions of the rooms. But it is the cabinet that is
entirely Russian. It is made from a delieate,
precious wood, carved in openwork like the sticks
of a fan, and occupies a corner of the drawing-
room and is festooned with rare running plants.
It is a sort of confessional for intimate conversa
tion, furnished inside with divans, where the mis
tress of the house ean isolate herself from the mass
of her guests, and at the same time remaining -with
them ean receive three or four guests of distmc
tion. Sometimes this cabinet is in colored glass,
flowered with pictures, and mounted in panels of
gilded leather. Nor is it at all unusual to see,
amid the ottomans, dos-d-dos, easy chairs, a gigan
tic white bear, stuffed and padded like a sofa, and
offering to visitors an altogether arctic seat. Little
black bears often serve as stools. It all recalls
amid the elegancies of modern life the icebergs of

RUSSIAN HOMES. I95
the North Sea, the immense snow-covered steppes,
and the pathless forests of pine, the true Russia,
which one is tempted to forget in St. Petersburg.
The bed-chamber is not generally furnished with
the luxury and elegance given to it in France.
Behind a screen or carved partition, a little, low
bed is tucked away, like a camp-bed or a divan. The
Russians are of Eastern origin, and even in the
upper classes they do not care for the sweetness of
a comfortable couch. They sleep anywhere they
may happen to be, like the Turks, often in their
pelisses, on the broad, green leather sofas, that are
in every corner. The idea of making of the bed
room a sort of sanctuary never occurs to them.
The ancient habits of the tent seem to have fol
lowed them into the very heart of that civilization,
with whose every elegance and every vice they are
acquainted. Rich hangings adom the walls, and should the
master of the house pride himself on his artistic
tastes, there will certainly be crimson damask from
India, or dark embroidered stuffs, or surrounded
by rich frames, a Horace Vernet, a Gudin, a
Calame, a Koekkoek, perhaps a Leys, a Madou, a
Tenkate, or if he desire to prove his patriotism, a
Bruloff and a Aivasovsky— who are the most fash
ionable painters. Our modern sehool has not
reached them, although we did see two or three
Meissoniers and as many Troyons. The manner
of our painters does not seem finished enough for

196 RUSSIA.
the Russians. The interior we have just described
is not that of a palace, but of a house, not of the
middle class, — this word means nothing in Rus
sia — but of a house that is comme il faut. St.
Petersburg is gorged with hotels and immense pal
aces, some of which we will make known to our
readers. Now that we have described the decora
tion, it is time to pass to the dinner. Before seat
ing themselves at table, the guests approach a lit
tle round table, where are laid Out caviar (sturgeon
eggs), salt herrings, anchovies, cheese, olives, slices
of sausage, Hamburg smoked beef, and other hors
d' oeuvres, that are eaten with rolls, to pique the
appetite. The luncheon is taken standing and is
washed down with vermouth, Madeira, Dantzik
whiskey. Cognac, and cumin, a sort of anisette, that
recalls the raki of Constantinople and the Greek
Islands. Imprudent or timid travelers, unable to
resist their polite insistence, allow themselves to
taste everything, unaware that this is but the pro
logue to the piece, and sit down to the veritable
dinner quite unable to eat more.
In all good houses they eat in French fashion,
but the national taste shows itself in certain char
acteristic details. As, for example, with the white
bread is placed a piece of black rye bread, that the
Russian guests consume with visible enjoyment.
They also delight in salted cucumbers, called
agourcis, which to us did not seem the least deli
cious. In the middle of the dinner, after having

RUSSIAN HOMES. 197
drunk the fine brands of Bordeaux and champagne,
that are only found in Russia, they drink porter,
ale and above all, kiuas, a local beer made from the
fermented crusts of black bread, which can only
be enjoyed by a cultivated taste, and that does not
seem to a stranger, at least, worthy of the magnifi
cent Bohemian or wrought silver glasses in which it
is served. The chtchi is a kind of stew, composed of the
breast of mutton, fennel, onions, carrots, cabbage,
barley and prunes. These heterogeneous ingredi
ents have an original taste, to which one soon
grows accustomed, espeeially when the habit of
traveling has made you cosmopolitan in matters
culinary, and taught your palate to accustom itself
to all sorts of surprises. Another very popular
soup is quenefes soup. It is a consomme in which,
when it is boiling, is dropped a little at a time a
paste diluted with eggs and spices, that the heat
makes into little balls, something like the poached
eggs in the Parisian consomme. Dumplings are
served with the chtchi.
Everyone who has read "Monte Cristo" will re
member the meal at which the old prisoner of the
Chateau d'lf, summoning by a ring of gold the
fairies to his service, ordered sterlet f rojn the Volga,
a gastronomic marvel, unknown to the most recher
che tables outside of Russia. In fact, the sterlet mer
its his reputation; it is a delicious fish, with fine,
white flesh, perhaps a trifle too fat, and is something

198 RUSSIA.
between the smelt and the lamprey. It sometimes
attains a great size, but those of medium weight
are the best. While not indifferent to the pleasures
of the palate, we are neither a Grinod de la Ray-
niere, nor a Cussy, nor a BriUat-Savarin, to talk
about the sterlet in romantic style, and we regret
it, for the sterlet is a dish worthy of the most
fastidious gourmets, who would think the sterlet of
the Volga worth the journey to Russia.
Carefully fattened fowls, whose flesh is per
meated with the juniper-berries upon which they
are fed, till they diffuse an odor of turpentine, ap
pear often upon Russian tables. The celebrated
bear-hams frequently take the place of the classic
York hams, and fiUet-of-elk, the coinmon roast beef.
All these are dishes never seen on Western tables.
Every people, even when governed by a similar
civiUzation, preserve certain tastes and dishes that
strangers find it difficult to enjoy. So cold soup, in
which are together pieces of ice and fish, in a
bouillon seasoned with vinegar and sugar, astonish
foreign palates as much as the gaspacho of the
Andalusians. This soup is only served in summer,
and is said to be very refreshing and the Russians
are wild about it.
Since most of the vegetables are raised in hot
houses, the season has nothing to do with them.
Fresh peas are eaten every month in the year in
St. Petersburg. Asparagus never feels the winter.
It is tender, large, juicy, and entirely white; that

RUSSIAN HOMES. 199
little green point, such as we have, is never seen,
and it can be eaten from either end. In England
they eat salmon cutlets, in Russia they eat chicken
cutlets. This dish has become fashionable, since the
Emperor Nicholas tasted it in a little inn near
Torjek, and took a fancy to it. The receipt had
been given to the landlady by an unfortunate
Frenchman, who was unable to pay his bill, and
made her fortune. We agree with the emperor, —
these cutlets are truly delicious. Let us especially
mention the cutlets of the Preobrajenski, which
deserve a place on the bill of fare of the best res
taurants. We have only mentioned the peculiarities and
differences, for in the great houses the cooking is
French, done by Frenchmen. Indeed, Prance fur
nishes cooks to the world.
The greatest luxury in St. Petersburg is to have
fresh oysters. As they come from a distance, in
summer the heat spoils them; in winter the cold
freezes them. They often cost a rouble apiece, and
in spite of their high price they are seldom good.
The story is told of a moujik who had become very
rich and who received his freedom, for which he
had in vain offered enormous sums, through send
ing to his master a barrel of fresh oysters at a time
when they were not to be bought. We do not
guarantee the truth of the little story, but it proves
at least, even if it be invented, the rarity of oysters
in St. Petersburg at certain times.

200 RUSSIA.
For the same reason there is always a basket of
fruit for dessert. Oranges, bananas, grapes, pears,
and apples are arranged in charming shapes. The
grapes generally come from Portugal. Often they
are ripened by artificial heat in the cellar of a
house, half-buried in the snow. In January we
have eaten strawberries in St. Petersburg whieh
were doing their best to turn red in the middle of
a green leaf, on a miniature earthen pot. Fruit
is one of the passions of Northern people; they
bring it at great expense from abroad, or force
rebellious nature to give them at least its form,
for both taste and fragrance are lacking. The
stove, no matter how hot it may be, but imperfectly
takes the place of the sun.
We crave pardon for these gastronomic details,—
it may be interesting to know what a people eats.
"Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what
you are." The proverb thus modified is none the
less true. Though the Russians imitate the
French cuisine, they still keep certain national
dishes, which they really like most. It is the same
with their character. Although they conform to
the highest refinements of Western civilization,
they none the less preserve certain primitive in
stincts, and it would take very little for even the
most elegant ones to return to the life of the
steppes. When you are at table, a servant, in
blaek, with white cravat and gloves, as irreproach
able in his dress as an English diplomat, stands

RUSSIAN HOMES. 201
behind you, solemnly, ready to adminster to your
slightest want. You could fancy yourself in Paris.
But if by chance you should look carefully at the
man you would perceive that his skin was yellow,
his eyes turned up towards his temples, his cheek
bones were high, his nose flat, his lips thick, and
his master, who has followed your glance, says
carelessly, as if it were the most natural thing in
the world : ' ' He is a Mongol Tartar, from the con
flnes of China."
This Mohammedan, or perhaps heathen Tartar,
fulflUs his duties with automatic regularity, and
the strictest major-domo could find no fault with
him. He produces the effect of a perfect servant,
but he would be more to our taste were he to wear
the costume of his tribe, the tunic buckled at the
waist, with a metal belt, and his sheep-skin bonnet.
It would be more picturesque, but less European,
and the Russians are unwilling to look like
Asiatics. The table-service, china, glass, silver, while leav
ing nothing to be desired, has no especial points of
difference, unless it may be the charming little
platinum spoons wrought with gold, which they
use for dessert, coffee and tea.
Bowls of fruit alternate with baskets of flowers,
and often the sweetmeats are encircled with violets,
which the hostess gracefully presents to her guests.
The conversation is always in French, especially
in the presence of a stranger. All Russians of

202 RUSSIA.
rank speak French well, using the popular idioms
and the fashionable phrases quite as if they were
natives of Paris. They even understand the
French of Duvert and Lausanne, whieh is so thor
oughly and entirely Parisian, that many provin
cials understand it with difficulty. They speak
without accent, though with a little singing tone,
that is very pretty and contagious. They make
use, too, of certain formulas, that are doubtless
national, and familiar to people who speak even
very well a language that is not their own. For
example, they use the word aisolument in a curious
way. You ask "Is such a one dead?" They re
ply absolument in the sense of yes. Then the
words donc and deja recur constantly in their con
versation, with an interrogative signification —
"Have you then, already seen St. Petersburg?"
The manners of the Russians are polite, caress
ing, and highly polished. They are conversant
with all the details of French literature. They
are great readers, and many an author Uttle known
in France is widely read in St. Petersburg. The
vagaries of the green-room, the "chronique scan
daleuse du demi-monde" reach the banks of the
Neva, and we heard many a piquant detail about
things in Paris of whieh we had known nothing
before The women, too, are very cultivated, with
the facility characteristic of the Slav race, and
read and speak several languages. Many have
enjoyed Byron, Goethe, Heinrich Heine, in their

Moika Quay, St. Petersburg

RUSSIAN HOMES. - 203
original tongue, and should a writer be mentioned,
they show by a well-chosen quotation that they are
conversant -with his writings. As for their toil
ettes, they are of the highest elegance,— more
fashionable than the fashion. Diamonds fiash on
lovely very bare shoulders, while gold, chain brace
lets, from Circassia or the Caucasus, alone show by
their Oriental workmanship that it is Russia.
After dinner, people scatter over the drawing-
rooms. On tables albums, beauty-books, keep
sakes, landscapes, are lying, for the comfort of the
timid or embarrassed. Stereopticon views provide
amusement, and sometimes a woman, yielding to
persuasion, seats herself at the piano, and sings to
her own accompaniment a national air or a gypsy
song in which the melancholy of the North is inter
mingled with the ardor of the South, with a strange
accent. It is like a cachucha danced on the snow
by moonlight.

A BALL AT THE WINTER PALACE.

(205)

XI.

A BALL AT THE WINTEE PALACE.
We are going to tell you about a fete where we
were present without being there, where our body
was absent though our eyes were invited, — a court
ball. Ourselves invisible, we saw everything, and
yet we were not wearing the ring of Gyges, nor
yet the kobold 's green felt hat, nor indeed any
other talisman.
In the Square of Alexander were stationed nu
merous carriages, in weather that would have
frozen Parisian coachmen and horses stiff, but
which did not seem severe enough to the Russians to
light the brasiers ready in the iron kiosks near the
Winter Palace. The trees of the Admiralty, jew
elled with frost, looked like great white plumes
planted in the ground, and the triumphal column
had sheathed its pink granite in an icy layer till it
resembled a sugar-loaf. The moon, riding iu a
cloudless sky, was flooding all this whiteness with
its eold light, deepening the shadows, and giving
all sorts of queer shapes to the motionless carriages,
whose frozen lanterns flashed points of flame into
the darkness. In the background, the enormous
Winter Palace shone at every window, like a moun-
(207)

208 RUSSIA.
tain pierced with holes, and brilliant with interior
flre. Perfect silence reigned in the square ; the severity
of the weather kept away the curious, who with us
never fail to be attracted by the spectacle of sueh a
fete, even when seen from afar and from outside.
And even had there been a crowd, the length of the
palace is so tremendous that it would have been
scattered and swallowed up in this vast spaee, that
only an army could fill.
A sleigh crossed diagonally the great white sheet,
across which fell the shadow of the column of
Alexander, and disappeared down the dark street
separating the Palace from the Hermitage, to which
its aerial bridge gives a certain resemblance to the
Canale di Paglia of Venice.
A few minutes later, an Eye, which need not
have been joined to a body, fiuttered along the
cornice supported by the portico of the Palace gal
lery, while the Une of torches fastened in the en
tablature sheltered it behind a hedge of light. In
deed the light concealed it better than the dark
ness could have done, making it invisible among
so much splendor.
The gallery seen from there was long and wide,
with polished pillars and smooth floors, that re
flected the candles and goldwork. Pictures fllled
the spaces between the columns, though the dis
tance was too great to see their subjects. Already
men in brilliant uniforms and women In flowing

The Winter Pdlace, St. Petersburg

¦I-r

A BALL AT THE WINTER PALACE. 209
court robes were sauntering about. The crowd
gradually increased and fllled with a brilliant vari
colored throng the gallery that was all too small
in spite of its generous dimensions.
Every eye was fixed upon the doors through
which the emperor must enter. Finally the doors
were thrown open; the emperor, the empress, and
the grand dukes traversed the gallery between two
quickly formed hedges of guests, addressing oc
casionally a word to a personage of distinction,
standing near by, with a gracious and noble famil-
iarty. Then the imperial group disappeared
through the opposite door, followed at a respectful
distance by the great dignitaries of state, the dip
lomatic corps, the generals and the courtiers.
Scarcely had the cortege entered the ballroom,
when they were followed by the Eye, reinforced this
time by a strong lorgnette. It was a very furnace
of light and heat, that shone as if it were on flre.
Rows of lights ran along the cornices; in the em
brasures of the windows great candelabra with a
thousand arms bumed like burning bushes; hun
dreds of chandeliers hung from the ceiling in con
stellations of fire. And all these lights uniting
their rays, formed the most dazzling illumination
that could be imagined to adom a fete.
The flrst impression, especially from that height,
and leaning over the chasm of light, is like a ver
tigo. Amid the blaze of light, the brilliant cos
tumes, the flashing of diamonds, the mirrors with
14

210 RUSSIA.
their endless reflections, it is difficult to distinguish
anything. A glowing scintillation prevents you
from seizing any object; but gradually the eye
habituates itself to so much splendor, and the
black spots floating before it, as when you have
been looking at the sun, disappear; and it surveys
from end to end this hall of gigantic proportions,
all marble and white stucco, whose polished walls
reflect objeets, like the jasper and porphyry of the
Babylonian buildings in Martyn's engravings.
The kaleidoscope, with the passing of its bril
liantly colored partieles, which ceaselessly form
themselves into new shapes; the chromatrope, with
its dilations and contractions, where a cloth be
comes a flower, then transforms its petals into the
points of a crown, ending in a whirling sunburst,
passing from rubies to emeralds, from topaz to
amethyst, enclosing a diamond centre, a million
times larger, ean alone give an idea of this moving
parterre, of gold, of precious stones, of flowers, re
newing its glowing forms by a perpetual move
ment. On the entrance of the royal family, this moving
splendor stood still, and faces and persons could be
distinguished among the motionless, brilliant
throng. In Russia, court-balls are opened by a
polonaise; it is not a dance, but a sort of proces
sion, a march with torches, that is full of indi
viduality. The participants stand in two rows,
leaving a space clear in the middle of the ball-

A BALL AT THE WINTER PALACE. 211
room. When everyone is in his place, the orches
tra plays a slow, majestie air, and the promenade
begins; it is led by the emperor, who has asked a
princess or lady, whom he desires to honor, to
dance. The Emperor Alexander II. wore that evening a
magniflcent uniform, which showed to great ad
vantage his tall, slender, graceful figure. A white
jacket reaching half-way to the knees was braided
with gold and bordered with blue Siberian fox at
the neck, wrists, and at the bottom ; his breast was
covered by the jewels of the great orders. Tight
blue trousers showed every movement of his limbs,
and terminated in thin half -boots. The emperor's
hair was cut short, leaving exposed his smooth,
well-formed forehead. His features, of an abso
lute purity, seem modelled for a gold or bronze
medal. His deep blue eyes were especially remark
able in his dark face, which, owing to his journeys
and exercise in the open air, is less white than his
forehead. His mouth might offer a fit subject to
a Greek sculptor, and the expression of his face
was majestic, firm, and sweet, lighted up from
time to time by a smile full of grace.
The high officers of the army and palace, the
grand dignitaries, each with a lady, followed the
imperial family.
On every side sparkled uniforms covered with
gold epaulets studded with diamonds ; decorations,
stars of emeralds and precious stones, blazed on

212 RUSSIA.
their breasts. A few, the highest in favor with
grade, wore around their necks an order that is a
mark of especial esteem— the portrait of the em
peror, surrounded with brilliants; but they were
rare and easily counted. The cortege is advancing
all the while, gaining recruits at every step ; a gen
tleman steps out from the row and extends his
hand to a lady opposite him, and the couple join
the others in the line, suiting their steps according
to the gait of the head. It cannot be a very easy
matter to walk thus, holding each daintily by the
hand, under the fire of a thousand indifferent or
sarcastic looks; the slightest awkwardness of ges
ture, the least misstep, the tiniest movement out-
of-time, is sharply noticed. Military habits do
much to help the men, but it must be difficult for
the women! Most of them acquit themselves ad
mirably, and of more than one it may be said "Et
vera incessu patuit dea!" They pass along light
ly, under their feathers, their flowers, their dia
monds, with modestly lowered eyes or else looking
about them, with an air of perfect innocence, man
aging with an inflection of the body, or little move
ment of their heels, their sweeping trains of silk and
lace, fanning themselves leisurely, as much at ease
as if they were walking alone in an avenue or a
park. To walk in a noble, graceful, simple man
ner, when people are staring at you, is what more
than one great actress has never been able to ac
complish.

A BALL AT THE WINTER PALACE. 213
What gives originality to the court of Russia is
that from time to time a young Circassian prince
with wasp-like waist and broad shoulders joins the
cortege, or a chief of the Lesghine guard, or a
Mongol officer, whose soldiers are even now armed
with the bow, the quiver and the buckler. Under
the white glove of civilization, as it takes the hand
of a princess or countess, is hidden a little Asiatic
hand accustomed to hold the narrow handle of the
kindjal between its brown, nervous flngers. But
no one, apparently, thinks it remarkable; and in-
dead what is more natural than that a Mongolian
or Mohammedan prince should walk through the
polonaise with a grande dame of Greek orthodox
St. Petersburg ! Are they not both subjects of the
emperor of all the Russias ?
The uniforms and gala habits of the men are so
brilliant, so rich, so varied, so covered with em
broidery, with gold and with decorations, that the
women, with their modern elegance and the light
grace of the fashions of the day, flnd it difficult to
hold their own against this massive eclat; but
since they carmot be richer, they are more beauti
ful; their bare shoulders are worth all the orders
in the world. To vie with this splendor, like the
Byzantine madonnas they must have j-obes of gold
and silver brocade, necklaces and ornaments of
precious stones and radiant crowns of diamonds;
but fancy dancing with a shrine of jewelry on
one's body. 

214 RUSSIA.
But do not believe too absolutely in their primi
tive simplicity ! These simple robes are of English
point, and their superimposed tunics are worth
more than a dalmatic of gold or silver brocade;
those bouquets on yonder tulle dress are caught
with knots of diamonds ; that velvet ribbon is fas
tened by a stone that might well have come from
the diadem of a Tzar. What could be more sim
ple than a white dress of taffeta, or silk or moire,
with bunches of pearls, and several rows twined
around the head! But the pearls are worth a
hundred thousand roubles, and never will a flsher
bring any of finer shape or purer water from any
ocean! Then, too, in dressing with simplicity,
they gain the favor of the empress, who prefers
elegance to display, but you may be quite sure that
Mammon has lost nothing by it. Only at flrst
glance, as they pass rapidly by, one fancies that
the Russian women display less luxury than the
men; but it is an error. Like all women, they
know how to make gauze more costly than gold.
When the polonaise has traversed the salon and
gallery, the ball begins. The dances are not re
markable — quadrilles, waltzes, redowas, as in
Paris, or London, or Madrid, or Vienna, or any
where else in the grand monde — except of course
the mazourka, whieh is danced at St. Petersburg
with a perfection and elegance unknown elsewhere.
Local peculiarities have a tendency to disappear
everywhere, and they desert first of aU the lofty

A BALL .4.T THE WINTER PALACE. 215
regions of society. In order to find them, one must
leave the centers of civilization and descend to the
depths of humble life.
Por the rest, the coup de'ceil is charming; the
dances form exquisite figures in the midst of the
splendid crowd, which has drawn aside to give
ample space to the dancers; the whirling waltz
puffs out the dresses, like the skirts of the spin
ning dervishes, and amid the rapid evolution, knots
of diamonds, blades of gold and silver flash like
lightning, and little gloved hands placed on the
shoulders of the waltzers look like white camellias
in massive gold vases.
Among the groups, the Hungarian magnate is
espeeially remarkable for his magnificent costume,
as well as tho first secretary of the Austrian Lega
tion, and the Greek ambassador, wearing native
bonnet, the braided jacket, the fustanelle and
knemides of the Greek noble.
After an hour or two of contemplation from its
lofty eminence, the Eye is carried under the
arches, through a labyrinth of mysterious corri
dors, into another hall, where the sound of the
distant orchestra and ball expires in delicate mur
murs. Comparative darkness reigns in this enor
mous room; it is there that the supper will be
served. Many cathedrals are less vast. In the
background amid the shadows, one catches a
glimpse of the white-draped tables; in the corners
shine in the uncertain light great masses of gold

216 RUSSIA.
plate; they are the sideboards. On a velvet-cov
ered stage reached by steps stood a horseshoe table.
Lackeys in grand livery moved about silently and
quickly; major-domos, officers of the household,
gave the last touches to the preparations.
Innumerable candles fill the candelabra and
walls and arches. They stood in snowy whiteness
in their sockets, like pistils in the calix of flowers,
but not one shining star trembled on their points.
They might have been frozen stalactites, and al
ready, like the noise of rushing waters, was heard
the dull roar of the approaching crowd. The em
peror appeared on the threshold ; it was like a fiat
lux. A subtile flame ran like lightning from one
candle to another; in a flash all were ignited, and
a torrent of light fllled the immense haU, iUumi
nating it as if by magic. This sudden passing
from twilight into glowing brilliance produced a
most fairy-like effect. In our practical century,
every marvel must be explained. Threads of pre
pared cotton united the wicks of the candles, which
had been dipped in an inflammable essence, and
the fire, applied at seven or eight places, was in
stantly communicated along the line. This means
is employed to light the great chandeliers of St.
Isaac's, and threads of guncotton hang, like spi
ders' webs, over the heads of the faithful. A
row of gas jets raised and lowered could produce
a similar effect, but gas, as we know, is never used
in the Winter Palace. Only candles of the purest

A BALL AT THE WINTER PALACE. 217
wax are used there. It is only in Russia that the
bees contribute their share towards the light.
The empress takes her place, with a few per
sonages of high distinction, at the horseshoe table
on the stage. Behind her gold armchair blazes,
like a gigantic firework, an immense bouquet of
white and pink camellias fastened against the mar
ble wall. Twelve negroes of great size, chosen
from the finest specimens of the African race,
dressed d la Mameluke, in rolled white turbans,
green jackets, with gold coins, full red trousers
caught at the waist by cashmere belts, all braided
and embroidered, went up and down the steps of
the stage, handing the plates to the servants, or
taking them from them, with the graceful, dignified
movements peculiar, even in a servile occupation,
to the Oriental. These Orientals performed their
duties majestically, and gave to the European
fete an Eastern cachet of the best possible taste.
The guests seated themselves according to their
fancy at the tables placed for them. Rich gold or
silver pieces, representing groups of figures or
flowers, mythological or ornamental, adorned the
middle of the tables; candelabra alternated with
pyramids of fruit. Seen from above, the dazzling
beauty of the glass, porcelain, plate and blossoms
showed to greater advantage than lower down. A
double row of women's bare shoulders, scintilla
ting with jewels, adorned with lace, ran arouiid the
tables, betraying their loveliness to the invisible

218 RUSSIA.
Eye, whose glance could also linger on the brown or
blonde heads, among the flowers, the foliage, the
feathers and the jewels.
The emperor made the tour of the tables, ad
dressing a few words to those whom he desired to
honor, sometimes sitting down and moistening his
lips in a glass of champagne, then rising to con
tinue the same thing further on. These stops of
a few minutes are considered as marks of especial
favor. After supper dancing was resumed; but
it was growing late. It was time to leave; the
fete could only repeat itself, and for a strictly
ocular witness it offered no further interest. The
sleigh, whieh had crossed the Place and stopped at
a little door in the narrow street separating the
Winter Palace from the Hermitage, reappeared,
then directed its course past St. Isaac's, carrying
with it a pelisse and fur bonnet that concealed the
faee inside. As if the sky desired to enter into
rivalry with the splendors of the earth, an aurora
boreaUs tossed into the darkness its brilliant flre-
works with tongues of silver, of gold, of purple
and pearl, dimming the glory of the stars in its
phosphorescent irradiations.

THE THEATRES.

(219)

XII.

THE THEATRES.

The theatres of St. Petersburg are massive in
proportions and classic in form. Standing in the
midst of vast grounds, they can readily be seen
from every side. We confess, for our part, we
would have preferred some more original style,
which might have been created from the forms
peculiar to the country and thus entirely new
effects have been produced. But Russia is by no
means the only country to which this reproach may
be addressed. An ill-comprehended admiration
for antiquity fills all our capitals with Parthenons
and maisons carrees, copied with more or less
exactitude, by the aid of bricks or plaster. Only
these poor Greek things present nowhere so home
sick and unhappy an appearance as in St. Peters
burg ; accustomed to blue skies and sunshine, they
shiver under the snows that cover their flat roofs
for so many weary months. It is true, they are
carefully swept after each snowfall, which faet
is the best criticism on the style chosen. Stalactites
of ice in the leaves of the Corinthian capitals!
What do you think of that ? A romantic reaction,
which we trust will succeed, is being started in
(221)

222 RUSSIA.
favor of the Muscovite-Byzantine architecture.
When they are not violated under the name of
good taste, every country produces its own monu
ments, as it produces its men, its animals, its plants,-
aecording to the needs of its climate, its religion,
its race ; and what Russia should have is the Greek
of Byzantium and not the Greek of Athens. After
this objection, there remains nothing but praise.
The great theatre, or Italian Opera House, is mag
nificent, and so large that it rivals in size La Scala
or San Carlo ; the carriages, waiting in an immense
square, reach it without trouble or disorder. Two
or three vestibules with glass doors prevent the en
trance of the bitter outside air, affording a transi
tion from ten or twelve degrees below zero to sixty
or sixty-five above.
Old soldiers in the uniforms of veterans wait at
the entrance, to take your pelisse, furs and galoches.
They return them without a mistake, which seems
a Russian specialty. As in Her Majesty's Theatre
in London, so here people never go to the Italian
Opera except in evening dress, unless one goes in
uniform, which is the most usual ; the women are in
full toilette, with elaborate coift'ures and bare neck
and arms. This etiquette, of which we heartily ap
prove, contributes much to the briUiancy of the
scene. The parterre is divided in the middle by
a broad aisle. A semicircular corridor surrounds
it, bordered on one side by a row of boxes, that
allows one to chat with one's friends who occupy

A Palace Guard, St. Petersburg

THB THEATRES. 223
the loges on the rez-de-chaussee, during the entr'
actes, and to leave one's plaee or to resume it
without deranging anyone. The imperial box is
the first object that strikes one on entering : it is
placed exactly in the middle, opposite the stage,
and is as high as two rows of the other loges; two
enormous carved gilded posts support velvet
curtains, which are looped back by heavy cords
and tassels and support a gigantic shield, with the
arms of Russia, the haughtiest and most fantastic
of heraldic design. This two-headed eagle, sur
mounted by crowns, forms a charming motif for
ornamentation, with its wings outspread, its fan
like tail, whose pennons are a cross between a
feather and a flower ; holding in its claws the globe
and sceptre, in the background the shield of St.
George, and, like a necklace of orders on its swell
ing breast, the arms of kingdoms, duchies and
provinces. No Greco-Pompeian decoration pro
duces half so satisfying an effect.
The stage-curtain presents a view of Peterhof,
with its arcades, porticoes, statues and green roofs.
The front of the boxes, rising in rows one above
the other, are ornamented with white medallions
in gold frames upon whieh are painted dainty,
graceful flgures or attributes standing out from
rose-pink backgrounds. There are neither gal
leries nor balconies. The front of the stage, in
stead of being flanked with columns, is supported
by these same great, carved, gilded posts, which

224 RUSSIA.
look as if they were poles destined to hold the
pavilion of some Oriental tent; but the arrange
ment is graceful and novel.
It is by no means easy to define the style of the
auditorium, unless one might borrow from the
Spanish their word plateresco, which means a
style of gold work, meant to describe the sort of
architecture in which excessive ornamentation
plays a thousand exuberant pranks amid a very
disorder of richness. It is a mass of shell-work, in
terlaced designs, flowers, fruits, reflecting amid
their golden glories the light from the magniflcent
chandeliers ; but the general effect is gay, splendid,
happy, and the luxury of the place frames to per
fection the luxury of the spectators.
This ornamental folly pleases us more than a
theatre whose architecture is crushingly correct.
In such matters a little extravagance is better than
pedantry. Velvet, gold, light in abundance, what
more is needed? The loges in the flrst row are
called the bel-etage, and, without a formal pro
hibition on the subject, this bel-etage is reserved
for the high aristocracy and the court dignitaries.
No untitled woman, no matter what her wealth or
respectability, would dare to show herself there;
her presence in this privileged row would astonish
everybody, and no one more than herself. Here
millions ai'e not sufficient to efface every Une of
demarcation. The flrst rows of the orchestra are reserved for

THE THEATRES. 225
persons of distinction. On the one next to the
musicians are seen only ministers, great officers,
ambassadors, first secretaries of embassy, and other
considerable and considered people. A celebrated
stranger may also sit there. The two next rows
are also very aristocratic. The fourth row admits
bankers, strangers, government officials of a certain
rank and artists; but a merchant would not dare
to venture beyond the fifth or sixth row. There is
a sort of tacit understanding that no one questions
and all obey.
This familiar custom of sitting in the orches
tra, for persons of the loftiest position, surprised
us at first, for we have seen there the first
personages in the empire. A man has his stall
and at the same time a loge for his family, but
this is the preferred place, which doubtless has
given rise to the reserve that pushes the ordinary
public to the more distant seats. This classification
does not shock people in Russia, where the Tchin
divides society into fourteen distinct categories,
whose first class often contains but two or three
persons. In the Italian opera of St. Petersburg, the opera
and the ballet are not given the same evening.
The two are quite separate and have each their
own evenings. The priee of tickets for the ballet
is less than that for the opera.
Since the dance forms the entire performance,
the ballets are more extended than in Paris: they
15

226 RUSSIA.
run through four or five acts, with many tableaux
and changes of scene, or else two are played the
same evening. The great celebrities of song and
dance have all appeared on the stage of the Grand
Theatre. Each star has in turn shone under this
polar sky, and lost none of its glory in so doing.
By dint of roubles and a hearty welcome the need
less fear of throat trouble or rheumatism has been
overcome. No throat, no knee has been injured in
this land of snows, where the cold is seen but not
felt. Rubini, Tamburini, Lablache, Mario, La
Grisi, Taglioni, Elssler, Carlotta, have all eome,
been admired and understood. Rubini was deco
rated here; august approbation arouses the verve
of the artists, showing them that they are thor
oughly appreciated, even though they decided after
much hesitation to undertake the journey.
To win applause for dancing in St. Petersburg
is not an easy matter. The Russians are excel
lent judges of a ballet, and the fire of their
glasses is something to be feared. She who has
faced the ordeal successfully may indeed feel sure
of herself. Their Conservatory of dancing fur
nishes wonderful proficients, and has a corps- de
ballet that is without equal for ensemble, precision
and rapidity of evolutions. It is a delight to see
those even lines, those trained groups, that scatter
at the given moment, but to re-form under another
guise : all those little feet faUing in time, aU those
choregraphic battalions which are never discon-

THB THEATRES. 227
certed or confused in their maneuvers ! There are
no little chats, no laughter or glances to the front
or to the orchestra. It is the world of pantomime,
from which speech is absent; but action does not
exceed its proper function. This corps de ballet
is chosen with infinite care from among the pupils
of the Conservatory: many are pretty, all are
young and well-formed and understand perfectly
their condition — or their art, if you like that better.
The stage scenery is very rich, numerous and
carefully designed, and is executed by German
artists. The composition is ingenious, poetic and
skillful, but often surcharged with petty details
that distract the eye and diminish the effect. The
coloring is generally pale and cold: every one
knows the Germans are not colorists, and this de-
feet is especially noticeable if one has lately been
in Paris, where the magic of decoration is pushed
so far. As for the theatre itself, it is admirably
managed ; the wings, the transformations, the shift
ings, the play of electric light, and all the man
agement necessary to a complicated mise en scene,
are executed with the most perfect promptitude.
As we have said before, the aspect of the audi
torium is wonderfully brilliant ; the toilettes of the
women stand out ravishingly from th£ background
of the purple velvet loges, and to a stranger the
entr'acte is not less interesting than the play:
he can easily, by turning his back to the stage,
hold for a few minutes on the end of his glass those

228 RUSSIA.
varied and to him novel types of female beauty.
An amiable neighbor, with the aristocracy at the
end of his fingers, pointed out by name the prin
cesses, countesses and baronesses who, whether
blonde or brunette, united to the dreaminess of the
North the repose of the East as they mingled
flowers with diamonds.
Tn the half-light of the baignoires shone certain
theatrical celebrities, a few Bohemians of Moscow,
in extraordinary toilettes, and a certain number of
Baronesses d'Ange, exported from the demimonde
of Paris, whose well-known faces do not need to be
discussed here.
The French Theatre, called also the Michael
Theatre, is situated on the square of the same
name. The interior is conveniently arranged, but
poorly decorated ; and, like the Grand Theatre, the
first rows of its orchestra are occupied by Russians
and strangers of distinction. It is well organized
and the composition of its troupe is excellent. The
actors introduce novelties for their benefit perform
ances, which take plaee generally Saturday or Sun
day, which, too, decide the play for the week. Such
a piece has its first representation in St. Petersburg
almost as soon as in Paris.
No Frenchman ean help feeling a certain pride
in seeing, hundreds of miles from Paris, under the
sixtieth degree of latitude, his language so well
known as to support an exclusively French theatre,
for the French colony would not half fill it. The

THE THEATRES. 229
Michael Theatre has just been rebuilt with many
handsome additions, and the opening was inaugu
rated by a fine poetical discourse of Varlet 's which
Berton delivered with art, feeling and enthusiasm.
During our stay in the city of the Tzars, Ira
Aldrigge, the famous American negro actor, was
there; he played in the theatre of the Circus, not
far from the Grand Theatre. He was the lion
of St. Petersburg, and seats had to be taken days
before. At first he played Othello. Ira Aldrigge 's
race enabled him to dispense with dye of any sort ;
nor did he need to cover his arms with chocolate-
colored tights. His own skin was that required
by the role. His entrance on the stage was mag
nificent. It was Othello himself as Shakespeare
has created him, with eyes half-closed as if dazzled
from the African suns, his nonchalant. Oriental
attitude and that negro free-and-easy air that no
European can imitate. As there was no English
troupe in St. Petersburg, but only a German one,
Ira Aldrigge recited his text in English, and lago,
Cassio, Desdemona replied in Schlegel 's transla
tion. The two languages, both of Saxon origin, did
not go badly together, especially for us, who, know
ing neither English nor German, fixed our atten
tion upon the play of the countenances, the panto
mime, and the plastic sides of the roles. But the
mixture must have been passing strange to those
who spoke both languages. We had expected an
energetic, disordered, fiery manner, rather bar-

230 RUSSIA.
barian and savage, somewhat in Kean's style. But
the great negro tragedian, in order doubtless to
appear as civilized as a white man, was quiet, re
served, classic, majestic, recalling strongly Mac-
ready. In the final scene his anger did not step
beyond proper bounds; he smothered Desdemona
with decency and raged afterward with propriety.
In a word, as much as one can judge under such
conditions, he seemed to have talent rather than
genius, science than inspiration. But, however
that may be, he scored a great success and was the
recipient of boundless applause. A fiercer, more
ferocious Othello would probably have succeeded
less. After all, Othello lived for a long time among
Christians, and the lion of St. Mark must have
tamed the lion of the desert.
The repertoire of a negro actor must of necessity
be limited to colored plays; but, when one thinks
of it, why, since a white comedian stains himself
in order to play a black role, should not a black
comedian powder himself in order to play a white
role? And that was what happened. Ira Ald
rigge, the following week, played King Lear in a
fashion that produced all desirable illusion. A
fiesh-colored skull, from which hung a few silvered
locks, covered his wool, reaching his eyebrows Uke
a helmet; a piece of wax gave an arch to his flat
nose; a thick paste covered his ebony cheeks, and
a great snowy beard enveloped the rest of his face
and fell over his breast. The transformation was

THE THEATRES. 231
complete; Cordelia would never have dreamed her
father was a negro. Never was the art of disguise
pushed further. From caprice, Ira Aldrigge had
not whitened his hands, and they showed at the
end of his tunic, as brown as a monkey's paws.
We thought him better in the role of the aged king,
persecuted by his wicked daughters, than in that
of the Moor of Venice. In the first he was playing ;
in the last he was Othello himself. He was superb
in his indignation and anger, mingled with the
feebleness, tremblings, and dreamy helplessness
which are natural to an old man who is well-nigh
a centenarian, who passes from weakness to mad
ness under the weight of intolerable misfortune.
A wonderful thing that showed his mastery over
himself, although robust and in the flower of man
hood, Ira Aldrigge, never once during the entire
evening made a single youthful moveraent: his
voice, his step, his gestures, were all those of an
octogenarian. The success of the ebony tragedian stirred the
emulation of Somoiloff, the great Russian comedian,
to play in the Alexander Theatre, Othello and King
Lear with a truly Shakespearean verve and power.
Somoiloff is an actor of genius in the style of Fred
erick: he is unequal, fantastic, often sublime, full
of surprises and inspirations. He is at the same
time terrible and burlesque; and if he represents
heroes admirably, he plays the role of a drunkard
as well. He is, too, a man of the world of excellent

232 RUSSIA.
manners. Artistic to the end of his flngers, he
designs his costumes and draws caricatures that
are as witty as he meant them to be. His repre
sentations were popular, but not nearly as much
so as those of Ira Aldrigge. But then Somo'iloff
could not turn himself into a negro !

THE STCHOUKINE-DVOR.

(233)

XIII.

THB STCHOUKINE-DVOE.

EvEEY city has its distant, mysterious quarter,
which cannot be seen, even after a long stay, when
your habits keep you in the beaten track of the
aristocratic streets— its receptacle where are piled
up all the debris of luxury, soiled, dirty, shapeless,
but still good enough for consumers of the fifth
or sixth class. There coquettish little hats wind
up their existence, delicate chefs-d'oeuvre of fash
ionable modistes, tarnished, greasy, shapeless, only
fit to put on the heads of asses; fine black cloth
coats, which once, starred with decorations, used
to flgure in splendid balls ; evening dresses thrown
the next moming to the maid; the white things
tumed yellow, the torn laces, the moth-eaten furs,
the useless fumiture, the humus and stratum of
civilization. Paris has its Temple, Madrid its
Rastro, Constantinople its louse-bazaar, St. Peters
burg its Stchoukine-Dvor — a quarter of rags, that
will abundantly repay a visit.
Let us take a sleigh in the Nevsky Prospect,
pass the Gostiny-Dvor, a sort of Palais Royal with
its galleries Uned with flne shops, then say to
your isvochtehik the sacramental na leva, and
-( 235 )

236 RUSSIA.
after having crossed several streets you have
reached your destination.
Enter, if your olfactory nerves are not too deli
cate, the bazaar for footwear and skins. The
strong odor of leather, combined with the mustiness
of sour cabbage, makes an entirely local perfume,
more pungent to strangers than to Russians, to
which it is difficult to grow accustomed ; but, when
one wishes to see everything, one must not be too
dainty. The shops of Stchoukine-Dvor are made of rough
planks; they are sordid holes, made more so that
day by the contrast between their filthiness and
the immaculate whiteness of the snow that lay in
silver folds upon their roofs.
Strings of old boots of coarse leather, and such
boots! stiff skins recalling in a sort of grim cari
cature the form of the beast they one time covered ;
greasy, ragged touloupes, preserving a vague im
press of the human form, formed the composite dec
oration of their fronts : and all hanging out in the
air, touched here and there by patches of snow, as
sumed under the lowering grey sky an aspect of
abject misery. The shop-keepers were scarcely
more clean than their wares; and yet, had Rem
brandt been there, he would have seized his pencil
and made from these bearded men, enveloped in
sheepskin, some wonderful water-color, full of
character, in spite of its hideous subjeet. But
then art flnds material everywhere.

