Moscow.--A severe Operation.--An Exile by Accident.--Meeting with an
Emigre.--A civil Stranger.--A Spy.--The Kremlin.--Sepulchres of
the Czars.--The great Bell.--The great Gun.--Precious Relics.
AT daylight we arrived at the last post; and here, for the first time,
we saw evidences of our approach to a great city. Four or five
travelling-carriages were waiting for horses, some of which had been
waiting all night; but our diligence being a "public accommodation," we
were preferred, and had the first that came in. We took our places for
the last time in the diligence, and passed two or three fine chateaux,
our curiosity and interest increasing as we approached, until, at about
five versts from Moscow, as we reached the summit of a gentle eminence,
the whole city broke upon us at one view, situated in the midst of a
great plain, and covering an extent of more than thirty versts. Moscow
is emphatically the city of churches, containing more than six hundred,
many of which have five or six domes, with steeples, and spires, and
crosses, gilded and connected together with golden chains like those of
Chioff. Its convents, too, are almost innumerable, rivalling the
churches in size and magnificence, and even to us, coming directly from
the capital of the Eastern empire, presenting a most striking and
extraordinary appearance. As we passed the barrier, two of the most
conspicuous objects on each side were the large Greek convents, enclosed
by high walls, with noble trees growing above them; and as we rode
through the wide and showy streets, the first thing that struck me as
strange, and, in this inhospitable climate (always associated in my mind
with rude and wintry scenes), as singularly beautiful, was the profusion
of plants and flowers, with the remarkable degree of taste and attention
given to their cultivation. In Greece and Turkey I had seen the rarest
plants and flowers literally "wasting their sweetness on the desert
air;" while here, in the heart of an inhospitable country, every house
had a courtyard or garden, and in front a light open portico or veranda,
ornamented with plants, and shrubs, and flowers, forced into a glowing
though unnatural beauty. The whole appearance of the city is Asiatic;
and as the exhibition of flowers in front of the better class of houses
was almost universal, Moscow seemed basking in the mild climate of
Southern Asia, rioting in its brief period of vernal existence, and
forgetting that, in a few weeks, a frost would come and cover their
beauty with the dreary drapery of winter.
At the office of the diligence my companion and myself separated. He
went to a hotel kept by an English woman, with English company, and I
believe, too, with English comfort, and I rode to the Hotel Germanica,
an old and favourite stopping-place with the Russian seigneurs when they
come up from their estates in the country. Having secured my room, I
mounted a drosky and hurried to a bath. Riding out to the suburbs, the
drosky boy stopped at a large wooden building, pouring forth steam from
every chink and crevice. At the entrance stood several half-naked men,
one of whom led me to an apartment to undress, and then conducted me to
another, in one end of which were a furnace and apparatus for generating
steam. I was then familiar with the Turkish bath, but the worst I had
known was like the breath of the gentle south wind compared with the
heat of this apartment. The operator stood me in the middle of the
floor, opened the upper door of the stove, and dashed into it a
bucketful of water, which sent forth volumes of steam like a thick fog
into every part of the room, and then laid me down on a platform about
three feet high and rubbed my body with a mop dipped in soap and hot
water; then he raised me up, and deluged me with hot water, pouring
several tubfuls on my head; then laid me down again, and scrubbed me
with soap and water from my head to my heels, long enough, if the thing
were possible, to make a blackamoor white; then gave me another sousing
with hot water, and another scrubbing with pure water, and then
conducted me up a flight of steps to a high platform, stretched me out
on a bench within a few feet of the ceiling, and commenced whipping me
with twigs of birch, with the leaves on them, dipped in hot water. It
was hot as an oven where he laid me down on the bench; the vapour, which
almost suffocated me below, ascended to the ceiling, and, finding no
avenue of escape, gathered round my devoted body, fairly scalding and
blistering me; and when I removed my hands from my face, I felt as if I
had carried away my whole profile. I tried to hold out to the end, but I
was burning, scorching, and consuming. In agony I cried out to my
tormentor to let me up, but he did not understand me, or was loath to
let me go, and kept thrashing me with the bunch of twigs until,
perfectly desperate, I sprang off the bench, tumbled him over, and
descended to the floor. Snow, snow, a region of eternal snow seemed
paradise; but my tormentor had not done with me; and, as I was hurrying
to the door, he dashed over me a tub of cold water. I was so hot that
it seemed to hiss as it touched me; he came at me with another, and at
that moment I could imagine, what had always seemed a traveller's story,
the high satisfaction and perfect safety with which the Russian in mid
winter rushes from his hot bath and rolls himself in the snow. The grim
features of my tormentor relaxed as he saw the change that came over me.
I withdrew to my dressing-room, dozed an hour on the settee, and went
out a new man. In half an hour I stood in the palace of the Czars,
within the walls of the Kremlin.
Toward evening I returned to my hotel. In all the large hotels in Russia
it is the custom for every man to dine in his own apartment. Travelling
alone, I always avoided this when I could, as, besides my dislike of the
thing itself, it prevented my making acquaintances and acquiring such
information as I needed in a strange city; and I was particularly averse
to dine alone the first day of my arrival at Moscow; but it was the
etiquette of the house to do so, and as I had a letter of introduction
which I intended to deliver, from Count Woronzow to Prince Galitzin, the
governor of Moscow, I was bound to make some sacrifice for the credit of
my acquaintance. After the table was spread, however, finding it too
severe a trial, I went down stairs and invited myself to dine with my
landlord. He was a German of about fifty-five or sixty, tall, stout,
with gray hair, a frank, manly expression, and great respectability of
appearance and manners; and before the dinner was over I regarded him
emphatically as what a Frenchman would call _un brave homme_. He had
been in Russia during the whole of the French invasion, and, among the
other incidents of a stirring life, had been sent in exile to Siberia;
and the curious part of it was, that he was sent there by mistake.
Rather an awkward mistake, though, as he said, not so bad as being
knouted or hanged by mistake; and in his case it turned out a rather
interesting adventure. He was taken by the French as a Russian spy, and
retaken by the Russians as a French spy, when, as he said, he did not
care a fig for either of them. He was hurried off to Siberia, but on the
journey succeeded in convincing the officer who escorted the prisoners
that there was error in the case, and on his arrival was merely detained
in exile, without being put to hard labour, until, through the medium of
friends, he had the matter brought before the proper tribunal, and the
mistake corrected, when he came back post, in company with a Russian
officer, smoking his pipe all the way, at the expense of the government.
He gave me many interesting particulars in regard to that celebrated
country, its mines, the sufferings of the noble exiles; and much also,
that was new to me, touching its populousness and wealth, and the
comfort and luxury of a residence there. He spoke of Tobolsk as a large,
gay, and populous city, containing hotels, theatres, and all kinds of
places of amusement. The exiles, being many of them of rank, have
introduced there all the luxuries of the capital, and life at Tobolsk is
much the same as life at Moscow.
As the rage for travelling is excited by hearing from the lips of a
traveller stories of the countries he has visited, before dinner was
over I found myself infected with a strong disposition for a journey to
Siberia. Small matters, however, produce great changes in the current of
a man's feelings, and in a few moments I had entirely forgotten Siberia,
and was carried directly home. While we were smoking our pipes, an old
gentleman entered, of singularly aristocratic appearance, whom my host
received with the greatest consideration and respect, addressing him as
the Marquis de P----. He was a Frenchman, an old militaire, and a noble
specimen of a race almost extinct; tall, thin, and gray-headed, wearing
a double-breasted blue frockcoat, buttoned up to the throat, with a cane
in his hand and a red riband in his buttonhole, the decoration of the
Knights of Malta; and when my host introduced me as an American
traveller arrived that day in Moscow, he welcomed me with more than the
usual forms of courtesy, and told me that, far off as it was, and little
as he knew of it, he almost regarded America as his own country; that,
on the downfall of "the emperor," and in a season of universal
scattering, some of his nearest relatives, particularly a sister married
to a fellow-soldier and his dearest friend, had taken refuge on the
other side of the Atlantic; that, eighteen years before, he had met an
American secretary of legation who knew them, but since that time he had
not heard from them, and did not know whether they were living or dead.