THB STCHOUKINE-DVOR. 237
A great number of narrow alleys run into the
principal street of the Stchoukine-Dvor. Each
quarter is given up to one kind of trade. Several
little chapels, whose interiors show by the light of
lamps the plaques in crimson and gold of their
miniature iconostases, shine at the principal cor
ners. Everywhere else in the Stchoukine-Dvor a
light is forbidden : a spark would set flre to this
mass of old wood and old things. These gilded
shrines in this sombre, miserable spot, flash with
peculiar brightness. Buyers and sellers, as they
pass them by, make many times the sign of the
cross, in the Greek fashion. Some, more devout
or less hurried, prostrate themselves in the snow
before them, murmur a prayer, and as they rise
throw a kopeck in the box at the door. One of the
most curious streets is that where religious pictures
are sold. If one were not sure of the date, one
would fancy himself back in the Middle Ages, so
archaic is the style of these pictures, most of which
were made but yesterday. Russia keeps up
the Byzantine tradition in her pictures with
absolute fidelity. These limners might well have
served their apprenticeship on Mount Athos, in the
convent of Agria Lavria, after the precepts of the
manual of painting, compiled by a monk, the pupil
of Panselinos, the Raphael of this especial art, in
which too exact imitation of nature is regarded as
idolatry. These shops are sown with images from top to

238 RUSSIA.
bottom. Brown-haired madonnas copied from the
portrait of the Virgin by St. Luke, over gold or
silver backgrounds; Christs and saints, all the
more appreciated because they are primitively bar
barous; paintings representing scenes from the
Old and New Testament with a multitude of figures
in stiff postures, painted brown and covered with
a dark varnish, like Persian cabinets and mirror
frames, to simulate the smoke of centuries ; bronze
plaques, jointed Uke the leaves of a screen or wings
of a triptych, frame a succession of pious bas-re
liefs; oxidized silver crosses, of a charming Greco-
Byzantine shape, in which a world of tiny figures
encircle legends in ancient Slavic and enact the
sacred drama of Golgotha ; storied book-covers and
a myriad other small objeets of devotion.
Some of these images, finished with care and
richly gilded, are sold at high prices. They have
of course very little artistic value, but even the
coarsest have wonderful character. The savagery
of their shapes, the crudity of their coloring, the
mingling of gilding and painting, impress them
with a hieratic and solemn cachet, perhaps more
stimulating to piety than more skillful representa
tions. These images are identical with those
revered by their ancestors. Immutable as dogma,
they are perpetuated from century to century ; art
has made for them no progress, and to correct
them, m spite of their crudity and naivety, would
seem to them a sacrilege. The blacker, more

THE STCHOUKINE-DVOR. 239
smoke-begrimed, stiffer, a Madonna is, the more
confidence she inspires in the faithful, whom she
regards with her great, dark eyes, fixed as eternity.
It is of course true that the images of Stchoukine-
Dvor are like the wood cuts of fipinal in France.
The old style takes refuge there. In St. Isaac's
and other modem churches or chapels, while the
general aspect and consecrated aspect are pre
served, the artists have not hesitated to endow the
madonnas with all the beauty of which they are
capable. They have also stripped the bearded
fierce saints of their coat of brown, to give them
a natural color. From a scientific point of view
that is doubtless much better, but it is by no means
certain that the effect from a religious one is as
good. The Byzantine-Russian style, with its gold
backgrounds, its symmetrical forms, its applica
tion of metal and precious stones, is admirably
suited to ecclesiastical decoration, it giving a mys
terious, supernatural air in harmony with its de
sign. In one of these shops, we found a little copy of
M. Ingres' "Virgin of the Sacrament" arranged as
a Greek Madonna. The hands joined in prayer,
whose fingers touched each other delicately, had
been managed very well in spite of the difficulty of
the pose, and the head preserved the likeness of
the model. We scarcely expected to find in the
Stchoukine-Dvor this souvenir of the illustrious
master. By what means did his chef-d'oeuvre come

240 RUSSIA.
to serve as a model for a Russian image? We
bought it on the spot. The price was but ten
roubles, because there was no gilding on it.
The image-venders are much neater in their
dress than are their neighbors the leatherseUers.
They wear the old Russian costume, — a blue or
green cloth blouse, fastened on the shoulder with
a button and drawn in at the waist by a narrow
belt; thick, black leather boots, hair parted in the
middle and falling in long locks over their cheeks,
but cut short in the back, not to catch in the collar,
and full beards which are curly and chestnut col
ored. The faces of some are beautiful, serious,
intelligent and gentle, and would make capital
models for the Christs they sell, if the Byzantine
art permitted the imitation of nature in their
sacred images. If you stop before their shop-
windows, they ask you politely to enter, and no
matter how small a trifle you may buy, they show
you through all their shop, stopping you, with
pride, before the richest or best carved pieces.
Nothing is more curious to the stranger than
these absolutely Russian shops. He can very easily
be deceived into buying as an antique a very mod
ern article, but in Russia the old is the present,
and in all religious matters the same forms are
invariably repeated. What connoisseurs, even ex
perts, would take for the work of some Greek monk
of the ninth or tenth eentury often comes from a

THE STCHOUKINE-DVOR. 241
neighboring shop, the gold varnish scarcely dry
upon it.
It is amusing to notice the naive and pious admi
ration of the moujiks who pass through this street,
which might be called the sacred street of Stchou
kine-Dvor. In spite of the cold, they stand in
ecstasy before the madonnas and saints, and dream
of possessing such a picture and hanging it, with
its lamp, in a corner of their rough pine cabins.
But iinally they go away, sadly knowing such a
purchase is above their means. Some of the richer
ones, however, enter, after having felt the little
paper roll of roubles in their purse to assure them
selves of its proportions, and after lengthy hag
gling come out carrying their purchase carefully
wrapped up. The counting is done in the Chinese
fashion, with an abacus, a frame across which
wires are stretehed, with little balls that are pushed
about according to the flgures to be added.
Everybody does not go to buy in the Stchoukine-
Dvor, but often merely to walk about, and the
narrow streets are fllled with a motley crowd. The
peasant in his touloupe, the soldier in his grey
cap, jostle the man of the world in his furs, and
the antiquary hoping for a flnd, which grows con
stantly more rare, for innocence h0,s fled this
bazaar, and for fear of making a mistake the mer
chants ask extravagant prices for the veriest trifle.
Regret for having formerly sold some rare object
cheaply, of whose value they were ignorant, has
16

242 RUSSIA.
made them as distrustful as the Auvergnats of the
Rue de Lappe. Everything may be found in this
great junk-shop; old books have their quarter;
French, German, English books, indeed from every
part of the world, have found here a resting place
in their decay, among torn, worm-eaten, soiled
Russian ones. Occasionally a patient investigator
flnds amid this heap of rubbish a treasure, a flrst
edition, or lost volume, which has reached the
Stchoukine-Dvor, after a series of adventures that
would furnish the subject for a humorous Odyssey.
Some of the booksellers cannot read, which does
not, however, prevent them from being thoroughly
acquainted with their wares. There are also shops
of engravings and colored or black lithographs.
There are portraits of Alexander I., of Emperor
Nicholas, of grand dukes and duchesses, high dig
nitaries and generals of preceding reigns, drawn
by hands more zealous than skillful, and which
would indeed give a strange idea of their august
models. As you may fancy. The Four Seasons,
the Four Quarters of the Globe, The Asking in
Marriage, The Marriage, and all its accompanying
scenes, in a word all the horrible daubs common
to such places, are found here in sufficient abun
dance. Among the idlers and buyers, women are in the
minority. In France it would be just the other
way. Russian women, although not forced to do
so, have apparently preserved the Oriental habit

Types of Peasant Women from the
Interior of Russia

THE STCHOUKINE-DVOR. 243
of seclusion and go out rarely. At rare intervals
one may cateh a glimpse of a peasant-woman, her
handkerchief knotted under her chin, her heavy
coat fastened like a man 's over her thick skirts, her
great, unpolished boots plunging into the snow,
where they leave footprints that would seem im
possible to the most delicate half of the human
race; the other women who go into the shops are
either Germans or strangers.
In the shops of Stchoukine-Dvor, as in the
bazaars of Smyrna and Constantinople, all the
sellers are men. We do not remember having seen
a Russian woman in a shop.
The street of cheap furniture would furnish mat
ter for a discourse on domestic economy and give
much information on Russian family life to him
who could decipher from the remains, in various
stages of preservation, the history of their former
owners ; every style is there : old-fashioned pieces
are piled up in layers, eaeh epoch having tossed
there its useless debris. But the principal things
are the great green-leather sofas, a truly Russian
piece of furniture.
In another place are trunks, valises and other
things necessary to traveling, half buried under
the snow as they are piled up in the street. Next
come the old pots, broken kettles, cracked por
ringers, useless utensils without name in any lan
guage, rags and tatters, flt for the rag-picker alone.
Were it not for the intense cold, a walk in such a

244 RUSSIA.
spot would by no means be free of danger, but
all the swarming gentry must die in such a tem
perature. In warmer weather this danger would have been
imminent for us, from the neighborhood of an
organ-player, who followed us persistently, in the
hope of a few kopecks, that indolence in opening
our pelisse had made us refuse him for some time.
The fellow had a droll, peculiar visage. A dirty,
frayed rag was bound about his head like an absurd
diadem. An old bearskin, once the lap robe of a
drosky, covered his shoulders, and resting on the
top of the organ, puffed out into a great hump
on the poor devil's back. A piece of drugget, eut
in scallops at the bottom, and felt boots completed
this costume, worthy of Callot.
The boots in themselves told a story of misery
and wretchedness. Flabby, shapeless, wrinkled,
they half left the foot, and their ends turned up
in Chinese points, so that the legs seemed to bend
under the weight of the body, and of the organ,
as if they had no shin-bones. The poor wretch
looked as if he were walking on two sickles.
As for his face, nature had amused herself by
modeling it after that of Thomas Vireloque, that
puissant creation of Gavarni: an impossible nose
flattened out between two prominent cheek bones,
above an enormous mouth, amid a network of
wrinkles, was the most striking feature, for the
coarse hair and beard stiffened with icicles hid the

THE STCHOUKINE-DVOR. 245
contour of the face; from under the rough eye
brows shone little, steel-blue eyes full of pictur
esque and philosophic humor, but the Russian win
ter had reddened with its bitter north wind this
copy in flesh and rags of a Parisian picture. He
looked like a tomato enveloped in oakum.
As its master tumed the handle, the organ under
the bearskin groaned sadly, seemed to ask pardon,
sighed, coughed asthmatically and squeaked as if
it were choking; it murdered with its few remain
ing keys two or three airs of another century,
trembling, shaking, with a sad merriment, false
enough to make the dogs howl, but touching in
spite of all, like a refrain of the olden time mur
mured by the broken voice and halting breath
of an aged grandmother returned once more to
childhood. These ghosts of songs end by inspiring
a sort of fear.
Sure of the effect of his instrument, and seeing
that he had to deal with a stranger, for a Russian
would not have tolerated such a thing, the rascal,
with the volubility of a monkey, kept on turning
the handle as if his life depended upon it. When
he had made himself sufficiently intolerable, a
handful of copper pieces silenced him ; he received
the kopecks with a smile, and, as a proof of his
gratitude, stopped short the waltz he had just be
gun. The organ hushed with a sigh of satisfac
tion. We have described the most picturesque side

246 RUSSIA.
of the Stchoukine-Dvor: it was the most amus
ing to us. It contains also covered galleries, lined
with shops full of food of every sort — smoked
flsh for the long Greek Lent, olives, butter, white
as that in Constantinople, which comes from
Odessa, green apples, red berries, from which tarts
are made; new furniture, clothes, footwear, stuffs
and jewelry in common use. All this is curious,
but is nothing like so interesting as this Oriental
bazaar scattered in the midst of the snow.

ZICHY.

( 247 )

XIV.

ZICHY.

If, when you are in St. Petersburg you take a
walk on the Nevsky Prospect — and it is as diffi
cult to avoid doing so as it is when you are in
Venice not to go to the Square of St. Mark, or in
Naples to the Toledo, or in Madrid to the
Puerta del Sol, or in Paris to the Boulevard des
Italiens — you will doubtless notice Beggrow 's shop.
Here the sidewalk is always full of curious people,
who are staring at the pictures, water-colors, en
gravings, photographs, statuettes and even paint
boxes, in spite of the bitter temperature. The
vapor from their breaths is frozen into a- little
motionless cloud above their heads, to whieh you
will add your own little contribution while await
ing, in order to reach the window, the place of
some spectator who suddenly remembers with a
start that he has something to do at the other end
of the town beyond the Anitschkov Bridge or on
the other side of the river in the distant Vassili-
Ostrov. If, however, you are not yet thorough
ly acclimated, or are frightened by the sever
ity of the weather, turn the knob of the door and
enter quite fearlessly the sanctuary. Beggrow is
(249)

250 RUSSIA.
a young man of charming manners and perfect
breeding, who, even should you desire to purchase
nothing, will receive you with exquisite politeness,
and show you his treasures with delight. The
artist, the man of the world, the man of letters, the
amateur, go there, as in Paris they go to Desforges ;
they turn the leaves of the albums, examine the
newest engravings, rejoice in the beautiful, and
learn aU the art news.
One day, as we were examining some photographs
there, our gaze was forcibly attracted towards a
large water-color, on an easel in the corner, by its
warm brilliant coloring, although the twilight was
falling; but very frequently paintings, especially
when they are good, flash out in wonderful effects
at that time. It would almost seem that they re
tain and concentrate for a moment the Ught which
is departing.
Approaching, we found ourselves before a chef-
d' oeuvre that we were quite unable to attribute to
any known master, and yet that any of them would
have gladly claimed. It was neither Bonington,
nor Louis Boulanger, nor yet Delacroix, Decamps,
Lewis, nor any of those artists who carry into
water-color the strength and richness of oil. It
was an entirely new manner, a treatment of the
most original, a surprise, a discovery, a brand un
classified in the world of art, yet equal to the best,
of a richness, a bouquet, a flavor unknown, but
exquisite.

ZICHY. 251
It represented a Florentine orgy of the Six
teenth century. Some old men, brevetted liber
tines, ancient wrecks of the smart world, were
taking supper with two young demi-mondaines.
On the disordered table were exquisite ewers, vases,
bonbon-holders, and spice-boxes carved in the .man
ner of Benvenuto Cellini; in glass and flagon
flashed ruby and topaz-colored wine, while some
fruit had fallen from an enamelled dish.
In the background, through a sort of trans
parent shadow, glimpses could be caught of
groups of flgures, tapestries, sideboards, carved
cabinets. Long brocaded curtains fell in dull,
rich folds, and the ceiling suggested, rather
than showed, gilded and richly colored arabesques.
The flgures, by their ease of movement, the variety
of their attitudes, their chance poses, bold perspec
tive, and the freedom and purity of design, gave
evidence of a talent, long sure of itself, formed
from long study mingled with the innate sense of
true art, and showing the body under every aspect,
even those impossible to a model to give, with that
puissant force of the true master. The young
women, in their giddy toilettes, were laughing and
lolling with the factitious gaiety of the courtesan,
though, under the laughter and the paint, fatigue,
disenchantment and ennui were apparent.
One, turning slightly away, seemed to be think
ing of the lover of her youth, of the years of past
innocence; the other, in a mad abandonment, was

252 RUSSIA.
trying to pull off the wig of a superannuated liber
tine, who was kneeling at her feet with the gal
lantry of a former time ; but the power of the yel
low metal controlled their every fancy, and from
their complaisant poses, full of hidden deference,
it was very apparent that to women of that sort
men of wealth are never completely ridiculous, no
matter how old or ugly they may be. For the
rest, the noblemen, in spite of the marks of age
and debauch, rendered but more visible by the
efforts made to conceal them, had an unmistakable
grand air, with their costumes of extreme elegance,
recalling the charming fashions of Vittore Car
paccio, whose juvenile designs look so out of place
on worn, bony or heavy bodies. In their plastered
wrinkles could be read more than one thought
worthy of MachiaveUi, and the wicked satisfac
tion of the blase old man who was profaning for
gold the delicate blossoms of beauty and youth.
Some seemed as happy as snails on roses; others
confessed by their worn air the irreparable sadness
of a nature worn out by vice; and all was per
meated with a coloring, a grace, a touch, a skill
nothing short of marvelous, to which was joined
a tiny well-managed touch of caricature, for paint
ing is a serious matter, and a grimace grows quickly
insupportable. In the corner of this chef-d'ceuvrc was written a
queer name, Hungarian in form, and Italian in
sound: "Zichy."

ZICHY. 253
As we were enthusiastically expressing our ad
miration, Beggrow answered simply: "Yes, it is
Zichy," flnding it quite a matter of course that
Zichy should produce a magniflcent water-color;
and he opened a portfolio containing several sepias
of the youthful master, so varied, so opposed in
character, that they readily might have issued from
different hands.
The flrst was the saddest, most pathetic scene:
a poor family lost on the steppe; at the foot of a
mass of ice, an unhappy woman, worn with
fatigue, overcome with cold, beaten by the wind,
blinded with snow, sought a temporary, though
insufficient refuge. To that irresistible desire to
sleep, which is really freezing and not sleep, has
succeeded death; the nose is pinched, the eyelids
closed, the mouth flxed in a last frozen sigh. Near
the mother is lying a little dead child, half en
veloped in a rag, drawn with an incredible hardi
hood and success of perspective. A lad of perhaps
fourteen, stronger and better able to resist the
fatal torpor, huddles in agony close to his mother;
beside himself with fear, with passionate tender
ness and wild terror, he calls her, shakes her, tries
to arouse her from that obstinate sleep he .cannot
understand. One feels that he has never seen
death before, and yet by his overwhelming fear
and horror he divines what it is. Soon this adored
mother will inspire fear, like a ghost; her body

254 RUSSIA.
will be stiff ; but then the snowy shroud will have
covered them all.
Next comes the wife of the doge Marino Faliero,
listening dreamily to a youthful virtuoso playing
the dulcimer for her in a rich Venetian apartment,
opening upon a balcony with little columns and
carvings in the Lombardic or Moorish style.
Zichy, like Gustave Dore, possesses a profound
sentiment for the Middle Ages : he knows all about
its architecture, its furniture, armor, costumes,
forms, which he reproduces, not by painful, archaic
labor, but freely and lightly, as if the models were
standing before his eyes, or as if he had lived with
them in intimate friendship. He does not bring
out, as does Dore, the grotesque or fantastic ele
ment, but prefers the elegant side, always however
avoiding the troubadour, chivalric style of Mar-
changy. A third design completely captivated us. The flrst
two recalled to one the pathos and sentiment of
Ary Scheffer, the other the pictures of Chasserau
of "The Moor of Venice" and neither of them bore
the least resemblance to the "Florentine Orgy."
The one we were now looking at made us think of
the. best and most spirited sepias of Gavarni. It
was an officer of "Chaisseurs d'Afrique" (French
colonial troops) about to rejoin his regiment, and
receiving with a more than martialindifference the
adieus of a too tender beauty, who was weeping
and sobbing on his shoulder, in a pose of suffering

ZICHY. 255
that was wonderfully pathetic. The spahis,
Ulysses-like, about to depart, and habituated to
the complaints of the Calypsos left behind in the
islands of the garrisons, was submitting to the
warm shower of tears upon his shoulder, with a
bored, patient, dull air, flicking with his little finger
the ash from his cigarette and turning his foot in
side, like a man who does not care how he stands.
It is difficult to describe the finesse, spirit, and
dash of this little sketch, made with a master touch
on a little scrap of common paper.
The next drawing of Zichy is in yet an utterly
different style. An old man has married a beau
tiful though poor young girl and the hour for re
tiring having arrived, the husband removes a piece
at a time of his decrepit body. The wig, removed,
exposes a shining bald cranium, as polished as those
of the Trappists ; the glass eye, placed in a cup of
water, produces that dark cavity in which the
grave- worm spins his thread; the set of teeth,
thrown on a side-table, grits its teeth horribly to
gether, and simulates the laughter of the dead.
Nothing can be more hideous than this bony laugh,
separated from the head, deprived of lips, and mak
ing merry, all alone in its corner. It calls to mind
that terrible vision of Edgar Allan Poe of the teeth
of Berenice.
The poor child, who thought she had only mar
ried an old man, and who had overcome her maiden
repugnance by the thought of an aged mother liv-

256 RUSSIA.
ing in comfort and a younger sister saved from
vice, recoiled affrighted at the sight of the bony
skeleton, more than ready for the tomb, who was
extending his trembling, gouty hands towards her.
As she stood in the middle of the room, the light of
the lamp threw into relief the pure, graceful con
tour of her own loveliness. All that under another
hand might savor of vulgarity disappears behind
the delicacy of detail and originality of effect. If,
to give an idea of this unknown painter, we have
been forced to seek analogies, do not for an instant
imagine there is anything like imitation about him.
Zichy 's nature is .so genial that he draws everything
to himself; he has never met in the paths of art
those masters to whom we have compared him, and
many of their names have never even come to his
ears. "How is it," we said to Beggrow, "that Ziehy
has never sent anything to the World's Exposition;
that we have never seen any composition of his
engraved nor ever met any of his pictures or draw
ings in any collection? Does Russia jealously
keep to herself alone the secret and monopoly of
this superb, new, and wonderful talent?"
"Yes," composedly replied Beggrow, "Ziehy
works mostly for the court and city; none of his
designs remain long in my shop, and it is only by
chance that you have seen several together. The
frames were not ready. The 'Florentine Orgy' will
be taken away to-night, so that you saw it just

ZICHY. 257
in time." We left the place, and like La Fon
taine, who, astonished at a lecture of Baruch's he
had just heard, stopped everybody with the words :
"Have you read Baruch?" we began every conver
sation with the phrase : " Do you know Zichy ? ' '
"Certainly we do," was the invariable aiiswer,
and one day M. Lwoff, director of the Conservatory
of Design, said to us : "If you care to know Zichy,
it is a pleasure that can be easily managed."
There is in St. Petersburg a kind of club that is
called, "The Friday Society;" it is composed of
artists who, as the name indicates, assemble on
Friday of every week; it has no particular habi
tation, but each member in tum receives his con
freres, until the list of names is exhausted, when
it begins over again.
Shaded lamps are ranged along a long table,
covered with vellum, paper, card-board, pencils,
crayons, water-colors, sepia, India-ink, or as M.
Scribe would say, "with everything one can draw
with." Every member takes his place and must
execute during the evening a drawing, sketch, little
painting or something that belongs to the Soeiety,
whose sale or placing in the lottery forms a fund
for unfortunate artists, or those temporarily in
need of assistance. Cigars and papyjos (the name
for cigarettes in St. Petersburg) bristle like ar
rows in a quiver, in carved wooden horns placed
between the desks, so that each one, without inter
rupting his work, can take out a Havana or cig-
17

258 RUSSIA.
arette, whose smoke soon blurs the landscape or
figure in course of execution. Glasses of tea, with
little cakes, are handed about ; every now and then
they stop to rest and chat and to drink more tea.
Those who do not feel inspired rise and wateh the
work of the others, and often return to their places
fired with emulation and illumined with sudden
light. Towards one o'clock in the morning a light sup
per is served, which is distinguished by the frank
est cordiality and enlivened by discussions on art,
stories of travel, witty paradoxes, gay jokes, or
some of those caricatures, often so true to life,
which the constant observation of nature, necessary
to the artist, teaches, that provoke peals of laugh
ter; then everyone goes home, having done some
thing good, — sometimes even a chef-d'oeuvre — and
having been amused, whieh do not always go to
gether. We had the honor of being admitted into the
"Friday Soeiety," and at one of these reunions we
saw Zichy for the flrst time.
The "Friday" was held that evening in the Vas
sili-Ostrov quarter, at the studio of Lavazzari, a
cosmopolitan painter, who had seen and drawn
everything. Water-color paintings, in which we
recognized the Alhambra, the Parthenon, Venice,
Constantinople, the pylones of Karnak, the tombs
of Lycia, covered the walls, half-hidden by the

ZICHY. 259
gigantic leaves of tropical plants, that flourish
in the hothouse temperature of Russian homes.
A young man of thirty-one or two, with long
blonde hair, falling in disordered curls, grey-blue
eyes, full of fire and spirit, a light slightly curly
beard, and charming, gentle face, was standing
near a table, arranging his paper, brushes and
glass of water, and replying with a silvery laugh,
a true child's laugh, to the pleasantry of a com
rade. This was Zichy.
We were introduced. We expressed as best we
could the lively admiration with which the "Floren
tine Orgy," and his drawings that we had seen at
Beggrow 's, had inspired us. He listened in visible
pleasure, for he could not doubt our sincerity,
mingled -vvith a modest surprise, that was not in
the least feigned.
He seemed to ask himself: "Am I really so great
a man as that?" Not that Zichy is unaware of
his talent, but he does not attach the importance
to it which it merits. He believes what he does so
easily is easy, and he is rather astonished that peo
ple should go into ecstasies over a thing that has not
cost him more than three or four hours of work,
while he smoked and chatted. It does not take
long to impress the stamp of genius — when it is
there; and Zichy has genius.
He paid us the compliment of improvising a
composition on a subject, taken from "Le Roi
Candaule," one of our recent antiques, whieh has

260

RUSSIA.

already had the honor of inspiring Pradier with a
statue and Gerome with a painting. The moment
chosen was that in which Nyssia introduces Gyges
into her chamber and herself assists in plunging
the dagger into the breast of the sleeping king.
Under the sure, rapid hand of the artist, a splen
did Greco- Asiatic interior was created as if by en
chantment. The superb HeracUde has sunk on
his cushions, and Nyssia, white and slender as a
statue cut from Parian marble, has given the signal
for the murder; Gyges advances with tiger-like
step, convulsively pressing the cold steel against
his breast. The pencil went on unhesitatingly,
as if it were copying an invisible model. All this
while the other "Friday-members" were working
away with wonderful enthusiasm and celerity.
Svertchkov was drawing, in colored crayon, a horse
with his head leaning lovingly against his com
panion's neck. Like Horace Vernet, like Alfred
de Dreux, and Achille Giroux, Svertchkov excels
in portraying blooded horses ; he knows to a nicety
the springs of their nervous flanks, the intertwin
ing of the veins on their smoking necks, the secret
of flashing eye-ball and nostril ; but he has a weak
ness for the little Ukraine horse, ungroomed, hairy,
uncared for, the poor peasant's horse. He paints
him harnessed to a rosposnik, a telega or a sleigh,
going through the ice or snow, or the pine forests,
whose branches are bent with snow. One feels
how he loves these brave little animals, so sober,

ZICHY. 261
SO patient, so courageous, so inured to fatigue; he
is the Sterne of these excellent beasts, and that page
of ' ' The Sentimental Journey, ' ' on the ass that ate
the leaf of an artichoke, is not more touching than
are some of his sketches. Next we ran across
Pharamond Blanchard, who was busily engaged
with a sketch in sepia of a little cascade boiling
and foaming among rocks; he was an old friend,
with whom we had passed many an agreeable hour
in Madrid, Smyrna, Constantinople; and here in
St. Petersburg, after six years, we met again.
Popaf, the Russian Teniers, was sketching with
charming naivete a scene of peasants drinking
tea; Lavazzari was leading a cart drawn by oxen
through the narrow streets of an Eastern town,
while Charlemagne, the creator of those exact, true
views of St. Petersburg, was adding, on his own
authority, an island in Lake Maggiore and covering
it with fairy-like buildings, enough to ruin the
Borromeo princes, notwithstanding their riches.
A little further on, Lwoff, the director of the
Conservatory of Design, was flooding with glow
ing sunshine the public square of Tiflis. Prince
Maxintoff was dashing off a corps of firemen seen
in perspective, before whom the droskies were
scattering in haste, pressing their wheels against
the walls. An Italian, who knew htfw to infuse
into his warm, tran,sparent water-colors the charm
of the piazza of Venice, was painting the wharf
of the Admiralty and the Canal of Fontanka

262 RUSSIA.
charmingly and portraying in all the magic of
Oriental coloring the Byzantines of the Kremlin
and its churches, striped like Hindoo pagodas.
Premazzi had chosen the round, delicately pil
lared porch of a convent. Hoch was painting a
female head, into whose pure Roman type he had
infused a certain Germanic grace. Riihl, with a
little black-lead and piece of cotton, was dash
ing in with lightning rapidity pictures in the style
of Gudins and Aivasovkys. Riihl, after supper,
transformed himself into a musician, running his
skillful fingers over the piano and delighting us
with the last opera and one of his own composition.
Our tum came next, for no idler is admitted
into the society, except M. Mussard, who is excused
from doing anything, in consideration of his taste,
his wit, his science, on the express condition that
he will talk.
A crayon head, that some little flowers and
wisps of straw in the hair could make pass for
Ophelia, was indulgently received into the collec
tion, and the little Friday assembly insisted upon
treating us as one of themselves. At every re
union we had our place at the painting table, and
our daubs helped to swell the eommon portfolio.
Zichy was working away at his design, and just
beginning to put in the play of light and shadow,
which he manages with so exquisite a touch, when
supper was announced. A dish of macaroni, de
liciously juicy and savory, occupied the place of

ZICHY. 263
honor, a charming Italian profile, hung on the
wall, explaining perhaps its classic perfection.
The following morning we received a letter from
Zichy, in whieh he announced that, having reread
"Le Roi Candaule," he had torn his picture into
a thousand bits,— the barbarian, the vandal!
At the same time, he invited us to dine with
him, in order to show us, while awaiting the soup,
things more worthy of being seen, and capable of
justifying in a small degree the good opinion we
had formed of him. In the letter was also a little
plan he had drawn to help us find his house, a
very necessary precaution in view of our utter
ignorance of Russian. With the assistance of the
plan, and the four words that form most of the
dialogue between the stranger and the cabman —
"Preama" (go on), "na prava" (to the right),
"na leva" (to the left), "stoi" (stop)— we suc
cessfully reached the Vosnesensky bridge, near
which Zichy lives.
In spite of the reserve we have always main
tained during our travels, we will take the reader
with us into Ziehy 's home, since we may do so
without breach of hospitality. If one should close
tightly the door of an intimate friend, it is al
lowable to leave the door of the studio ajar, and we
feel sure Zichy will pardon us for bringing visitors
who have not been regularly presented.
In Russia every apartment has a sort of vesti
bule, where the visitor takes off his pelisse and

264 RUSSIA.
gives it to a servant, who hangs it upon a peg;
then one unbuckles one's galoches, as in the Orient
one removes one's slippers before entering a
mosque. The row of shoes that so greatly sur
prised Parisians in Gerome 's picture, the "Prieres
des Arnautes, ' ' is seen here in every ante-chamber,
if the master of the house is faraous, powerful, or
charming. As you may fancy, there is always an
abundant display of footwear in Ziehy 's vestibule.
But on that day no galoche, nor furred boot, nor
felt shoe was ranged under the cloak-rack; Zichy
had excused himself to the world, in order that we
might talk freely together.
We first crossed a rather large drawing-room,
one wall of which was covered with superb trophies
of the chase. Guns, carbines, knives, pouches,
powder horns were hanging from the heads of
deer, araid the skins of lynx, fox, and wolf —
Ziehy 's victims or models. One might fancy him
self in the home of a great hunter or sportsman,
had not a painting, full of shadows a la Rem
brandt, and representing a prophet in his cave,
or a proof engraving of Paul Delaroche's "Hemi
cycle," by Dupont, and the "Smala" of Horace
Vernet, in blaek and white, together with certain
empty frames awaiting a canvas, told that one
was surely in the home of an artist.
Vases containing hothouse plants were placed
near the windows, doubtless in order to keep up
the tradition of green, that disappears in Russia

ZICHY. 265
for eight months of the year, and that a painter,
more than any one else, needs to preserve.
In the middle of the room stood the great round
table for the Friday work. A second, much
smaller room, came next. A divan ran along two
sides, terrainating in a corner in the back of the
room, against one of those exquisite open-work
screens, like the grille of a choir, a chef-d'oeuvre
of the national wood carving, where wood like
wrought iron is bent in curves, volutes, arabesques,
trefoils, and caprices of every sort; ivy and other
climbing plants, whose roots were hidden in jar
dinieres, hung their natural foliage over the sculp
tured foliage, producing the most charming effect
in the world. With the aid of these charming par
titions one can be isolated in well-nigh any part
of a room ; a bed-chamber, a cabinet, a boudoir can
be arranged; one shuts oneself up without being
shut oft', and can at the same time enjoy the gen
eral atmosphere of the apartment.
On consoles, formed by the jutting out of carv
ings, were placed two delicious little statutes of
PoUet, the "Morning Star" and "Night," and
through the carvings one caught glimpses of char
acteristic costumes of Tcherghesses, Lesghines, Cir
cassians and Cossacks hanging on the walls, forming
in the uncertain light a warm, rich background,
that showed the fine op'en work of the partitions to
perfection. On the side walls we noticed the "Defeat of the

266 RUSSIA.
Huns ' ' and ' ' The Destruction of Jerusalem, ' ' mag
nificent German engravings, from Kaulbach's fres
coes on the stairs of the Museum in Berlin, placed
above a row of medallions in pastel; portraits of
the members of the "Friday Club," by Zichy; and
on the other side was Delaroche's "Assassination
of the Duke of Guise, ' ' a few sketches, plaster casts
and other trifles.
At the end of the room, where Zichy received
us, our gaze was attracted to a child's armor,
placed on the mantel-piece, where ordinary people
put a clock. The usual mirror place was occupied
raost successfully by a panoply of arms in which
flashed weapons of every kind, blades of Toledo,
blue swords of Damascus, the flssahs of Kabail,
yataghans, creeses, daggers, long-barrelled guns,
their stocks incrusted with turquoises and coral. A
second one made up of quivers, bows, pistols,
Georgian helraets, with raailed neck pieces, steel
nargiles frora Khorassan, forks with Persian
handles, African zagaies, all those innumerable
objeets gathered by a lover of the picturesque,
covered one entire side of a room. Zichy is a
frequenter of the Stchoukine-Dvor of St. Petersburg
and of Moscow; in Constantinople he fairly lives
in the bazaar of arms; it is his passion. He
searches, he buys, barters, exchanges for sketches;
some are given to him ; and in whatever way he un
earths a barbarian, fierce or outlandish weapon,
he ends by making it his own. Pointing to all this

ZICHY. 267
bric-a-brac, Zichy can say with Rembrandt :
"Here are ray antiques!"
Another side of the room is occupied by a poly
glot library, which bears witness to the taste and
knowledge of the artist, who reads in the original
the chefs-d'oeuvre of well-nigh every European lit
erature. The two remaining sides are pierced with
windows, for the room is in the corner of the house,
and contains in the spaces between windows a mass
of little ornaments we will not describe.
But, you are probably saying, bored with this
rather lengthy description, you promised to take
us to Zichy 's studio, and so far you have but made
an inventory of several rooras, more or less pic
turesquely furnished.
It is not for lack of good will, but Ziehy has no
studio, nor has any other artist in St. Petersburg.
The matter of painting has not been provided for
in this city, although it is the Athens of the
North; property owners have never given it a
thought, so art flnds a lodging-place where it can,
seeking often in vain for a corner for an easel and
a good light; and yet neither land nor means of
building are lacking.
Zichy was at work on a corner of a table, near
a window, taking advantage eagerly of the little
remaining daylight of a dull day. He was raaking
a large drawing in India ink, that was to be en
graved. It was Werther just before committing
suicide. Charlotte's virtuous lover, having con-

268 RUSSIA.
demned his love as impossible and culpable, was
preparing to execute the sentence passed upon him
by himself.
On a table covered with a cloth, the tribunal
before which he had seated hiraself, to deliberate
upon his own cause, Werther, the judge of Wer
ther, was burning a half-extinguished lamp, the
witness of his night's struggle. The artist had
represented Werther standing, like a magistrate
pronouncing a verdict, with tightly compressed
lips, his hand, the deUcate hand of the dreamer
and idler, seeking among the papers for the trig
ger of the pistol.
The head, illumined from above by the Ught of
the lamp, wore the scornful serenity of expression
of a raan sure of escaping henceforth from all
moral doubts, looking already at the life on the
other side. Every one knows how little aid the
powder, crimped hair and fashions of 1789 give
to tragedy. And yet Zichy had managed to give
to Werther, in deflance of the -vignettes of the
time and the celebrated blue frock-coat, an ideal
creation, that was poetic and full of style. The
effect was worthy of Rembrandt: the light from
above threw unexpected lights and shadows upon
objects, enveloping them with realistic magic: be
hind Charlotte's lover a phantom-like shadow
reached to the ceiling. The ghost seemed to be
standing there, ready to take the place of the man
about to disappear. It was incredible that such

.Tomb of Peter the Great

ZICHY. 269
depth and power eould be obtained with only India
ink, which is generally so cold.
As we have already said, Zichy 's nature is many-
sided : you fancy you know him and assign sueh a
rank, manner, genre , to him ; suddenly he places
under your eyes a new work that upsets all your
preconceived notions.
Who would have expected, after the Werther,
three large water-colors representing the fox, wolf,
and lynx, whose skins were hanging in the salon,
which he had killed with his own hand? Neither
Barye, nor Jadin, nor Delacroix could have done
better. This talent alone would have sufficed in
Paris to have rendered its possessor illustrious,
and it is one of Zichy 's least; there is a truth of
tone, a knowledge of position, a freedom of touch,
a happiness of portrayal, a comprehension of each
nature, that is siraply incredible. Each animal has
kept in death his own nature.
The fox, with half closed eyes, slender muzzle
and wrinkled throat, appeared to be meditating
some last ruse, in which he had failed. The wolf
shows his teeth and gums, as if trying to bite the
ball which had pierced him. The lynx is raagnifi
cent, in ferocity, revolt, and impotent rage; his
lips drawn back to his glazed eyes in a grimace
frightful to behold, as if he were bursting with
sardonic laughter; he raight have been a savage
brave, betrayed to his death by a white raan, by
means of a weapon of which he was ignorant, and

270 RUSSIA.
with his last breath covering him with contempt.
Each one of his water-colors required but a day
to accomplish. The rapid decay of the models re
quired that promptitude, which is not at all diffi
cult to Zichy. Plis eye is so sure, his hand so per
tain, that every stroke tells. After this if you
class Zichy as an animal painter you will be ab
solutely wrong; he is quite as much an historical
painter. Examine these magniflcent pen composi
tions, representing ancient Muscovite battles, and
the establishment of Christianity in Russia, works
of his youth, when he still felt the influence of his
German master, WaldmuUer. If you were told
that these drawings, so beautiful in style, so heroic
in pose, so fertile in invention, were Kaulbach's
you would not be surprised. We even very much
doubt if Kaulbach could have thrown into the
adjustraent of the Tartar warriors such flerce, un
usual savagery, for here the lack of historic docu
ments allowed the fancy of the painter fuU lati
tude. These carefully executed drawings only
need to be enlarged to make excellent cartoons for
the walls of a palace or public monument in fresco.
What would you say if to these severe composi
tions, which, exposed in Goupil's window, en
graved in the style of Cornelius or Overbeck,
looked as if they had surely come from the grave
Diisseldorf sehool, should succeed a delicate fan
tasy, a dream of impossible love, enveloped in
azure, carried away by a creature in flowing, curl-

ZICHY. 271
ing locks, done with a pencil as dainty and airy as
Vidal 's? A rose cloud, modelled on the sky by the
breath of unbridled caprice ? Good ! you will say ;
our young artist is a modem Watteau, a Boucher
with English elegance and the graces of the book
of beauty; Robinson and Finden claim him as
their own. Again the judgment would be hasty,
for Zichy, laughing with his own fresh, childlike
laugh, would draw from his portfolio a sorabre
sepia drawing, improvised one evening under the
lamp, which equals in sinister vigor the most vio
lent and draraatic masters.
The scene is laid in a cemetery; it is night.
The feeble light of the moon scarce penetrates the
heavy bank of storm clouds. Black wooden
crosses, funereal monuments, columns eut off or
surmounted with urns veiled in crape, the genii
of death extinguishing underfoot the torch of life
— all the lugubrious varieties of sepulchral archi
tecture raise their dark outlines against the mys
terious, terrible horizon.
In the foreground two pickaxes are planted in
the unused ground. An awful trio is busied with a
naraeless work, like Macbeth 's witches. Tomb
riflers, hyenas with men's faces, are despoiling the
graves, to snatch from the dead their .last treas
ures, the woman's gold ring, the child's silver rat
tle, the locket of the lover, the reliquary of the
saint, and have dug up a rich coffin, whose vel
vet, silver-trimmed top, half open, shows a young