I asked him the name, with very little expectation of being able to give
him any information about them; and it was with no small degree of
pleasure that I found I was particularly acquainted with the condition
of his relatives. His brother-in-law and old comrade was dead, but I
brought him a satisfaction to which he had long been a stranger, by
telling him that his sister was still living, occupying a large property
in a neighbouring state, surrounded by a family of children, in
character and standing ranking among the first in our country. They were
intimately connected with the family of one of my most intimate friends,
letters to and from different members of which had very often passed
through my hands; I knew the names of all his nieces, and personally one
of his nephews, a lieutenant, and one of the most promising officers in
our navy; and about a year before I had accompanied the friends to whom
I refer on a visit to these relatives. At Philadelphia I left them under
the charge of the lieutenant; and on my return from Washington,
according to agreement, the lieutenant came down to an intersecting
point on the railroad to take me home with him; but circumstances
prevented my going, and much as I regretted my disappointment then, I
regretted it far more now, as otherwise I might have gladdened the old
man's heart by telling him that within a year I had seen his sister. His
own history was brief. Born to the possession of rank and fortune, and
having won honours and decorations by long service in the field, and
risen to the rank of inspector-general in the army of Napoleon, he was
taken in the campaign against Russia in eighteen hundred and thirteen,
and sent a prisoner of war to Moscow, where he had remained ever since.
Immediately on their arrival, his brother-in-law and sister had written
to him from America, telling him that, with the wreck of their fortune,
they had purchased a large landed estate, and begging him to come over
and share their abundance; but, as he told me, he scorned to eat the
bread of idleness and dependance; manfully turned to account the
advantages of an accomplished education; and now, at the advanced age of
seventy-eight, sustained himself by his pencil, an honoured guest at
every table, and respected by the most distinguished inhabitants of
Moscow. He had accidentally given up his rooms a few days before, and
was residing temporarily at the same hotel with myself. He was much
agitated by this unexpected intelligence from friends he never expected
to hear of more, and left me with a promise to call upon me early in the
morning.
Too much interested myself to go back to Siberia with my host, I went to
the French theatre. The play was some little every-day thing, and the
house but thinly attended. I took my seat in the pit, which was on a
dead level, instead of ascending from the stage, containing large
cushioned seats, and sprinkled with officers talking with ladies in the
boxes above. At the end of the first act, as whole benches were empty
above me, I moved up to put myself nearer a pair of bright eyes that
were beaming from the box upon a pair of epaulettes below. I was hardly
seated before one of the understrappers came up and whispered, or rather
muttered, something in my ear. As I did not understand a word he said,
and his manner was exceedingly rude and ungracious, I turned my back
upon him and looked at the lady with the bright eyes. The fellow
continued muttering in my ear, and I began to be seriously annoyed and
indignant, when a Frenchman sitting two or three benches behind me came
up, and, in an imperious tone, ordered him away. He then cursed the
Russians as a set of canaille, from the greatest seigneurs to the lowest
serf; remarked that he saw I was a stranger, and, with the easy freedom
of a man of the world, took a seat by my side. He was above six feet
high, about thirty-three or thirty-four years of age, in robust health,
with a large pair of whiskers, rather overdressed, and of manners good,
though somewhat imperious and bordering on the swagger. He seemed
perfectly at home in the theatre; knew all the actors and, before the
evening was over, offered to introduce me to all the actresses. I was
under obligations to him, if not for the last offer, at least for
relieving me from the impertinent doorkeeper; and, when the curtain
fell, accepted his invitation to go to a restaurant and take a petit
souper. I accompanied him to the Restaurant au coin du pont des
Mareschaux, which I afterward ascertained to be the first in Moscow. He
was perfectly at home with the carte, knew exactly what to order, and,
in fact, he was a man of great general information, perfectly familiar
with all continental Europe, geographically and politically, and
particularly at home in Moscow; and he offered his services in showing
me all that was curious and interesting. We sat together more than two
hours, and in our rambling and discursive conversation I could not help
remarking that he seemed particularly fond of railing at the government,
its tyranny and despotism, and appealing to me, as an American and a
liberal, to sustain him. I did not think anything of it then, though in
a soldier under Charles the Tenth, driven out, as he said, by the
revolution of July, it was rather strange; but, at any rate, either from
a spirit of contradiction or because I had really a good feeling toward
everything in Russia, I disagreed with him throughout; he took upon
himself the whole honours of the entertainment, scolded the servants,
called in the landlord, and, as I observed, after a few words with him,
went out without paying. I saw that the landlord knew him, and that
there was something constrained and peculiar in his behaviour. I must
confess, however, that I did not notice these things at the time so
clearly as when I was induced to recur to them by after circumstances,
for we went out of the house the best friends in the world; and, as it
was then raining, we took a drosky and rode home together, with our arms
around each other's neck, and my cloak thrown over us both. About two
o'clock, in a heavy rain, I stopped at my hotel, bade him good-night,
and lent him my cloak to go home with.