272

RUSSIA.

girl whose head is reposing on a lace pillow. The
shroud pulled away discloses her chin resting on
her breast, in the eternal meditation of death; an
arm folded over a heart that will never beat again,
and that a worm is already nibbling. One of the
thieves, with a vile convict face, a filthy cap upon
his head, holds a piece of a candle, whieh he is
shading with his hand against the night -wind.
The trembling light falls, livid and wan, over the
pallor of death. Another bandit, half buried in
the grave, whose fierce features give him the aspect
of some loathsome beast, Ufts in his claws the soft
waxen hand that the dead, in the indifference of
the grave, may not refuse. With touch rude
enough to shatter it, he seizes the third finger and
snatches from it a ring of price, doubtless her
nuptial ring! A third rascal, watehing on the
mound of a new-made grave, listens, his hat twisted
into an acoustic horn, to the barking of a distant
dog roused by the movements of the band, or to
the soft footfall of a watchman on his round. The
most ignoble fear distorts the shadowed face, and
his filthy, creased trousers, clammy with the dews
of night, covered with the clay of the cemetery,
betray the monkey-like lirabs and movements. Ro
mantic horror eould not be earried further. This
drawing all Paris shall see, for it is ours. Zichy
has given it. It is his chief work and a chef-
d'oeuvre it is indeed.
On contemplating it, one thinks of the "Laza-

ZICHY. 273
rus ' ' of Rembrandt, the ' ' Suicide ' ' of Decamps, of
"Hamlet and the grave-diggers" of Delacroix, nor
does it lose anything by comparison. What mag
ical light and shade, what puissant effects, obtained
by simple methods ! On the front a little red sepia,
in the back some dashes of India ink ! The richest
palette eould not produce more stupendous results.
To this frightful scene, which at first sight looks
like a repast of ghouls, the artist opposes "A Bac
chante Surprised by a Satyr," of so pure, so
antique a style, that you ask yourself, from what
intaglio, cameo, or fresco of Pompeii, from what
Greek vase, is this lovely group taken. From
antiquity we descend into the Middle Ages, with
a composition of "The Jewish Martyrs." In this
drawing, which is very great, Zichy has included
in a subtile, picturesque manner, the two-fold per
secution, politieal and religious, which, under pre
tense of avenging the death of a God, has been
kindled against the unhappy people of Israel.
At the back of a cellar or rather underground
back-shop, which is but a precarious, uncertain
hiding-place, a Jewish family is huddled together,
the picture of desolation and terror. The solid
doors of the cellar, in spite of their bars, bolts and
locks, have given way under outsidt force, and
their leaves, wrested from their hinges, are lying
on the steps. A flood of sunlight penetrates the
mysterious retreat, betraying every secret. The
spiritual and temporal power appears on the top
18

274 RUSSIA.
step ; in refulgent glory the cross and the sword
shine before the dazzled eyes of the poor Jews dis
covered in their refuge. From the midst of the
tumultuous squad of soldiers the procession of
monks advances, gently impassible, quietly fanati
cal, implacable as dogma. The judge, the seign
eur, the feudal baron, have supplied the material
force and delivered the bodies; the inquisition is
about to take possession of the souls. The church
is there haughty and superb in its lace, as stiff
as a cuirass, the very personiflcation of the Middle
Ages. The broad, square face of the monk, in
spite of its flesh, possesses an irresistible power,
carrying its tonsured crown like a diadem. One
feels that he represents a great idea. From behind,
the common face of a beadle bends forward and
gazes with eyes full of hate and curiosity at the
frail human covey surprised in the nest and trem
bUng like a dove under the elaw of the hawk. This
man, without being more wicked than raost, would
go to the auto-da-fe and burst into laughter at
the sight of the flesh crisping amid the flames.
But the really terrible figure of the picture, in
whom the whole idea is concentrated, is a monkish
spectre in grave-clothes, a ghoul amid the shadows
of the background swallowing a livid, macerated
head, as terrible as the monk in the "St. BasU"
of Herrera the Elder. His thin, bony nose shines
like the beak of a hawk. Yellow .sparks flash from
under his cowl showing the eyes, whither the life

ZICHY. 275
of this dead face has taken refuge; from this liv
ing death's-head, covered with skin, in which so
many hot passions ferment, emanates the single
thought creating the picture.
The father of the faraily, a majestie Jew, whose
features recall the Bible prophets, seeing all hope
lost, has drawn himself up to his full height. He
will not stoop to useless falsehoods, and his half-
open robe shows a glimpse, over his heart, of the
phylacteries, on which are written, in Hebrew,
verses from the Old Testament and the Talraud.
He will confess his faith, the ancient faith of
Abraham and Jacob, and, a crownless raartyr, will
die for Jehovah, who is also the God of his per
secutors. His wife, once as lovely as Rachel, but
whose noble countenance has been worn by fright
and grief, turns around, with clasped hands and
closed eyes, so she may not behold the terrible
seene. On her lap her little grandson lies fast
asleep in the peaceful slumber of infancy, amid
this tumult, a babe as beautiful as the Infant Jesus
in his cradle. The young raother, as beautiful as
an angel, has sunk fainting, her hair dishevelled,
her arms helpless, without thought or strength or
volition, raad with terror. Her pure Hebrew type
erabodies the fairest possible dream of Rebecca in
"Ivanhoe." In front, in a posture of the boldest perspective,
a lad, petrified with fear, has rolled. In the back
ground stands the grandfather, in whom are con-

276 RUSSIA.
centrated all the sordid instincts of his race; he
is striving to hide behind his trembUng old hands
and bowed body the vases of gold and silver that
Israel never forgets to carry out of Egypt ; in this
supreme raoraent he has but one thought— to
save his raoney !
The execution of this design is at the same time
bold and fine, and stump and crayon are the means
used. Lurainous silver lights forra fine contrasts
to velvet blacks, as in beautiful English engrav
ings. "The Jewish Martyrs" would make a mag
niflcent engraving, whieh is indeed its destina
tion. If Meissonier were to take to water-colors, he
would work as Zichy does. We once saw of his a
lansquenet, twirling his long mustaches as he sat
at a table, upon which he had placed his helmet,
near a pot of beer and glass which he had just
emptied. It would about cover a snuff box, of the
kind Frederick the Great used to carry ; but do not
fancy it was done with the delieate touches of the
miniature; all was dashed in, with bold touches of
rare ease and firmness. The hand that twirled the
mustache was a chef -d'ceuvre; the finger tips, bones,
nails, nerves, veins, even the rough reddened skin,
were there. The cuirass shone with metallic lustre,
and the sword had made a bluish mark on the side
of his buff trousers. The point of light, the pupil,
the iris, in the soldier's eyes, which were no larger
than the head of a pin, eould be easily discerned.

ZICHY. 277
Not a single detail of his face, reddened by the
sun and wind, was emitted. His microscopic fea
tures have the blearness and power of a life-sized
oil paiating, and after looking at it for a few min
utes one knows his character by heart. He is bru
tal and good-natured, deceitful, drunken, thievish.
No one resembles Meissonier less than Eugene
Lami ; Zichy reproduces both equally well, although
he has never seen either of these artists. The diver
sity of his talent and the needs of the subject alone
taught him these different styles. The sketches of
his water-colors, representing lhe scenes at the cor
onation, are marvels of wit, grace and aristocratic
elegance. Never has a painter of "high life" por
trayed with more richness and pomp, corteges, cere
monies, and gala representations ; the pencil of the
artist sparkles when it expresses the brilliant, joy
ous tumult of the fetes ; it becomes grave when it
paints the interior of Byzantine churches with their
golden raosaics and velvet draperies which form but
the background for august and sacred heads.
The sketch of the official play in the theatre of
Moscow is one of the most irapossible pieces of
adroit juggling imaginable; the point of perspec
tive is taken frora the balcony, and the curved
lines of the balconies are given, full of women
covered with jewels, and great personages with
orders and erosses ; points of white and yellow color,
dashed into the body-color, make an effect of gold
and jewels. Certain faces are painted in -with pre-

278 RUSSIA.
cision to give historic value, and they are all sur
rounded by an atmosphere of golden, jewelled,
ardent magnificence — the atmosphere of lights, so
difficult to render in painting.
Now in order to complete the evolution we wiU
show you Zichy as he rivals Grant, Landseer, Jadin,
Alfred de Dreux, and all other animal painters.
Our artist raade for a magnificent hunting-book,
presented to the emperor of Russia, historic frames
in the most exquisite taste. On eaoh page is a
spaee in which is inscribed the nuraber of pieces
killed, disposed in such a manner as to leave free
an araple raargin. On each of these raargins the
artist has drawn a different hunting-scene, sur
mounting with wonderful ingenuity the difficulty
presented by the frame. There is a bear chase, a
lynx, an elk, a wolf, a hare, prairie-fowl, thrush,
snipe hunt, all with their own especial attributes
and the spots where they are found; sometimes if
is a snow scene, again a fog, a dawn or a twilight, a
thicket or a prairie, according to the habits or
dwelling-place of the animal. Wild beasts, furred
or feathered ones, blooded horses and dogs, guns,
knives, powder-horns, spears, nets, every article of
the hunt, are portrayed with an incredible light
ness, truth and exactitude and with a delicacy of
tone that does not outstep ornament and har
monizes with the silver, red, or blue colorings of
the landscape. Each hunt is led by a great lord
whose head, not larger than one's nail, is a delicious

ZICHY. 279
portrait in miniature. The album is ended by a
piece of wit, in the best possible taste. Among the
Nimrods, great hunters before the Lord, was in
cluded Count A  , who does not hunt at all.
Zichy has represented him descending the steps of
the palace and coming to meet the eraperor, who is
returning from the chase. So he figures in the
album and no violence is done to the truth.
But we must stop, for we have talked long
enough, although we have not said half
enough. The hunting-book, containing fifteen or
twenty leaves, itself merits an entire article, and
there are a number of pictures which we have not
even raentioned. But Zichy, like Gustave Dore, is a
marvel of genius, a portentum, to raake use of a
Latin expression, a crater always in an eruption
of talent. Our chapter is indeed incomplete, but
we have written enough to raake it understood that
Ziehy is one of the most astonishing individualities
that have appeared since 1830, that climacteric
epoch of art.

ST. ISAAC'S.

(281)

XV.
ST. ISAAC'S.
When the traveler approaches St. Petersburg,
through the Gulf of Finland, the first object that
catches his eye is the dome of St. Isaac's, towering
over the city like a golden mitre. If the sky is
clear, the atraosphere flooded with sunshine, the
effect is magnificent. This first impression is the
right one and should never be abandoned. The
church of St. Isaac 's takes the foremost rank among
the religious ediflces ornamenting the capital of all
the Russias. Of raodern construction, recently
built, it may be considered as the supreme effort
of the architecture of to-day. Few teraples have
witnessed less tirae pass between the laying of the
corner-stone and the last stone of its top. The idea
of the architect, M. A. Ricard de Montferrand, a
Frenchman, has been followed from beginning to
end, without modifications or changes other than
he has himself introdueed into his plan during the
progress of the work. To him has fallen that rare
happiness of finishing the monument be has begun,
and which from its magnitude would seem forced
to absorb the life of more than one artist. An all-
powerful will, which nothing, not even material
( 283 )

284 RUSSIA.
obstacles, can obstruct, which recoils before no
sacrifice, brought about in great part this miracu
lous celerity. Begun in 1819, under Alexander
I., continued under Nicholas, terminated under
Alexander II. in 1858, St. Isaac's is a com
pleted temple, finished inside and out in an absolute
unity of style, bearing its fised date and the name
of ifs author. It is not, like so. many cathedrals,
the slow product of time, the crystallization of cen
turies, to which each one has in some fashion added
its stalactite, and which through the arresting of
the sap of faith has been unable to accomplish its
original design. The symbolic crane that remains
on unfinished temples, like the cathedral of Seville,
has never figured on its facade. Uninterrupted
labor carried it in less than forty years to the point
of perfection in which it is seen to-day.
The aspect of St. Isaac's recalls, mingled in an
harmonious synthesis, St. Peter's in Rome, the
Pantheon of Agrippa, St. Paul's in London, St.
Genevieve and the dome of the Invalides in Paris.
In building a church with a cupola M. de Mont
ferrand must necessarily have studied this kind of
edifices and profited by the experience of his
predecessors, without detriment to his own original
ity. He chose for his dome the raost elegant curve,
which at the same time offered the most resistance ;
he surrounded it with a diadem of pillars and
placed it among four towers, thus borrowing a
beauty from each style.

St. Isaac's Cathedral, St. Petersburg

ST. ISAAC'S. 285
From the regular simplicity of its plan, whieh
both eye and mind seize at once, one would never
suspect that St. Isaac's contains within its appar
ently homogeneous plan the remains of a former
ehurch, which it absorbed and utilized, a church
dedicated to the same patron; that was rendered
historically venerable by the names of Peter the
Great, Catherine II. and Paul I., who all con
tributed more or less to its splendor, without how
ever, being able to bring it to perfection.
The plans subraitted to the Emperor Alexander
I. by M. Ricard de Montferrand were adopted
and the work commenced; but soon a doubt arose,
if it were possible to unite the new portions to the
old on foundations flrm enough to avoid settling or
displacement, as well as to raise solidly to such a
great height the cupola, with its circle of pillars.
Papers were even written by architects against the
projects of M. de Montferrand. The work was
well-nigh stopped, though the gigantic monoliths
which were to support the front and dome were
still being cut in the quarries ; but on the accession
of Emperor Nicholas the plans, after careful re
vision, were judged flt for execution. The work
WEIS resumed, and its complete success demonstrated
the justice of the architect's ealculations.
It is not for us to follow in detail the ingenious
combinations employed to seat in an indestructible
manner, upon a marshy soil, this enormous mass;
to bring from afar and raise to such an elevation

286 RUSSIA.
columns of a single piece. Although this work
would not be devoid of interest, the ediflce in its
finished form alone engrosses our attention.
The plan of the church of St. Isaac, the Dalmatian
—a saint of the Greek liturgy, who bears no relation
to the patriarch of the Old Testament — is a cross
with equal arras, differing in that respect from the
Latin cross, whose foot is longer. The necessity of
facing the church towards the east, and of preserv
ing the already consecrated iconostase, joined to
that of placing the principal portico opposite the
Neva and the statue of Peter the Great, and repeat
ing it exactly on the other side of the building, did
not allow the placing of the great door opposite the
sanctuary. The two entrances corresponding to the
two porticoes are on the sides, as far as the icon
ostase is concerned, before which is a door in a
little portico composed of eight pillars, sym
metrically reproduced on the other side. The Greek
ritual requires this arrangeraent, and the art of
architecture must accept it in producing a harmo
nious building, which eould not tum one of its
smaller sides to the river, although separated from
it by a great square. This is the reason that the
arms of the golden erosses surmounting the dome
and the towers, are not parallel with the facades,
but with the iconostase, so that the church has two
fronts: one religious, the other architectural; but
this inevitable disagreement, owing to its peculiar
situation, is masked with skill so consummate that

ST. ISAAC'S. 287
great attention and long examination are necessary
in order to discover it.
If you will stand at the corner of the boulevard
of the Admiralty, St. Isaac's will burst upon you
in all its magnificence, and frora this point you
will be able to see the entire edifice. The principal
fagade is presented in its full beauty, as well as the
lateral porticoes; three of the four towers are vis
ible, and the dome is outlined against the sky with
its encircling columns, its golden cap, and its bold
lantern, dominated by the sign of salvation.
At first sight, the view fulfills every expectation.
The rather severe, sombre classic lines of the monu
ment are set off to advantage by the richness and
color of its materials, the most beautiful that ever
human piety has employed in the construction of a
temple : gold, marble, bronze, granite. Without
falling into the striped effects of systematically
polychrome architecture, St. Isaac's iraparts to its
splendid materials an harmonious variety of tone,
whose reality augments its charm; there is nothing
painted, nothing is false, nothmg in all this splen
dor is false to God. Massive granite supports eter
nal bronze, indestructible marble clothes the walls,
and pure gold shines on cross, dome, tower, giving
to the whole the Oriental and Byzantiile character
of the Greek Church.
St. Isaac's rests on a foundation of granite, that
to our fancy should have been higher ; not that it is
out of proportion with the edifice, but, isolated as it

288 RUSSIA.
is in the middle of a great square lined with palaces
aud lofty houses, the monument would have gained
in perspective had it been elevated, especially since
a long straight line has a tendency to bend in the
middle, a truth that Greek art recognized by giving,
after leaving the central point, a slight curvature
to the entablature of the Parthenon.
A large space, however flat it may really be, al
ways seems slightly concave at its centre. It is this
optic effect, of which account has not been taken,
which makes St. Isaac's seem too low at the base, in
spite of the real harmony of its proportions. This
defect eould readily be remedied, by giving a gentle
slope to the ground frora the base of the cathedral
to the ends of the square.
Each portico, answering to each arra of the
Greek cross of the plan, is reached by three eolossal
granite steps fit for the legs of a giant, without
pity or thought of those of ordinary huraan beings ;
but at the three peristyles, wjiich have doors, they
are cut into nine steps opposite the entrances. The
fourth portico is free of this arrangeraent; as the
iconostase is against it on the inside, there could
be no door there, and the granite staircase, worthy
of the teraples of Karnak, holds its own in peace;
only on each side, in the corner near the wall, these
steps, for a narrow space, are divided into groups
of three, in order that the platform of the portico
may be reached.
All this foundation in Finnish granite, red

ST. ISAAC'S. 289
streaked with grey, is gathered together, cut, pol
ished, with an Egyptian perfection, and will sup
port, for many centuries, without wearying, the
temple placed upon it.
The principal porch, which looks towards the
Neva, is composed, as are all the others, of a row of
eight Corinthian, monolith, colurans, with bronze
pedestals and capitals. Two clusters, of four simi
lar pillars, placed in the rear, support the caissons
of the ceiling and the roof behind the pediment,
whose architrave is placed on the first row ; sixteen
pillars, in all, form a peristyle, full of richness and
majesty. The porch of the opposite facade repeats
this one in every particular. The two remaining
ones, also composed of eight pillars, have but a sin
gle row of columns, of sirailar order and raaterial.
They were added to the original plan, during the
execution of the work, and they fulfill their pur
pose very well, which is to ornament the rather
bare sides of the ediflce.
In the tyrapans of the frontals are inserted
bronze bas-reliefs, the description of which we will
reserve till we corae to describe the details of the
edifice whose principal lines we are now indicating.
f After having mounted the nine steps cut into
the three receding granite layers, whose last one
serves as a stylobate to the pillars, one is struck
by the enormous size of the shafts, which the ele
gance of their proportions conceals when seen from
a distance. These prodigious monoliths are fully
19

290 RUSSIA.
seven feet in diameter, by fifty-six in height; at
elose view they resemble towers, surmounted by
bronze and crowned by a foliage of brass. There
are forty-eight of them in the four porticoes, with
out counting those in the cupola, which, to be sure,
are only thirty feet in height. After the column of
Pompey and the column raised to the meraory of
the emperor Alexander I., they are the largest
pieces ever quarried, carved and polished by the
hand of man. According to the hour of the day,
a ray of blue light runs like a flash of lightning
along their surface, which shines like a mirror, and
by the purity of its unbroken line proves the unity
of the monstrous block.
It is almost impossible to describe the force,
power, and eternity these gigantic columns express
in their mute language, rising thus in a single pieee
and bearing on their Atlas-like heads the compara
tively light weight of the frontals and statues.
They possess the strength of the bones of the earth,
and look as if they would only crumble with it.
The one hundred and four monolithic pillars em
ployed in the building of St. Isaac's come from
quarries situated in two little islands in the gulf of
Finland, between Viborg and Fredrikshamn.
Finland is one of the richest eountries of the globe
in granite. Some prehistoric cosmic cataclysm has
doubtless accumulated there this beautiful material,
as indestructible as nature. But let us continue
our outside sketch. From either side of the pro-

ST. ISAAC'S. 291
jections formed by the portico there opens into the
marble wall an enormous window with carved
bronze cornices and supported by two little granite
columns with bases and capitals of brass, and a
balustrated balcony, supported by consoles ; gabled
cornices surmounted by attics mark the great di
visions of the architecture, while deep shadows lin
ger among their projections. At each corner are
fluted Corinthian pilasters, above which stands an
angel with folded wings.
Two quadrangular bell-towers, springing from
out of the grand line of the building at each comer
of the frontal, repeat the motif of the monu
mental window, granite columns, bronze capitals,
balustraded balcony, three-pointed frontal, and
disclose through the sweeping arches of their win
dows the bells suspended without scaffolding by
means of an especial mechanism. A rounded, gilded
cap surmounted by a cross, whose base is buried in
a crescent, tops these belfries through which the
daylight gleams and whence escape into the sun
shine the tuneful melodies of brass.
Of course these two features are produced
identically on the other facade. Indeed, frora
where we are standing we can see the cupola of a
third shining ; only the fourth is hidden behind the
swelling dome.
At each corner of the facade kneeling angels are
hanging garlands on candelabra of antique form.

292 RUSSIA.
On the pedestals of the frontal are groups and
isolated figures of the apostles.
All this crowd of statues imparts a charming
animation to the outline of the ediflce, breaking
most happily its horizontal lines.
Such, roughly speaking, are the chief propor
tions of what may be called the first story of the
monument. Let us climb to the dome, whieh from
its square platform, the roof of the ehurch, rises
boldly into the sky.
A round base, divided by three broad mouldings,
serves as a base for the tower and as a support to
the twenty-four granite monoliths, thirty feet in
height, with capitals and pedestals of bronze that
surround the dorae with a rotunda of piUars, an
aerial diadem through which the light plays and
gleams. In their interstices are pierced twelve
windows, and on their capitals is a circular cornice,
surmounted by a balustrade adorned with twenty-
four pedestals, on which stand with outstretched
wings as many angels holding in their hands the
instruments of the Passion and the attributes of the
celestial hierarchy.
Above this angelic crown, placed on the front of
the cathedral, towers the dome. Twenty-four win
dows are cut between an equal number of pilasters,
while the huge dome rises from the cornices re
splendent with gold, and veined with ribs, in relief,
in a line with the columns.
An octagonal lantern flanked with little columns.

ST. ISAAC'S. 293
covered with gold, surmounts the cupola, and is ter
minated by a colossal cross, carved in open work,
victoriously planted over the crescent.
There are in architecture, as in music, rhythms
squared with harmonious symmetry, that charm
without disturbing the eye and ear; the mind
notes with pleasure the return of the motif to
a spot fixed in advance. St. Isaac's produces this
effect; it is developed like a beautiful phrase of
religious music, holding fast what its pure classic
therae promises, disturbing the eye with not a dis
sonance. The rose-colored pillars forra equal
choirs, chanting the same melody on the four sides
of the edifice. The Corinthian acanthus displays
its green bronze leaves on every capital. Bands
of granite stretch over the frieze like the lines of
the musical seale, between which the statues cor
respond with one another by contrasts or resem
blances of attitude which recall the required inver
sions of a fugue ; while the great cupola tosses the
suprerae note into the skies frora among its four
belfries, whieh serve as the accompaniraent.
Doubtless the motif is siraple, as are all those
taken from Greek or Roman antiquity; but what
splendor of execution ! What a symphony in mar
ble, granite, bronze and gold !
If perchance this style of architecture in
spire a certain regret in those who believe the
Byzantine or Gothie style more appropriate to
poetry and the needs of the Christian creeds, it

294

RUSSIA.

must be remerabered that it is etemai and universal,
consecrated by the centuries and the admiration of
man, quite independent of fashion or time !
The classic austerity of the plan adopted by the
architect of St. Isaac's did not permit him to em
ploy for the exterior of this temple, with its severe
ly classic lines, those fantasies in which the caprice
of the chisel plays the chief part, those garlands,
curlycues, trophies interlaced with children, little
genii, attributes frequently very little in tune
with the edifice, which but serve to fill up voids.
With the exception of the acanthi and the rare
ornaments required by the order of architecture,
all the decoration of St. Isaac's is confined to the
statues, bas-reliefs, groups, and bronze statues, that
is all ! A magnificent moderation !
Still keeping the point of view that we have
chosen, at the corner of the boulevard of the Ad
miralty, in order to sketch rapidly the general out
line of the monuraent, we will describe the bas-
reliefs and statues as they are seen from this spot,
meaning to make later the tour of the ehurch.
The bas-reliefs of the northern frontal, which
faces the Neva, represents the resurrection of
Christ and is by M. Lemaire, the designer of the
front of the Madeleine in Paris. The decoration is
grand, monumental, decorative, fulfilling its every
purpose. The risen Christ bursts from the tomb,
the standard in his hand, as He ascends in the
center of the triangle, which permits the figure to

ST. ISAAC'S. 295
attain its full size. On the left of the radiant
apparition a seated angel repulses with majestic
gesture the Roman soldiers left to guard the tomb.
Their attitudes express surprise, fear, and also the
dosire of opposing the predicted miracle. On the
right, two angels, standing, receive with gentleness
the holy women who came to weep and scatter per
fumes on the tomb of Jesus. The Magdalen is
kneeling, overwhelmed with despair, she has not
yet seen the rairacle Martha and Mary, carrying
cruets of spikenard and cinnamon, are watching
the luminous body ascend in glory, to which they
had come to pay the honors due the dead, shown
them by the finger of an angel. The composi
tion is well grouped, and the bent positions, neces
sitated by the diminution of space at the outside
coraers, are assumed naturally. The projection of
the figures, according to their places, is calculated
to produce deep shadows and decided contours that
do not confuse the eye ; a happy raingling of high
and low relief produces every illusion of per
spective that ean be reasonably demanded of
bas-relief, without destroying its grand architect
ural lines. Underneath the frontal, in the granite
and marble entablature of the frieze, a legend is
inscribed in Slavic, which is the liturgical language
of the Greek Church. This inscription, written in
letters of bronze-gilt, is: "Lord, through thy
strength the Tzar will rejoice."
At the three angles of the frontal are placed St.

296 RUSSIA.
John the Evangelist and the two apostles, St. Peter
and St. Paul. The Evangelist is seated at the top,
with the syrabolic .eagle ; he holds a pen in his right
hand and a papyrus in his left. St. Peter and St.
Paul are recognized : one by the keys, the other by
the great sword upon which he is leaning.
Under the peristyle, over the principal door, a
large bronze bas-relief, seraicircular above, like
the arch which is its frame, represents "Christ on
the Cross between two thieves." At the foot the
holy women are sobbing and fainting; in a corner
the Roman soldiers are casting lots for the garment
of the divine sufferer; in another, aroused by his
supreme cry, the dead have come to life and are
lifting the stones from their tombs. In the two
side entrances, of semicircular form, are seen, on
the left, "The bearing the Cross;" on the right,
"The Burial." The erueifixion is by VitaU, the
two other bas-reliefs by Baron Klodt.
The great, monumental, bronze door is orna
mented with bas-reliefs, disposed as follows : In the
lintel, ' ' The triumphant Entry of Christ into Jeru
salem ; " on the left leaf, ' ' The Ecce Homo ; " on the
right one, ' ' The Flagellation ; ' ' underneath in the
oblong panels, two saints in priestly garments, St.
Nicholas and St. Isaac, occupying each one a niche
in the shape of a shell ; in the lower panels are two
kneeling angels, holding in the middle of a medal
lion a Greek cross covered with historic inscriptions.
Through all its phases, the drama of the Passion

ST. ISAAC'S. 297
is unfolded under the portico, while the apotheosis
shines in full glory on the frontal above. Let us
pass now to the eastern portico, whose greatest
bas-relief is also by M. Lemaire. It represents a
scene in the Ufe of St. Isaac, the Dalmatian, the
patron of the cathedral. The emperor Valens leav
ing Constantinople for a campaign against the
Goths, St Isaac, who was living in a little cave near
the city, stops hira on his way and announces that
he will not succeed in his undertaking, since he is
at war with God, on account of the support he is
giving to the Arians. The eraperor, in a rage,
orders the saint to be imprisoned and loaded with
chains, proraising him death should his prophecy
prove false, and liberty should it prove true. Now,
the emperor Valens was killed on the expedition,
and St. Isaac, being set at liberty, received great
honors from the emperor Theodosius. Valens is
seated on a horse, who, frightened by the appear
ance of the saint in the middle of the road, has
reared. It is by no raeans easy to make an eques
trian statue successfully in round bas-relief, and
very few have ever been entirely satisfactory; in
bas-relief the difficulty is even greater, but M.
Lemaire has happily conquered it. His horse,
freed from too minute detail, as is suitable in
monumental statuary, carries his rider well,
whose figure is thus brought into prominence with
excellent effect, dominating without perceptible
effort the groups surrounding him.

298 RUSSIA.
The saint has just hurled forth his prophecy, and
the eraperor's orders are being put into execution.
The soldiers load with irons the arms extended in
supplication and menace It would be impossible
to bring into greater harmony the double action of
the subject. Behind Valens a crowd of warriors
are unsheathing their swords, seizing their bucklers,
putting on their armor, to give the idea of an army
setting out on an expedition. Behind St. Isaac is
an army, more powerful in the eyes of heaven, of
the unhappy poor, of mothers pressing their babes
to their breasts. The composition is distinguished
by breadth, truth, and action, and the inconven
ience iraposed by the narrowing of the pediraent
has not affected injuriously the outside groups
Three statues are standing on pedestals on the
frontal : in the middle St. Luke the Evangelist, his
ox lying by his side, is painting the first portrait of
the Virgin, the sacred model of all Byzantine
images ; on either side is St. Simeon holding his saw,
and St. James his book.
The Slavic inscription means literally: "We rest
on thee, 0 Lord, and have no doubt about eternity"
As inside the iconostase leans against the wall of
this portico, there is no door, and consequently no
bas-reliefs under the colonnade, which is only
decorated with Corinthian pillars
The southern frontal was entrusted to M. Vitali.
It represents ' ' The Adoration of the T\Iagi, ' ' a sub
ject that the great masters have rendered almost

ST. ISAAC'S. 299
impossible for canvas,, that modern statuary has
rarely attempted, on account of the multiplicity of
figures it requires, but which did not frighten the
early Gothic image-makers, in their triptychs so
patiently elaborated. It is a composition arranged
with the utmost elegance, perhaps a trifle too re
dundant, but which is enchanting to look upon.
The Holy Virgin, seated amid the folds of her
veil, which by an ingenious inspiration of the
sculptor opens like the curtains of a tabernacle,
presents the little child, who is to redeem the world
and of whose divinity she already feels assured, for
the adoration of the Magian Kings, bowed or pros
trated at his feet in attitudes of Oriental respect.
This miraculous birth, preceded by apparitions,
these kings corae frora the confines of Asia, guided
by the star, to kneel before a manger, with vases of
gold and boxes of perfume, trouble the heart of the
holy, ever- virgin Mother; she is almost afraid of
this child, who is a God. As for St. Joseph, leaning
against a rock, he takes very little part in the
scene, accepting with humble faith these bewilder
ing, strange events.
In the suite of the kings Gaspar, Melchior, and
Balthasar are superbly costumed personages, offi
cers, present-bearers, slaves, who richly fill the two
ends of the composition. Behind thera stand, wor
shipping from afar, with timid wonder, shepherds
clad in sheepskins. In the interval between the
groups, the ox thrusts his gentle head with its shin-

300 RUSSIA.
ing muzzle, but where was. the ass ? Was not he
pulling a raorsel of hay from the manger, and, too,
warming with his nose the future Saviour of the
world, who had just been bom in a stable ? Art has
no right to be haughtier than Divinity. Jesus did
not despise the ass, and it was on a female ass that
He made his entrance into Jerusalem.
Three statues, following the invariable harmony
of decoration, figure on the pedestals of this fagade :
at the top, St. Matthew writing to the dictation of
an angel; at either end, St. Andrew with his cross
over his shoulder, and St. Philip with his book and
pastoral cross.
The inscription of the frieze raeans: "My house
shall be called the house of prayer."
If we enter the peristyle, we find the sarae ar
rangement as in the northern portico. Over the
principal door, in the tympan of the arch, is en
throned a great galvano-plastic bas-relief, like that
of the Crucifixion, representing ' ' The Adoration of
the Shepherds. " It is the most familiar repetition
of the preceding scene. The central group remains
about the same, although the Virgin turns with a
more sympathetic movement towards the shepherds,
who are bringing to the new-born babe their rustic
offerings, than towards the Magian Kings placing
at her feet their rich presents. She is gentle with
these humble, simple, poor folk, who give aU the
best they have. She holds out her child with con
fidence, opening his clothes to show how strong he

ST. ISAAC'S. 301
is; and the shepherds, kneeling or bowing down,
admire and worship, full of faith m the words of
the angel ; they give a basket of fruit to the mother
and a pair of doves to the child, while above angels
hover around the star which has pointed out the
stable of Bethlehem.
In the lateral, semicircular doors, are two bas-
reliefs: that on the left representing "The Angel
Announcing the birth of Christ to the Shepherds, ' '
the other "The Murder of the Innocents." Both
are the work of M. Laganovski. Upon the lintel of
the great bronze door is seen ' ' The Presentation in
the Temple;" on the leaves, "The Flight into
Egypt," "Jesus in the Midst of the Doctors;"
underneath in shell-like niches, a saint and an
angel warrior : St. Alexander Nevski and St. Mich
ael; lower down, in the last panels, little angels,
bearing crosses.
This portico contains, as its decoration, the en
tire poera of the Nativity, and the childhood of
Christ, as the other contained the entire drama of
the Passion.
On the eastern frontal, we have seen St. Isaac
persecuted by the emperor Valens; on the western
frontal, we are present at his triumph, if such a
word is in accordance with the humility of a saint.
The emperor Theodosius the Great returns vic
torious from a war against the barbarians, and
near the Golden Gate St. Isaac, gloriously delivered
from prison, presents himself in his poor hermit's

302 RUSSIA.
garb, crowned with a chaplet, holding in his left
hand the double cross, and raising the right towards
the emperor's head, whom he blesses. Theodosius
stoops piously, while his arm encircles the empress
Flaeilla, whom he draws forward as if to include
her in the benediction of the saint. This idea is
altogether charming and is portrayed -with rare
grace, and to the majestic heads of the emperor and
empress is given an august resemblance. The eagle
and insignia of victory lie at the feet of the laurel-
crowned Theodosius. On the right warriors, whose
attitudes breathe the liveliest devotion, kneel on
the ground, lowering their arms before the cross.
In the upper part, a man whose scowling visage
expresses scorn and rage is going away, leaving
St. Isaac in full possession. It is Deraophilus, the
head of the Arians, who had hoped to influence
Theodosius to take sides with the heresies. At the
end is seen that woman of Edessa with her child,
whose sudden apparition put to flight the troops
sent to persecute the Christians. To the left, a
maid-of-honor of the empress in rich clothing is
supporting a poor, paralyzed woman, symbolizing
the charity reigning in this Christian court. A
little boy, playing with all the tender grace of
childhood, contrasts strangely with the stiff immo
bility of the sick woraan. In the corner of the bas-
relief, by an anachronisra admissible in idealized
statuary, is the architect, draped in antique fashion,
presenting a miniature model of the cathedral

ST. ISAAC'S. 303
which will be built later under the protection of
St. Isaac.
This charraing composition, whose groups bal
ance and agree in perfect symmetry, is by M.
Vitali. Under this portico, which is simpler than either
the northern or southern one, are no bas-reliefs,
round or arched in form. It is pierced by a single
door opposite the iconostase. This bronze door
is divided like those we have already described.
The bas-relief of the lintel represents "The Sermon
on the Mount." In the upper portion of the two
leaves are enshrined "The Resurrection of Laza
rus" and "Jesus Curing the Paralytic;" St. Peter
and St. Paul occupy the shell-niches; and lower
down, angels hold up the sign of rederaption.
Wheat and the vine, eucharistic syrabols, serve as
motif for the decoration of all the doors.
St. Mark, with his lion, that Venice has chosen
for her arms, is writing his gospel at the top of the
frontal, while St. Thomas, carrying his square and
extending the skeptical finger that he wished to
plunge in the wounds of Christ before he would
believe the resurrection, and St. Bartholomew,
with the instruments of his martyrdom, the block
and knife, decorate the extremities. . On the tablet
of the frieze is the following inscription: "To the
King of Kings."
Through their archaic form, the Slavic charac.-
ters lend themselves well to this sort of inscrip-

304 RUSSIA.
tion. They are as ornamental as the Arabian let
ters. There are still other inscriptions under the
peristyles and over the doors, all expressing re
ligious or mystic ideas, but we have translated
only those most in view.
The sculptures of all the doors were designed
by Vitali, assisted by Salemann and Bouilli, as
were also the evangelists and apostles, not one of
whora is less than fifteen feet two inches high.
The angels kneeling near the candelabra are sev
enteen feet tall, and the lamp holders twenty-two.
These angels, with their great outspread wings,
resemble mystic eagles, who have fallen from some
lofty spot, on the four corners of the edifice. As
we have said before, a swarm of angels is placed
on the crown of the dome. The height at which
they are put does not allow them to be seen in
detail, but the sculptor has given them graceful,
exquisite outlines, which are readily seized from
below. Thus on the cornice of the cupola, on the pedes
tals, attics, and entablatures of the building, with
out counting the figures in half -relief of the frontal,
the bas-reliefs of the roofs and the hemicycles, the
figures on the doors, we have fifty-two statues, each
three times as large as life, forming for St. Isaac's
an eternal people of bronze, in various attitudes,
but ever subservient, like an architectural choir, to
the cadences of a linear harmony.
Before entering the teraple, of which we have

ST. ISAAC'S. 305
just given a picture as faithful as the insufficiency
of words will allow, we raust say that it raust not
be imagined that the cathedral of St. Isaac's, with
its noble, pure, severe lines, its sober, rare orna
mentation, its austerely antique style, presents
through this perfect regularity a cold, raonotonous,
or rather tiresome aspect of the architecture, that
for lack of a better term is called classic. The gold
of its cupolas, the rich variety of its materials,
are sufficient to prevent it from falling into this
mishap, and the climate colors it with a thousand
unexpected effects of light and shadow, that make
it appear entirely Russian. The fairies of the
North flutter around the grave monument, and
nationalize it without affecting its grandiose and
antique appearance.
A Russian winter possesses a poetry all its own;
its rigors are compensated by beauties, effects and
extremely picturesque aspects. The snow covers
with silver the golden cupolas, accentuates with
a shining line the entablatures and frontals, touches
with white the brass acanthi, places luminous points
on the statues, and changes every relation of color
under its magic transformations. St. Isaac's, thus
seen, assumes an entirely local originality. It is
glorious in color, whether it stands in full relief
under its snowy curtain frora a background of
grey clouds, or throws its outline on one of those
skies of turquoise and rose which shine in St.
Petersburg when the eold is dry and the snow
20

306 RUSSIA.
creaks under the foot like dry powder. Sometimes,
after a thaw, a bitter east wind covers the body
of the monument, its marbles and stones, with a
coating of ice. A network of pearls, flner than
drops of dew around the plants, envelops the gigan
tic columns of the peristyle. The red granite be
comes the tenderest pink, its edges like the do-wn
on a peach or the bloom of a plum; it is en
wrapped in some wondrous matter, like the precious
stones of which is built the heavenly Jerusalem.
The crystallized vapor clothes the ediflce with a
diamond powder that flashes and darkens when
the sunshine falls upon it, till one might fancy
it a cathedral of precious stones in the City of
God. Each hour of the day has its mirage. If one
looks at St. Isaac's in the morning from the bank
of the Neva, it appears all amethyst and topaz,
in the midst of an aureole of white and pink splen
dor. The tender mist floating at its base detaches
it from the earth, making it swim in a sea of vapor.
In the evening, from the corner of the little IMor-
skaia, with its windows flashing in the setting sun,
it seems illumined and aflre inside. The windows
flash gaily amid the sombre walls; sometimes dur
ing a fog, when the sky is low, the clouds descend
to the cupola, covering it like the summit of a
mountain. We saw, strange spectacle ! the lantem
and the upper half of the dome disappear under
a bank of fog. The cloud, encircling with its

ST. ISAAC'S. 307
padded zone the golden hemisphere of the lofty
tower, gave to the cathedral a prodigious elevation
and the appearance of a Christian Tower of Babel
mounting to flnd, not to defy, in the skies, Llim
without whom there can be no solid foundation.
Night, that in other climates throws its thick
pall over edifices, cannot entirely extinguish St.
Isaac's. Its cupola remains visible beneath the
black dais of the skies, with all its golden tints,
like a vast, half-luminous ball. No darkness, not
even that of the worst nights in December, prevails
against it. It can always be seen above the city,
and if the dwellings of men are effaced in dark
ness and sleep, the dwelling of God shines and
watches. When the darkness is less dense, and the scintil
lation of the stars and the half light of the Milky
Way throw into relief the outlines of things, the
great mass of the cathedral assumes a raajestic
and mysterious soleranity. The columns, polished
as ice, stand out in some unexpected Ught, while
the statues, dimly seen, appear like celestial sen
tinels to whora the keeping of the sacred edifice
has been intrusted. What light there is scattered
over the skies is concentrated on the top of the
dome with such intensity that the passer-by might
easily mistake it for a lighted larap.
A still more magical effect is sometimes pro
duced : luminous flashes gleam frora the extremity