The reader, perhaps, smiles at my simplicity, but he is wrong in his
conjecture; my cloak came home the next morning, and was my companion
and only covering many a night afterward. My friend followed it, sat
with me a few minutes, and was taking his departure, having made an
appointment to call for me at twelve o'clock, when there was a knock at
the door, and my friend the marquis entered. I presented them to each
other, and the latter was in the act of bending his body with the
formality of a gentleman of the old school, when he caught a full view
of my friend of the theatre, and, breaking off his unfinished bow,
recovered his erect position, and staring from him to me, and from me to
him, seemed to demand an explanation. I had no explanation to give, nor
had my friend, who, cocking his hat on one side, and brushing by the
marquis with more than his usual swagger, stamped down stairs. The
marquis looked after him till he was at the foot of the stairs, and then
turning to me, asked how, in the name of wonder, I had already contrived
to pick up such an acquaintance. I told him the history of our meeting
at the theatre, our supper at the restaurant, and our loving ride home,
to which he listened with breathless attention; and after making me tax
my memory for the particulars of the conversation at the restaurant,
told me that my friend was a disgrace to his country; that he had, no
doubt, been obliged to leave France for some rascality, and was now
entertained by the Emperor of Russia as a _spy_, particularly upon his
own countrymen; that he was well fed and clothed, and had the entree of
all the theatres and public houses without paying. With the earnestness
of a man long used to a despotic government, and to seeing slight
offences visited with terrible punishments, the marquis congratulated me
upon not having fallen into what he called the snare laid for me.
It is almost impossible for an American to believe that even in Russia
he incurs any risk in speaking what he thinks; he is apt to regard the
stories of summary punishment for freedom of speech as bugbears or
bygone things. In my own case, even when men looked cautiously around
the room and then spoke in whispers, I could not believe that there was
any danger. Still I had become prudent enough not to talk with any
unnecessary indiscretion of the constituted authorities, and, even in
writing home to my friends, not to say anything that could prejudice me
if the letter should fall into wrong hands; and now, although I did not
consider that I had run any great risk, I was rather pleased that I had
said nothing exceptionable; and though I had no apprehension,
particularly since I had been put on my guard, I determined to drop my
new acquaintance, and did not consider myself bound to observe any great
courtesy in the mode of doing it. I had had a supper, which it was my
original intention to return with a dinner; but I did not consider
myself under any obligation to him for civilities shown in the exercise
of his despicable calling. The first time I met him I made no apology
for having been out when he called according to appointment, and did not
ask him to come again. I continued to meet him in the streets and at
every public place, but our greetings became colder and colder, and the
day before I left Moscow we brushed against each other without speaking
at all. So much for acquaintances who, after an intimacy of three or
four hours, had ridden home under the same cloak, with their arms around
each other's neck.
But to return: as soon as the marquis left me I again went to the
Kremlin, to me the great, I had almost said the only, object of interest
in Moscow. I always detested a cicerone; his bowing, fawning, and
prating annoyed me; and all through Italy, with my map and guide-book
under my arm, I was in the habit of rambling about alone. I did the same
at Moscow, and again walked to the Kremlin unaccompanied. Unlike many of
the places I had visited, all the interest I had felt in looking forward
to the Kremlin was increased when I stood within its walls. I had
thought of it as the rude and barbarous palace of the Czars; but I found
it one of the most extraordinary, beautiful, and magnificent objects I
ever beheld. I rambled over it several times with admiration, without
attempting to comprehend it all. Its commanding situation on the banks
of the Moskwa river; its high and venerable walls; its numerous
battlements, towers, and steeples; its magnificent and gorgeous palaces;
its cathedrals, churches, monasteries, and belfries, with their gilded,
coppered, and tin-plated domes; its mixture of barbarism and decay,
magnificence and ruins; its strong contrast of architecture, including
the Tartarian, Hindoo, Chinese, and Gothic; and, rising above all, the
lofty tower of Ivan Veliki, with its golden ball reflecting the sun with
dazzling brilliancy, all together exhibited a beauty, grandeur, and
magnificence strange and indescribable.