308 RUSSIA.
of each of the ribs dividing the dome, encircling
it with a diadem of stars, a starry crown placed on
the golden tiara of the temple. A more credulous
and less scientific century would fancy it a miracle,
so dazzling and apparently so inexplicable is this
effect. If the moon is full and the sky cloudless,
towards midnight St. Isaac's assumes in this opal
light, grey, silver, blue, violet tints of unimag
inable delicacy: the pink of the stone becomes
hydrangea, the draperies of the bronze statues turn
white as linen robes, over the golden caps of the
bell-towers pass shadows and transparent araber
lights, while the snowy network on the cornices
glistens ever and anon with shining spangles. A
star in the depths of the cold, northern, steel-blue,
sky pours his silver rays on the shining golden
dome, till the light resembles the electrum of the
ancients, raade up of gold and silver. From time
to time, the fairies, with which the North consoles
the long winter nights, display their splendors
above the cathedral. The aurora borealis scatters
behind the sombre outline of the raonument its im
mense polar fireworks. A bouquet of rockets, irradi
ations and phosphorescent bands flash out in silver,
raother-of-pearl, opal and rose lights, extinguishing
the stars and turning into blackness the ever
luminous cupola, save for its brilliant point, the
golden lamp of the sanctuary, that nothing ever
eclipses. We have essayed to paint St. Isaac's during the

ST. ISAAC'S. 309
days and nights of winter. The summer is quite
as rich in novel, wondrous effects.
During these long days, scarcely interrupted by
an hour of diaphanous night, half-twilight, half-
dawn, St. Isaac's, inundated with light, looras up
in all the majestic perfection of a classic monu
ment. The mirages gone, it is seen in its superb
reality; even after the transparent darkness has
enwrapped the city, the sun is still shining on its
colossal cupola. Frora the horizon, whence it
plunges only to iramediately rise, its rays never
leave the golden cupola. As in the raountains the
highest peak is still illurained by the flames of the
setting sun, even after the lower summits and the
valleys are long immersed in the mists of evemng,
so gradually the light quits the crimson spire and
regretfully mounts skyward, but it never aban
dons the dome. Were every star of the firmament
extinguished, there would still be one on St. Isaac's.
Now that we have given, to the best of our abil
ity, an idea of the exterior of the cathedral under
its varied aspects, let us enter the interior, which is
not less magnificent.
GeneraUy one goes into St. Isaae 's by the south
ern door, but let us choose the eastern one, which
is opposite the iconostase ; it is the. point from
which the edifice is seen to the greatest advantage.
Frora the first moraent you are seized with a
sort of stupor ; the gigantic grandeur of the archi
tecture, the profusion of the rarest marbles, the

310 RUSSIA.
splendor of the goldwork, the coloring of the mural
paintings, the shining of the polished pavement,
where each object is reflected, all unite in produc
ing a dazzling impression, especially if you
turn your head, as you cannot fail to do, on the
side of the iconostase, — the iconostase, a wondrous
edifice, a temple within a teraple, with its front of
gold, malachite and lapis-lazuli, its doors of mas
sive silver, which is however but the veil of the
sanctuary. The eye retums there with an irre
sistible attraction, whether the open doors permit
a sight, amid its shining splendor, of the colossal
Christ on glass, or, if closed, show only the curtain
whose color resembles that of the divine blood.
The interior arrangeraent of the edifice is so sim
ple that it is coraprehended at first glance : three
naves terrainate at the three doors of the iconostase,
cut transversely by the nave, which forms the arms
of the cross, ending on the exterior in the project
ing porticoes. At the point of intersection is the
cupola; at the corners, four domes rise symmet
rically, emphasizing the architectural harmony.
On a marble foundation, rise in Corinthian style
the pilasters and fluted columns, with bases and
capitals in gilt bronze or beaten gold, which adorn
the building. This style, applied to walls and mas
sive pillars supporting the arches and the roof, is
surmounted by an attic intersected with pilasters,
that form panels and frames for paintings. It is
on this attic that are placed the archivolts, whose

ST ISAAC'S. 311
tympans are adorned with religious subjects. Thd
walls between the columns and pilasters are cov
ered with white marble, with panels and cora-'
partraents, in green Genoese marble, agate, Sienna
marble, variegated jaspers, red Finnish porphyries,
in a word all that the richest quarries ean supply.
Recessed niches, supported by consoles, contain
paintings that form a charming interruption to the
smooth surfaces. Roses and various figures in gilt
bronze stand out boldly from the raarble. The
ninety-six pillars are from the quarries of Tvidi,
-w'hich furnish an exquisite raarble, veined with
grey and pink. The white marbles were taken
from the quarries of Seravezza, that Michael An
gelo preferred to those of Carrara, which is cer
tainly the highest possible praise, for who has ever
known so much about marble as the architect of
St. Peter's or the sculptor of the tomb of the
Medici ?
With this slight idea of the interior of the church
given in a few words, let us turn to the cupola,
which opens above the head of the visitor, its gulf
suspended in raid-air, with an indestructible solid
ity, in which iron, bronze, briek, marble, stone,
combine their mighty forces, in accordance with
the highest mathematical laws. The dome, from
the pavement to the top of the lanterns, is 296 feet
8 inches, or in Russian raeasure 42 sagenes 2
archines. The length of the edifice is 288 feet 8
inches (or 39 s. 2 a.) ; its width 149 feet 8 inches

312 RUSSIA.
(21 s. 3 a.). We do not beUeve in an excessive use
of flgures, but here they are necessary for thd
perception of the real size of the edifice and an aid
towards the relative appreciation of the proportion
of the details.
In the top of the lantern, at an immense height,
a colossal Holy Spirit spreads its white wings, sur
rounded by rays. Lower down is a half cupola,
with gold palm-leaves on a field of azure. Then
comes the great spherical vault of the dome, bor
dered on its upper side by a cornice whose frieze
is decorated with garlands and heads of angels,
resting at its base on the entablature of twelve
fluted Corinthian pilasters, which separate equaUy
the twelve windows. A false balustrade, serving
as a point of transition between architecture and
painting, crowns this entablature, while amid the
light of a great sky is placed a great composition
representing "The Triumph of the Virgin." This
painting, as well as all those in the dome, had been
intrusted to M. Bruloff, known by his picture of
"The Last Day of Pompeii" which flgured at one
of the Paris Expositions. M. Bruloff was worthy
of the choice, but an illness terminating in death
did not allow him to execute this iraportant work.
He had only flnished the cartoons, and though his
ideas and meanings have been religiously followed,
one cannot help missing in these paintings, wonder
fully suited to their decorative purpose, the eye,
the hand and the genius of the master. He would

ST. ISAAC'S. 313
doubtless have given to thera all they lack: touch,
color, flre, all that coraes into the execution of the
most carefully planned work, that even equal talent
is unable to realize when attempting to realize the
thoughts of another.
In order to make our description as clear as pos
sible, let us face the iconostase: then we will have
before us the central group, which is the heart of
this vast composition. The Holy Virgin, sur
rounded with glory, is seated on a throne of gold ;
with lowered eyes, and hands crossed modestly over
her breast, she appears, even in heaven, to submit
to rather than to accept this triumph ; but she is the
humble servant of the Lord, ancilla Domini,
so she resigns herself to the apotheosis.
On either side of the throne stand St. John the
Baptist, the forerunner, and St. John, the disciple
beloved of the Lord, recognizable by his eagle.
They both deserve this place of honor: one an
nounced Christ; the other followed. Hira to the
Mount of Olives, was present at His Passion, and
to him the dying God eonflded His mother.
Under the throne flutter little angels with lilies,
the symbol of purity. Great angels, with out
spread wings, placed at intervals in poses of dar
ing perspective, hold up the bank of clouds sup
porting the groups, that we are about to describe,
on the left of the Virgin, relative to the spectator
making the tour of the cupola, until we return on
the right, at the end of the cycle of the coraposition.

314 RUSSIA.
One of these angels is armed with a long sword, the
attribute of St. Paul, whom in fact we see kneeling
above him on a cloud near St. Peter, his head
turned towards the Virgin; cherubim open the
book of the Gospels, and play with the golden keys
of Paradise.
On a cloud floating above the balustrade and
forming an aerial pedestal to the groups, is, next
to St. Paul and St. Peter, an old man with a white
beard, in the habit of a Byzantine monk ; it is St.
Isaac, the Dalmatian, the patron of the cathedral.
Near him stands St. Alexander Nevski, in a cuirass
and purple mantle; angels hold the draperies be
hind him, and on a golden disc the image of Christ
indicates the services rendered to reUgion by the
warrior saint.
The next group is composed of three Holy Women,
kneeling: Anna, mother of the Virgin; EUzabeth,
raother of the forerunner ; and Catherine, sumptu
ously dressed-: an ermine mantle, a brocaded dress,
and a crown on her head, not that she belongs to
a royal or princely family, but because she unites
the triple crown of virginity, martyrdom and
science, so that her original name of Dorothy was
changed to Catherine, whose Syriac root, cethar,
means a crown. Thus aU this luxury is allegorical.
An angel under the cloud is holding a fragment of
a wheel with teeth bent backward, the instrument
of St. Catherine's martyrdom.
Separated by a slight interval from the group

ST. ISAAC'S. 315
we have just described, a third cloud is supporting
St. Alexis, the man of God, clothed in raonkish
habit, and the Emperor Constantine, in a cuirass
of gold draped with purple; an angel close by is
holding the axe and bundle of rods; stfll another
angel behind has the insignia of coraraand, an an
tique sword in its sheath. The last group, as one
returns to the throne of the Virgin, represents St.
Nicholas, bishop of Myra and patron saint of Rus
sia, dressed in a dalraatic and green stole covered
with gold crosses, in adoration before the Mother of
God; he is surrounded by angels holding banners
and sacred books.
Of course one recognizes in these flgures the
holy patrons of Russia and its imperial family.
The mystic idea of this imraense composition, which
is 228 feet around, is the triuraph of the Church,
symbolized by the Virgin. The disposition of this
painting calls to mind that of the cupola of St:
Genevieve in Paris, by Baron Gros. Nor do we
at all means to criticise M. Bruloff; such resem
blances are inevitable in religious subjects, whose
principal lines are deterrained in advance. Con-
forraing to the intentions of the architect, better
than many artists charged with paintings have
done, M. Bruloff, or those who have executed his
designs, have confined themselves to a clear, firm
tone, avoiding excessive lights and shadows which
are always injurious to mural paintings, since
they interfere with the architecture, and give to

316 RUSSIA.
objects lines impossible to those of the edifice.
These paintings, together with all the others in
the cathedral, even when these are on gold, make
no effort to reproduce the hieratic, stiff and monot
onous attitudes of Byzantine art.
Monsieur de Montferrand very judiciously con
sidered that, since the church of which he was
the architect borrowed its forms from the pure
Greek or Roman style, the artists charged with
the duty of painting it should seek inspiration
from the great Italian school, the most skillful and
leamed in the decoration of religious edifices in
this style. The painters of St. Isaac's, then, are
by no raeans archaic, contrary to the habits of the
Russian Church, which voluntarily conforms to
the models fixed in the early times of the Greek
church and preserved according to tradition by
the religious painters of Mt. Athos.
Twelve great gilt angels, taking the part of
caryatides, support consoles on which stand the
bases of the pilasters which form the interior row
of the dome and separate the windows. They
are twenty-one feet high, and were made by the
galvanoplastie process in four pieces, whose welding
together is invisible. They eould in this manner
be made so light that, in spite of their dimensions,
they would not be too heavy for the cupola. This
crown of gilt angels, poised amid a flood of light,
and shining with brilliant reflections, produces an
extremely rich effect. The figures are disposed

ST. ISAAC'S. 317
according to a certain agreed architeetual line,
but with a variety of attitude and sufficient action
to avoid the monotony that would result from a
too rigorous uniformity. Various attributes, such
as books, palms, crowns, scales, erosses, trumpets,
afford the motive for numerous poses as well as
for designating the celestial functions of these bril
liant statues. The spaces between the angels are
filled by seated apostles and prophets, each ac
companied by his own recognized symbol. All
these figures, nobly draped and in good style, stand
out from a light background whose general style
is like that of fresco.
The four Evangelists, of colossal size, occupy
the pendentives of the dorae. The artist has en
deavored to give these figures haughty, strong atti
tudes, like those in the Sistine Chapel. They have
been obliged to conforra to the unusual forra of
the pendentives within which they are enclosed, and
the inconvenience thus imposed frequently results
in inspiration. These Evangelists are indeed very
striking. By the winged lion, we recognize St. Mark, who
in one hand holds his gospel, and with the other
raised seems to be in the aet of preaching or bless
ing. A circle of gold shines around his head, blue
draperies envelop his knees. Angels hold a cross
over his head.
St. John, in green tunic and red mantle, is writ
ing on a long roll of papyrus, unrolled by angels.

318 RUSSIA.
Near by the mysterious eagle is beating his wings,
while from his eyes flash the lightnings of Revela
tion. Leaning on his ox, St. Luke is looking at his por
trait of the Virgin, which angels are holding. A
labarum is floating over his shining head. An
orange-red drapery is gathered in great folds
around him.
The angel companion of St. Matthew is stand
ing by hira. The saint, in a violet tunic and yellow
mantle, holds a book in his hand. Over the sombre
sky, that serves as a background for all the figures,
cherubim are fioating about, and a single star is
shining. On the points of the pendentives are four paint
ings representing scenes in the Passion of Christ. In
one, Judas at the head of the soldiers, carrying
torches, gives his master the traitor kiss, which
points him out from among his disciples. In an
other the standing Christ is being scourged by two
torraentors with knotted whips. The third shows
us Jesus, to whom the Jews preferred Barabbas,
taken from prison to be delivered to the execu
tioner, while Pontius Pilate, seated in judgment,
is washing his hands from the blood that must
always remain on them. The fourth picture rep
resents what the Italians call the spasimo, the
fainting of the victim under the cross on the way
to Calvary. The Virgin, Holy Women and St. John
escort the divine prisoner in attitudes of anguish.

ST. ISAAC'S. 319
The attic of the transept, forming a Greek cross,
contains on the right, facing the iconostase, "The
Sermon on the Mount" by Pietro Bassine. On
a raised place shaded by trees, Jesus, seated, is
preaching to his disciples; thc people are crowd
ing to hear Him ; even the lame have stumped there
on their crutches; the sick have been brought on
their pallets, eager for the divine word ; the blind
have groped thither; women are listening with all
their hearts, while in a corner some Pharisees are
cavilling and disputing; the arrangement is fine,
and the well-scattered groups leave to the central
figure of Christ its full importance.
The subjects of the two lateral paintings are the
parables of "The Sower" and "The Good Samari
tan. ' ' In one, Jesus is walking in the fields with his
disciples; he shows them the Sower, casting his
grain, and the birds of the air, fiuttering around
his head. In the other, the Good Samaritan, hav
ing descended frora his horse, is pouring oil into
the wounds of the young man abandoned by the
roadside, to whose prayers the Pharisee has turned
a deaf ear. The first of these paintings is by
Nikitine; the second, by Sazonoff. In a richly
fraraed panel in the vaulting, cherubim are holding
a book against the sky.
Opposite "the Sermon on the Mount" in the
attic, at the other end of the nave, is a vast paint
ing by Pluchart, representing "The Multiplica
tion of the Loaves." Jesus occupies the centre,

320 RUSSIA.
while His disciples are distributing to the fam
ished multitude the miraculous bread which is
constantly increased, a symbol of the Eucharistic
bread, which shall nourish the generations of the
earth. The pictures on the two side walls represent
"The Return of the Prodigal" and "The Work
man of the Eleventh Hour" whom the rest desired
to expel, but whom the Master received. The first
by Sazonoff, the second by Nikitine. Cherubim,
holding up a pix, are painted in the panel of the
vaulting. The central nave, from the transept to
the door, is decorated by Bruni. In the baek of
the tympan, Jehovah, enthroned on a cloud, sur
rounded by archangels, angels, and cherubim, in a
circle, symbolizing eternity, is content with the
creation and blesses it. At the nod of His head,
the infinite has been shaken to its inmost depths,
and from nothing all has been created.
On the attic, the terrestrial paradise shines green
with trees, flowers and animals. The first human
pair wanders peacefully among species that sin
and death, its result, must later render fierce. Not
yet does the lion rend the gazelle, the tiger throw
himself on the horse; the elephant is all unaware
of the strength of his defense, and all respect the
resemblance to God on the foreheads of the inmates
of Eden.
In the vaulting above, angels contemplate in

ST. ISAAC'S. 321
amazement the sun and the moon, the lamps of the
firmament, which have just been lighted.
The subject of the panel of the attic is "The
Deluge." The waters, pouring in floods from the
abyss and the sky, have covered the youthful
world, so soon perverted, wliich has already caused
God to regret its creation. Some mountain tops,
that the inundation will soon cover, alone emerge
from the shoreless ocean. The last remnant of
the human race, condemned to perish, are hanging
there in despair, their muscles standing out in a
convulsive effort to reach the narrow space. In
the distanee, under the pouring rain, floats Noah's
ark, carrying within its hollow sides all that will
survive of the ancient creation.
On the other wall, "The Sacrifice of Noah" is
the pendant to the Deluge. The blue smoke of the
accepted sacrifice mounts through the serene air to
the sky, from the primitive altar, raade of a piece
of rock. The patriarch, standing, dominates, with
his great antediluvian stature, his sons and daugh
ters-in-law kneeling around him, each pair of whom
is destined to be the source of a great human
family. In the background on a curtain of clouds, which
are melting away, a rainbow throws its dainty
curve, the sign that promises, by its appearance at
the end of the storms, that the waters shall never
again cover the earth, which shall be free from all
cosmic catastrophe until the day of judgment.
21

322

RUSSIA.

Further on "The Vision of Ezekiel" covers a great
space in the vaulting. Standing on a piece of
rock, under a sky afiame with crirason light, in
the middle of the valley of Jehoshaphat, whose dead
population springs into life and trembles like the
wheat in the furrow, the prophet is watching the
terrible spectacle unrolling before him ; at the ring
ing call of the angel trumpeters, the ghosts rise in
their shrouds; skeletons drag themselves along
with fleshless flngers and readjust their scattered
bones ; dead bodies show outside of the sepulchres,
with dread and remorse, their decomposed faces,
to which life is returning. They who one time were
the peoples of the world seem as if asking grace,
and regretting the night of the tomb, with the ex
ception of a few just persons, filled with hope in
the divine bounty, to whom the crushing gesture
of the prophet brings no alarm.
Great force of imagination and majestie vigor
of style are displayed in this painting, so consider
able in dimensions: the study of the Sistine fres
coes is very perceptible. The coloring is sombre,
strong, and of that historic tone, a noble clothing
of the thought that we moderns abandon too often
for the glitter of effect and small verity of detail,
so false in monumental or decorative painting.
At the end of this same nave, in the recess where
is the iconostase, Bruni has painted "The Last
Judgment," of which the vision of Ezekiel is but
the prophecy. A colossal Christ, two or even

_ ST. ISAAC'S. 323
three times as large as the surrounding figures, is
standing before his throne, whose steps are clouds.
We highly approve of this Byzantine manner of
giving a visible predominance to the divine, prin
cipal personage. It strikes both untutored and
cultivated imaginations, the first by its raaterial,
the second by its ideal side. The centuries have
passed, time exists no longer, all is eternal,—
reward and punishment. Overturned by the
breath of angels, the old skeleton, his sickle broken,
faUs into powder. Death in his turn dies. On
the right hand of Christ, press with upward move
ment crowds of happy souls, with pure, slender
figures, long, chaste draperies, faces radiant with
beauty, love and ecstasy, who greet the angels as
brothers. On the left, whirling round in the vio
lence of their fall, pushed by haughty, stern angels,
with sharp wings and flaming swords, is that ac
cursed group recognized by their hideous forms as
all the wicked inclinations that drag men down
to destruction. En-^ry, whose hair whips his thin
temples like serpents; Avarice, sordid, angular,
bent; Impiety, casting heavenwards its look of im
potent revenge : all these guilty ones, weighted down
by their sins, roll into the abyss, where the crisp
hands of deraons, whose bodies are invisible, are
waiting to tear thera in etemai agony. These
knotty, clawlike hands, like the iron combs used
by the executioners, are poetic in the extreme, pro
ducing the most awful terror. It is worthy of

324 RUSSIA.
Michael Angelo or Dante. We sought vainly for
these hands, which we had seen on -the cartoon,
in the painting; the projection of the cornice, the
curve of the arch, dark in the corner, doubtless
prevented thera from being seen. It may be seen,
by these rapid descriptions, necessarily subordinate
to the ensemble of the church, how iraportant are
the works executed by Bruni in St. Isaac's. It is
to be desired that the work of this remarkable
artist should be engraved or at least photographed,
since his paintings have not the notoriety they de
serve. These compositions with numerous flgures,
several times larger than life, cover immense sur
faees, sueh as very few modern painters have had
the opportunity of executing. This artist has also
done several of the sanctuary paintings, of which
we will speak later.
At either end of the transverse nave, of which
Bruni's "Last Judgment" occupies the centre, are
paintings, that the lack of light prevents from
being seen with satisfaction: in the attic, "The
Resurrection of Lazarus" by Schebonief; higher
up in the tympan, "Mary at the feet of Jesus"
by the same master ; on the side wall, ' ' Jesus Cast
ing Out Devils," "The Wedding at Cana,"
"Christ Saving St. Peter on the Waters," by the
same. On the opposite side, the great picture of
the attic represents "Jesus Raising the Son of the
Widow of Nain," in the tympan, "Jesus blessing
little children," also by Schebonief. The side wall

ST. ISAAC'S. 325
contains several rairacles : ' ' Christ Curing the
Lame INIan," "The Repentant Sinner," "Curing
the Blind ]Man, ' ' by Alexeieff. Another transverse
nave— for the church, divided into three naves in
its length, has five in its breadth— encloses paint
ings by various artists. "Joseph Receiving His
Brethren in Egypt," by Markoff, is an enormous
painting occupying the entire attic. "The Dying
Jacob," surrounded by his sons, whom he is bless
ing, is in the tympan, and is by Steuben. Pluchart
has painted on the wall, in three panels: "The
Sacrifice of Aaron," "The Arrival of Joshua in
the Promised Land," "The Finding of the Fleece
by Gideon." "The Passage of the Red Sea," by
Alexeieff, is unfolded on the attic wall, opposite
"Joseph Receiving His Brethren." It is a tumultu
ous, confused composition, too violent in movement
for a mural painting. It is rather difficult to disen
tangle the subject from among the multitude of
figures, especially since the background is unfavor
able. Above "The Destroying Angel striking the
Firstborn of Egypt," is also by Alexeieff.
"Moses Saved from the Waters," "The Bum
ing Bush," "Moses and Aaron Before Pharaoh,"
by Pluchart, decorate one of the walls; the other
is ornaraented with panels representing "Miriam
Singing the Praises of God, " " Jehovah Giving the
Tables of the Law to Moses" and "Moses Writing
His Last Wishes," by Zavialoff.
At each end of the lateral naves, on the right

326 RUSSIA.
and left of the door, is a cupola. In the vault of
the first, Riss has represented the apotheosis of St.
Fevronius, surrounded by angels carrying palms
and instruments of torture, swords, torches, fagots
for the funeral pyre ; in the pendentives, on a gold
background in imitation of mosaic, are the prophets
Hosea, Joel, Haggai, Zechariah; in the recesses of
the arches are historical and religious subjects,
among others Minine and Pojarsky, names that stir
every patriotic Russian heart. We wUl beg per
mission to devote a few lines to this painting, since
it is not enough, especiaUy for those readers who
are not Russian, to merely announce the subject,
as when it is a question of a motif drawn from
Sacred History, known to aU Christians, of aU
communions. The kniaz Pojarsky and the moujik Minine re
solved to save their country, menaced with Polish
invasion. They made ready to depart, both at the
head of their troops. The nobility and the people
unite in mutual devotion to these two heroes, who,
desiring to place their enterprise under the pro
tection of God, caused to be carried before them
by the clergy the holy image of Our Lady of
Kazan, from whom fell in sign of acquiescence a
ray of celestial light. As the procession passed,
men, women, children, the aged, all ranks and
ages, prostrated themselves in the snow. In the
background raay be seen the balustrades and cren
elated walls of the Kremlin with its towers.

ST. ISAAC'S. 327
The other tympan shows us Dmitri-Donskoi
kneeling at the threshold of a convent, to receive
the benediction of St. Sergius of Radonej, who
comes out, accompanied by monks, before setting
forth to conquer, near Koulikovo, the Tartars under
Mimai. The subject of the third painting is Ivan III.
showing to St. Peter, the Metropolitan, the plans of
the cathedral of the Assumption in Moscow. • The
saint approves and calls down the protection of
heaven on this pious founder.
A council of the apostles, on whom is descend
ing the Holy Spirit, fills the fourth vaulting. In
the cupola are the following paintings, all by the
hand of Riss: on the ceiling, "The Apotheosis of
St. Isaac, the Dalmatian;" on the pendentives,
Jonas, Nahum, Habakkuk and Zephaniah. The re
cesses formed by the arches contain subjects relative
to the introduction df Christianity into Russia :
"Proposition Made to Vladimir to Embrace the
Christian Faith," "Baptism of Vladimir," "Bap
tism of the Inhabitants of Kief," "PubUcation of
the Adoption of Christianity by Vladimir." The
order ornamenting these cupolas is Ionic.
These paintings, though composed with skill,
are rather too historical. The artist, eager for
effect, has not borne sufficiently in mind the con
ditions of mural painting. Scenes whose frames
are arches and architectural divisions ought to be
tranquil, rather than dramatic, and much like

328 RUSSIA.
polychrome bas-reliefs. When he is working in a
church or palace, the painter ought to be before
all else a decorator, and sacrifice his individual
preferences to the general eff'ect of the raonu
ment. His work should be fastened there im
movably. The great Italian masters, whose fres
coes are so different from their pictures, have un
derstood this particular side of art better than the
masters of all other nations. This criticism is not
meant for Riss alone ; it is merited in varying de
gree by most of the artists charged with painting
in St. Isaac's, who have not always made the sacri
fices of execution necessary to mural painting.
The walls against which the pUasters and columns
are placed are decorated with subjects executed by
different artists, in the recesses of the niches, with
cartouches containing inscriptions.
In these niches Pieter Neeffs has painted "The
Ascension," "Jesus Christ Sending His Image to
Abgarus," "The Lifting of the Cross," "The
Birth of the Virgin," "The Descent of the Holy
Spirit." Neeffs' paintings are full of color and
sentiraent, and may be ranked among the most
satisfactory in the church.
By Steuben: "St. Joachim and St. Anna," "The
Birth of St. John the Baptist," "The Entry into
Jerusalem," "The Crucifixion," "Jesus Christ in
the Tomb," "The Resurrection," "The Assump
tion of the Virgin."
By Mussini: "The Annunciation," "The Birth

ST. ISAAC'S. 329
of Jesus," "The Circumcision," "Candlemas,"
"The Baptism," "The Transfiguration."
All the paintings of St. Isaac's are in oil; fresco
is not suitable to damp climates, and its so vaunted
soUdity does not withstand the passage of two or
three centuries, as is unhappily demonstrated by
the state of deterioration, more or less advanced, of
most of the chefs-d'ceuvre for whieh the raasters
had hoped eternal freshness and preservation.
Encaustic painting alone remains; but its man
ageraent is difficult, and it is rarely used. Then,
too, the wax reflects the places worked upon, and
in addition too short a time has passed since at
tempts of this kind have been raade for anything
but theories on the subject of its duration. It is
then with reason that M. de Montferrand chose oil
for the paintings in St. Isaac's.
Let us now turn to the iconostase, this wall of
holy images, encased in gold, which unveils the
secrets of the sanctuary. Those who have seen
the gigantic screens of the Spanish churches ean
form some idea of the development that the Greek
religion has attained in this portion of its churches.
The architect has raised his iconostase as far as
the attic, so that it is in harraony with the order
of the edifice and the colossal proportions of the
raonument whose entire back, from one wall to
the other, it occupies. It is the front of a temple,
within a temple.
Three steps of red porphyry form the founda-

330 RUSSIA.
tion. A balustrade of white marble, with a gold
railing, incrusted with precious marbles, marks
the line of demarcation between the priest and the
faithful. The purest raarble from the quarries of
Italy serves as a foundation for the wall of the
iconostase. This foundation, which would be rich
anywhere else, is well-nigh hidden under its
superb ornaments.
Eight columns of malachite, of Corinthian order,
fluted, with pedestals and capitals of gilt bronze,
with two pilasters bound together, compose the
fagade and support the attic. The color of the
malachite with its metallic lustre, its queer green
copper-colored tints, so charming to the eye, its
perfect hard stone polish, is wonderfully beau
tiful and magniflcent. It is difficult to convince
oneself at first of the reality of such luxury, for
malachite is only used for tables, vases, boxes,
bracelets and jewelry, and these columns, as weU
as the pilasters, are forty-two feet high. Sawn in
the block by circular saws invented for the purpose,
these malachite slabs are fitted over a copper drum
so perfectly that you can scarcely believe it is
merely a veneer, while within the copper a solid
iron cylinder bears the weight of the superposed
attic. The iconostase is pierced with three doors, of
which the central one gives access to the sanctuary ;
the two others to the chapels of St. Catherine and
St. Alexander Nevski. The order is as follows:

ST. ISAAC'S. 331
a pilaster in the corner, and a column, then the door
of a chapel ; next three columns, the principal door,
three more columns, chapel door, a column and a
pilaster. These columns and pilasters divide the wall
into spaces like frames, which are filled with pic
tures on gold, imitating mosaic, modelled from
real mosaics, which will replace them, gradually,
as they are finished. From the foundation to the
cornice are two rows of fraraes, separated by a
second cornice that is broken by the columns, which
is supported at the middle door on two little col
umns of lapis-lazuli, and at the chapel doors on
pilasters of the purest white raarble.
Above is an attic, intersected with pilasters,
incrusted with porphyry, jasper, agate, malachite
and other native precious materials, decorated with
ornaraents in gold-bronze, of a richness and splen
dor that is not surpassed by any ehurch screens of
Italy or Spain. The straight pilasters of the col
umns mark out compartments equally filled by
paintings on gold.
A fourth story, in relation to the frontal, passes
the line of the attic, and is terminated by a great
group of gilded angels in adoration at the foot
of the cross, by Vitali, while a kneeling angel is
praying on either side. In the middle of the panel
a painting by Givago represents Jesus in the Gar
den of Gethsemane accepting the bitter cup on that

332 RUSSIA.
terrible evening in which his best loved disciples
had fallen asleep.
Iraraediately beneath are two large angels in
full relief, holding the sacred vases, their silver
wings moving, their garments blown by the air,
accompanied by little angels on smaller projections
that are lost in the wall, who hold up a panel rep
resenting the Last Supper, half in painting, half
in bas-relief. The people are painted; the back
ground of gold portrays with the skillful manage
ment of chiaro-oscuro the room in which the paschal
¦ feast is held. This painting is also by Givago.
Under the archway of the door, decorated by a.
seraicircular inscription in Slavic characters, rises
a group, disposed in the following manner: in the
middle, Christ, the eternal pontiff according to
the order of Melchlzedek, sits enthroned on a
richly decorated seat. In one hand he holds the
ball of the world, figured by a globe of lapis-lazuli,
and with the other makes the sacred gesture. An
aureole surrounds his head; his garments are of
gold. Angels crowd behind his throne ; at his feet
crouch the winged lion and the symbolic ox. On
his right kneels the Holy Virgin; on his left, St.
John, the precursor.
This group, which is eut into the cornice, offers
a remarkable pecuUarity. The people are in full
relief, with the exception of the heads and hands,.
whieh are painted on silver openwork, cut accord
ing to the outline. This composition of the Byzan-

ST. ISAAC'S. 333
tine icon with sculpture, produces an effect of ex
traordinary force, and a close scrutiny is necessary
to discover that the faces and nude portions are
not in relief. The gold reliefs were designed by
Klodt ; the chiaro-oscuro by Neeffs.
To this central subject are attached, by an in
sensible transition, patriarchs, apostles, kings,
saints, martyrs, the just, a pious crowd forming
the court and army of Christ, whose groups fill
the voids in the archivolt. These figures are
painted entirely on gold backgrounds.
The arches of the lateral doors have as ornaraent,
on their tops, the tables of the law and a chalice
radiant with gold and marble surrounded with lit
tle angels.
When the holy door, whieh occupies the middle
of this immense facade, of gold, silver, lapis-lazuli,
malachite, jasper, porphyry, agate, the iraraense
casket of all the riches that human magnificence
undeterred by any expense can bring together,
closes mysteriously its leaves of chiselled, beaten
silver-gilt, thirty-five feet high by fourteen wide,
there are seen from amid the dazzling carved
frames, the most wonderful that have eyer envel
oped the work of a brush, paintings representing
the four Evangelists, the angel Gabriel, and the
Virgin Mary.
But when, amid the pomp of the service, the
sacred door throws wide its leaves, a colossal Christ,
forming the great window in the depths of the

334 RUSSIA.
sanctuary, appears in gold and purple, raising
His right hand to bless, in an attitude in which
modern science has allied itself with the majestic
Byzantine tradition. Nothing could be more beau
tiful or splendid than this iraage of the Saviour,
illuminated with dazzling rays as in the depths of
a sky, opened through the gateway of the icono
stase. The "dim, religious light" that reigns in
the ehurch at certain hours augments still more
the splendor and transparency of this raagnificent
window, painted in Munich.
Such are the principal divisions. Let us now
describe the figures they enclose, commencing at
the first row on the right, as the visitor faces the
iconostase. First, then, Jesus Christ on his Byzantine
throne, the globe in his hand, in the act of bestow
ing his benediction ; next comes St. Isaac, the Dal
matian, unrolling the plan of the cathedral. Both
these figures are executed in mosaics, on back
grounds composed of little cubes of crystal lined
with gold, producing the same warm, rich effect
that is so much admired in the St. Sophia in Con
stantinople, and St. Mark's in Venice. A painting
in precious stones should always have a gold field.
St. Nicholas, bishop of Myra and the patron saint
of Russia, in a brocaded dalraatic, his hand raised
and holding a book, occupies the third panel.
St. Peter, separated from St. Nicholas by the

Interior of St. Isaac's Cathedral,
St. Petersburg

ST. ISAAC'S. 335
door of the lateral chapel, terrainates the row.
All these figures are the work of Neeffs.
Leaving the group of the Saviour in His glory
surrounded by His elect, the first figure on the sec
ond file is St. Michael fighting the dragon ; next in
the sarae panel come St. Anna and St. Elizabeth,
who are united by their miraculous maternities.
The last compartment encloses Constantine the
Great, and the empress Helena, clothed in purple
and gold. This row is by Theodore Bruloff.
In the attic, following the same order, are seen,
separated by marble pillars, incrusted with other
stones, the prophet Isaiah, whose extended finger
seems to pierce the shadows of the future; Jere
miah with the roll, upon which are inscribed his
Lamentations ; David, leaning on his harp ; Noah,
designated by the rainbow ; and finally, Adam, the
father of men, painted by Givago.
On the left of the sacred door, in harmony with
the Christ placed on the other side, the Holy Vir
gin is presented with the child on her knees. This
picture is also executed in mosaic, as well as thp
neighboring panel, representing St. Alexander
Nevski in armor, with the buckler and standard
of the faith, on whieh is the face of Christ. Next
to St. Alexander Nevski is' St. Catherine, a erown
on her head, a palm in her hand, while near her
is the wheel, the instrument of her raartyrdom; in
the corner beyond the arcade of the chapel St.

336 RUSSIA.
Paul is leaning on his sword. They all are the
work of Neeffs.
The second row contains St. Nicholas, in a coarse
frock; St. Magdalen and the Tzarina Alexandra,
in the same panel ; the flrst designated by the vase
of perfume, the other by her erown, sword and
palm ; St. Vladimir and St. Olga, to be recognized
by their imperial vestments: aU by Theodore
Bruloff. On the third row follow in the order in which
we name them : Daniel with a lion crouching near
him; the, prophet Elias; King Solomon, carrying
the raodel of the teraple; Melchlzedek, king of
Salem, presenting the bread of the sacrifice; and
finally, the patriarch Abrahara, by Givago, as weU
as all the figures we have just named.
This rampart of images, separated by pillars of
malachite, compartments of precious marble, richly
decorated cornices, produces amid the mysterious
dim light reigning in this part of the cathedral
a magnificent, imposing effect. Sometiraes a sud
den ray of light turns the golden backgrounds into
a blaze of glory; or a single plaque is lighted up,
causing the saint to stand in bold relief as if in
stinct with life; or a stray sunbeam glides along
the flutings of the malachite, a spark lingers on a
gilded capital, a garland stands out in the light.
The painted heads of a golden group assume a
singular animation, resembling those miraculous
images of the legends, that look, speak and weep.

ST. ISAAC'S. 337
The scintillations of the tapers throw their flicker
ing light on some detail hitherto unnoticed and
starts it into new loveliness. According to the
hour, the veil of the sanctuary is obscured or
illumined, with warm shadows or flashing splen
dors. On the left of the iconostase, as one faces it, is
the chapel, placed under the protection of St. Cath
erine. It is entered by an archway, surraounted
by angels holding the pix, which opens into the
great iconostase itself, close to the sacred door.
The iconostase of St. Catherine's chapel can
be seen frora the extreme end of the church, framed
within the side nave. Its fagade is of the purest
white marble, incrusted with malachite and
adorned with ornaraents of gilt bronze, while on
its frontal is a gilded group, by Pimenef, repre
senting Our Lord Jesus Christ rising from the
tomb, to the terror of the guards. In the tyrapan,
cherubim display on a piece of linen that portrait
of the Saviour so miraculously imprinted there,
which was never painted by human hand. "The
Placing of the Divine Body in the Tomb" occupies
the frieze. In the archivolte, above the door,
"The Last Supper" is portrayed. The heads of
the four Evangelists, the angel Gabriel, and Mary
beautify the leaves of the door.
Christ, presenting the open Gospel, occupies the
first panel; on the right in the upper panel is St.
22

338 RUSSIA.
Catherine with her ordinary attributes of crown,.
palm and wheel.
The Holy Virgin of Vladimir is a dependent to
the figure of Christ, on the left panel ; above her, St.
Anastasia, fastened to a funeral pyre, is suffering
martyrdom. On the right door, done in open
work, is the Eraperor Constantine, crowned and
wearing a robe of gold brocade covered with eagles.
In the upper corapartraent is St. Metrophanus de
Voroneje with a cross. On the other door is the
empress Helena, holding a cross, to signify that
she discovered the remains of the true cross; un
derneath IS St. Sergius of Radonej.
Within the interior of the iconostase are the
paintings of "Jesus Christ Blessing a Likeness of
the Saviour on Linen, ' ' by Pluchart, and ' ' A Holy
Virgin," by Chamchine.
Opposite the window rises the lateral wall of
the great iconostase, decorated with sculpture and
paintings. Square Ionian pilasters of the purest
marble support the consoles whieh sustain the attic.
Over the door angels are adoring a radiant chalice
raised on a pedestal adorned with triple cherubim
heads. The archangel Michael, copied freely by Theo
dore Bruloff from the St. Michael of the Louvre,
has crushed the devil under foot. On either side
are St. Alexis of Moscow, and St. Peter, the Met
ropolitan, clothed in rich sacerdotal vestments.
The second row, formed of panels framed in rich

ST. ISAAC'S. 339
mouldings, contains St. Boris and St. Glebe, St.
Barnabas, St. John and St. Tiraothy, St. Theo
dosius and St. Anthony. All these figures are
painted on gold backgrounds with a slight touch of
the archaic.
The ceiling of the cupola represents "The As
sumption of the Virgin;" the pendentives contain
St. John of Damascus, St. Cyril of Jerusalera, St.
Clement, and St. Ignatius.
Within the arches, Bassine, to whom were in
trusted the mural paintings of this chapel, has
portrayed the martyrdora of St. Catherine, of St.
Dmitri, and of St. George, and the renouncing of
the world by St. Barbara.
On the other side of the great iconostase, as a
dependency to the chapel of St. Catherine, is the
chapel of St. Alexander Nevski. whose iconostase
is arranged in exactly the same manner.
Jesus on Mt. Tabor, a gilt group by Pimenef,
crowns the frontal. Underneath cherubim dis
play a drapery on which is written a legend in
Slavonic characters. In the frieze is painted a
bearing of the cross. Then comes, in the archi
volte, the Last Supper, and on the door the four
Evangelists, and the Annunciation embodied by
Gabriel and Mary.
To the right of the door Christ is calling little
children to Him. The upper compartment is oc
cupied by St. Alexander Nevski in armor. In the
recess on the same line is seen the Tzarevich

340 RUSSIA.
Dmitri, a young chfld, that angels are carrying
heavenward. Underneath, St. Vladimir, crowned,
is dressed in a brocaded robe and carrying a Greek
cross. On the left is the Holy Virgin with the chfld
Jesus, and above is St. Spiridion; on the carved
side are St. Michael of Tver in armor, and St.
Olga in imperial garments, pressing a cross to her
breast. The figures of this iconostase were painted
by Maikof. In the interior of the iconostase is
"A Christ Blessing" by Pluchart, and a "Na
tivity" by Chamchine.
The ceiling of the recess has as its subjeet Jeho
vah in His glory, surrounded by a circle of angels
and seraphim. In the pendentives are painted St.
Nicodemus, St. Joseph, the husband of the Virgin,
St. James the Less, surnamed the brother of Christ,
and Joseph of Arimathea.
The tympans of the arches are filled with scenes
taken frora the life of St. Alexander Nevski, to
whom the chapel is dedicated. In one, he is pray
ing for his country; in another, he has gained a
victory against the Swedes, and his white horse
is curveting in the midst of the melee ; in the third,
stretehed on his death-bed, he is making an edify
ing Christian end, amid burning candles and pray
ing priests; in the fourth, his remains are being
piously transported to their final resting place on
a rich catafalque carried on a boat. These paint-

ST. ISAAC'S. 341
ings, like the mural paintings of St. Catherine's
Chapel, are due to Pietro Bassine.
The wall of the principal iconostase, which en
closes on that side the chapel of St. Alexander
Nevski, offers the same divisions as the other, and
its ornamentation is identical, except that above
the door the Tables of the Law, carved in marble,
replace the chalice.
On the door Theodore Bruloff has painted the
angel Gabriel. On the impost is Moses, between
the prophets Samuel and Elias. The two neigh
boring panels contain St. Polycarp and St. Ta-
raise, St. Methodius and St. Cyril, apostles to the
Slavs. The panels of the door represent St. Philip
and St. Jonas, the Metropolitan of Moscow. All
these personages, on gold backgrounds and in mod
ernized Byzantine style, are by Dorner.
There remains only to describe the Holy of
Holies, hidden from the eyes of the faithful by
the veil of gold, malachite, lapis-lazuli, and agate
of the iconostase. This raysterious sacred enclo
sure, where are celebrated the secret rites of the
Greek Church, is rarely entered. It is a sort of
room or choir, lighted by the window on which
shines the gigantic Christ that is seen from the
extremities of the church when thp sanctuary-
doors are opened. Two of the walls are formed
by the inner side of the partitions omamented
with paintings, whose description we have just fin
ished. Low down on the reverse side of the door.