[Illustration: The Kremlin.]
The Kremlin is "the heart" and "sacred place" of Moscow, once the old
fortress of the Tartars, and now the centre of the modern city. It is
nearly triangular in form, enclosed by a high brick wall painted white,
and nearly two miles in extent, and is in itself a city. It has five
gates, at four of which there are high watch-towers. The fifth is "our
Saviour's," or the Holy Gate, through whose awe-commanding portals no
male, not even the emperor and autocrat of all the Russias, can pass
except with uncovered head and bended body. Bareheaded, I entered by
this gate, and passed on to a noble esplanade, commanding one of the
most interesting views of Moscow, and having in front the range of
palaces of the Czars. I shall not attempt to describe these palaces.
They are a combination of every variety of taste and every order of
architecture, Grecian, Gothic, Italian, Tartar, and Hindoo, rude,
fanciful, grotesque, gorgeous, magnificent, and beautiful. The churches,
monasteries, arsenals, museum, and public buildings are erected with no
attempt at regularity of design, and in the same wild confusion of
architecture. There are no regular streets, but three open places or
squares, and abundance of room for carriages and foot passengers, with
which, in summer afternoons, it is always thronged.
Having strolled for some time about the Kremlin, I entered the Cathedral
of the Assumption, the most splendid church in Moscow. It was founded in
1325, and rebuilt in 1472. It is loaded with gorgeous and extravagant
ornaments. The iconastos or screen which divides the sanctuary from the
body of the church is in many parts covered with plates of solid silver
and gold, richly and finely wrought. On the walls are painted the images
of more than two thousand three hundred saints, some at full length and
some of a colossal size, and the whole interior seems illuminated with
gold, of which more than two hundred and ten thousand leaves have been
employed in embellishing it. From the centre of the roof is suspended a
crown of massive silver, with forty-eight chandeliers, all in a single
piece, and weighing nearly three thousand pounds. Besides the portraits
of saints and martyrs, there are portraits of the old historians, whose
names, to prevent confusion, are attached to their resemblances, as
Aristotle, Anarcharsis, Thucydides, Plutarch, &c. Some of the paintings
on wood could not fail to delight an antiquary, inasmuch as every
vestige of paint being obliterated, there is abundance of room for
speculation as to their age and character. There is also an image of the
Virgin, painted by St. Luke's own hand!!! The face dark, almost black,
the head encircled with a glory of precious stones, and the hands and
the body gilded. It is reverenced for its miraculous powers, guarded
with great care, and enclosed within a large silver covering, which is
never removed but on great religious festivals, or on payment of a ruble
to the verger. Here, too, is a nail from the cross, a robe of our
Saviour's, and part of one of the Virgin's!!! And here, too, are the
tombs of the church patriarchs, one of whom, St. Phillippe, honoured by
a silver monument, dared to say to John the Terrible, "We respect you as
an image of the Divinity, but as a man you partake of the dust of the
earth."
The Cathedral of the Assumption is honoured as the place where the
sovereigns of Russia are crowned, and there is but a step from their
throne to their grave, for near it is the Cathedral of the archangel
Michael, the ancient burial-place where, in raised sepulchres, lie the
bodies of the Czars, from the time when Moscow became the seat of empire
until the close of the seventeenth century. The bodies rest in raised
tombs or sepulchres, each covered with a velvet pall, and having on it a
silver plate, bearing the name of the occupant and the date of his
decease. Close by is an odd-looking church, constantly thronged with
devotees; a humble structure, said to be the oldest Christian church in
Moscow. It was built in the desert, before Moscow was thought of, and
its walls are strong enough to last till the gorgeous city shall become
a desert again.