342 RUSSIA.
St. Lawrence is holding his gridiron, the instrument
of his raartyrdora, St. Basil the Great and St. Greg
ory of Nazianze are painted in the side compart
ments. The attic, divided into three frames, shows
in the flrst St. Gregory Dialogos and St. Ephraim
of Syria ; in the seeond, over the door, St. Gregory
of Nysse, St. Samson, and St. Eusebius; in the
third, St. Cosmos and St. Damian. Dorner, the
Bavarian artist, painted the figures in the second
row, and Moldavsky those of the lower one.
The north wall exactly repeats this arrangement.
St. Etien is represented on the door. On either
side are St. John Chrysostom and St. Athanasius
of Alexander, by Moldavsky. The upper row,
painted by Dorner, contains Alexis, the man of
God, and St. John Climax, St. Tychon of Ama-
thonte, St. Pantaleimon and St. Methodius, St.
Antony, and St. Theodore of Kief.
Behind the iconostase is seen an image of Christ,
received on the handkerchief offered by St. Veron
ica, by Neeffs, and above a Christ blessing the
Holy Offerings, by Chamchine.
On the ceiling, painted by Bruni, are "The Holy
Spirit by Angels," and on the three faces of the
attic "The Washing of the Feet," "Jesus Giving
the Keys to St. Peter," "Jesus Appearing to the
Apostles," compositions full of spirit and the
purest religious feeling.
The altar, of pure white marble, is of the noblest
simplicity. A model of the church of St Isaac's

ST. ISAAC'S. 343
in silver gilt is placed on the top of the tabernacle.
This model presents certain details that are not
found in the actual church. As, for example, the
buttresses that support the bell-towers are adorned
with large groups in relief like those of the Arc
de Triomphe in Paris, and the attic was surmounted
by a suite of bas-reliefs whose effect would have
been most happy.
We have passed over certain medallions or com
partments in the interior of the church, framed
in the midst of vaultings and soffits badly lighted,
difficult to see, whose value is purely decorative,
such as the angels carrying the sacred attributes,
by Chamchine; Elias, Enoch, Faith, Llope, Char
ity, Wisdom, Love, by Maikof. We only raention
them in order that our work raay be complete.
Now that we have described, with all the care
of which we are capable, the exterior and interior
of St. Isaac's, let us sketch with a freer pencil
some of the principal effects of light and shade
in this immense edifice. There is not sufficient
light in St. Isaac's, or at least it is unequally di
vided. The cupola throws a flood of light on the
center of the cathedral, and the four large win
dows light suffieiently the cupolas, situated at the
four corners of the building. But the other por
tions remain dark, or at least are light only dur
ing certain parts of the day, or owing to fugitive
rays of light. It is a wished-for defect, for noth
ing could be more easy than to open windows in

344 RUSSIA.
this monument standing alone on every side. M.
de Montferrand desired this mysterious half-Ught,
favorable to religious impression and earnest
prayer. But he probably lost sight of the fact
that this dimness, which suits Roman, Byzantine,
or Gothic architecture so well, is less happy in an
edifice in the classic style, made for sunshine, all
covered with precious raarbles, gold ornaments and
mural paintings, that ought to be seen, and that
people wish to see, after their devotions have been
accomplished. A number of these paintings have
been executed in great part by lamp-light, which
of itself should have condemned the places they
occupy. It would have been easy, in our opinion,
to conciliate everything, and have light and shadow
in turn, with windows that could be darkened by
shutters, hangings, or shades. Religion would have
lost nothing, and art would have gained thereby.
If St. Petersburg has long summer days, there are
also long winter nights that encroach on the day,
during which a very dim light filters through the
sky. Still it must be acknowledged wonderfid effects
are resultant frpm these alternations of light and
shadow. When one looks through the long, dark
naves at the St. Alexander Nevski and St. Cath
erine chapels, whose iconostases in white marble,
adorned with gold bronze, incrusted with mala
chite and agate, covered with paintings on gold,
receive the sunshine from a great side window,

ST. ISAAC'S. 345
one is dazzled with the radiance of the fronts,
framed in by their sombre vaultings which serve
as background. The great window representing
the Christ shines resplendent amid the half-light
with a wonderful intensity of coloring. Nor is
the uncertain light injurious to the isolated figures
whose full outline is clearly defined on a gold
background. The brilliancy of the metal always
brings the figure into sufficient relief, but such is
by no means always the case with compositions
made up of large groups on natural backgrounds.
Many charming details escape the eye and even
the lorgnettes. Byzantine churehes, or, to speak
more exactly, the Greco-Russian style, in which
reigns this religious mystery that M. de Montfer
rand desired to obtain for St. Isaac's, do not in
clude pictures in the real sense of the word; the
walls are covered with decorative paintings, whose
personages are traced, without any attempt at ef
fect or illusion, on a plain field of gold or color, in
conventional postures, with invariable attributes,
expressed by simple traits and flat tints, which
dress the edifice, as it were, in a rich tapestry,
whose general tone pleases the eye. We know very
well that M. de Montferrand recommended to the
artists charged with the painting of St. Isaac's
to proceed in large masses with free touches and
a decorative manner: a counsel more easily given
than followed, in view of the architecture adopted.
Each artist has done his best, according to his

346 RUSSIA.
nature and the resources of his genius, bowing, in
spite of himself, to the modem character of the
church, except with the iconostases, where the fig
ures, either isolated or placed one after the other
in t-he gold panels, stand out iraperiously, assum
ing those clearly cut contours suitable to painting
when it is destined to ornament an edifice.
The corapositions of M. Bruni, which we have
noted as they presented themselves in the descrip
tion of the church, the subject or the order, are
admirable from a deep feeling of style and truly
historie treatment, formed by a profound, careful
study of the Italian masters. We are insistent on
this quality, for it is so often lost sight of, Ingres
and his school being its last interpreters. A cer
tain way of telling the story, a too curious search
into effect or detail, the fear that too much severity
will prevent its success, deprive modern works of
the stamp of magisterial gravity possessed in past
centuries by works of even the second order. Bruni
continued these grand traditions, he sought in
spiration from the frescoes of the Sistine and the
Vatican, adding, besides his personal feeling, to
that inspiration, something of the profound,
thoughtful manner peculiar to the German school.
One feels that if Bruni studied ]\Iichael Angelo
and Raphael, he has also thrown a sagacious glance
at Overbeck, Cornelius, and Kaulbach, whose works
have exerted raore influence upon the art of to-day
than is generally supposed. He ponders, arranges,

ST. ISAAC'S. 347
balances and reasons over his compositions, with
out that haste to begin painting that is so percepti
ble in many of the paintings of to-day, otherwise
full of excellence. With Bruni, execution is the
means of expressing thought, not its end ; he under
stands that when the subject has been portrayed
on the cartoon, with style, nobility and grandeur,
the most important part of his task has been ac
complished. He even sometimes neglects color too
much, adraitting in too great a proportion those
sombre, neutral, abstract tints, in his eagerness to
allow to the idea the prorainent position. We do
not like in historical painting what is called illu
sion; it is not at all necessary that too coarse a
reality or too material a life should trouble those
serene pages where the iraage of objects, and not
the objects themselves, should alone be reproduced ;
still it is well to be a little careful, espeeially in
thinking of the future, in the use of those
dark, flat localisms engendered by the study
of the old frescoes. The paintings executed
by Bruni in St. Isaac's are the most monu
mental that the church possesses, being char
acterized by dignity and individuality. Al
though he is wonderfully successful with figures
demanding energy, and is sufficiently conversant
with anatomy to attempt the portrayal of muscu
lar force demanded by certain subjects, Bruni is
endowed in addition, as with an especial gift,
with the grace and angelic sweetness of Overbeck.

348 RUSSIA.
There are in his figures of angels, cherubim and
happy souls an elegance, a distinction, if one may
be allowed this word,— usually employed in more
worldly fashion, — and a poetry of exquisite charm.
Pieter Neeffs has undertaken the work confided to
him more in the fashion of an artist working for a
museum than the decorator of a monument, but we
do not owe him a grudge on that account. His
pictures, placed much nearer the eye, shoulder-
high, so to speak, in those niches of the waUs and
pilasters which serve as frames and which give
mural painting the appearance of a picture, do not
demand the sacrifices of effect and perspective re
quired by the attics, the vaultings, and the cupolas.
This artist has a warm, brilliant coloring, a skiUful,
precise execution that recalls Peter von Hess, whose
works we saw in Munich.
"Jesus Sending His Portrait to Abgarus" and
"The Empress Helena Finding the True Cross"
are remarkable pictures, which could be taken from
their places without any loss of value. All the
other paintings of Neeffs, in the niches of the
pilasters, bear the stamp of the master and reveal
an artist gifted with a rare appreciation of color
and chiaro-oscuro. The solitary figures he has exe
cuted on the iconostases, the heads and the por
tions of the nude painted by him in the great gold
group surmounting the sacred door, possess depth
of tone and wonderful boldness of execution.
The paintings of Bruni, for composition and

ST. ISAAC'S. 349
style, and those of Neeffs, for color and execu
tion, seemed to us the most satisfactory of their
kind. Pietro Bassine, in his numerous works, has
evinced richness, facility, and that decorative man
ner that distinguished the painters of the eight
eenth century, to whom in our day has been re
stored the esteem that David and his sehool had
denied them. It may be said now in praising an
artist, that he resembles Pietro da Cortona, Carlo
Maratta, or Tiepolo. Bassine covers great spaces
with ease. He has a perfect understanding of
what is called in art ' ' the machine. ' ' His composi
tions make a picture, a rarer talent than one raight
suppose, and one that is fast disappearing. Every
one is acquainted with the conservative, pure and
correct talent of Mussini: he has painted in the
niches of the pilasters several corapositions that
but confirm the reputation he has already acquired.
Markoff, Zavialoff, Pluchart, Sazonoff, Theodore
Bruloff, Nikitine, Schebonief, all merit praise for
the manner in which they have acquitted them
selves of the tasks confided to thera.
If we do not pass a definite judgment of the
cupola by Charles Bruloff, it is because illness and
death, as we said when we described his compo
sition executed by Bassine, prevented hira from
painting it himself, as well as frora impressing
upon it the cachet of his own personality, one of
the most forceful and remarkable ever produced
by Russian national art.

350 RUSSIA.
In Bruloff was the stuff for a great painter, and,
araid numerous faults, something that redeemed
them all,— genius. His head, which he painted
himself several times, with the pallor and increas
ing emaciation of illness, sparkles with it. Under
his uncared-for blonde hair, behind that forehead
ever increasingly white, illumined by eyes from
whieh life was fast fleeing, there are a thousand
evidences of artistic, poetic fancy.
Now let us sum up in a few lines this long study
on the magnificent cathedral of St. Isaac's. It
is beyond doubt, whether one admires the style or
not, the raost remarkable piece of architecture that
has been executed in this century. It does honor
to M. de Montferrand, who led it to its conclusion
in so short a tirae (forty years), and who can sleep
in his tomb, repeating to himself with more truth
than many a haughty poet : ' ' Exegi monumentum,
£ere perennius" (I have erected a monument raore
enduring than brass), a satisfaction rarely accord
ed to architects, whose plans are generally so long
in being realized, and who are present only in spirit
at the inauguration of the teraples they have be
gun. In spite of the rapidity with which St. Isaac's
was built, there was time enough between the plac
ing of the first and the last stone to bring about
many changes. At the time in which the plans of
the cathedral were received the classic taste reigned
without division or rival. Only the Greek or Ro-

ST. ISAAC'S. 351
man style was considered as the type of perfec
tion. All that the genius of man had imagined to
realize the ideal of a new religion was regarded
as null and void. Roman, Byzantine, Gothic archi
tecture was considered in bad taste, contrary to
rule, barbarous, in a word. It was only accorded
a certain historie value, but no one ever dreamed
of taking it as a model. At best the Renaissance
was to be pardoned on account of its love for an
tiquity, with whieh it raingled many delicious in
ventions and charming caprices, blamed by severe
critics. At last the Romantic school arrived whose
passionate studies of the Middle Ages, and the
national origins of art, brought about a corapre
hension, by means of its enthusiastic commenta
ries, of the beauties of those basilicas, of those
cathedrals, of those chapels, so long despised as the
patient but little enlightened work of a credulous
age. It was discovered there existed an art, very
complete, very reasonable, with a perfect con
sciousness of its own powers, obedient to certain
flxed rules, possessing a complicated and mysteri
ous symbolism, in those edifices, as wonderful for
their size as for the finish of their every detail,
that had heretofore been regarded as the hap
hazard work of ignorant stone-cutters and masons.
A reaction was thus brought about, that soon be
came as unjust as reactions generally are. All
merit was denied to modern buildings taken from

352 RUSSIA.
classic models, and probably more than one Rus
sian was filled with regret that in their sumptu
ous temple they had not rather imitated St. Sophia
of Constantinople than the Pantheon of Rorae.
Such an opinion can readily be supported ; perhaps
it may even prevail to-day. There would certainly
be nothing unreasonable about it, if the building
of St. Isaac's were about to be commenced now,
but when the plans were all made no architect
could have acted in any other way than did M. de
Montferrand; any attempt directed in any other
direction must have seemed foolish to him.
For our part, quite outside of any predileetion
for any particular system, the classic style seems
to us the most suitable for St. Isaac's, central shrine
of the Greek faith. The eraployment of these
forms, consecrated apart from fashion or time,
which can never, for they are eternal, become super
annuated or barbarous, no matter how long the
edifice remains, was the wisest for a raonument
of this kind, upon which they irapress a stamp
of universality. Known by all civilized peoples,
these forras can excite only adrairation, without
surprise or criticisra, and if another style might
have appeared more local, more picturesque, more
uncommon, it might also have given rise to the
inconvenience of various judgments, and perhaps
even itself been bizarre, an impression directly
contrary to that desired to be produced. De Mont
ferrand did not seek the curious, but the beauti-

ST. ISAAC'S. 353
ful, and certainly St. Isaac's is the most beautiful
church of raodern times. Its architecture suits
St. Petersburg adrairably, the youngest and new
est of the capitals.
Those who regret that St. Isaac's is not in the
Byzantine style make us think of those people who
are always regretting that St. Peter's in Rome is
not built in Gothic style. These great teraples, the
centers of religion, should affect nothing in par
ticular that is temporary or local, so that all the
centuries and all the faithful, frora whatever place
they may come, can kneel there surrounded by
richness, beauty and splendor.

MOSCOW.

( 355)

XVI.

MOSCOW.

In spite of finding life in St. Petersburg so
charming, we were- penetrated with the desire of
beholding the true Russian capital, the great Mus
covite city, an undertaking that the railroad would
render easy of accoraplishment.
We were by this time sufficiently acclimated to
have no dread of a journey in thirteen degrees
below zero. The opportunity of going to Moscow
in agreeable company presenting itself, it was
seized with eagerness and forthwith we buckled
on our great winter costume : sable pelisse, castor
bonnet, furred boots reaching to the knee, and sal
lied forth. One sleigh took our luggage, another
received our person carefully tucked in with furs,
and there we were in the huge railroad station
awaiting the hour of departure, indicated for high
noon. But Russian railroads do not pique them
selves upon their undeviating punctuality. If
some great personage is to go by the train, the
locomotive moderates its ardor for some minutes,
even a quarter of an hour if necessary, to give him
time to arrive. The travelers are accompanied
by their families and friends; and when the last
(357)

358

RUSSIA.

bell rings, the separation is not accomplished with
out hand-shakings, embraces, and tender words,
often interrupted with tears. Sometiraes even the
entire group take tickets, get into the car and go to
the next station, meaning to return by the next
train. We love this custom and think it charming ;
one wishes to enjoy a little longer the presence of
the loved one, and to defer as long as possible the
sad raoment of separation.
A painter would have observed there on the
faces of these moujiks, very plain otherwise, ex
pressions of a pathetic simplicity. Mothers, wives,
whose sons or husbands were going away probably
for a long time, recall, by their naive and deep
grief, the holy women, with their red eyes, and
mouths contracted with sorrow, that the artists
of the Middle Ages placed on the way of the cross.
We have seen in different lands many places of
embarkment for stearaers, many railroad stations,
but never have we seen in any place adieus so ten
der or heart-broken as in Russia.
The preparation of a railroad train in a country
where the thermoraeter descends frequently duriag
the winter to thirty degrees below zero is very
different from the method eraployed in raore tera
perate cliraes. The hot water in the zinc foot-
warmers used in France would very soon be frozen
under the feet of the travelers, who would have
under them only a block of ice. The air passing
through the joints of the doors and windows would

MOSCOW. 359
occasion colds, pneumonia, and rheuraatisra. Sev
eral wagons joined together and communicating by
doors, that open and shut at the will of the trav
elers, form a sort of apartment, preceded by an
ante-chamber, with water-closet and dressing-room
where the small luggage is placed. This ante
chamber leads out to a platform surrounded by a
balustrade, that is reached by a stairs infinitely
raore convenient than the foot-boards used in
France. Stoves, filled with wood, warra the compartment,
maintaining a teraperature of sixty or sixty-five
degrees. At the cracks of the windows rolls of felt
keep out the cold air and concentrate the heat
within. So, you see, a journey frora St. Peters
burg to Moscow in the raonth of January, in a
teraperature whose annunciation alone would give
a Parisian a chill and make his teeth chatter, has
nothing in the least glacial about it. One would
unquestionably suffer more in accomplishing, at
the same tirae, a trip from Burgos to Valladolid.
Around the first of the carriages runs a broad
divan, for the use of those who wish to sleep or
do not object to crossing their legs in Oriental fash
ion. We preferred the divan to the elastic fau
teuils furnished with little braided piUows in the
second room, and forthwith established ourselves
comfortably in a corner. Thus settled, we felt as
if we were in a house on wheels, without any of
the accustomed discomforts of a railway carriage.

360 RUSSIA.
We could get up, walk about, pass from one car
to another with the perfect freedom of a passenger
on a steamboat, of which the unhappy wretch
fastened up in a diligence, post-chaise or railway-
carriage as they are manufactured in France is
absolutely deprived.
Our place being taken and marked by a travel
ing-bag, and the train not being ready to start,
we were walking about the station, when fhe un
usual shape of the boiler of the locoraotive at
tracted our attention. Its top is an enorraous
funnel, like those Venetian chimneys with sweUed-
out hoods, that rise so picturesquely above the pink
walls in Canaletto's pictures.
Russian locomotives are not heated with coal as
in the western part of Europe, but with wood.
Sticks of birch or pine are piled up regularly on
the tender, and are renewed at the stations that
have wood-yards. This explains the saying of
the old peasants, that at the rate they are going
now it will soon be necessary in Holy Russia to
tear the logs out of the "isbas" (cabins) to feed
the stoves ; but long before the forests are cut down,
those at least not too far away from the railroad,
the engineers will have discovered beds of coal.
This virgin soil must hide inexhaustible wealth.
At last we are off. We leave on our right, on the
ancient post-road, the triumphal arch of Moscow,
with its grandiose outline silhouetted against the
sky; the houses fly past, gradually growing more

MOSCOW. 361
scattered, their wooden fences and walls painted
in the old Russian fashion, their green roofs frozen
under the snow ; for in proportion as we leave the
centers the buildings, whieh in the handsome quar
ters affect the style of Berlin, London, or Paris,
resurae the national character. St. Petersburg is
fading away in the distance, but the golden cu
pola of St. Isaac's, the spire of the Admiralty,
the pyramids of the church of the Horse Guards,
the doraes of starry blue, the tulip-shaped bell-
towers of brass, still sparkle against the horizon,
producing the effect of a Byzantine crown placed
on a cushion of silver brocade. The houses of men
have disappeared into the earth ; those of God flash
upwards towards heaven.
While we are looking out the window, the panes,
owing to the contrast between th5 cold outside and
the warrath within, are being fast covered with
light, silver-colored foliage, which spreading out
into graceful boughs and broad leaves, soon forms
a fairy forest, so dense that all view of the land
scape is intercepted. Certainly, nothing can be
more beautiful than boughs, arabesques and fili
grees of frost, so daintily traced by the finger of
winter. It is part of the poetry of the North,
among which iraagination can run riot in a thou
sand fancies. Still, when we have gazed at them
upwards of an hour, we grow weary of this white
embroidered veil, that prevents us equally frora
seeing or being seen.

362 RUSSIA.
One's curiosity is piqued at the thought that
beyond those dimmed glasses is passing an entirely
unknown world, which our eyes may never again
have the chance of seeing. In Prance we would
have composedly lowered the window, but in Rus
sia such an imprudence would have been fatal:
the cold, which is ever on the watch for prey,
would have stretched into the carriage its great
polar paw and seized us in its erabrace.
In the open air one may contend with him, as
with a fierce foe, though after all loyal and gen
erous in his strength; but never let him penetrate
within your walls; open neither door nor window
to his approach; for then he engages in mortal
combat with the warmth, pierces it with his icy
arrows, and if you too receive one in the side you
will find it difficult indeed to be cured.
Still something must be done, for it would have
been indeed sad to have been earried from St. Pe
tersburg to Moscow in a box in which there was
but a square of milky white, that allowed no sight
of the outside world. We are not, thank Heaven,
of the temperament of that Englishman who had
himself taken from London to Constantinople with
a bandage over his eyes, that was only taken off at
the entrance to the Golden Horn, in order that
this splendid panorama, without rival in the world,
might burst upon him all at once, free from grad
ual transitions. So then, let us draw our fur bon
net down to our eyebrows, turn up the collar of

MOSCOW. 363
our pelisse and fasten it tightly, put on our high
boots, thrust our hands into the gloves that leave
but the thumb free, — a true Samoiede costume, —
and let us direct our steps bravely to the platform
in front of the ante-chamber of the carriage. A
veteran in a military cloak, decorated with a row
of medals, was keeping guard over these steps, and
apparently was not at all inconvenienced by the
temperature. A little tip of a silver-rouble, that he
did not ask for but did not refuse, induced him to
obligingly turn towards another point of the hori
zon, while we lighted an excellent cigar from
EUseief 's, taken from one of those boxes with glass
sides, that allow one to see the merchandise with
out breaking the band of the government stamp.
We were soon forced to throw away this pure
Havana de la 'Vuelta de Abajo, for if it burned
at one end it froze at the other.
A lump of ice soldered it to our lips, so that a
piece of skin came off on the tobacco every time
we took it away from our lips. To smoke in the
open, with the temperature thirty degrees below
zero, is something quite impossible, and it is not
very difficult to conform to the ukase that pro
hibits pipe or cigar out of doors. The scene un
rolled before our eyes presented, howevser, enough
interest to atone for this small privation.
As far as the eye could reach, the snow covered
the ground with its cold drapery, leaving the
vague form of objects lying under its folds, much

364 RUSSIA.
as a shroud covers a body. There were neither
roads, paths, rivers nor demarcations of any sort.
Nothing but scarcely perceptible reliefs and de
pressions in the universal whiteness. The beds of
the frozen rivers could only be distinguished by a
sort of indentation that traced its windings across
the snow, and was frequently covered by it. In
the distance, clusters of rusty birches, half-buried,
raised their bare heads. From some log-cabins
covered with icicles, rose curls of sraoke, making
a spot on the pallor of this sad, grey day. The
railroad was designated by lines of brushwood
planted in several rows, meant to catch the white,
icy dust that the north wind from the pole whirls
with maddening force across its straight bed.
It is difficult to describe the strange, sad gran
deur of that immense white landscape, offeriag the
appearance presented by the fuU moon when seen
through the telescope. One felt as if in a dead
planet paralyzed with etemai cold. The imagina
tion refuses to believe that this prodigious mass
eould ever melt, evaporate or return to the sea
in the swollen torrents of the streams, and that a
day of spring would transform these colorless
plains into green, flowering meadows. The low.
cloudy sky, of a monotonous grey, that the white
of the earth made seem yellow, added to the mel
ancholy of the landscape. A profound silence,
only interrupted by the rumbling of the train over
the rails, reigned in this boundless solitude, for

MOSCOW. 365
the snow deadened every sound with its carpet of
ermine. Not a soul was to be seen across the desert
waste, not a trace of animal or man. The raan
was cowering among the flre-logs of his isba, the
animal in the depths of his den. Only on ap
proaching the stations, there issued from snow
drifts, sleighs and kibitkas, the little, dishevelled
horses galloping across flelds without thought of
the effaced roads, coming frora sorae unseen vil
lage to meet travelers. In our car were a nuraber
of young nobleraen going hunting, and dressed
for the occasion in beautiful new touloupes of a
light salmon color, stitched with graceful ara
besques. The touloupe is a sort of blouse of sheep
skin, whose wool is worn inside, as are all the furs
in really cold countries. A button fastens it on
the shoulder, a leather belt with metal buckle
around the waist. Add to this an Astrakhan bon
net, white felt boots, a hunting knife stuck in the
belt, and you will have a costurae of entirely
Asiatic elegance ; although it is the costume of the
peasant, the "barines" (nobles) do not hesitate
to wear it upon occasion, for nothing could be
more convenient or better adapted to the climate.
Then, too, the difference between this clean, supple
touloupe, as soft as a glove, and the spotted, greasy,
soiled touloupe of the moujik, is too vast to incur
the risk of any possible confusion. Those birch
and pine forests, standing out in brown lines
against the distant horizon, are teeming with

366 RUSSIA.
wolves, bears, and even it is said, elk, the wild,
fierce game of the North, the hunting of which is
often accompanied with danger, and demands
agile Nimrods, robust and courageous.
A troika, drawn by three superb horses, was
awaiting our young noblemen at one of the sta
tions, and we watched them disappear into the in
terior at a pace the locomotive might have en-sded,
over a road lost amid the snow, but indicated at
intervals by raeans of posts as landraarks.
At the rate at which they went, they were soon
lost to sight. They were to raeet at a chateau,
whose name we have forgotten, some corapanions,
and bade fair to be rauch more fortunate than
those foolish men in La Fontaine's fables who sold
the bear's skin before they had killed him. They
were counting upon killing the bear, and keeping
his skin, to raake of it one of those foot-rugs with
a scarlet border and stuffed head, over which new
ly-arrived travelers never fail to stumble in the
drawing-rooms of St. Petersburg. Frora their
quietly assured manner, we have not the slightest
doubt of their skill as hunters.
We will not mention individually the stations
along the route; it would not impart very valua
ble information to our readers were we to announce
that the train stopped at such and such a place,
whose name would awake no idea or souvenir; all
the more so, that the cities or towns, of little im
portance for the most part, are often quite dis-

Church Imperial, St. Petersbtxrg

MOSCOW. 367
tant from the railroad, and can only be announced
by the green bulbs and copper cupolas of their
churches. For the railroad frora St. Petersburg
to Moscow follows a straight line inflexibly, never
raaking a detour under any pretext. It does not
honor, with a single curve or bend, Tver, the raost
considerable city it raeets in its course, frora whieh
the steamers of the Volga start ; it passes by haugh
tily at some distanee, and Tver must be reached
either by sleigh or drosky, according to the sea
son. The stations are built on a uniform plan and
are magnificent. Their architecture mingles har
moniously the red tones of brick with the white
tones of stone. But having seen one, you have
seen all; so we will describe the one where we
stopped for dinner. This station enjoys the dis
tinction of being built not alongside of the road,
but exactly in the middle, like the church of Mary
lebone in the Strand. The railroad encircles it on
each side, and here it is that the trains for Mos
cow and for St. Petersburg meet and pass. The
two trains discharge the travelers to right and to
left, who later raeet at the sarae table in the station
restaurant. The Moscow train takes the people
from Archangel, Tobolsk, Kiakhta, Irkoutsk, the
lands bordering the river Amur, the shores of the
Caspian Sea, from Kazan, Tiflis, Caucasus, Cri
mea, from the depths of all the European and
Asiatic Russias, who as they pass shake hands

368 RUSSIA.
with their Western acquaintances, brought on the
train from St. Petersburg. It is a cosmopolitan
love-feast, where are heard more languages than
in the tower of Babel. Rows of great double-sashed
windows on either side light the room where the
table is spread, and where reigns a mild hothouse
temperature, that allows the palras and tulip-trees
and other tropical plants to expand their great
silky leaves. This luxury of rare plants, which
one does not expect to find in so harsh a climate,
is almost universal in Russia. It iraparts an air
of luxury to the interiors, rests the eyes after the
dazzling of the snow, and maintains the tradition
of verdure. The table was splendidly served, cov
ered with silver and glass, and loaded do-wn with
flowers of every sort and kind. The long quilles
of the Rhine wine towered above the bottles of Bor
deaux with their slender, metal-topped corks and
the bottles of champagne with their silver paper
tops; all the fine brands were there, Chateau
d'Yquem, the Haut Barsac, Chateau Lafitte,
Genau-Larose, Veuve Cliquot, Roederer, IMoet,
Sternberg-Cabinet, as well as all the celebrated
brands of English beers: a complete assortraent
of famous beverages, marked with gold labels,
briUiant colors, charming pictures or authentic
coats of arms. It is in Russia that the best French
wines are drunk : the purest juice of our vintages,
the best ot our vats, passes down these Northern
throats, who do not trouble themselves about the

MOSCOW. 369
price of what they are swallowing. With the ex
ception of chtchi soup, the cuisine, ' it is scarcely
necessary to say, was French, and we have kept
in fragrant memory a certain dish of dressed fowl
that would not have been disavowed by Robert,
that great official to the palate, of whom Careme
once said: "It is sublime, this dressed fowl!"
The servants, in black with white cravats and
gloves, circulated around the tables waiting at
tentively, though noiselessly.
Our appetite satisfied, while the travelers were
emptying their glasses of every shape, we looked
at the two salons at each end of the station, re
served for illustrious personages, the elegant little
shops, where were exposed sachets, shoes, slippers
from Toula, of morocco embroidered with gold
and silver, Circassian carpets, embroidered in silk
on scarlet grounds, belts woven with gold threads,
eases containing dishes of platinum inlaid with
gold in exquisite taste, raodels of the cracked bell
of the Kreralin, Russian wooden erosses, carved
with a patience worthy of the Chinese, and covered
with an endless number of historic, microscopic
personages, a thousand arausing trifles, made to
tempt the tourist and lighten his purse of roubles,
if he has not, Uke us, the strength to resist the
pride of the eye and to content himself with sim
ply looking. Still it is very hard, as one's thoughts
turn towards absent dear ones, not to encumber
oneself with pretty trifles, which prove on one's
24

370 RUSSIA.
retum that one has not forgotten them, so in the
end one usually succumbs to temptation. The
meal had united in the same room the inraates of
the various carriages, and we could not help ob
serving that when they are traveling, as when they
are in. town, women seeraed less sensible of the
cold than men. Most of thera wore nothing thicker
than a satin cloak lined with fur; they did not
bury their heads in high turned-up collars, nor
load theraselves down with a mass of garments.
Doubtless coquetry counts for something in the
case : what is the use of having a fine figure, or a
small foot, if one looks like a bundle? A lovely
Siberian attracted universal attention by an ele
gance that the journey had in no whit ruffled.
She might have just left her carriage to enter the
opera. Two Gypsies dressed with bizarre richness
struck us by their unusual type, which but the
more accentuated their half-civilized toflettes.
They laughed at the gallant speeches of the young
noblemen, and showed their rather fierce looking
white teeth, with the brown gums, characteristic
of the Gypsy race.
As we left the warmth, in spite of the pelisse we
had resumed, the cold, as night approached, grew
keener. In fact, the thermometer had gone down
several degrees. The snow had assumed a more
intense whiteness, and cracked under our feet like
piled up glass. Diamond-like spangles floated
about the air and fell upon the ground. It would

MOSCOW. 371
have been imprudent to have resumed our post
at the balustrade of the car, for we might easily
have coraproraised the future of our nose. Then,
too, the landscape continued exactly the same.
White plain succeeded to white plain, for in Rus-
als, filled the stove with wood, and the temperature
changes. The veteran, with the breast covered with med
als filled the stove with wood, and the temperature
of the car, which had grown chilly, soon mounted
up. A gentle warmth reigned around, and had it
not been for the moveraent of the springs, ira
pressed by the traction of the locomotive, we could
have fancied ourselves in our own chamber. The
wagons of inferior class, although arranged with
less comfort and luxury, are heated in the same
manner. In Russia, heat is dispensed to every
body. Lords and peasants are equal in presence
of the thermometer; the palace and the cabin
mark the same degree. It is a question of life and
death. Stretched out on the divan, our head supported
by our traveling-bag, covered with our pelisse, we
were not long in falUng asleep, in perfect content,
rocked by the regular movement of the engine.
When we awoke it was one o'clock in the morning,
and the fancy seized us to go look for a little while
at the nocturnal aspect of Northern nature.
The winter night is long and dark in these lati
tudes, but no darkness ean utterly extinguish the

372 RUSSIA.
whiteness of the snow. Under the most sorabre
sky its livid pallor stretches under the arch of
the firmament like a winding-sheet, and strange
lights and blue phosphorescent gleams corae from
it. It betrays the lost objects by the touch it
hangs to their outlines, drawing them, as if with
a white pencil, on the black background of the
darkness. This wan landscape, whose lines change
axis and disappear swiftly behind the train, as
sumes the strangest aspect. One moment, the
moon piercing the thick bank of clouds throws
its chilly ray over the icy plain, changing its par
ticles into burnished silver, while the rest tums
blue in the shadows, thus proving the accuracy of
Goethe's observation in his theory of colors on
the shades of the snow. It is difficult to imagine
anything more melancholy than this immense
white horizon, that seems to reflect the moon and
to return to it. the light it has received. It gathers
around the railway-carriage, always the same, like
the sea, and yet the locomotive is flying at full
speed, tossing from its boiler flashing, crimson
sparks; but to the discouraged eye it seemed as if
one could never eraerge from this white circle.
The cold, augmented by the displacement of air,
was intense, penetrating to our bones in spite of
the downy thickness of our furs; our breath froze
on our mustache, enclosing our mouth in a gag
of ice; our eyelids closed and we felt, although
we were standing, sleep overwhelm us ; it was full

MOSCOW. 373
time to go back. When there is no wind, the bit
terest cold is supportable, but the least breath
sharpens its arrows and whets the blade of its
steel axe. Generally in those low temperatures
where the mercury is frozen, there is not a breath
of air, and one might cross Siberia, a candle in
one's hand, and the flame would not tremble; but
with the smallest current of air, one freezes, no
matter how tightly embedded in the thickest furs
of any inhabitant of the pole.
It was mdeed a delicious sensation to us to
reach the luxurious atmosphere of our compart
ment, and to nestle down into our corner, where
we slept till dawn, with that peculiar sentiraent of
pleasure that man experiences when sheltered
from the rigor of the season, written on the win-
dow-jfenes in letters of ice. The grey morning,
as Shakespeare has it, for Homer's rosy-fingered
Aurora would assuredly have been frozen in such
a latitude, commenced, enveloped in its pelisse, to
walk on the snow in its white felt boots. We were
approaching Moscow, and already could discern
from the platform of the car its denticulated crown
amid the first tiraid light of day.
Only a few years ago, to the eyes of a Parisian,
Moscow loomed vaguely from the depths of a dis
tant background, like a sort of aurora borealis
filling the entire sky, with the light of fires kin
dled by Rostoptchin outlining its Byzantine dia
dem, bristling with towers and strange spires amid

374 RUSSIA.
a flaming of lightnings and smoke. It was a city
fabulously splendid, chimerically distant, a tiara
of precious stones placed in a waste of snow, of
which the returned soldiers of 1812 talked with a
sort of stupor, for to them the city had been
transforraed into a volcano. In fact, before the
invention of stearaboats and railroads it was by
no means a light undertaking to go to Moscow. It
was much more difficult than to go to Corinth,
although that is a journey all the world may not
undertake, if one raay believe the proverb.
When a child, Moscow engrossed our imagina
tion and we used to stand in ecstasy on the Quay
Voltaire, in front of a shop of engravings, where
were exposed great panoramic views of Moscow
in aquatint, colored after the process of Deraarne,
or Debucourt, whieh were much in the fftshion
at that tirae. Those onion-shaped bell-towers,
those cupolas surraounted with crosses with chains,
those painted houses, those people with long beards
and queer-shaped hats, those woraen wearing pov-
oiniks on their heads and short skirts with waists
under their arms, seemed to belong to the world
of the moon, and the idea of ever making a jour
ney there never entered our minds ; then, too, since
Moscow was burned up, what interest could a heap
of cinders offer? It required a long time to con
vince us that the city had been rebuilt, and that
all the old monuments had not been destroyed in
the flames. Well, in less than a half hour we

MOSCOW. 375
would be able to judge if the aquatints of the
Quay Voltaire had been inexact or faithful ! At the
terminus there was a great crowd of isvochtchiks,
offering their sleighs to travelers and others seek
ing to decide which they would take. We chose
two, one for ourselves and the other for our lug
gage. As is the habit with the Russian coachmen,
who never wait for the place where they are to go
to be told them, our drivers put their horses into
a gallop, and dashed off in the direction most
pleasing to their fancy, a piece of amuseraent they
never fail to give themselves.
The snow had fallen in greater abundance in
Moscow than in St. Petersburg, and the runners
of the sleighs were above the level of the sidewalks,
nearly two feet. On the thick, dazzling layer of
snow which had been shovelled up, the runners of
our light equipages flew like the wind, while the
horses' feet tossed the icy particles against the
leather snow-protector. The street down which
we were flying was lined with public etuves, vapor-
baths, for the bath of water is little used in Rus
sia. If the people look dirty, this untidiness is
only on the outside, and has to do with winter gar
ments, costly to renew; but there is not in Paris
any little exquisite, plastered with cold-cream, rice
powder or virgin milk, whose body is cleaner than
a moujik coraing out of the etuve. The poorest
go there at least once a week. These baths, taken
in coramon, without distinction of sex, cost but a

376

RUSSIA.

few kopecks. As a matter of course, there are for
rich people luxurious establishments, where all the
elegances of the art of bathing are practiced to
perfection. After a few moments of useless driving, our
coachraen, thinking they had shown off enough,
turned in their seats and asked us where we wished
to go. We replied the Hotel Chevrier, Street of
the Old Newspapers. And they resumed their
course towards a fixed destination. On the way we
looked about eagerly to right and left, without see
ing anything at all reraarkable. Moscow is buflt
in concentric circles. The exterior is the most
modern and least interesting. The Kremlin, which
used to be the whole town, is the heart and mar
row. On top of many of the houses, which did not
differ much from those of St. Petersburg, were
blue cupolas, sprinkled with gold, or bulb-shaped
bell-towers, covered with brass. The facade of a
church of rococo architecture was colored a brU
liant red, its every projection covered with snow,
producing a weirdly strange effect; and again the
eye was caught by a chapel painted in Marie-
Louise blue, that the winter had iced with silver.
The question of polychrome architecture, so vigor
ously debated in France, has been long since de
cided in Russia; there they gild, they silver, they
paint buildings all the colors of the rainbow, with
out the least thought of good taste or conservatism,

MOSCOW. 377
as the pseudo-classicists understand the word, for
it is certain that the Greeks gave varied colors to
their monuments and even to their statues. It is
very amusing to see this rich range of colors applied
to architecture, condemned in the West to wan
greys, neutral yellows and dirty whites. The signs
over the shops bring out like golden ornaments
those beautiful letters of the Russian alphabet with
their resemblance to the Greek, and could very well
be used in decorative friezes, like the cufic letters
(Arabian). A translation was given for the bene
fit of the ignorant or of strangers by the naive
representation of the objects sold in the shop.
We soon reached the hotel, whose great, wooden-
paved, court yard contained under sheds a raost
varied display of carriages, sleighs, troikas, taren-
tasses, droskies, kibitkas, post-chaises, berlins, lan
daus, chars-d-bancs, carriages for summer and for
winter, for in Russia no one ever walks, and if a
servant is sent for cigars he takes a sleigh to go the
hundred feet separating him from the tobacco-
shop. We were given rooms brilliant with mir
rors, with flowered wall-paper and sumptuous
furniture, in the fashion of the great hotels of
Paris. Not the smallest vestige of loc^l coloring,
but furnished with every comfort. No matter
how romantic one may be, one resigns oneself read
ily to that, so great a hold has civilization on even
the most rugged souls. The sole Russian article

378 RUSSIA.
was the broad green-leather sofa, on which it is so
sweet to sleep, rolled up in one's pelisse.
Our heavy traveling garments hung up and our
ablutions made, before sallying out into the town,
we thought it would be well to breakfast, so that
we should not be disturbed in the midst of our
admiration by the imperious demands of the stom
ach and forced to return to the hotel from the
extreme end of some charmingly distant quarter.
The meal was served in the middle of a glass room,
arranged as a winter garden and full of exotic
plants. To eat in Moscow a beefsteak, with fried pota
toes, in a miniature virgin forest, is indeed an
odd sensation. The servant who waited upon
us, standing a few steps from the table, although
wearing a black coat and white cravat, had a yel
low skin, prominent cheek-bones and a Uttle flat
nose that betrayed his Mongol birth and pro
claimed that he could not have been born far from
the frontier of China, in spite of his air of a
servant in an English cafe.
Since one cannot observe at his ease the details
of a city when carried in a sleigh that flies like
lightning, at the risk of being considered a very
ordinary person and of incurring the disdain of
the moujiks, we resolved to make our flrst excur
sion on foot, shod with strong, furred galoches,
meant to separate the sole of our shoes from the
icy sidewalk, and before long we reached the

MOSCOW. 379
Kitai-Gorod, which is the business quarter on the
Krasnaia, the red square, or rather the beautiful
square, for in Russia the words red and beautiful
are synonymous. One of the sides of this square
is occupied by the long fagade of the Gostiny-
Dvor, an immense bazaar, intersected with streets,
covered with glass roofs and containing not less
than six thousand shops. The wall of the Kremlin
or Kreml rises at the other extremity, with its
doors pierced in its steep-roofed towers, allowing
a glimpse over its battlements of the cupolas, tow
ers and spires of the churches and convents within.
At the other corner, strange as the architecture of
a dream, rises like a vision the impossible church
of Vassili Blajennoi, which causes the reason to
doubt the witness of the eyes. One gazes at it with
every appearance of reality and asks oneself if it
is not a fantastic mirage, an edifice of clouds,
strangely colored by the sunshine, that the move
ment of the air will transform or make vanish. It
is beyond doubt the most original monuraent in the
world, recalling nothing that one has ever seen,
nor attaching itself to any order of architecture.
One might call it a gigantic madrepore, a eolossal
crystallization, a grotto of stalactites turned upside
down. But we will not seek comparisons in order
to give an idea of a thing that has neither proto
type nor similarity. Let us rather attempt to de
scribe Vassili Blajennoi, if perchance there exists

380 RUSSIA.
a vocabulary to tell of what has never been seen
before. A legend is told of Vassili Blajennoi that prob
ably is not true but that does not on that account
the less express with force and poetry the feeling
of dazed adrairation this edifice must have produce'd
at the half -barbarous time in which it was built, so
singular, so outside of all architectural traditions.
Ivan the Terrible had this cathedral built as a
thank-offering for the capture of Kazan, and when
it was completed he found it so beautiful, admira
ble and amazing that he ordered the eyes of the
architect, — an Italian, it was said, — to be put out,
in order that he might not be able to construct any
others like it. According to another version of the
same legend, the Tzar asked the author of the
church if he could not build a still more beautiful
one, and upon his replying in the affirraative, he
had his head cut off, so that Vassili Blajennoi
should reraain without a rival. It would be diffi
cult to imagine a cruelty more flattering in its
jealousy, and this Ivan the Terrible must have
been at bottojn a true artist, an impassioned dilet
tante. This ferocity in matters of art displeases
us less than indifference.
Fancy to yourself, upon a sort of platform,
raised above the surrounding land, the queerest,
the most incoherent, the most prodigious pile of
cabins, logettes, outside staircases, gaUeries, with
arcades, recesses and unexpected projections.

Cathedral of Vassili Blajennoi, Moscow

MOSCOW. 381
porches without symmetry, chapels thrown together
pell-mell, windows pierced at hazard, of inde
scribable forms, a swelling-out of interiors, as if
the architect, seated in the raiddle of his work, had
beaten out a building au repousse. Prom the
roof of this church, which could readily be taken
for a Hindoo, a Chinese or a Thibetan pagoda,
there springs a forest of towers in the strangest
taste, and of a fantasy hitherto undreamed of.
The centre one, which is the highest and most mas
sive, presents two or three stories, from its base
to its spire. There are flrst little columns and
denticulated bands, then come pilasters framing
long mullioned windows, then a crowd of superim
posed arches, and on the sides of the spire queer
corrugations over each rib, the whole terminating
in a lantern, surraounted by a golden bulb, re
versed, bearing on its point a Russian cross. The
others, of less diraensions or less height, take the
shape of minarets, and their fantastically carved
towers are terminated by the odd swelling of
their cupolas into queer onion-like shapes. Sorae
are carved into facets, others in squares, others
again cut diamond-fashion, like pineapples, others
striped in spiral bands, still others made in the
shapes of shells, lozenges, or honeycombs, and all
holding aloft on their tops the cross ornamented
with golden balls. What adds still more to the
extraordinary effect produced by the Vassili
Blajennoi is that it is colored from base to pinnacle

382 RUSSIA.
with the most incongruous colors, which, however,
produce an enserable both harmonious and charm
ing to the eye. Red, blue, apple-green, yeUow,
each clairas its part in the adornment of the build
ing. Columns, capitals, arches, ornaments are
painted in different colors that throw them out in
powerful relief. In the rare flat spaces, divisions
have been simulated, panels enclosing pots of flow
ers, rosettes, interlacing, chimerical figures. Illumi
nation has storied the domes of the bell-towers with
drawings, like the foliage in India shawls, and
thus placed, on the roof of the church, they re
semble the kiosks of the sultans. M. Hittorf, the
apostle of polychrome architecture, would find
here a startling confirraation of his theories.
In order that nothing raay be lacking to the
raagic effect of the scene, particles of snow, caught
on the projections of the roofs, the friezes and the
carvings, scattered silver spangles over the varie
gated robe of Vassili Blajennoi, adorning with a
thousand dazzling points this raarvelous decoration.
Putting off to a later date our visit to the Krem
lin, we forthwith entered the church of Vassili
Blajennoi, whose unusual aspect excited our curi
osity to the highest pitch, to see if the interior
justified the promise of the exterior. The same
fantastic genius had presided at the distribution
and ornamentation of the interior. The first low
chapel, in which some laraps were flickering, re
serabled a golden cave. Sudden high-lights flashed

MOSCOW. _ 383
among tawny shadows, and the stiff figures of the
Greek saints looked like phantoms. The raosaics of
St. Mark's at Venice may give sorae approxiraate
idea of this effect of untold richness. The
iconostase rose in the back, like a wall of gold and
precious stones, between the faithful and the se
crets of the sanctuary, in a serai-obscurity, partly
illurained with shafts of light.
Vassili Blajennoi is not, like all other churches,
composed of several naves communicating with
and intersecting each other at certain points, ac
cording to the law of ritual observed in the con
struction of a temple. It is formed of a bundle
of churches or chapels in juxtaposition and inde
pendent of each other. Each tower contains one,
that aecoraraodates itself, as best it may, within its
mould. The ceiling supports the spire, or the bulb
of the cupola. One might fancy oneself under the
boundless helraet of sorae Circassian or Tartar
giant. These caps are indeed wonderfully painted
and gilded on the inside. There are also walls
covered with those figures of hieratic barbarisra,
of which the Greek monks of Mount Athos have
kept the pattern from century to century, that in
Russia so often deceive the careless observer as to
the age of the monuraent. One is thrilled with a
strange sensation on finding oneself in these mys
terious sanctuaries, where the familiar personages
of the Catholic religion, mingling with saints pecu
liar to the Greek calendar, seem, with their archaic.

384 RUSSIA.
Byzantine or constrained postures, to be tran
scribed awkwardly on gold by the childish devo
tion of some priraitive people. These images
which gaze at you through the enameled carvings
of the iconostases or stand in symraetrical rows
against the gilded walls, opening their great fixed
eyes and their brown twisted hands, look like idols,
and produce by their fierce, extra-human, immuta
bly traditional aspect, a religious impression that
the works of more advanced art could never pro
duce. These figures, amid the shining of gold,
under the flickering lamp-light, assume easily a
fantastic reality capable of striking untutored
imaginations, and of inspiring, when the light is
dim, a certain sacred horror. Narrow corridors,
galleries with low arcades so narrow the arms
touch the walls on either side, so low one must
bend his head, run around the chapels, giving ac
cess to one another. Nothing can be more strange
than these passages; the architect's chief desire ap
parently has been to tangle the skein. You ascend,
you descend, you leave the edifice, you return,
making the tour of a tower on a cornice, walking
inside a wall through windings like capillary tubes
of coral or the roads traced by borers under the
bark of a tree.
After so many tours and detours, your head
whirls, a vertigo seizes you, till you might almost
fancy yourself the moUusk in an immense shell.
We will not say a word about those mysterious

MOSCOW. 385
corners, those inexplicable blind-alleys, those low
doors, leading Pleaven knows where, those dark
staircases descending into the depths, for we would
never be done with this building, where one seems
to walk as if in a dream.
In Russia the winter days are very short, and
already the shades of twilight were beginning to
bring into bold relief the flames of the laraps,
burning before the images of the saints, when we
left Vassili Blajennoi, auguring well, from this
example, for the picturesque richness of Moscow.
We had just felt that so unusual sensation, whose
search pushes the traveler to the extremities of the
globe; we had seen something that did not exist
elsewhere. We will acknowledge the bronze group of Minine
and Pojarsky, placed near the Gostiny-Dvor, facing
the Kremlin, interested us very little as a work of
art, although the statues around the group, by
Martoss, are not lacking in beauty. But near to
the unbridled fantasy of the Vassili Blajennoi, the
work seemed too cold, too correct, too entirely
academic. Minine was a butcher of Nijni-Novgorod, who
raised an army to chase out the Poles, who had
made themselves masters of Moscow in consequence
of the usurpation of Boris Godunoff, and placed
the command in the hands of Prince Pojarsky.
Between the two, the man of the people and the
great nobleman delivered the holy city from the
25

386 RUSSIA.
hands of the foreigners, and on the pedestal,
adorned with bronze bas-reliefs, is this inscription :
"To the mujik Minine and the prince Pojarsky,
grateful Russia ; in the year 1818. ' '
We have always made it a rule, when we are
traveling, and are not too intolerably pressed for
time, to stop after having received a strong im
pression. There is a time when the eye, satiated
with forms and colors, refuses to absorb new sen
sations. Nothing more can enter, as when a vase
is brimful. The former image reigns supreme and
will not be effaced. In this state, one may look,
but does not see. The retina has not had the time
to prepare itself for a new irapression. That was
our case when we issued from Vassili Blajennoi
and the Kremlin required a fresh vision, a virgin
eye. So, after having east a last look at the ex
travagant towers of Ivan the Terrible, we were
about to call a sleigh to return to our hotel, when
we were detained on the Krasnaia by a singular
noise that made us look up to the sky.
Ravens and crows, croaking as they went, were
flying through the grey air which they darkened
with their sombre wings. They were returning to
the Kremlin for the night, though these were but
the advance guard. Soon crowded battalions be
gan to pour in. From every point of the horizon
came bands, apparently obedient to the orders of
their chiefs, and following a strategic line of
march. The black swarms did not fly all at the

MOSCOW. 387
same height, but filed along in superimposed lay
ers, actually darkening the air. From minute to
minute, their numbers augmented. There were
cries and flappings of the wings, till one could
not hear oneself speak, and still ever new phalanxes
were pouring in over our head, coming to swell
the prodigious asserably.
We had not thought there were so raany crows
and ravens in the whole world. Without exag
geration they were to be counted by the hundreds
of thousands. Even this figure seeras too modest,
and the words "by raillions" would be raore suit
able. It made us think of those flights of ring
doves, of which Audubon, the American ornitholo
gist, speaks, which obscured the sun, bent the
forests upon which they alighted, nor were sensi
bly diminished by the imraense slaughter made by
the hunters. The numberless army joined together
over the Krasnaia, mounting, descending, describ
ing circles and raaking the noise of a tempest. At
last the winged battalion apparently formed a
resolution and eaeh bird direeted its course towards
his nocturnal abode. In an instant the towers, the
cupolas, the bell-towers, the roofs, the battlements,
were lost amid blaek whirlwinds and deafening
cries. Places were fought for with beak and elaw.
The smallest hole, the narrowest flssure, capable of
affording shelter, became the objeet of eager on
slaught. Gradually the tumult was hushed, each
one settled as best he could, not a single croak was

388 RUSSIA.
heard, nor a single bird seen, and the sky, but now
dotted over with black spots, resumed the limpid
beauty of twilight. One wonders on what could
these myriads of birds live, who would devour at
one repast all the dead bodies of a battlefield, espe
cially when the ground is covered for six months
with a thick sheet of snow. The debris, the dead
animals and the garbage of a eity would not suffice.
Perhaps they eat one another, as do rats in time
of famine, but then their numbers would not be so
considerable and in the end they would all dis
appear. And they seem so full of vigor, of anima
tion and of turbulent joy. The raanner of their
feeding remains still a mystery to us, and proves
the instinct of the animal finds in nature re
sources where the reason of man sees none.
Our companion, who had watched this spectacle
with us, but without astonishment, for it was not
the first time he had seen "the going to rest of the
crows of the Kremlin," said to us: "Since we
are on the Krasna'ia, quite near to the most cele
brated Russian restaurant, do not let us go back
to the hotel to dine, where we will have only an
extreraely French meal. As a traveler, you have
your stomach trained to foreign dishes till it is
quite able to enjoy the local color in raatters culi
nary, and agree tha,t what nourishes one man can
do the same for another. Let us then go in here
and eat chtchi, caviar, milk-pig, sterlet, with the ac
companiment of agourcis and horse-radish, all

MOSCOW. 389
washed down with kwas (one ought to taste every
thing) and charapagne frappe. Is this menu to
your liking?"
Upon our answering in the affirmative, the
friend who was acting as guide took us to a res
taurant situated at the extremity of the Gostiny-
Dvor, just opposite the Kreralin. We ascended a
well-heated staircase, and entered a vestibule that
reserabled nothing so much as a fur shop. Servants
promptly assisted us in taking off our furs, which
they hung near the others on a rack. Russian
domestics never make a mistake in furs, and at
once place your own on your shoulders, without
number or any other mark of recognition. The
first room was a sort of bar-room, full of bottles of
kummel, vodka, cognac and other liqueurs, with
caviar, herrings, anchovies, smoked beef, elk and
reindeer tongues, cheeses, sweet pickles, delicacies
that serve to pique the appetite and taste before
the meal. One of those Cremona organs, with
trumpets and drums, that the Italians carry about
in the streets, placed on a little cart attached to a
horse, was standing against the wall, while a moujik
was grinding out an operatic air that was popular
at the moraent.
Nuraerous rooms filled with the blue smoke of
cigars and pipes succeeded each other en suite, to
such an extent that a second Cremona organ
placed at the other end, was able without discord
to play a different air from the organ in the first

390 RUSSIA.
room. We dined between Donizetti and Verdi.
What imparted a peculiarly national characteristic
to this restaurant was that instead of being served
by Tartars, travestied as waiters of the "Freres
Provengaux" the waiting was intrusted quite sim
ply to moujiks. One at least felt as if one were
in Russia. These moujiks, young and well-formed,
their hair parted in the middle, and beards care
fully brushed, with bare necks, and wearing the
summer tunic of pink or white drawn in at the
waist, loose pantaloons worn inside their boots with
all the ease of a national costurae, had a grand air
and a good deal of natural elegance. Most of
them were blonde, that chestnut blonde that legend
attributes to the hair of Jesus Christ, and the fea
tures of sorae were raarked by that Greek regularity ~
that in Russia is seen mueh more frequently among
the raen than among the women. Thus dressed,
in the attitude of respectful attention, they looked
like the slaves of antiquity at the door of a tri
clinium. After dinner we smoked some pipes of
Russian tobaeco that was extremely strong and
drank several glasses of exceUent caravan tea (in
Russia no one ever takes tea in cups), while the
melodies from the Cremona organ floated disjoint
edly across the hum of conversation and we were
very well satisfied to have dined among so much
local coloring.

THE KREMLIN.

(391)

XVIL

THE KREMLIN.

One's fancy pictures the Kremlin blackened by
the passage of time, discolored with that dark color
that in France invests old monuments and con
tributes to their beauty by making them look ven
erable. We push this idea to such an extent as to
cover the new portions of edifices with a coating
of soot mixed with water in order to remove the
white crudity of the stone and to make them har
raonize with the raore ancient parts of the build
ings. It is only the highest .degree of civilization
that is capable of understanding this sentiment,
and of attaching value to the traces left by the
passing of the centuries on the covering of temples,
palaces or fortresses. Like all new peoples, the
Russians love what is new or at least looks so,
and they believe they are demonstrating their re
spect for a monument by renewing its dress of
paint as soon as it is faded or worn. They are the
greatest colorers in the world. There is no spot,
even to the old frescoes in Byzantine style that
ornament the interior and often the exterior of
churches, that they do not repaint when their
colors seem tarnished; so that these paintings, so
(393)

394 RUSSIA.
solemnly antique in appearance and of so primi
tive a barbarism, are often done over, but yester
day. It is by no means an unusual sight to see a
dabbler, perched on a light scaffolding, retouching, .
with all the assurance of a monk of Mount Athos,
some Mother of God, and filling with fresh color.3
the austere contour, which is itself but an immuta
ble poncif. So that it is needful to be extremely
conservative in expressing one's appreciation of
those paintings, that have been ancient, but which
are now entirely modern in spite of their stiffness
and ecclesiastical rudeness.
All which preamble has simply for end and aim
the preparation of the reader for a white and bril
liantly colored appearance, instead of the sombre,
melancholy and stern one of which, irabued with
Western ideas, he had drearaed.
In early times, the Kremlin, considered from its
foundation as the acropolis, the holy spot, the
palladiura, and the very heart of Russia, was sur
rounded by a palisade of mighty oaken posts. The
citadel of Athens possessed no other defense before
the Persian invasion. Dmitri-Donskoi replaced
the palisade by crenelated walls, whieh were re
built by the Tzar Ivan IIL, on account of their
decayed and tottering condition. It is this wall
of Ivan III. that still exists to-day, though often
restored and rebuilt in many a place. Thick layers
of rough-coating conceal the wounds inflicted by
time and the black marks of the great fire of 1812,

The Kremlin, Moscow

THE KREMLIN. 395
that, however, only licked with its tongues of flarae
the outside wall.
The Kreralin has many points in common with
the Alhambra. Like the Moorish fortress, it occu
pies the flat top of a hill, that is enveloped by its
tower-flanked wall; it contains royal demesnes,
churches, squares, and araong the aneient edifices
a raodern palace that is embedded among them as
infelicitously as the palace of Charles V. among
the delicate Arabian architecture, which it crushes
with it weight. The tower of Ivan Veliki is in
fact by no means unlike the Torre de la Vela ; and
beyond the Kremlin, as beyond the Alhambra, lies
stretched a scene of wonderful beauty, a panorama
that the ravished eye holds ever in enchanted re
membrance. But we will not push farther these
points of resemblance, lest we may be accused of
unduly emphasizing them.
Strange as it raay seera, the Kremlin, seen from
outside, presents a raore Oriental appearance than
the Albarabra itself, with its massive red towers,
that give no hint of the raagnificence of its in
terior. Above the walls with their sloping battle
ments, peeping between the towers with their
carved roofs, are myriads of cupolas, like balls of
shining gold, with tulip-shaped bell-towers reflect
ing in the sunshine a thousand colors from their
metallic sides. The wall, white as a silver basket,
encloses this bouquet of golden flowers, till one
feels as if he were gazing at one of those fairy

396 RUSSIA.
cities built by the fancy of the Arabian story
tellers, a crystallization in stone of the ' ' Thousand
and One Nights. ' ' And when winter sprinkles with
its diamond powder these buildings, beautiful as
a dream, one could readily fancy oneself trans
ported to another planet, for nothing like to it
has it ever been one's fortune to behold before.
We entered the Kremlin through the Spasskoi
gate, which opens on the Krasna'ia. No entrance
could possibly be raore romantic. It opens in an
enormous square tower which is in front of a porch
or fore-court. The tower is three stories high,
each story receding behind the other, the whole
terminating in a spire supported by arches carved
in open-work. The double-headed eagle, holding
the ball of the world in its claws, is poised on the
highest top of the spire, which is octagonal, like
the story below it, and is sculptured on its corners
and gilded on its sides. Each side of the second
story contains an enormous clock, so that the
tower points the hour to each point of the corapass.
To heighten the effect, add to every projection
spangles of snow, and you may form some slight
idea of the appearance of this queen of towers,
rising in three tiers, above the denticulated wall
that it breaks. The Spasskoi gate is the object in
Russia of so much veneration, on account of some
iraage or miraculous legend, about which we could
gain no precise information, that no one ever
passes it with covered head, not even the autocrat

The Walls of the Kremlin Showing the
Spasskoi Gate, Moscow

THE KREMLIN. 397
himself. To treat it with irreverence would be re
garded as sacrilege, and would probably be very
dangerous. Strangers are always promptly warned
of the custom. It is not merely expected that you
should salute the holy images at the entrance of
the porch, before which lamps are perpetually
burning, but also to remain uncovered until you
are entirely outside the building. Now it is not
the most agreeable thing in the world to hold one 's
fur bonnet in one's hand, when the thermometer
is some twenty degrees below zero, in a long cor
ridor swept by an icy wind. But it is always
proper to conform to the customs of a nation, and
the true traveler must make no objection to taking
off his bonnet under the Spasskoi gate or his
shoes on the threshold of the Solimanieh or the St.
Sophia, even were he to take the most terrible cold
in the world.
It is through this gate that the esplanade of the
Kremlin is reached, whieh is surrounded by the
most magnificent churches, monasteries, and pal
aces of which the iraagination can dream. It does
not belong to any particular known style. It is
neither Greek nor Byzantine nor Gothic nor
Arabian nor Chinese ; it is Russian, it is Muscovite.
Never did a freer, more original architecture, nor
one more careless of all rules, nor raore roraantic,
realize its caprices with such absolute freedora. At
times its designs resemble the accidents of crystal
formations. Still the cupolas, the bell-towers with

398 RUSSIA.
their golden bulbs, are peculiarly characteristic
of this style, that apparently recognizes no law,
and announces the fact quite frankly frora the
beginning. Frora this esplanade, in which are grouped the
principal edifices of the Kreralin and which forms
the apex of the hill, winds downwards, following
the inequalities of the ground, a rampart, flanked
with towers of infinite variety, some round, others
square, these slender as minarets, those massive as
bastions, with galleries, receding stories, roofs with
carved sides, lanterns, spires, shell-work, carvings,
every imaginable fashion of adorning the top of a
tower. The battlements, that make deep indenta
tions in the wall and are cut in notches at the top
like the end of an arrow, are alternately plain or
pierced with barbaeans. We have no idea of the
value of this defense from a strategic point of
view, but from a poetical one it abundantly satis
fies the imagination and gives the idea of a for
midable citadel.
Between the rampart and the ground are the
gardens, enclosed with a balustrade, and at this
season sprinkled with snow, while in the middle
rises a picturesque little church with bulb bell-
towers. Beyond lies, as far as the eye ean reach, the
great panorama of Moscow, to which the pointed
top of the wall affords an admirable support and
setting for the distant horizon, so exquisite that

THB KREMLIN. 399
the most careful art could not have better dis
posed it.
The Moskwa, that winds like the Seine and is
about as broad, flows all around this side of the
Kremlin, and from the esplanade it may be seen
shining like a piece of opaque glass, for it had just
been swept free frora snow, to make ready for
races with sleighs whieh were soon to take place
on the iee.
The quay, bordered with hotels and superb
houses built in modern style, forms, as it were, a
base to the vast sea of houses and roofs that
stretch in endless array towards the horizon as far
as the eye can reach.
A beautiful freeze— a word that would make
Mery shiver with horror, for this chilly poet de
clares that all cold is aborainable— had chased from
the sky its low, monotonous covering of yellowish
grey which the evening before had been stretched
like a curtain over the horizon, and a deep azure
tinted the circular canvas of the panoraraa, while
the frost raade the snow more crisp and increased
its whiteness. A pale ray of sunshine, such as in the
month of January lights the short winter days in
Moscow, bringing to mind the closeness of the pole,
fell obliquely over the eity, lying like a fan around
the Kremlin, and touched the snow-covered roofs,
making them shine here and there like pieces of
mica. Rising above these white roofs, like flakes
of foam in a frozen tempest, were scattered, like

400 RUSSIA.
ships or rocks, the tops of the public monuments,
temples, and monasteries. Moscow is said to have
more than three hundred churches and convents.
We do not know whether this flgure is exact or not,
but it would seera to be true, as one looks at the
town from the height of the Kremlin, which in
cludes within its own walls a great number of
cathedrals, chapels and religious ediflces.
The iraagination can paint nothing more beauti
ful, more rich, more splendid, more fairy-like, than
these cupolas surmounted by Greek crosses, these
swelling, bulbous-shaped towers, these spires with
six or eight sides carved in open-work, round, hol
low, pointed, over the motionless array of snowj'
roofs. The golden cupolas assume reflections of
wondrous transparency, and the sunlight focuses
on some prominent, starry point, till it shines like
a lamp. The silver or copper doraes seera to cover
churches in the moon. Further on are azure hel
mets starred with gold, caps made of beaten copper
plates, like the scales of a dragon, or else onions
turned upside down, painted green and glazed with
sparkling snow; then as they grow more distant,
the details disappear even from the lorgnette, and
are blended into a shining cluster of domes, spires,
towers, campaniles of every possible form, whose
silhouettes stand up clearly against the distant blue,
with ever and anon a sparkle of gold, silver, cop
per, sapphire or emerald. And to complete the
picture, fancy on the eold, bluish tones of the snow,

THE KREMLIN. 401
trails of delicate purple or pale rose light from
the polar setting sun, falling over the ermine car
pet of the Russian winter.
We stood there insensible to the cold, absorbed
in silent contemplation and lost in a very wonder
of admiration.
No other city conveys this impression of absolute
novelty, not even Venice, for which Canaletto,
Guardi, Bonington, Joyant, Wyld, Ziem and pho
tographs, have in a way prepared you. Moscow
has not yet been much visited by artists, and its
strange aspects have not been much reproduced.
The rigorous Northern climate adds to the singu
larity of its decorative effect by the snows, the
unusual coloring of the sky, the quality of the
light, whieh is not at all like that of Southern
Europe but gives to the Russian painters a special
range of colors, the truth of which it is difficult to
understand outside of the country.
On the esplanade of the Kremlin, the panorama
of Moscow lying at one's feet, one indeed feels as
if in another world, and no one, no matter how
much in love with his own eountry, can regret fore
going its joys for a time, if he may be thus recom
pensed. The Kremlin contains within its enclosure a vast
number of churches or cathedrals, as tfie Russians
call them. Just as the Acropolis, on its narrow
plateau, united a great number of temples. We
will visit each in turn, but first of all will stop at
26

402 RUSSIA.
the tower of Ivan Veliki, an enormous octagon beU-
tower, containing three receding stories, of which
the last, springing from a zone of carvings, is a
round tower, terminated by an arched cupola,
gilded with sterling gold appUed by fire, and
topped by a Greek cross whose base is the con
quered crescent. In each story, an arch cut on
each side of the tower exposes to view the brass
sides of a bell. There are thirty-three of them,
among which, it is said, is the famous bell of Nov
gorod, whose ringing used to suramon the people to
their turaultuous deliberations in the public place.
One of these bells weighs sixty thousand kilo-
grarames, so that the great bell of Notre Dame, of
which Quasimodo was so proud, would seera, by the
side of this monster, like a little bell for the service
of the mass.
Apparently in Russia there is a passion for
colossal bells, for near the Ivan Veliki tower the
astonished eye perceives on a granite base a beU
of such enormous size that it eould readily be taken
for a bronze tent; all the more so, since a broad
fissure in its side forms a sort of door through
which a man could easily enter without bending
his head. It was cast by order of the Empress
Anne, and ten thousand pounds of raetal were
thrown into the furnace, il. de Montferrand, the
architect of St. Isaac's, had it taken out of thc
earth, in which it was lying half-buried, either
through the violence of its fall when it was being

The Great Bell, Moscow

THB KREMLIN. 403
raised, or on account of a fire or the coUapse of a
building. Has such a mass of metal ever been
suspended? Has its great iron tongue ever scat
tered abroad a terapest of sound from its mighty
sides? On this point, both history and legend are
silent. Perhaps, like those ancient peoples who
used to leave in their abandoned caraps beds twelve
feet long, to impress upon others the belief that
they belonged to a race of giants, the Russians de
sired to give, by means of this bell so in dispro
portion to all human usage, to distant posterity a
gigantic idea of themselves, if perchance, after
centuries had rolled away, it might be found in
some excavation.
However this may be, this bell possesses a beauty
of its own, as is always the case with things out
side of ordinary dimensions. The grace of size, a
monstrous, perhaps barbarous, but none the less a
real grace, is not lacking in it. Its sides swell out
in ample, powerful curves, encircled with delicate
ornaments. A globe surmounts the cross on the
top, and it delights the eye by the purity of its
form and the color of its metal, while even the
crack down its side opens like the entrance to a
dark, mysterious cavern. At the bottora of the
pedestal, like a leaf unhooked from a door, is
placed the piece of metal representing the empty
space in the opening. But we have talked long
enough about bells, so let us enter one of the most
ancient and characteristic cathedrals of the Krem-

404 RUSSIA.
lin, the first to be built of stone, the cathedral of
the Assumption (Ouspenski-sobor). It is not, of
course, the early building founded by Ivan Kalita
that we have before our eyes. That fell into decay
after a century and a half of existence, and Ivan
III. had it rebuilt. The present cathedral dates
but from the fifteenth century, in spite of its
Byzantine appearance and archaic aspect. One is
surprised to learn that it was built by Fiqraventi,
an architect of Bologna, whom the Russians
called Aristotle, probably on account of his
learning. The idea that would naturally present
itself would be that of a Greek architect sumraoned
from Constantinople, his head filled with St. So
phia and types of Greco-Oriental architecture.
The Assumption is nearly square and its great
walls rise straight upwards with all the pride of
strength. Four enormous pillars, as large as tow
ers, mighty as the columns of Karnak, support
the central cupola, placed on a flat roof, in Asiatic
style, and flanked with four smaller cupolas.
This so simple disposition produces a grandiose
effect, and these massive pillars give without heavi
ness a firm seat and extraordinary stability to the
body of the cathedral. The interior of the chureh
is covered with paintings in Byzantine style on a
background of gold. The pillars themselves are
decorated -with personages arranged in rows, like
the columns of Egyptian temples or palaces.
Nothing could be more strange than this ornamen-

THE KREMLIN. 405
tation, where thousands of figures surround you
like a silent crowd, ascending and descending the
length of the walls, walking in files and crowds
or standing alone in an attitude of hieratic stiff
ness, curving around pendentives, arches, cupolas,
and furnishing the temple with a human tapestry,
a motionless crowd. A dira light, discreetly ar
ranged, adds still more to the awful, mystic effect.
The great, fierce saints of the Greek calendar as
sume in this tawny uncertain light most formid
able aspects; they gaze with wide-open eyes, and
seem to threaten with hands that are extended only
to bless.
The militant archangels, the cavalier saints, ele
gant and brave, mingle in brilliant armor among
the sorabre frocks of monks and anchorites. They
have that pride of bearing, that ancient hauteur,
that marks the figures of Panselinos, the Byzantine
painter, master of the monks of Agria Lavria, from
which Papety has made such exquisite drawings.
The interior of St. Mark's in Venice, with its ap
pearance of a golden cavem, may give an approxi
mate idea of the cathedral of the Assumption, only
the body of the Muscovite church rises in a single
reach toward the sky, while the lower arches of St.
Mark's resemble those of a crypt.
The iconostase, a high vermilion wall with five
rows of figures, is like the facade of sorae golden
palace, dazzling the eye with its fabulous magnifi
cence.

406

RUSSIA.

Through apertures in the gold carvings appear
the brown heads and hands of Madonnas, and of
male and female saints. Their aureoles, standing
out in reUef, catch the light, while the precious
stones with which they are incrusted blaze with
glory ; on the iraages, which are objects of especial
veneration, are breast-plates of precious stones,
necklaces and bracelets, starry with diamonds,
sapphires, rubies, emeralds, amethysts, pearls, and
turquoises: the passion of religious luxury could
not reach greater heights.
What a charraing idea in decoration are these
iconostases, a golden, jewelled veil spread between
the faithful and the mysteries of the holy sacrifice !
It must be acknowledged that the Russians manage
great effects with it, and that as far as magnifi
cence is concerned the Greek religion is by no
means inferior to the Catholic worship, if it is
not quite its equal within the domain of pure art.
The tunic of Our Lord, enclosed in a reUquary
of inestimable value, is kept in the cathedral of
the Assumption. The other reliquaries, blazing
with jewels, contain a piece of the Virgin's dress,
and a nail of the true cross. The Virgin of Vladi
mir, painted by the hand of St. Luke, which the
Russians regard as a palladiura, whose exhibition
hurled back the fierce hordes of Tamerlane, is
adorned with a solitaire diamond worth more than
twenty thousand dollars, while the mass of gold-
work framing it cost two or three times that

THE KREMLIN. 407
amount. Doubtless this display may seem rather
barbarous to a fastidious taste, raore in love with
beauty than wealth, but at the same time it cannot
be denied that these raasses of gold, diamonds and
pearls produce a religious and splendid effect.
These virgins, whose casket is more richly fur
nished than that of queens or empresses, impress
simple piety. They assume, amid the shadows and
the flickering light of lamps, a supernatural glory,
while their diamond crowns shine like starry
crowns. Frora the centre of the ceiling descends
a chandelier of massive silver, circular in shape
and of exquisite workmanship, that replaces the
aneient one of great weight that was carried off
during the invasion of the French. There are
forty-six branches.
The coronation of the emperor takes place in
this cathedral. The stage upon which they stand
is placed between the four pillars that support the
cupola, opposite the iconostase.
The tombs of the metropolitans of Moscow oc
cupy the side walls. They are oblong in shape, are
ranged against the wall, and resemble amid the
twilight that envelops them trunks packed for the
great journey of eternity. The cathedral of the
Holy Archangels, whose fagade turns obliquely
towards the church of the Assuraption, and is but
a few steps distant, resembles it in every essential.
There is always the same arrangeraent of swelling
cupolas, of raassive pillars, of iconostases blazing

408 RUSSIA.
with gold, of Byzantine paintings clothing its in
terior as if with a sacred tapestry. Only here the
pictures are not on a gold foundation, and look
raore like frescoes than mosaics. They represent
the scenes of the last judgment and also the
haughty, stern portraits of the ancient Russian
Tzars. Here are, too, their tombs, covered with cash
meres and rich stuffs like the raonuments of the
sultans in Constantinople. They are simple, sober,
severe. Death is not beautified -with the delicate
touches of Gothic art, to which the tomb has given
its happiest themes of ornament. No kneeling
angels, no emblematic virtues, no weeping flgures,
no saints in carved niches nor fantastic flourishes
around coats of arms, no knights in fuU armor,
their heads on marble cushions, their feet on sleep
ing lions; nothing but the body in its funeral
chest, covered with its grave-cloth. Doubtless art
loses much, but religious irapression gains.
In the cathedral of the Annunciation, which is
built against the back of the Tzar's palace, you are
shown a very curious and rare painting represent
ing the angel Gabriel announcing to the Holy Vir
gin that the Son of God should be bom of her.
The interview takes place near a well, like that of
Jesus and the Samaritan. According to the tra
dition of the Greek church, it was later, after her
humble acquiescence in the will of the Lord, that

THB KREMLIN. 409
the Holy Virgin is visited in her own dwelling by
the Holy Spirit.
This scene, painted on the exterior wall of the
church, is protected by a sort of screen from the
inclemency of the weather. To give an idea of
the interior richness of the church, a single detail
wfll suffice. The pavement is made of agates
brought from Greece.
Alongside of the new palace and quite close to
these edifices, is a strange building, entirely outside
of all known styles of architecture of Asiatic or
Tartar physiognomy, which is for a civil monu
ment what the Vassili Blajennoi is for a religious
one, the conception, reduced to material forra, of a
sumptuous, barbaric, fanciful iraagination. It was
built under Ivan III. by the architect Aleviso.
Above its roof rise in graceful, picturesque con
fusion the gold-roofed turrets of its chapels and
oratories. An outside staircase, on which the era
peror shows hiraself to his people after his corona
tion, gives access to thera and produces with all its
carved projections an original feature in the archi
tecture. It is as well known in Moscow as the
Giants' Staircase in Venice, and is one of the
curiosities of the Kremlin. It is called in Russian
Krasnoe-Kriltso (the Red Staircase). '
The interior of the palace, the residence of the
Tzars, simply defies description. It might be said
that its charabers and passages had been excavated,
without plan or design, out of an immense block

410 RUSSIA.
of stone, so tangled are they in such queer, com
plicated, bewildering a fashion, changing their
level and direction according to the caprice of an
unbridled fancy. One wanders about it as if in a
dream, now arrested by a door that opens mys
teriously, now forced to follow a dark passage, so
narrow that one squeezes through it with difficulty,
sometimes having no other route than the jagged
edge of a cornice close to the copper plates of the
roof and the bulbs of the bell-towers, ascending,
descending, no longer knowing where one is, seeing
in the distanee through the golden trellis-work the
light from a lamp flash on the goldwork of the
iconostases, or coraing, after an intermiaable
journey inside, into sorae great hall loaded down
with a very raadness of decoration and richness, in
the end of which one would not be surprised to fiad
the Great Kniaz of Tartary seated, with crossed
legs, upon his carpet of black felt.
Such, for example, is the hall that is called the
Golden Chamber, which occupies all the interior
of the palace a facettes ( Granovita'ia Palata), thus
named doubtless on account of its walls cut in dia
mond points. This palace borders on the old pal
ace of the Tzars. The golden arches of this haU
are supported on a central pillar, by means of
arcatures whose thick gilded iron bars, reaching
from one arch to the other, hold all firmly together.
Pictures scattered here and there give dark
touches to the tawny splendor of the walls. On

THE KREMLIN. 411
the cordon of the arches run legends in ancient
Slavonic letters, magnificent characters, that lend
themselves as readily to ornamentation as the
Arabic. It would not be possible to conceive of a
richer, more mysterious, more sombre and at the
same time more brilliant decoration than that of
the Golden Chamber. Shakespearean romanticism
would love to place there the denouement of a
drama. Certaia vaulted rooms of the old palace are so
low that a man a little over the ordinary height
can scarcely stand up straight in thera. There it
was that, in an atmosphere heated to suffocation,
the women, seated in Oriental fashion upon piles
of rugs, used to pass the long hours of the Russian
winter watching, through tiny windows, the snow
fall upon the golden cupolas and the ravens de
scribe their large circles around the bell-towers.
These apartments, a very medley of paintings,
in which palms, boughs and flowers recall the de
signs of cashmere shawls, bring to mind the Asiatic
harems, transported into the polar cold. The true
Muscovite taste, depreciated later by imitation of
the ill-comprehended arts of the West, appears
here in all its primitive originality and harsh, bar
barous coloring. We have frequently remarked
that the progress of civilization seems to take away
from peoples the sense of architecture and orna
ment. The ancient buildings of the Kreralin are
but another proof of this assertion, which may

412 RUSSIA.
appear at flrst sight paradoxical. An inexhausti
ble fancy presides at the decoration of these mys
terious chambers, where gold, green, blue, red,
mingle with a rare felicity, producing charming
effects. This architecture, without the least care
for symraetrical correspondences, assumes shape
like soap bubbles that are blown on a plate from a
clay pipe. Each globule joins itself to its neigh
bor, fitting into its angles and facets, and the
whole shines with the varied colors of the rainbow.
This apparently childish, unusual comparison gives
a better idea than any other of the maimer in which
these fanciful palaces are crowded together.
We could have wished the New Palace had been
built in the sarae fashion. It is an iramense con
struction, in modern taste, which would be fuU of
beauty anywhere else, but which is singularly
out of place in the middle of the Kremlin. Classic
architecture, with its great cold lines, seems stiU
more tiresoraely solemn among these palaces with
their queer shapes, their brilliant colors and their
tumult of churches of Oriental fashioning, tossing
¦heavenward a golden forest of cupolas, domes,
pyramids and bulbous towers. One could fancy
oneself at the sight of this Muscovite architecture
in some fabulous city of Asia, where the cathedrals
would be mosques, the bell-towers minarets, till the
excellent fagade of the New Palace deposits one in
the middle of full Western civilization, a sad thing
for a romantic barbarian of our sort.