After strolling through the churches I ascended the tower of Ivan
Veliki, or John the Great, the first of the Czars. It is about two
hundred and seventy feet high, and contains thirty-three bells, the
smallest weighing seven thousand, and the largest more than one hundred
and twenty-four thousand pounds English. On festivals they are all
tolled together, the Muscovites being extremely fond of Ivan Veliki's
music. This celebrated tower rises above every other object in the
Kremlin, and its large gilded dome and cross are conspicuous from every
part of the city. From its top I had the finest view of Moscow and the
surrounding country, and, perhaps, the finest panoramic view in the
world. Hundreds of churches were in sight, with their almost innumerable
domes, and spires, and crosses glittering with gold, Tartaric
battlements, terraces, balconies, and ramparts. Gothic steeples, Grecian
columns, the star, the crescent, and the cross, palaces, mosques, and
Tartar temples, pagodas, pavilions, and verandas, monasteries peeping
out over high walls and among noble trees, the stream of the Moskwa
winding prettily below, and in the distance the Sparrow Hills, on which
the French army first made its appearance on the invasion of Moscow. It
may seem strange, but I did not feel myself a stranger on the top of
that tower. Thousands of miles away I had read its history. I knew that
the magnificent city at my feet had been a sheet of fire, and that, when
Napoleon fled by the light of its conflagration, a dreadful explosion
shook to their foundation the sacred precincts of the Kremlin, and rent
from its base to its top the lofty tower of Ivan.
I descended, and the custode conducted me to another well-known object,
the great bell, the largest, and the wonder of the world. It is only a
short distance from the foot of the tower, in an excavation under
ground, accessible by a trapdoor, like the covered mouth of a well. I
descended by a broken ladder, and can hardly explain to myself the
curiosity and interest with which I examined this monstrous piece of
metal. I have no knowledge of or taste for mechanics, and no particular
penchant for bells, even when spelled with an additional e; but I knew
all about this one, and it added wonderfully to the interest with which
I strolled through the Kremlin, that, from accidental circumstances, I
was familiar with every object within its walls. I impeach, no doubt,
my classical taste, but, before seeing either, I had dwelt with more
interest upon the Kremlin, and knew more of it, than of the Acropolis at
Athens; and I stood at the foot of the great bell almost with a feeling
of reverence. Its perpendicular height is twenty-one feet four inches,
and the extreme thickness of the metal twenty-three inches; the length
of the clapper is fourteen feet, the greatest circumference sixty-seven
feet four inches, its weight upward of four hundred thousand pounds
English, and its cost has been estimated at more than three hundred and
sixty-five thousand pounds sterling. There is some question whether this
immense bell was ever hung, but it is supposed that it was suspended by
a great number of beams and crossbeams; that it was rung by forty or
fifty men, one half on either side, who pulled the clapper by means of
ropes, and that the sound amazed and deafened the inhabitants. On one
side is a crack large enough to admit the figure of a man. I went inside
and called aloud, and received an echo like the reverberations of
thunder.
[Illustration: The Great Bell.]
Besides the great bell, there is another noisy musical instrument,
namely, the great gun, like the bell, the largest in the world, being a
four thousand three hundred and twenty pounder. It is sixteen feet long,
and the diameter of its calibre nearly three feet. I jumped in and
turned round in its mouth, and sat upright, my head not reaching the
top. All around were planted cannon taken from the French in their
unhappy expedition against the capital of Russia; immense fieldpieces,
whose throats once poured their iron hail against the walls within which
they now repose as trophies. I was attracted by a crowd at the door of
one of the principal buildings, which I found to be the treasury,
containing what a Russian prizes as his birthright, the repository of
sacred heirlooms; the doorkeeper demanded a permit, and I answered him
with rubles and entered the treasury. On the first floor are the ancient
imperial carriages; large, heavy, and extraordinary vehicles, covered
with carving and gilding, and having large plate glass windows; among
them was an enormous sleigh, carved and profusely gilded, and containing
a long table with cushioned seats on each side; all together, these
vehicles were most primitive and Asiatic in appearance, and each one had
some long and interesting story connected with it.