THE KREMLIN. 413
The New Palace is entered by a staircase of
magnificent proportions, closed at the top by a
superb gate of polished iron, which opens a little
way to permit the passage of the visitor, who finds
himself in a hall with a cupola, where a guard is
mounted, that is never relieved frora duty: four
manikins clothed from head to foot in curious,
antique Slavonic armor. These cavaliers have a
very grand air, portraying life to perfection; it
seems impossible that no heart beats under their
coats of mail.' These suits of armor, arranged in
this guise from the Middle Ages, always give us
an involuntary shiver. They preserve so faith
fully the exterior form of the man who has forever
disappeared. From this rotunda start two galleries containing
countless riches. The treasure of the calif Haroun-
al-Raschid, the weUs of Aboui-Kasem, the Green
Vault of Dresden united in one, would not present
such accumulation of wonders, while here, too, the
historic value adds to the material one. There lie
in blazing, radiant loveliness, diamonds, sapphires,
rubies, emeralds, all the precious stones that avari
cious nature conceals in the depths of her mines
and which are here scattered about as if they were
but glass. They form constellations on crowns,
place flashes of light on the ends of sceptres, fall
in shining showers over the insignia of the empire,
form arab'esques and ciphers, where the gold in
which they are placed can scarcely be seen. The

414 RUSSIA.
eye is, dazzled, the mind scarcely dares attempt to
compute the sums represented by all this magnifi
cence. It would be raadness to atterapt to describe
this prodigious jewel-casket. An entire book would
not suffice, so we raust content ourself with noting
a few of the most remarkable pieces. One of the
most ancient crowns is that of Vladimir Mono
makh. It was a present from the emperor Alexius
Comnenus, and was brought from Constantinople to
Kief by a Greek embassy in 1116. Besides the
historie memory attached to it, it is a work of the
most exquisite taste. On a foundation of gold
filigree are incrusted pearls and other jewels ar
ranged with admirable understanding of the art of
ornamentation. The crowns of Astrakhan and
Kazan in Oriental taste, the one sewn with tur
quoises, the other surmounted by an enormous un
cut emerald, are jewels that would reduce the mod
ern goldsmith to desperation. The crown of Si
beria is made of cloth of gold ; like all the others it
has a Greek cross at the top and, like them too, is
studded with diamonds, sapphires and pearls. The
gold sceptre of Vladimir Monomakh, more than a
yard long, contains two hundred and sixty-eight
diamonds, three hundred and sixty rubies, and
fifteen emeralds. The enamels that cover the place
left free by the jewels represent religious subjects,
treated in the Byzantine manner ; it too was a gift
from Alexius Coranenus, as well as the reliquary in
forra of a cross containing a fragment of stone of

THB KREMLIN. 415
the tomb of our Lord, and a piece of His cross. A
gold casket bristling with gems contains these
treasures. A curious jewel is the chain of the first
of the Romanoffs, upon each ring of whieh is en
graved one of the titles of this Tzar' and a part of a
prayer, and there are ninety-nine in all. We ean
not stop to enumerate the thrones, globes, sceptres
and crowns of different reigns, but will remark
that if the value is always thc same, the purity of
taste and the delicacy of workmanship diminish in
proportion as they approach modern times.
Something not less wonderful, but more accessi
ble to description, is the hall containing the gold
and silver plate. Around the pillars are placed
circular credences, in form of dressers, that contaia
an infinitude of vases, pitchers, ewers, flagons,
tumblers, drinking-cups, bottles, flasks, jars, little
barrels, cups, goblets, pint-cups, gourds, amphoraj,
all that relates to "Drinking," as Rabelais ex
presses it in his Pantagruelion language. Behind
all these flash gold and enameled dishes, as large
as those in which the Burgraves of Victor Hugo
had whole oxen served.
Each dish has a top, and such a top ! Some
are full three and four feet high and could only
be lifted by the hand of a Titan. What an enor
mous use of the imagination was necessary to cre
ate this variety of plate ! Every form capable of
containing fluid, — wine, mead, beer, kwas, brandy,
—has been exhausted. And what taste — rich,

416 RUSSIA.
fanciful, grotesque — has been used in the ornamen
tation of these vessels of gold, silver, and enamel !
Sometimes bacchantes with chubby, srailing faces
are dancing around the body of the vessel; some
tiraes fruits and flowers are intermingled with
animals and hunting scenes; again dragons are
twisted into handles, or else antique medals are
incrusted on the sides of cups, or a Roman triumph
files past, with music and flying banners, or Jews,
in Dutch costumes, carrying the grapes of the
promised land, or mythological nudity contem
plated by satyrs through tufted arabesques. At
the caprice of the artist, vases assume the forras of
animals, swelling out as a bear, or lengthening into
a stork, with the outstretched wings of an eagle, or
the thick form of a duck, frora whose back branch
the antlers of a stag. Over yonder a bonbon-holder
takes the form of a ship, with swelling saUs and
spread pavilions, having received its dainty cargo
through its hatchway. Every possible fancy of the
goldsmith has been realized in this prodigious
sideboard. The hall of armor holds treasures that would
exhaust the pen of the most intrepid enumerator.
Circassian helraets, coats of mail, covered with
verses from the Koran, bucklers -with bosses of
filigree, scimiters, kandjars with jade handles,
and jewelled sheaths, all those arms of the Orient,
that are at the same time jewels, sparkle amid the
sternest weapons of the West. At the sight of

The Great Gun, Moscow

THE KREMLIN. 417
such boundless riches one's head grows giddy, and
one cries for respite to the too complaisant guide,
who is unwilling to omit a single piece.
We simply gloated over the chapter-chambers of
the different orders of Russian chivalry. The
orders of St. George, St. Alexander, St. Andrew,
and St. Catherine occupy each one a vast gallery,
where the motifs of decoration are taken frora their
coats of arras. Heraldic art is eminently decora
tive, and its applications to monuments always
produce excellent results. It may be imagined,
without entering into detail, with what superb
luxury the apartments of state are furnished. All
that modern taste has been able to devise of the
beautiful or costly, is gathered there without
thought of expense, and nothing recalls the charm
ing, Muscovite taste, though the modern style would
seem to be demanded by that of the palace. But
what greatly surprised us, was to find ourselves in
the last of the rooras face to faee with a pale phan
tom in white marble, clad as for apotheosis, which
fixed upon us its great motionless eyes and stood,
with bent head and meditative air, like a Roman
emperor. Napoleon at Moscow, in the palace of the
Tzar; we certainly had not expected such a meet
ing!

27

TROITZA.

(419)

XVIIL

TEOITZA.

When one has a few days' leisure, after having
seen the principal curiosities of Moscow, there is
an excursion that everyone assures you must be
made, and which in fact should be undertaken with
eagerness. It is a visit to the convent of Troitza.
The journey is quite worth the trouble, and no one
will repent having accomplished it.
It was then fully understood that we were to
go to Troitza, and our Russian friend, who had
kindly assumed the charge of piloting us, busied
himself with preparations for our departure. He
engaged a kibitka and sent on ahead a relay of
horses, that we should take when half-way on our
journey; for this trip, if one starts in good time,
can be accomplished in a half-day, and one arrives
early enough to get a general idea of the building
and of its situation. So we were commanded to be
afoot by three o'clock in the morning. The habit
of traveling gives the faculty of waking at the
precise moment desired without Having recourse to
alarm-clocks with their interminable tintinnabula
tions. So that we were up and already prepared
for the journey by a slice of meat and a glass of
(421)

422 RUSSIA.
very hot tea, — the tea in Moscow is delicious —
when the kibitka stopped before the door of the
inn. In essaying to tell the time through the double
sashes of the window, we noticed that the inside
thermometer marked sixty-six degrees above, and
the outside one thirty-eight degrees below zero. A
little wind that had refreshed itself on the icebergs
of the pole had been blowing during the night and
had brought in its train a glacial cold.
Thirty-eight degrees below zero is enough, when
one thinks of it, to give a chill to the least chiUy
natures ; happily we had already undergone all the
rigors of a Russian winter, and had grown accus
toraed to those temperatures made for reindeer and
white bears.
Still, since we were to be in the open air for an
entire day, w£ dressed ourselves suitably: two
shirts, two waistcoats, two pairs of trousers, enough
to clothe frora head to foot a second person. On the
feet woolen stockings with white felt boots which
were covered by another pair of boots reaching to
the knee; on the head a bonnet of beaver fur,
warmly wadded; on the hands Samoiede mittens,
which leave but the thumb free, and over every
thing an imraense fur pelisse with a collar in the
back reaching as high as the top of the head, in
order to protect the back of the neck, and fastened
in front with hooks, in order to protect
the face. In addition, a long band of knit

Convent of Troitza

TROITZA. 423
wool was wrapped five or six times around
the body, like a cord tied tightly around a package,
to prevent any possibiUty of air" slipping through
a hiatus in the pelisse. Bundled up in this fash
ion, we looked like a sentry-box, and in the warm
air of the room these superimposed garments felt
terribly heavy, as if we could not endure them;
but when we found ourselves in the atmosphere of
the street they seemed as light as a nankeen suit.
The kibitka was awaiting us, while the irapa
tient horses, shaking their long manes, lowered
their heads and bit the snow. A few words apropos
of our vehicle. A kibitka is a sort of chest re
sembling a cabin as much as a carriage, placed on
the framework of a sleigh. It has a door and a
window, whieh must never be closed, for the vapor
of one's breath condensed on the glass would be
changed into ice, so that one would be deprived
of air and plunged into semi-darkness.
We stowed ourselves away as comfortably as
possible in the back of the kibitka, as tightly
packed as sardines; for, although there were but
three of us, the quantity of garments with which
we were loaded caused us to occupy the room of
six people ; traveling rugs were thrown over our
knees, by way of extra precaution, and we were off.
It was about four o'clock in the morning. The
stars twinkled merrily in the dark blue of the sky,
with that clearness that indicates the intensity of
the eold ; under the steel runners of the kibitka the

424 RUSSIA.
snow crunched like a glass one scratches with a
diamond. For the rest, there was not a breath of
air ; it was as if the very wind itself was frozen.
A candle might have been carried in one's hand,
without a flickering of the flame. The wind aug
ments terribly the severity of the temperature; it
transforms the motionless cold into active cold, and
of particles of ice makes steel arrow points. It was,
in a word, what in Moscow, towards the end of
January, raight be called flne weather.
Russian coachraen love to go fast, and it is a
taste in which the horses join. They must be held
in, rather than urged on. Every departure takes
place with lightning speed, and when one is not
familiar with this little habit one is sure that the
horses have taken the bit between their teeth. Ours
were no exception to this law and gaUoped along
madly in the solitude and silence of the streets of
Moscow, that were dimly lighted by the reflection
from the snow, in default of the dying flames of
the frozen laraps. Houses, buildings, churches,
fled rapidly by, to right and left, their dark out
lines curiously picked out with white touches, for
no darkness entirely extinguishes the silver bright
ness of the snow. Sometiraes the cupolas of the
chapels, but half seen, produced the effect of giant
helraets protruding beyond the ramparts of sorae
fantastic fortress ; the silence was undisturbed save
by the guardians of the night, who walked with

TROITZA. 425
regular step, trailing behind them their iron batons
on the sidewalks to testify to their vigilance.
At the rate at which we were going, although
Moscow was vast, we had soon passed the wall of
the town, and the street had been succeeded by the
road. The houses grew less frequent, then dis
appeared, and on either side of the road the coun
try stretched in dim whiteness under the nocturnal
sky. It gives one a strange sensation to fly at
Ughtning speed across this pale, undefined land
scape, enveloped in its monotonous whiteness, that
is like a plain in the moon, in the midst of sleeping
men and beasts, without hearing other sound than
the beating of the horses' hoofs and the creaking
of the runners of the sleigh over the snow. One
might fancy himself in an uninhabited globe.
While we were thus galloping along, the con
versation, by one of those sudden transitions of
which Edgar Poe's Augustus Dupin so well knew
how to recover the thread, and whieh at times
brings in phrases wonderfully strange to the
listener who is not in the secret,— turned to whom?
to what? We will give you a thousand guesses —
to Robinson Crusoe. What cireumstance eould
have aroused in our brain the thought of Robinson
Crusoe, on the road frora Moscow to Troitza, be
tween five and six in the raorning, in a temperature
thirty degrees below zero, that certainly did not
recall the elimate of the island of Juan Fernandez,
where Daniel De Poe's hero passed so many soli-

426 RUSSIA.
tary years. A peasant's cottage, built with logs,
which appeared for an instant on the edge of the
road, awoke confusedly within us the memory of
the house built by Robinson of the trunks of trees,
at the entrance of his grotto ; but this fugitive idea
was disappearing without any reference to the
present situation, when the "snow," which we
were watching absently, recalled forcibly Robin
son's face, about to vanish in the mist of vague
dreams. Towards the end of the book, after his
deliverance and return to civilization, Robinson
used to make long journeys, and crossing with his
little caravan the snow-covered plains of Siberia,
was attacked by bands of wolves, who made him run
as many risks as the cannibals who came to his
island. Thus it was that the idea of Robinson eame to
us, in accordance with a secret logic, easy of eluci
dation to an attentive mind. To pass thence to the
possibilities of an apparition of wolves on the road
was fatally easy. So the conversation turned in
sensibly towards this subject, engrossing enough,
in the midst of a vast, snowy solitude, darkened
here and there with red spots indicating the pres
ence of pine and birch forests. The most terrible
stories were told of travelers assailed and devoured
by bands of wolves. We flnally wound up the sub
ject by recounting that legend that Balzac had
once told, with all the absolute seriousness he car
ried into his jokes. It was the story of a Lithua-

TROITZA. 427
nian nobleman and his wife, going frora their
chateau to another castle where a ball was to be
given. On the way, at the comer of a wood, where
they were ambushed, a pack of wolves were await
ing the carriage. The horses, pushed to despera
tion by the coachraan, and their own terror, broke
into a wild gallop followed by the whole pack,
whose eyes shone like fire in the track of the car
riage. The nobleraan and his wife, raore dead than
alive, cowering each in his corner raotionless with
fright, fancied they heard confusedly behind thera
sighs, pantings, and the cracking of jaws; at last
they reached the castle, whose gate, as it closed
on them, cut two or three wolves in half. The
coachman stopped under the porch and, as no one
got down to open the carriage door, looked round
and beheld the skeletons of two footmen, absolutely
denuded of flesh, sitting erect in back of the car
riage in the classic position. "Those are what I
call well-trained servants," cried Balzac, "sueh
are not to be found nowadays in France!"
This absurd story would not, however, prevent
one or more wolves, starved as they are at this
season of the winter, from pleasing themselves by
giving us chase. We had no arms, and our only
chance of safety would then lie in the swiftness of
our horses and the neighborhood bf some habita
tion. It would scarcely have been gay, but we
laughed over it, and the laughter chased away the
anxiety, and besides the day began to dawn, the

428 RUSSIA.
day, that dissipates all chimeras, and sends wfld
beasts into their lairs. It is scarcely necessary
to say we did not see even the tail of the smallest
wolf. The night had been brilliant with stars, but to
wards moming mists had risen on the horizon and
the Muscovite Aurora appeared pale, with eyes cast
down in a wan light. It is possible that her nose
was red, but the epithet that Homer applies to the
Greek Aurora of " rosy-flngered " could not have
been suited to her. However, her light allowed us
to see, in all its extent, the grey though by no
means comraonplace landscape that was unfolded
around us.
The reproach may be made that our descriptions
resemble each other, but monotony is one of the
characteristics of a Russian landscape, at least in
the eountry we were crossing. They are immense,
gently undulating plains, in which are found no
other eminences than the projections on which are
built the Kremlin of Moscow and the Kremlin of
Nijni-Novgorod, which are by no means lofty.
The snow, covering as it does these level plains
four or five months of the year, adds to the mo
notony of their appearance by filling up the de
pressions and the beds of the rivers, so that all
that can be seen for hundreds of leagues is an
endless white covering, slightly raised here and
there by the inequalities of the covered earth and,
according to the position of the sun, streaked with

TROITZA. 429
pink lights or blue shadows ; but when the sky has
its ordinary tone, that is to say a leaden grey, the
general color is a dead white. At greater or less
distances lines of red brushwood, half-emerging
from the snow, interrupt the vast whiteness.
Woods of pines and birches make ever and anon
dark patches against the sky, while great posts like
telegraph poles indicate the road. Near by are a
few log cabins, calked with moss, with roofs whose
rafters cross and form a sort of X at the top, while
little low villages surmounted by a church with
bulbous towers are sharply outlined against the
edge of the horizon. Not a living creature save the
circling crows and ravens, or perchance a moujik
seated on his sleigh drawn by tiny, long-haired
horses, carrying wood or sorae other necessity to
a habitation in the interior part of an estate. Such
is the landscape, that is reproduced to satiety, that
forras itself around you, as you advance, as the
waves of the sea ceaselessly re-forra around the
prow of a ship, always seeming exactly alike. Al
though any picturesque incident is of rare occur
rence, one never wearies of watching these ira
mense stretches which inspire one with an indefin
able melancholy, as always happens with the grand,
silent and solitary. Often, in spije of the rapid
paee at which the horses are traveling, one could
fancy oneself to be in the same spot.
We arrived at the relay station, whose Russian
name we have forgotten. It was a wooden house.

430 RUSSIA.
with a courtyard encumbered with telegas and
sleighs of rather wretched appearance. In the
low room, moujiks in touloupes spotted with grease,
with blonde beards, their red faces brightened by
eyes of true polar blue, were grouped around a
copper urn drinking tea, while others were lying
asleep on benches near the stove. Some, more
chilly, were even sleeping on top of the stove itself.
We were taken into a high-ceilinged room lined
with boards that looked like the inside of a wooden
box. It was lighted by a small, double-sashed win
dow, and its sole ornament was an image of the
Blessed Virgin, whose aureole and garments were
of stamped metal with a place cut out for the head
and hands, with brown carnations, that the Rus
sians have imitated frora the Byzantine school, and
which give a century-old appearance to quite re
cent paintings. The child Jesus was treated in
the same style, and a lamp was burning before the
sacred image. These mysterious, swarthy figures,
glimpses of which are but caught through a shell
of gold or silver, are full of a fascination all their
own, and coraraand more veneration than paintings
of more artistic merit.
There is no cottage so poor that it does not
possess one of these images, before whieh no one
ever passes without uncovering, and which are the
objeet of frequent adorations.
The mild temperature of a hothouse reigned in
this roora, which was furnished with a table and

TROITZA. 431
several stools. We freed ourselves from our cloaks
and the heavy garments that were so oppressive,
and breakfasted on provisions brought from Mos
cow, that were washed down by caravan tea, raade
in the samovar of the inn. After which, resuming
our weighty arraor against the arrows of winter,
we ensconced ourselves in our kibitka, ready to
brave with gaiety the rigors of the cold.
As we approach Troitza, the habitations grow
raore numerous and we felt we were nearing a
place of importance. Troitza is in fact the goal of
long pilgrimages. People eome here from every
province of the Empire, for St. Sergius, the
founder of this celebrated convent, is one of the
most venerated saints of the Greek calendar. The
road leading from Moscow to Troitza, which we
had taken, leads to Yaroslav, and in the sumraer
it presents a scene of life and animation. One
passes by Ostankina, where there is a Tartar camp,
by the village of Rostopkine, by Alexievskoi, where
a short time ago were the ruins of the castle of the
Tzar Alexis, and when winter has not covered it
with its snowy mantle charraing country houses
can be seen dotting the landscape. The pilgrims,
arrayed in their armiaks and shoes of linden bark,
when they are not barefooted from devotion, follow
the sandy road in short day journeys. Families
travel in kibitkas, carrjdng with them their mat
tresses, pillows, cooking utensils and the indispen
sable samovar, like tribes on a journey ; but at the

432 RUSSIA.
season of our excursion the road was absolutely
solitary. Just before reaching Troitza, the land slopes
downward a little, hollowed out doubtless by a
water course, frozen and snow-covered in winter.
On the edge of the ravine on a large plateau, rises
in picturesque beauty the convent of St. Sergius,
looking more like a fortress than a house of re
ligion. It forms an immense quadrilateral, surrounded
with solid ramparts, on whose top is built a cov
ered gallery, pierced with barbaeans, for the pro
tection of the defenders of the place; and indeed
this convent has suffered assault more than once.
Great towers, some square, others hexagonal, are
built at each corner and at various places in the
walls. Some of these towers have on their summits
a covered way for defense that projects far out
and supports queerly shaped roofs surmounted by
lanterns terminating in spires.
There are others, that have a second tower be
hind the first one, in the midst of a balustrade of
bell-towers. The door giving access to the interior
of the convent opens in a square tower, before
which stretches a great square.
Above these ramparts, rise in graceful pictur
esque irregularity the pinnacle and cupolas of the
buildings forming the monastery. The immense re
fectory, whose square walls are painted in squares
with diamond points, engrosses the attention by ita

TROITZA. 433
imposing appearance, lightened by the tower
of an exquisite chapel. Quite near it rise the five
swelling domes of the church of the Assumption,
surmounted by the Greek cross, while a little
further on, dominating the landscape, rises the
lofty, raany-colored tower of the Trinity, with its
rows of little towers, carrying high aloft into the
heavens its cross adorned with chains. Still other
towers, other belfries, and other roofs, eraerge in
confusion above the level of the walls, but no
description could assign thera their proper place;
they must be seen to be understood. Nothing could
be more charming than these gold spires and cu
polas, to which the snow adds a few touches of sil
ver, flashing upwards from a cluster of buildings
painted in vivid colors. It makes one fancy oneself
in an Oriental eity.
On the opposite side of the square is a vast hotel,
more like a caravansary than an inn, for the re
ception of pilgrims and travelers. There we put
up our carriage and chose our rooms and ordered
our dinner, before going to visit the convent. It
was not quite equal to the Grand Hotel or the Hotel
Meurice, but, all things considered, it did very well
for the place; a springlike temperature reigned
all through the building, and the larder was very
tolerably filled. The coraplaints of tourists over
the dirt and vermin of Russian hotels fill us with
amazement. Near the convent door were established some
28

434 RUSSIA.
stalls, containing various little articles and curi
osities that tourists love to carry away as souvenirs.
There were children's playthings, of raost primi
tive simplicity, colored with amusing barbarisra,
little white felt shoes, lined with blue or pink,
which even Andalusian feet would find difficult to
put on, fur mittens, Circassian belts, dishes from
Toula, inlaid with platinum, models of the cracked
bell of Moscow, chaplets, enaraelled medallions with
the picture of St. Sergius, metal or wooden crosses,
containing a raultitude of microscopic figures,
in Byzantine fashion, intermingled with legends
in Slavonic characters, rolls from the convent bak
ery, with scenes from the Old and New Testament
stamped on their smooth brown crusts, without
counting the piles of green apples that the Rus
sians are never weary of consuming. Moujiks,
blue with cold, were keeping these little shops ; for
here woraen, without being coerced into Oriental
seclusion, never mingle in the outside life; they
are rarely seen on the streets; trade is conducted
by raen, and a female trader is an unknown tyi)e
in Russia. This retirement is a reranant from the
old Asiatic modesty. Several episodes from the
life of St. Sergius, who is the great local saint,
are painted on the entrance tower. In common
with St. Roche and St. Anthony, St. Sergius has his
favorite animal. It is neither a dog nor a pig,
but a bear, an eminently suitable wild beast to
figure in the legend of a Russian saint. While the

TROITZA. 435
venerable saint was living in solitude, a bear wan
dered around his hermitage with very evident hos
tile intention. One morning upon opening his
door, the saint found a bear standing there growl
ing, with paws extended for a hug that was by no
means fraternal. Sergius raised his hand and
blessed the animal, who fell on his fore paws, licked
the feet of the saint and followed hira about with
the docility of the most obedient dog. The saint
and the bear kept house together ever afterwards
with the most perfect amity.
After having looked hastily at these paintings,
which if not ancient are at least raodelled upon an
antique pattern and look very Byzantine, we en
tered the interior of the convent, which resembles
the inside of a fortified place, which indeed it is,
for Troitza has passed through several sieges.
A few words in regard to its history will per
haps not be amiss, before passing to the description
of the monuments and treasures inclosed within
its ramparts. St. Sergius used to live in a cabin
in the heart of a vast forest, in the dependency of
Radonege, to-day Gorodok, in the practice of
prayer, fasting, and all the austerities of a hermit's
life. Near his cell he erected a church to the honor
of the very Holy Trinity, creating thus a reUgious
centre to which the faithful flocked. His disciples,
full of fervor, desired to remain near their master.
Sergius, for their protection, built a convent, that
took the name of Troitza, which means Trinity in

436 RUSSIA.
Russian, after the appellation of the church, and
was elected its superior. This happened in 1338.
His care for his salvation and his preoccupation
in heavenly matters did not prevent St. Sergius
frora interesting himself in the events of his time.
The love of God did not extinguish in his heart
the love of his native land. He was a patriotic
saint, and as such he is still the object of great
veneration among the Russians. He it was who, in
the time of the great Mongolian invasion, incited
Prince Dmitri to march in the valley of the Don
against the fierce hordes of Mimai. In order that to
patriotic exaltation should be added religious exal
tation, two monks chosen by Sergius accompanied
the prinee into battle. The enemy was beaten back,
and the grateful Dmitri endowed the convent of
Troitza with great wealth, an example that was
followed by succeeding princes and Tzars, among
others Ivan the Terrible, who was one of the most
munificent protectors of the monastery.
In 1395 the Tartars attacked Moscow, laying the
country waste with fire and sword in true Asiatic
manner. Troitza was too rich a prize not to excite
their covetousness. The convent was attacked, pil
laged, burned, reduced to a heap of ruins, and
when Nikon, the devastating torrent having passed,
returned to rebuild the raonastery and gather to
gether the scattered monks, the body of St. Sergius
was found under the ruins, in a miraculous state
of preservation.

TROITZA. 437
Troitza, in time of invasion or distress, served
as an asylum for patriotism and a citadel for the
nation. In 1609 the Russians defended it for six
teen months against the Poles, under the leader
ship of the hetman Sapieha. After several futile
assaults, the enemy was forced to raise the siege.
Later the convent of St. Sergius sheltered the
youthful Tzar, Peter Alexeiovitch, flying from the
revolted StreUtz, and the gratitude of this illus
trious fugitive, when in power, enriched Troitza,
converting it into a very tabernacle of treasures.
Troitza has not been pillaged since the sixteenth
century, and the convent would have offered a
splendid spoil to the French army had it pene
trated so far, and the burning of Moscow had not
forced its retreat. Tzars, princes, boyards, through
the love of display or the desire of obtaining par
don from heaven, have endowed Troitza with in
calculable riches, which it still possesses. The in
fidel Potemkin, who was not on that account less
devoted to St. Sergius, presented sumptuous sacer
dotal vestments. Besides these heaps of jewels,
Troitza owned one hundred thousand serfs and ira
raense domains, that were secularized by Cather
ine IL, after having recompensed the convent by
rich presents. Formerly Troitza used to have in
its cells about three hundred raonks; to-day there
are not raore than one hundred, who seem well
nigh lost in the vast solitude of this immense con
vent.

438 RUSSIA.
Troitza, which is almost a city, encloses within
its walls nine cathedrals, the Tzar's palace, the
home of the archimandrite, the chapter hall, the
refectory, the library, the treasure-chambers,
monks' cells, burial chapels, buildings for service
of all sorts, in which there has been no thought of
syraraetry, but which have been constructed at the
desired moment, in the needed spot, like plants
growing in a corner of favorable earth. Its ap
pearance is strange, novel, unnatural so to speak.
Nothing eould bear less resemblance to the pic
turesque charm of a Catholic convent. The sad
ness of Gothic art, with its slender columns, its
sharp ogives, its carved trefoils, rising heaven
ward, evokes an utterly different train of ideas.
Here are no long cloisters enclosing a solitary
garden within their time-worn arches, no austere,
old, moss-grown, rain-worn walls, covered with the
smoke and rust of the centuries; none of those
buildings that vary the original theme in a thou
sand delicious shapes and fancies.
The Greek religion, less picturesque from an
artistic point of view, preserves the ancient Byzan
tine forraulas and repeats them unceasingly, being
more interested in orthodoxy than in taste. Not
withstanding whieh it attains immense effects in
splendor and richness, while its ecclesiastic barbar
ism produces a powerful impression upon untu
tored imaginations.
It is impossible for the raost blase tourist not to

TROITZA. 439
experience a sentiment of admiration when, on
coming out on the porch of the tower, he sees, at
the end of an alley of trees glistening with ice,
those churches painted in bright blue, or red, or
apple-green, picked out in white by the snow, ris
ing with their gold or silver cupolas from the midst
of the vari-colored buildings surrounding them.
The day was drawing to a close as we entered
the cathedral of the Trinity, where is the shrine of
St. Sergius, and the tender light gave additional
significance to the splendor of the sanctuary. The
long files of saints against the walls raade dark
spots on the gold backgrounds and assumed a sort
of strange, stern life. They raight have been taken
for a procession of grave personages standing out
among the shadows, on the top of a little hill, across
which gleams a ray of the setting sun. In other
more obscure corners the pictured figures resera
bled phantoms, watching eagerly all that was pass
ing in the ehurch. Caught by some wandering
gleam, an aureole here and there shone like a star
in a dark sky, or iraparted to sorae bearded saint
the aspect of the head of John the Baptist
before Herod. The iconostase, a gigantic facade of
gold and jewels, reached to the ceiling with its
yellow flashes and prismatic scintillations. Close
to the iconostase, on the right, "a luminous spot
attracted the attention, where countless lamps were
shining amid a blaze of gold, enamel and silver.
It was the shrine of St. Sergius, the humble an-

440

RUSSIA.

chorite, who rests there within a monument richer
than that of an emperor. The tomb is of silver-
gilt, the canopy in massive silver, supported by
four columns of the sarae metal, the gift of the
Tzarina Anne.
Around this brilliant, flashing mass of wrought
gold and silver, moujiks, pilgrims, devotees of
every sort, were praying in an ecstasy of devo
tion, making the sign of the cross, absorbed in the
practices of Greek piety. It made a picture worthy
of Rembrandt. The glittering tomb threw over
the kneeling peasants flashes of flame, that touched
with glory a head or a beard, or brought into
prominence a proflle, while the rest of the body
was lost in shadow and coarse heavy garments.
There were magnificent heads among them, glori
fied with faith and enthusiasm.
After having contemplated for some time this
scene so full of interest, we examined the icono
stase, in which is enshrined the picture of St. Ser
gius, which is considered miraculous, and which was
carried by the Tzar Alexis during his wars against
Poland, and by Peter the Great in his campaigns
against Charles XII. It is difficult to conceive
of the quantity of riches that faith, devotion, or
remorse, hoping to secure thus the indulgence
of heaven, have accumulated in centuries on this
iconostase, a colossal jewel-casket, a veritable mine
of precious stones. The nimbi of certain pictures
are strewn with diamonds. Sapphires, rubies, emer-

TROITZA. 441
aids, topazes form patterns on the golden robes of
the madonnas, black and white pearls are arranged
in flowers, and when room is lacking, carcanets of
massive gold fastened at each corner serve to con
tain diaraonds of enormous size. It is almost im
possible to compute their value, but it is surely
raany millions. Without doubt a simple madonna
of Raphael is much more beautiful than a Greek
Mother of God thus decked out, but still this pro
digious Asiatic and Byzantine magnificence pro
duces its own effect.
The cathedral of the Assumption, which is next
to that of the Trinity, is built on the same plan
as that of the Assumption of the Kreralin, whose
interior and exterior arrangements are exactly re
peated. Paintings that one could easily fancy
were executed by the immediate pupils of Pan
selinos, the great Byzantine artist of the eleventh
century, cover its walls and the enorraous pillars
that support the ceiling. One could fancy that the
church was entirely decorated with tapestry, for
no relief breaks the iraraense fresco which is divided
into corapartraents and circles. Sculpture plays
no part in the adornment of religious edifices con
secrated to the Greek worship. The Eastern
church, which employs in sueh profusion the
painted image, -apparently does not admit the
sculptured one. She seems to fear the statue as an
idol, although she occasionally makes use of the
bas-relief in the decoration of doors, crosses and

442 RUSSIA.
other religious articles. We know of no other de
tached statues than those which decorate the cathe
dral of St. Isaac's.
This total absence of relief and sculpture im
parts to the Greek churches a strange and singular
style, of which at first one does not take account.
but finally learns to understand.
In this church are the tombs of Boris Godunoff,
his wife and two children. They resemble in style
and form Mussulraan graves. Religious scruples
banish the art that raakes of Gothic tombs such ad
mirable monuments.
St. Sergius, as the founder and patron of the
convent, certainly deserved to have his church built
on the spot where formerly stood his hermit cell.
There is then within the walls of Troitza a chapel
to St. Sergius as richly ornaraented, as splendid
as the sanctuaries, of which we have been talking.
There is found the miraculous image of the Virgin
of Smolensk, surnamed the Leader. The walls,
from top to bottom, are covered with frescoes,
while through the interstices of the goldwork of
the iconostase glirapses raay be caught of the brown
heads of Greek saints.
In the meanwhile it had grown dark, and what
ever may be the zeal of the tourist, it is sometimes
possible to see without understanding. Hunger,
too, began to assert its claims, so we returned to
the inn, where the delightful temperature of a Rus
sian interior greeted us. The dinner was passable.

TROITZA. 443
The inevitable cabbage soup, accompanied with
meat-balls, a milk-pig, soudaks, a fish peeuliar to
Russia, coraposed the menu, enlivened with a little
white Crimean wine, which amuses itself by coun
terfeiting champagne, and is not, when all is said
and done, at all disagreeable. After dinner, sev
eral glasses of tea and a few puffs of extreraely
strong Russian tobacco, frora little pipes like those
used by the Chinese, brought us to the hour of
retiring. Our repose was not troubled by any of those
nocturnal aggressors whose impure onslaught
transforms the traveler's bed into a bloody field
of battle. So we are deprived of the opportunity
of hurling a pathetic malediction against vermin,
and must reserve for another occasion Heinrich
Heine's quotation: "A duel with a bug! fie! you
kill it and it poisons you ! ' ' One needs but to leave
one's window open in a temperature some thirty
degrees below zero to destroy this foul breed.
We were up betimes the next morning, eager to
resume our investigations through the convent of
Troitza. We managed to visit all the churches
we had not seen the day before, of whieh it is use
less to give a detailed description, for inside they
are almost an exact repetition of eaeh other, like
a liturgical formula. On the outside some unite
the rococo style with the Byzantine in a most ex
traordinary manner. Then, too, it is difficult to
assign to these edifices their true age ; the one that

444 RUSSIA.
seems the most ancient may have been painted the
day before, while the traces of time disappear
under the incessant application of coats of color.
We had brought a letter from an influential person
in Moscow for the archimandrite, who was a hand
some raan with long beard and hair, and a raost
majestic face, whose features made us think of the
Ninevite bulls with human faces. The archiman
drite did not speak French, but sending for a
nun who understood that language he bade her
accompany us in a visit to the Treasury and other
curiosities of the convent. The nun kissed the
hand of her superior and stood in silence awaiting
the arrival of the custodian with the keys. Hers
was one of those faces that never fade from the
memory, but stand out like a dream from among
the trivialities of life. On her head she wore a sort
of bushel, resembling the diadem of certain Mith
raic divinities, that is used by popes and monks.
Two long crape strearaers with, floating ends fell
over a full black robe. Iler face, which had the
pallor of the ascetic, with yellow tints under the
fine skin, was perfect in its regularity. Her eyes,
which were surrounded by black circles, when she
raised the lids were of deepest blue, and her entire
person, although enveloped and concealed in this
floating bag of black etamine, betrayed the rarest
distinction. She managed its folds through the
long corridors of the convent as she might have
handled a long train in some court ceremonial. The

TROITZA. 445
nameless graces of a forraer woraan of the world,
which she essayed to conceal with Christian hu
mility, reappeared in spite of her. At sight of her,
the most prosaic imagination could not help weav
ing a romance around her. What grief, what de
spair, what whirlwind of passion, could have
brought her here? She made us think of the
Duchesse de Langeais, in Balzac's "History of the
Thirteen," discovered by Montriveau under the
habit of a Carmelite nun in the depths of an Anda
lusian convent. We arrived at the treasure room,
where we were shown, as the most precious piece,
a wooden goblet and some coarse priestly garments.
The sister explained that this wretched wooden
vase was the pix used by St. Sergius in his service
of the raass, and that he had worn these miserable
vestraents, which raade them priceless reliques. She
spoke the purest French, without the slightest ac
cent, as if it had been her mother tongue. While
with the utmost calraness, quite free from skep
ticism or credulity, she told of the various marvel
ous legends relating to these objects, a slight sraile
parting her lips, and showing teeth of a purer tint
than all the pearls of the treasure-room, teeth so
.shining as to leave an imperishable impression, like
the teeth of Berenice in Edgar Poe's romance.
These brilliant teeth, in this face marked with
suffering and austerity, brought back her youth.
This nun, whom at flrst we had thought thirty-six
or eight, did not seem now raore than twenty-five.

446 RUSSIA.
But it was but for an instant. Having become
aware, with a woman's delicacy of perception, of
our respectful but eager admiration, she resumed
the dead air suitable to her habit. All the ward
robes were opened to our inspection, and we beheld
bibles, gospels, books of liturgy, with enamelled
covers incrusted with onyx, sardonyx, agate chrys
oberyl, aquamarines, lapis-lazuli, malachite, tur
quoise, with gold and silver clasps, and antique
cameos set in the backs ; golden pixes, encircled
with diamonds, crosses inset with emeralds and ru
bies, rings with sapphire bezels, silver vases and
chandeliers, brocaded dalmatics embroidered
with flowers in precious stones, and legends writ
ten in aneient Slavonic in pearls, censers in clois
onne enamel, triptychs covered with countless fig
ures, images of madonnas and saints, perfect
masses of goldwork, starred with jewels — the treas
ures of Haroun-al-Raschid Christianized.
As we were leaving, dazzled with wonders, our
eyes blinded and full of blue lights, the nun point
ed to a shelf of a wardrobe, on which were several
bushels that had escaped our attention, whose ap
pearance presented nothing unusual. She plunged
into one her slender, patrician hand, saying.-
"They are pearls. They did not know what to do
with them, so have put them here. There are eight
measures full."

BYZANTINE ART.

( 447 ).

XIX.
BYZANTINE AET.
Understanding from some of our observations
that we were not utterly ignorant of art, the nun
who had shown us the treasures thought that a
sight of the ateliers de peinture of the convent,
the workshops where the pictures are made, might
interest us as much as these heaps of gold, dia
monds and pearls, so she took us through broad
corridors, intersected with staircases, to the rooms
where the artist-monks and their pupils were at
work. Byzantine art is very peculiar, being a law unto
itself, and entirely different from what is meant
by the word among the nations of Western Europe
or those who follow the Latin religion. It is a
priestly, hieratic, immutable art; nothing, or well
nigh nothing, is allowed to the fancy or invention
of the artist. Its formulas are as absolute as dog
mas. So that for this sehool there exists neither
progress, nor decadence nor a high-water mark, if
one might be allowed the term. ¦ The fresco picture
finished twenty years ago cannot be distinguished
from the painting counting centuries of existence.
As it was in the sixth, the ninth or the tenth cen-
(449)
29

450 RUSSIA.
tury such is the Byzantine art of to-day. We raake
use of this word for lack of a better one, just as
everyone uses and understands the word ' ' Gothic, ' '
although its meaning is far from being exact.
It is very evident to any man who knows any
thing at all about painting that this art is derived
frora a different source than is Latin art, that it
has taken absolutely nothing from the Italian
schools, that for it the Renaissance has never ex
isted, and that Rome is not the centre where sits
enthroned its ideal. This art sees for itself, neither
borrows nor advances, since from its inception it
found its necessary form; open to criticism, it is
true, from an artistic point of view, but wonder
fully suited to the function that it fills. But, some
one asks, where is the home of this so carefully
preserved tradition, whence comes this uniform
teaching which has traversed the ages, without
undergoing any alteration araid its varied condi
tions? What raasters do all these artists obey,
whose pencils have covered the churches of the
Greek religion with such a vast multitude of fig
ures, that their enumeration, were it possible,
would far surpass that of the most formidable
army? A curious and learned introduction, by M. Did
ron, placed at the head of the Byzantine manu
script "The Guide to Painting," translated by
Dr. Paul Durand, replies to most of these and
similar questions. The author of "The Guide to

BYZANTINE ART. 451
Painting" is one Denys, a raonk of Fourna
d'Agrapha, an ardent adrairer of the faraous Man
uel Panselinos of Thessalonica, who is apparently
the Raphael of Byzantine art, a few of whose fres
coes still exist in the principal church of Kares, on
Mt. Athos. In a short preface, preceded by an in
vocation "to Mary, Mother of God and Ever Vir
gin," Master Denys of Agrapha thus announces
the purpose of his book: "This art of painting,
which from infancy has cost me so much labor to
learn, at Thessalonica, I have wished to propagate
for the use of those who equally desire to give
themselves up to its pursuit, and in this work
to explain to them with absolute precision all the
measurements, the characteristics of the figures, and
the colors of the flesh and ornaraents. Besides
whieh I desire to explain the proper proportions
of natural objects, the work peculiar to each sub
ject, the various preparations of varnish, of glue,
of plaster and of gold, as well as the manner of
painting upon walls with the greatest perfection.
I have also pointed out in their proper succession
all the characters of the Old and New Testament,
the raanner in which should be represented, natu
ral events, and the miracles of the Bible, as well
as the parables of our Lord, the legends, and epi
graphs suitable for each prophet; the name and
character of face of the apostles and principal
saints, their martyrdom and a portion of their
miracles according to their order in the calendar.

452 RUSSIA.
I tell how churches should be painted and I give
mueh other information, necessary to the art of
painting, as can be seen in the table. I have gath
ered all these materials together with eare and
pains, assisted by my pupil, Cyril of Chios, who
has corrected the whole with inflnite solicitude.
Pray then for us, every one please, that the Lord
may deliver us from the fear of being condemned
as unprofltable servants."
This manuscript, a veritable manual of Christian
iconography and pictorial technique, dates, accord
ing to the monks of Mt. Athos, back to the tenth
century. It is not so old, probably not going be
yond the fifteenth century, but that is a matter of
very little importance, for it assuredly repeats the
ancient formulas and archaic procedures. It stiU
serves to-day as a guide, and as M. Didron teUs
in his journey to the sacred mountain, where he
paid a visit to Father Macarios, the best Aghiorite
painter, after Father Joasaph, "This bible of his
art was spread open in the middle of his studio and
two of his youngest pupils were reading aloud
from it alternately while the others painted as
they listened to the reading."
The traveler endeavored to buy this manuscript,
but the artist refused to part with it at any priee,
for without this book he eould not have continued
to paint, but he would allow a copy of it to be made.
This manuscript contained the secret of Byzantine
painting, and enabled the learned tourist, who

Place Sonbrinski, Moscow

BYZANTINE ART. 453
had just visited the churches of Athens, Salamis,
Triccala, Kalabach, Larissa, the convents of Me-
teores, of St. Barlaam, St. Sophia, Salonica, Mis-
tra, Argos, to understand why he found every
where the same profusion of painted decoration,
everywhere the same arrangement, costume, and
even the same attitude of the sacred personages.
' ' One might fancy, ' ' he exclaimed in astonishment,
"that a single thought, animating at the same tirae
a hundred pencils, had brought into being, at a
single stroke, all the paintings of Greece!"
This exclamation can be applied with quite as
much justice to all the frescoes that adom most
of the Russian churches.
"The work-shop in which these paintings are
prepared," continues the traveler, "and in which
most of the Byzantine artists are trained, is Mt.
Athos; it is indeed the Italy of the Eastern
Church. Mt. Athos, that province of monks, con
tains twenty great monasteries, which are in reality
so many Uttle towns, ten viUages, two hundred and
fifty isolated cells, and one hundred and fifty
hermitages. The smallest of these monasteries en
closes six churches or chapels, and the largest thir
ty-three ; two hundred and eighty-eight in all.
' ' The villages or skites possess two hundred and
twenty-five chapels and ten churches*. Each cell
has its chapel and each hermitage its oratory. At
Kares, the capital of Athos, is what might be caUed
the cathedral of the entire mountain, which the

454 RUSSIA.
Greek monks call the Protaton, the metropolis. On
the top of a mountain on the eastern end of the
peninsula, rises in solitary grandeur a church dedi
cated to the Transfiguration. On Mt. Athos alone
are nine hundred and thirty-five churches, chapels
or oratories, and nearly all are frescoed and fiUed
with paintings done on wood. In the great con
vents, the most of the refectories are equaUy cov
ered with mural paintings."
All this certainly constitutes a rich museum
of religious art. The pupil-painter does not lack
subjects for study, nor models to reproduce, for
the merit of the artist does not consist in the
Byzantine school, as it does in the others, in invent
ing, in imagining, in showing himself original, but
rather in recopying in the most faithful manner
possible the consecrated types. The contours and
proportions of the figures are all decided in ad
vance. Nature is never consulted, tradition indi
cates the color of hair and beard, whether they
shall be long or short, the color of the vestments,
the number, direction, and thickness of their folds.
For long-robed saints there is invariably an open
ing of the garment about the knee. "In Greece,"
says M. Didron, "the artist is the slave of the
theologian. His work, which his successors will
copy, copies those of the painters who have pre
ceded him. The Greek artist is as fettered with
traditions as the animal with his instincts. He
makes a figure as the swallow her nest, or the bee

BYZANTINE ART. 455
its honey-comb. The execution alone is his; for
the invention and the conception belong to the
Fathers, to the theologians, to the orthodox
Church. Neither time nor place count for any
thing in Greek art; in the eighteenth century, the
Moreotic painter continues to copy the Venetian
painter of the tenth, or the Athonite painter of the
fifth and sixth. In the church of the Transfigura
tion at Athens, in the Hecatompyli at Mistra, or
the Panagia of St. Luke, you find the St. John
Chrysostom of the baptistery of St. Mark, in
Venice, is but reproduced."
M. Didron had the happiness to meet at Mt.
Athos, in the convent of Esphigmenon, the first he
visited, monk Joasaph, a painter of Kares, who was
covering with mural paintings the portico outside
of the nave of the chureh. He was assisted in his
labors by his brother and two pupils, of whom one
was a deacon, and two apprentices. The subject
which he was drawing on the still fresh coating of
plaster on the wall was Christ giving to his apos
tles the mission of evangelizing and baptizing the
world, — an important subject containing twelve
figures nearly life size. He sketched in the figures
without hesitation, with an unerring pencil, -with
only his memory to furnish the models. While
he was thus employed, his pupils filled in with
the requisite coloring the contours of the figures
and draperies, gilded the nimbus around their
heads, or wrote the letters of the legends, dictated

456 RUSSIA.
by the master, as he continued his work. The young
apprentices pounded and mixed the colors. These
frescoes, we are assured by the traveler, although
executed with so sure a celerity, were better than
the paintings of our artists of the second or third
class in religious work; and as he expressed his
amazement at the talent and learning of Father
Joasaph, who found for each personage sueh ap
propriate legends, giving proof of such vast eru
dition, the monk replied with humility that it was
not so difficult as might be imagined, and that with
the aid of the "Guide and a little practice, anyone
could do quite as well."
We had seen, sorae tirae before, a charming little
picture by Papety in the Salon in Paris, represent
ing "Greek monks painting the walls of a chapel
of the convent of Iviron, on Mt. Athos."
We had not at that time been in Russia, but
already this Neo-Byzantine art, of which we had
then seen but a few isolated fragments, fascinated
us, and Papety 's picture, outside its artistic merit,
excited our curiosity and filled us with delight, as
we beheld the work of living artists, that seemed to
date back to the time of the Greek emperors, and
we had described them as follows:
"There stood the two Greek monks, against the
wall they were painting. The lineaments of the
saints stand out in red lines traced upon the fresh
plaster awaiting their completion. The drawings
possessed an archaic stiffness that could make one

BYZANTINE ART. 457
believe they belonged to some distant epoch." Now
we, too, like Papety and Didron, were about to see
the work of the monk-artists, like those of Mt.
Athos, following with devotion the teachings of
the Guide, a living school of Byzantines, the past
working with the hands of the present, certainly a
rare and curious thing.
Five or six monks, of various ages, were busily
engaged in painting the bare walls of a huge well-
lighted room. One of the number, a handsome
man with black beard and swarthy face, who was
finishing a Mother of God, especially struck us,
with his air of priestly gravity, as well as the
pious care he bestowed upon his work. He brought
to mind Ziegler's beautiful painting: "St. Luke
drawing the portrait of the Virgin." With him
religious sentiment plainly took the precedence of
art: he painted as he might have celebrated the
holy office. His Virgin might well have been put
on the easel of the apostle, so severely archaic was
it, and so absolutely within the rigid, sacramental
linearaents. It might have been a Byzantine em
press, as it gazed at you with a grave majesty, from
the depths of its great, fixed, black eyes. The por
tions to be covered by the silver or gold plating,
that would have the places for the head and the
hands cut out, were as carefully painted as if they
were to remain in sight.
Other painting, in various stages of advancement,
representing Greek saints, among the rest St. Ser-

458 RUSSIA.
gius, the patron of the convent, were being finished
under the painstaking hands of the artist-monks.
These pictures, destined to serve as icons in chap
els or private houses, were on panels covered with
gypsum and smoked a little after the manner recom
mended by Master Denys of Agrapha, so that they
were exactly like the paintings of the twelfth or
fifteenth century. There were the same stiff, con
strained attitudes, the same priestly gestures, the
same regularity of folds, the same tawny, brown
color of skin, all the rules of Mt. Athos. They
were employing the white of an egg, or distem
per, that was afterwards varnished. The aureoles
and ornaraents raeant to be gilded stood out in re
lief, that they raight reflect the light to better ad
vantage. The old masters of Salonica, could they
have revisited the world, would have been abso
lutely content with these pupils of Troitza.
But no tradition can be to-day inviolably main
tained. Less strictly conscientious followers wiU
slip now and then in among the obstinate secta
rians of the old formulas, and through some open
ing the new spirit will be introduced into the
ancient mould. Even those who desire to follow
the footsteps of the Athonite painters, and pre
serve in our time inviolably the Byzantine style,
cannot help seeing raodem pictures where liberty
of invention is allied to the study of nature. It
is impossible to keep one's eyes always closed, and
even at Troitza the modern spirit had penetrated.

BYZANTINE ART. 459
In the metopes of the Parthenon there are two
distinct styles, the one archaic, the other modern.
A portion of the raonks adhered to the ancient
rule; others, younger ones, had abandoned the
white of egg for oil, and, though still keeping their
figures in the prescribed attitude and iraraemorial
postures, allowed themselves to give truer tones to
the heads and hands, to use a less conventional
coloring, and to remodel the plans and iraprove the
reliefs. They raade the sacred woraen huraanly
pretty, and the men less theocratically fierce ; they
failed to apply to the chins of the patriarchs and
hermits the forked beard, recommended by "The
Guide to Painting." Their figures were raore like
a picture, without having, in our opinion, the merit
of one.
This more suave and agreeable method does not
lack partisans, as exaraples in raore than one mod
ern Russian church will attest; but, for our part,
we vastly prefer the ancient method, that is, the
religious and decorative ideal, with a prestige in
forra and coloring beyond the vulgar reality. This
symbolic fashion of presenting an idea by means
of figures already decided, like the sacred writing
in which it is not permissible to alter the letters,
seems to us wonderfully suitable to the adornment
of the sanctuary. For in spite of its fixity it would
still allow a great artist an opportunity of assert
ing hiraself in the beauty of the drawing, the gran
deur of style and nobility of contour.

460 RUSSIA.
We do not believe that this attempt to modernize
Byzantine art will be successful. There is in Rus
sia, as in France, a school of romantic litterateurs
who passionately love local coloring, and who de
fend with, learned theories and lucid criticism the
old style of Mt. Athos, on account of its antique,
religious character, its deep convictions and abso
lute originality, surrounded as it is by produc
tions of Italian, Spanish, Fleraish or French art.
A just idea may be formed of this contention by
calling to mind the passionate defense of Gothic
architecture and the diatribes against Greek archi
tecture, as applied to religious edifices, the paral
lels drawn between Notre Dame and the church
of the Madeleine in Paris, which formed the de
light of the cultured in the early half of the cen
tury. At some tirae or other, every country suffers
from what might be called a period of false classic
civilization, a sort of learned barbarisra, in whieh
it is incapable of understanding its own beauties,
despises its individuality, cares nothing for its
antiquities and customs, but at sight of some in
sipid ideal of regularity is willing to demolish its
most wonderful national edifices. The eighteenth
century, so great in other respects, would willingly
have razed to the ground the cathedrals, as monu
ments of bad taste. The portal of St. Gervais, by
de Brosse, was frankly preferred to the stupen-

BYZANTINE ART. 461
dous fagades of the cathedrals of Strasburg, Char
tres and Rheims.
The nun apparently looked upon these freshly-
colored madonnas if not precisely with disdain,
since they represented a sacred image, worthy of
adoration, certainly with a respect entirely void of
admiration. She lingered much longer before the
easels where were being elaborated paintings ac
cording to ancient methods. In spite of our prefer
ence for the old style, we must acknowledge that
certain amateurs push a little too far to please us
their passion for the old Byzantine paintings. In
their eagerness for the na'ive, the primordial, the
sacred, the mystic, they are carried away by en
thusiasm for smoked and worm-eaten panels, upon
whieh ean scarce be discerned fierce figures, ex
travagant in design and impossible in coloring. In
coraparison with these iraages, the crudest Christs
of Ciraabue would seem like those of Vanloo and
Boucher. It is pretended that some of these paint
ings date from the fifth, or even fourth century.
We can understand that they should be sought for
as archaic curiosities, but it is not possible that
they should be adraired for their artistic merit.
Several of them were shown to us, when we were in
Russia, but we must confess ourselves ineapable of
discovering the beauties that so" charmed their pos
sessors. They might perhaps be venerable in a sanctuary
as ancient witnesses of the faith they represented.

462 RUSSIA.
but certainly their place is not in a gallery, unless
indeed it may be an historical one.
Outside of this Byzantine art, whose home is
Mt. Athos, there has not yet existed any school of
Russian art, properly speaking. The few artists
that Russia has produced have not created a school ;
they have studied in Italy, and their paintings are
not espeeially national. The most celebrated and
best known of them all in Western Europe is Bru
loff, whose vast canvas entitled ' ' The Last Day of
Pompeii" made a great sensation in the Salon of
1824. Bruloff painted the cupola of St. Isaac's,
where he evinced a superb coraprehension of com
position and perspective, in a manner that recaUed
decorative painting as it was practiced towards
the close of the eighteenth eentury. This artist,
who had a pale, romantic, Byronian face surround
ed by a raass of blonde hair, delighted in repro
ducing his own head, and we have seen a number
of his portraits executed at various times by his
own hand, which, no matter what was his age, por
trayed his extraordinary beauty. These portraits,
done with dash and freedom, seem to us the best
of his works. A very popular name in St. Peters
burg is that of Ivanoff, in whora, during years em
ployed in the creation of a mysterous chef-d'oeuvre,
Russia waited and hoped for a great painter. But
that is another story, and would carry us too far
away to be told now. Will, then, Russia never
take her place among the schools of painting? We

BYZANTINE ART. 463
believe she may do so, when she will cease to in
dulge in foreign iraitation, when her painters, in
stead of going to Italy for their models, will look
around them and seek inspiration from nature and
the so varied and characteristic types of that im
mense erapire, that beginning at Prussia only ends
at China. Our relations with the group of young
artists who asserabled in the ' ' Friday Club ' ' allows
us to believe in the by no means distant realiza
tion of this future.
Always preceded by the nun enveloped in her
long black veils, we next entered a perfectly fur
nished laboratory where Nadar might have worked
in comfort. To pass from Mt. Athos to Paris is
indeed a rather sudden transition. To leave monks
grinding out Panagias on gold backgrounds and
to find others applying collodion to pieces of glass
is one of the tricks that civilization loves to play at
the moraent when one is thinking the least about
it ! The sight of a cannon pointed in our direction
could not have surprised us more than did the
brass tube of the camera pointed by chance towards
us. We could scarcely believe our eyes. The raonks
of Troitza, the disciples of St. Sergius, were raak
ing views of their convent, perfectly successful
photographic reproductions. They possess the best
instruments, are familiar with the latest methods,
and do their work in a chamber lighted with yel
low glass, which color possesses the faculty of break
ing the luminous rays. We bought from them a

464 RUSSIA.
view of the monastery, that we stifl have and that
has not grown too pale.
In his Russian travels, M. de Gustine complains
that he was not allowed to visit the library of
Troitza ; but we found no difficulty in this matter,
and saw all that is possible for a traveler to see
of a library in a half hour— that is, the backs of
well-bound books arranged neatly on shelves of
the bookcases. Besides the books on theology, the
bibles, the works of the Fathers of the Church,
scholastic treatises, liturgical books in Latin,
Greek, Slavonic, we noticed in a rapid survey nu
raerous French books of the last and also of the
great eentury. We also saw the immense refec
tory, whieh is terminated by a delicately wrought
screen, through whose iron arabesques gleamed
the gold of an iconostase, for the refectory con
tains a chapel, in order that the soul may be nour
ished as well as the body. We had completed the
tour of the convent, and the nun brought us baek
to take leave of the archimandrite.
Before entering the apartment, the habits of
the woraan of the world gaining the ascendency
over the rules of the monastic life, she turned
towards us, and bowed, as a queen might have
bowed from the steps of her throne, and as she
smiled with languid grace she showed those ex
quisite teeth, that were so rauch more beautiful
than all the pearls of Troitza.
Then with a change as sudden as if she had

BYZANTINE ART.

465

lowered her veil, her face resumed the lifeless ex
pression of one who has renounced the world, as
with spirit-like tread she knelt before the archi
mandrite and kissed his hand as reverently as if
it had been a relique. After which, she rose, and
disappeared like a dream, amid the raysterious
depths of the convent, leaving with us an inef
faceable remembrance.
There was nothing more to be seen in Troitza,
so we repaired to the hotel and ordered our driver
to get his carriage ready. The horses harnessed
to the kibitka by a series of cords, the coachman
seated on his narrow bench, covered with a sheep
skin, we ourselves ensconced corafortably under our
bear-skin, the bill paid, the pour-boires scattered,
nothing remained but to execute the fantasia of a
departure at full gallop. A little noise frora the
moujik's tongue was the signal for our equipage
to assume the mad gait of the horse that carried
away Mazeppa fastened to his back, and it was
only at the other side of the hill upon which
Troitza was built, whose domes and towers were
still to be seen, that these delightful little beasts
consented to fall into a reasonable pace. We will
not describe the road from Troitza to Moscow,
having already described that from Moscow to
Troitza, the only difference being fhat the objects
were presented in inverse ratio.
We reached Moscow that same evening, quite
ready to go to a masked ball that was to be given

30

466 RUSSIA.
that night, invitations to which we found at the
hotel. In spite of the intense cold, sleighs and
carriages with lanterns shining like frozen stars
were standing before the door. A warm, joyous
light shone through the windows of the building
where the ball was taking place, making, with the
moonlight, one of those contrasts so sought for by
dioramas and stereoscopes. Having crossed the
vestibule, we entered an immense, square room,
surrounded by colurans supporting a gallery that
was reached by stairs. We thought this arrange
ment very charming, and one that it would be well
to imitate in halls destined for fetes, since it allows
those who are not participating actively in the
pleasures of the ball to watch the dancers, without
crowding them, and to enjoy at their ease the scene
offered by the animated and moving crowds. From
this height the figures assume a much more pic
turesque and brilliant appearance. Nothing is
more tiresome than a mass of people on a level.
That is the reason that society balls are so inferior
in effect to those of the Opera, with their triple
row of loges, filled with masks, like garlands, and
their troops of peasants, devils, savages and babies
ascending and descending the stairs. Although
the decorations were of extreme simplicity, they
produced an effect of gaiety, elegance and rich
ness. Everything was white: walls, ceilings, pil
lars, while around the moulding ran a gilded net
work. The stuccoed and polished pillars imitated

BYZANTINE ART. 467
marble to perfection, and reflected the light bril
liantly. All along the cornice were rows of can
dles, that added to the blaze of the chandeliers.
Amid such a mass of whiteness, the light attained
the vivacity of the most vivid Italian "daylight"
illumination. Certainly movement and light are elements of
joy, but in order that a fete should be absolutely
successful, noise must be added: noise, the breath
and song of life. The crowd, although quite large,
was silent; only the lightest murmur ran like a
wave from group to group, making a dull, con
tinuous bass accompaniment to the fanfares of the
orchestra. Russians take their pleasures silently,
and when one has had his ears deafened by the
triumphal bacchanal of "the Nights at the Opera"
he is astonished at this phlegm and taciturnity.
Doubtless they amuse themselves greatly at horae,
but they certainly do not appear to do so outside.
There were dominos, masks, uniforras, people
in evening dress, and a few officers, with wasp
like waists, in Lesghine, Circassian or Tartar cos
tumes, but no typical disguise that could be con
sidered as peeuliar to the country. Russia has
not yet produced its national disguise. The women,
as usual, were in the rainority, and were the at
traction of the ball. As well as could be judged,
what is called the demi-monde was represented by
French, Gerraan and Swedish women, often of rare
beauty. It is possible that the Russian element

468 RUSSIA.
was not lacking, but it is not easy for a stranger
to recognize it. We give this observation for what
it is worth. In spite of a few timid attempts at
the cancan, of Paris importation, the affair rather
dragged, and the bursts of music failed to enliven
it. The entrance of the Gypsies was awaited with
impatience, for a concert was to be given in the
middle of the ball. When the Gypsy singers ap
peared on the stage a sigh of profound satisfaction
issued from every breast.
At last, we were going to be amused! The real
spectacle was about to begin. The Russians are
passionately fond of these Gypsies' songs, that are
so full of a strange pathos, and bring to the listener
longings for a roving life and priraitive nature,
beyond constraint of every law, divine or human.
We, too, love these songs with a passionate devo
tion, that taught us to make liberal use of our
elbows that we might get close to the stage that
held the musicians.
The music began. It consisted of weird songs,
full of sweet melancholy or mad gaiety, inter
spersed with endless trills, like those of a bird
who listens to and is intoxicated with his own
song, or one who sighs sadly for sorae brilliant,
former existence, with the joyousness of liberty
and love, or perchance is indifferent to all, eveu
to lost happiness, so that freedora reraains. Then
came choruses, interspersed with stampings and
cries as accompaniments to those nocturnal meas-

BYZANTINE ART. 469
ures danced on the green of the meadows that are
called "The Ring of the Fairies," as if Weber,
Chopin or Liszt had suddenly become a savage.
Or perchance the theme of the song would be
taken frora a comraon tune one had heard thumped
on many a piano, but under the magic touch of
instrument, of trill and roulade and caprice it
seemed no more the same : the originality of th^
variations made one forget the vulgarity of the
motif. Paganini 's wonderful elaborations of the
"Carnival of Venice" afford some idea of these
delicate, rausical arabesques, like gold, silk, and
pearls embroidered on some coarse stuff. One
enormous Gypsy, a sort of clown of raost ferocious
aspect, supported the songs of the women by chords
from a great rebec that he held between his legs
and played after the fashion of an Oriental musi
cian, while another great fellow capered about on
the stage, dancing, and striking his feet together
as he thrummed the chords of his guitar or marked
the time on the wood of his instrument with the
palm of his hand, making queer grimaces and ever
and anon giving vent to a sudden wild shriek.
It would be impossible to describe the enthusi
asm of the public: they crowded about the stage
and applauded wildly; they shouted their admira
tion and joined in the choruses. These songs, so
full of strange mystery, exercised the power of an
actual incantation: the listener grows giddy, mad.

470 RUSSIA.
and is thrown into a state of mind that is abso
lutely incomprehensible.
As you listen, you are suddenly filled with a wild
longing to disappear forever from civilization, to
inhabit the woods for the rest of your life in the
corapany of one of these brown-skinned sorcer
esses with eyes of flashing flre. In fact, these songs,
so full of a magic charm, are the voices of nature
itself, noted down and seized on the wing from
the depths of solitude. That is why they move so
profoundly all those upon whom weighs so heavily
the complicated mechanism of human society.
As, still under the charra of this delicious melody,
we were sauntering about the ball dreamily, our
soul a thousand leagues away, while we were think
ing of a fair gitana of Granada who had once
sung to us some verses to an air that greatly re
sembled one we had just heard and we were seek
ing in a hidden eomer of our brain for the words,
we felt ourself suddenly seized by the arm, while
in that thin, sharp voice affected by all dominos
seeking an intrigue these weU-known words were
whispered in our ear: "I know you." In Paris
nothing could have been raore natural. Our face
has been seen long enough at flrst representations,
on the boulevards, in the museums, to be as well
known as if we were celebrated. But in Moscow
at a bal masque, this announcement seemed to our
modesty rather a hazardous one.
The domino, however, by way of proving her

BYZANTINE ART. 47I
assertion, whispered our name from under her
mask, whieh she pronounced very distinctly, with
a pretty little Russian accent, that the atterapt
to disguise her voice had not succeeded in obliter
ating. The conversation continued, and soon
proved that if the Moscow domino had never raet
us before this ball she was at least perfectly ac
quainted with our works. It is difficult for an
author, when verses frora his poetry or lines from
his prose are quoted to him so far away from home,
not to inhale with pleasure a little of the fragrance
of this incense, the most delicate that ean be offered
to a writer. In order to reduce our amour-propre
within its proper limits, we were obliged to say
depreCatingly that the least of French authors
could command a more numerous public in St.
Petersburg or Moscow than in Paris itself. At
the same time, in order to raake a suitable return
for the courtesy, we made a brave effort to be gal
lant and to reply to the quotations by suitable
verses, a rather difficult matter, with a domino
hopelessly enveloped in a satin bag with a hood
drawn over the forehead and a mask with a beard
as long as the beard of a hermit. The only thing
that eould be seen was a slight, little hand, care
fully gloved in black. It was entirely too mueh
mystery, and required too mueli effort of imagina
tion in order to be agreeable. Then, too, we must
plead guilty to a fault that always offers an in
surmountable bar to our throwing ourselves with

472 RUSSIA.
eagerness into the adventures of a bal masque.
We are fancying more ugliness than beauty behind
the disguise. This abominable piece of black silk,
with its profile of a bearded goat and its oblique
eyes, seems to be the raould of the face it covers,
nor are we at all able to rid ourselves of the ira
pression. When masked, even woraen whose youth and
beauty are well known to us fall aU at once under
suspicion. Of course we mean the absolute raasked
disguise. That tiny scrap of black velvet that our
grandfathers used to call touret de nez and that
the great ladies delighted to wear out walking,
allowed a glimpse of the mouth with its pearly
smile, the delicate outline of cheek and chin, while
its intense black added by force of contrast a new
freshness to the pink skin. It allowed one to judge
of a woman 's beauty, without entirely disclosing it.
It was but a coquettish reticence, and not a dis
turbing mystery. The most one risked eould be
but a Roxelane nose instead of the Greek one of
which one had dreamed, and that is an unhap
piness that is easily consoled. But an absolute
domino is capable, when it is discarded at the hour
of unmasking, of bringing about unfortunate dis
coveries that may place a well-bred man in a most
embarrassing position.
And so it was that, after two or three turns
around the ballroom, we left the mysterious lady
with a group that she pointed out, and thus ter-

BYZANTINE ART. 473
minated our intrigue of the bal masque in Moscow.
What ! is that ail ! the reader is exclaiming. You
are hiding something from us. The domino, slip
ping secretly from the ball, must have indicated to
you a "mysterious carriage and motioned to you to
enter. Then the lady knotted her lace handker
chief around your forehead, declaring playfully
that love should be bandaged, and taking you by
the hand when the carriage stopped conducted you
through long passages, and when the use of your
eyes was restored to you, you found yourself in a
splendidly illumined boudoir. The lady had laid
aside her mask and domino, as the brilliant butter
fly casts off its common larva ; she was smiling at
you, full of delight at your amazement. Tell us
whether she was dark or blonde, whether she had
a tiny mark at the corner of her mouth, so we may
recognize her should we meet her in the world of
society. Let us hope that you maintained the
honor of France in a foreign land, and showed
yourself tender, gallant, witty, paradoxical, im-
pEissioned, in a word, worthy of the situation, — an
adventure at a masked ball in Moscow ! — a charm
ing title for a little story, of whieh you did not
take advantage, you who are always so prolix when
it is a question of describing^ walls, pictures or
landscapes ! At the risk of being taken for a super
annuated Don Juan or a Valmont in retreat, there
was nothing else to tell. The meeting stopped right
there, and after having taken -a glass of tea mixed

474 RUSSIA.
with wine we sought our sleigh, and in a few min
utes were deposited at our hotel in the street of
the Old Newspapers.
Indeed the day had been quite full enough : the
morning at the convent, the evening at a ball,
a nun, a domino, Byzantine painting, and Gypsies :
we had indeed earned the right to retire to rest.
When one is traveling, one feels the value of
time much more sensibly than in the ordinary
course of life. For several weeks, or at most sev
eral months, you are in a country to which proba
bly you may never return; a thousand curious
things, that you will never see again, claim your
attention. There is not a moment to be lost, and
the eyes, like the teeth at a railway buffet, where
the signal for departure is momentarUy expected,
dispose of double portions.
Each hour has its occupation. The absence of
duties, of annoyances, of visits to be received or
returned, the isolation amid strange surroundings,
the constant driving about lengthen one's life to
an extraordinary degree, and yet, strange as it may
seem, the time does not seem short. Three months
of traveling is equal in length to a year in one's
ordinary home. When one remains quietly at
home, the days, each one so like the other, fall into
the jaws of oblivion without leaving any trace.
But when one visits for the flrst time a new coun
try, the remembrance of unaccustomed objects, un
expected actions, form objective points, and land-

BYZANTINE ART. 475
marks, that lengthen out the time and raake one
sensible of its extent.
Apelles once said: Nulla dies sine linea (No
day without its drawing)— in default of the Greek,
we quote the Latin. The tourist should arrange
this proverb to his own use and say: "No day
without some sight-seeing."
Following, then, this precept, the day after our
expedition to Troitza we went to the Kremlin to
visit the Museum of Carriages and the Treasure of
the Priests.
These ancient, superb carriages form, indeed, a
curious and interesting exhibition: coronation-car
riages, gala-carriages, traveling and country car
riages, post-chaises, sleighs, and vehicles of every
sort and kind. Man proceeds as does nature, going
always from the complicated to the simple, from
the enormous to the proper proportion, from undue
pomp to simple elegance. Carriages, like the fauna
of primitive tiraes, had their mammoths and mas
todons. One stands in astonishraent before the
monstrous machines on wheels, with their gear en
tangled with hangings, their great double springs,
their levers, their thick bands of leather and mas
sive wheels, their long swan-necks, their seats aa
high as the forecastle of a ship, their bodies as
large as a room of to-day, their steps like stairs,
their outside seats for pages, with platforras for
footraen, and imperials, crowned with galleries,
carved with allegorical figures and bunches of

476 RUSSIA.
feathers. It was a world in itself, and one won
ders how such engines could be moved ; eight gigan
tic Mecklenburg horses could scarce accomplish it.
But if these carriages are barbarous from the point
of view of actual locomotion, from an artistic point
they are raarvels. Everything is carved, orna
mented, elaborated with exquisite taste. On gold
backgrounds, charraing paintings are spread out,
executed by a raaster-hand, and which, taken from
their panels, would figure with honor in any mu
seum. They are masses of little loves, groups of
attributes, nosegays of flowers, garlands, emblazon
ments, caprices of every sort. The mirrors are
Venetian, the carpets the richest and softest that
Constantinople or Smyrna can furnish, the uphol
stering would throw Lyons into despair; brocades,
velvets, damasks, brocatelles cover the walls and
seats with splendor. The carriages of Catherine I.
and Catherine II. contain tables for cards and for
the toilette, and, a characteristic detail, colored
and gilded stoves of Dresden china. The sleighs
for gala occasions are made in a hundred odd
shapes and decorated with a charming freedom of
fancy. But what is the most curious of all is the
collection of saddles, for men and women, and the
harnesses of every kind.
Most of them are from the East, and have been
sent as presents to the Tzars and Tzarinas, by the
emperors of Constantinople, the Great Turks or
the shahs of Persia. There is a perfect riot of

BYZANTINE ART. 477
gold and silver embroidery, on brocaded and velvet
stuffs, which are lost araong the stars and suns of
precious stones. The bits, the check-reins, the
curbs, are studded with diamonds, and the reins,
whieh are carefully embroidered with threads of
gold or colored silks, are incrusted with turquoises,
rubies, emeralds and sapphires. At the risk of
being dubbed an Asiatic barbarian, we confess,
frankly, that this extravagantly magnificent sad
dlery delights us much more than the modern
English saddlery, which is doubtless very fash
ionable, but is none the less poor in aspect, matter
and ornament.
The sight of these immense, superb carriages re
veals more of the aneient life of the courts than
all the memoirs of Dangeau and other chroniclers
of the palace. They give us some conception of
those colossal existences to-day impossible of reali
zation, even with absolute power, for the simplicity
of modern manners invades even royal abodes. The
gala habit, the grand costurae of ceremony, are
no^y nothing but disguises, of which one hastens to
rid oneself after the fete. Except on the day of
his coronation the emperor never uses his crown.
He wears, like everybody else, either a military or
civilian hat, and when he goes out he does not take
a gold carriage drawn by white -horses tossing their
feathered heads. Formerly all this magnificence
was of daily occurrence. They lived as a matter
of course amid this magnificence and splendor. The

478 RUSSIA.
kings and great ones of the earth had nothing in
common with the rest of mankind but death, and
passed their lives on this subservient world like
beings of another race.
We next went to see the Treasures of the Priests
that are kept also in the Kremlin. It is the most
prodigious mass of riches that can possibly be
iraagined. There are arranged in wardrobes whose
doors are thrown open, like the leaves of reliqua
ries, tiaras, raitres, the hats of metropolitans and
archimandrites, mosaics of precious stones on bro
caded stuffs, dalraatics, copes, stoles, robes of
gold and silver cloth, all flowered with erabroider-
ies, all storied with legends, done with pearls.
When we were at Troitza we thought there could
be no more pearls in the world, but that the con
vent treasury had gathered thera all with its bush
els. But there are quite as raany in the Treasury
of the Priests. The countless cib aires (cups) of
silver, gold, enamel, beaten, carved, encircled with
rows of precious jewels, the crosses peopled with
rayriads of raicroscopic figures, the rings, croziers
and ornaments of fabulous value, the lamps and
torches, the books, bound with plates of gold, and
starred with onyx, agate, lapis-lazuli, malachite,
we beheld behind the glass with all the pleasure
and discouragement of the traveler who, where he
can write but a few lines, feels the subject is wor
thy of a monograph that would occupy an entire
lifetime.

BYZANTINE ART. 479
In the evening we attended the theatre. It is
vast and raagnificent, and recalls in its principal
arrangements the Odeon in Paris and the theatre
of Bordeaux. This perfect regularity does not give
us the least pleasure, and we would for our part
much prefer the least architectural caprice irregu
lar and ornamented, after the fashion of the Vas
sili Blajennoi, or of the Palace a facettes, but that
would be less "civilized" and would consequently
be treated as barbarous by people of good taste.
But it raust be acknowledged that for that style
the theatre of Moscow is quite perfect. Everything
is grandiose, superb, magnificent. The decoration of
the auditorium is red and gold and very pleasing
to the eye from its grave opulence. It forms, too,
a capital background to the brilliant toilettes of
the woraen, and the imperial loge, which is exactly
opposite the stage, produces a majestie and splen
did effect, with its gilded pillars, its two-headed
eagles, its coats of arms, and rich curtains. It
stretches through two rows of loges, interrupting
with happy effect the curved lines of the galleries.
As is the case with La Seala, San Carlo and all
the great Italian theatres, a passageway encircles
the parterre, thus facilitating access to the seats,
which is rendered still more easy by an alley in
the middle. Nowhere is space parsimoniously saved
as with us. Everyone can go in and out without
disturbing his neighbor, and can chat with the
ladies in the boxes. The armchairs in the orches-

480 RUSSIA.
tra are, too, delightfuUy comfortable; the front
rows by comraon consent are reserved for people ot
the highest rank and importance. A merchant
never goes above the fifth row, and the same cour
tesy is observed in the loges; at least it was so
when we were there. But, no matter where your
seat may be, you may be sure that you will be
absolutely comfortable. The spectator is not sac
rificed to the spectacle, as happens but too often
in the theatres of Paris, where pleasure is pur
chased only through torture. Each one is sur
rounded by the space Stendhal thought necessary
to thoroughly enjoy the music without being trou
bled by the proxiraity of his neighbor. Owing to
that skill in heating that the Russians have carried
to the highest degree of perfection, which is indeed
with thera a question of life and death, an equal
and delightful temperature is everywhere main
tained, and there is no risk, if one should chance
to open the door of his box, of receiving those
douches of eold air that are so disagreeable to
those in evening dress.
Still, in spite of all this luxury, the theatre in
Moscow was not very full this evening. There
were great empty spaces among the boxes, while
whole rows of chairs were unoccupied or only filled
with a few scattered spectators. Nothing short of
the most enormous crowds fill those great theatres.
In Russia everything is on too grand a scale, as if
made for a population yet to come.

The Opera House, Moscow

BYZANTINE ART. 481
It was the day for the ballet, for the ballet and
the opera alternate in Russia, and do not corabine
as in most countries. We do not reraember the
story of that evening's ballet. It had all the dis
connectedness of the Italian libretto, and was only
meant to string together a succession of pas that
would set off the talents of the dancers. Although
we have ourself written programs for the ballet,
and understand tolerably well the language of
pantomime, we found it impossible to follow the
thread of the action, amid the figures for three, or
for two or for a single performer together with
the evolutions of the corps de ballet, which, be it
said, maneuvered with skill and elegance. What
struck us the most was a kind of mazurka per
formed by a dancer by the name of Alexandroff,
with a dignity, grace and beauty much above the
tiresome affectations of the general dancer.
The life of the traveler is made up of contrasts.
The following day we paid a visit to the convent
of Romanoff, which was several versts distant from
Moscow. This convent is celebrated for the excel
lent religious music which is given there. Like
Troitza, it has on the outside all the appearance
of a fortress. Its vast walls enclose a number of
chapels and buildings, as well as a cemetery, that
in winter presented the most dismal appearance.
Nothing could be more sad than these crosses bur
ied in the snow, these urns and funeral columns,
that broke the outline of their white covering like
31

482 RUSSIA.
a second winding-sheet. One cannot shake off the
feeling that these poor dead people lying under
this frozen layer must be very cold, and must feel
themselves more than usually forgotten, for the
snow effaces their names, together with the pious
inscriptions, accompanying them, that recommend
their souls to the prayers of the living.
After a melancholy glance at these half-covered
graves, whose desolation was augmented by some
withered blackened leaves that had faUen from
the trees above, we entered the church, where we
were amazed at the prodigious height of the icon
ostase, which was much greater than the loftiest
Spanish rotables.
A service was in progress, and we were aston
ished to hear sounds analogous to those produced
by our organs when the bell-stops are used. We
were aware that the Greek church did not allow
these instruments.
We soon, however, perceived our error, for on
approaching the iconostase we beheld a group of
singers with long beards and blaek garments. In
stead of singing out loud, as they do with us, thej'
seek softer effects, and indulge in a sort of hum
ming, whose charm is more easily heard than de
scribed. Fancy the noise made, on warm summer
nights, by the great night moths : the note is grave,
sweet and yet penetrating. There were about a
dozen in all, I should fancy, and the basses were
distinguished by the manner in which they lifted

BYZANTINE ART. 483
up their heads, while the sacred songs issued from
their mouths without any perceptible movement of
their lips.
In the imperial chapel at St. Petersburg, and in
the convent of Romanoff, we heard the best music
to which we listened while in the empire. The mu
sical compositions of Western Europe are without
doubt more learned and beautiful, but the manner
in which the plain-chant is executed in Russia
invests it with mysterious grandeur and inexpressi
ble beauty. It is said that St. John Damascene
brought about a great reformation of sacred music
in the eighth century. It has changed very little
since that time, and the chants that we heard were
the same ones arranged for four voices by modern
composers. At one time the influence of ItaUan
art was felt in this sacred music; it was, however,
but momentary, and the emperor Alexander I.
would not allow anything but the ancient chant
to be used in his chapel. On our return to the
hotel, still vibrating in every nerve with celestial
harmony, we found letters recalling us to St. Pe
tersburg, and it was with infinite regret that we
quitted Moscow, the true Russian eity, crowned
by the Kremlin with its hundred cupolas.

; UNIVERSITY LIBRARY