I ascended by a noble staircase to the _belle etage_, a gallery composed
of five parts, in the first of which are the portraits of all the
emperors and Czars and their wives, in the exact costume of the times in
which they lived; in another is a model of a palace projected by the
Empress Catharine to unite the whole Kremlin under one roof, having a
circumference of two miles, and make of it one magnificent palace; if it
had been completed according to the plan, this palace would probably
have surpassed the Temple of Solomon or any of the seven wonders of the
world. In another is a collection of precious relics, such as the crowns
worn by the different emperors and Czars, loaded with precious stones;
the dresses worn at their marriages; the canopies under which the
emperors are married, surmounted by magnificent plumes; two canopies of
red velvet, studded with gold, and a throne with two seats. The crown of
Prince Vladimir is surmounted by a golden cross, and ornamented with
pearls and precious stones, and, until the time of Peter the Great, was
used to crown the Czars; the crown of the conquered kingdom of Cazan was
placed there by the victorious hands of John Vassilivitch. Besides these
were the crowns of the conquered countries of Astrachan and Siberia.
That of John Alexius has eight hundred and eighty-one diamonds, and
under the cross which surmounts it is an immense ruby. There were also
the crown of Peter the Great, containing eight hundred and forty-seven
diamonds; that of Catharine the First, his widow, containing two
thousand five hundred and thirty-six fine diamonds, to which the Empress
Anne added a ruby of enormous size, bought by the Russian ambassador at
Pekin; and, lastly, the crown of unhappy Poland! It is of polished gold,
surmounted by a cross, but no other ornament. And there were other
emblems of royalty: a throne or Greek fauteuil of ivory, in arabesque,
presented to John the Great by the ambassadors who accompanied from Rome
to Moscow the Princess Sophia, whom he had demanded in marriage. She was
the daughter of Thomas Paleologus Porphrygenitus brother of Constantine
Paleologus, who died in fourteen hundred and fifty-three, after seeing
his empire fall into the hands of the Turks. By this marriage John
considered himself the heir of Constantine, and took the title of Czar,
meaning Caesar (this is one of the derivations of the name), and thus the
emperor and autocrat of all the Russias has the fairest claim to the
throne of the Caesars, and, consequently, has always had an eye upon
Constantinople; then there are the throne of Boris, adorned with two
thousand seven hundred and sixty turquoises and other precious stones;
that of Michel, containing eight thousand eight hundred and twenty-four
precious stones; that of Alexius, containing eight hundred and
seventy-six diamonds, one thousand two hundred and twenty-four other
jewels, and many pearls, bought of a company of merchants trafficking to
Ispahan; the throne of the Czars John and Peter, made of massive silver,
separated in the middle, the back a cloth of gold, concealing a hole
through which the Czarina used to dictate answers to the foreign
ambassadors; and, lastly, the throne of Poland!
In the armory are specimens of ancient armour, the workmanship of every
age and nation; coats of mail, sabres adorned with jewels, swords,
batons, crosses in armour, imperial robes, ermines in abundance, and,
finally, the clothes in which Peter the Great worked at Saardam,
including his old boots, from which it appears that he had considerable
of a foot. These memorials were all interesting, and I wandered through
the apartments till ordered out by the footman, when I returned to my
hotel to meet my old friend the marquis, who was engaged to dine with
me. At his suggestion we went to a new restaurant, patronized by a
different set of people from those who frequented the Restaurant au coin
du pont des Mareschaux, being chiefly Frenchmen, manufacturers, and
small merchants of various kinds, who, while they detested the country,
found it a profitable business to introduce Parisian luxuries and
refinements among the barbarous Russians. A party of about twenty sat at
a long table, and relieved the severity of exile by talking of their
beautiful and beloved France; many of them were old militaires; and my
octogenarian friend, as a soldier distinguished under the empire, and
identified with the glory of the French arms, was treated with a
consideration and respect honourable to them and flattering to himself.
At another table was another circle of strangers, composed almost
exclusively of Swiss, forming here, as elsewhere, one of the most
valuable parts of the foreign population; keeping alive by intercourse
with each other the recollections of home, and looking to the time when,
with the profits of successful industry, they might return to their wild
and beloved native mountains.
"Dear is that hill to which his soul conforms,
And dear that cliff which lifts him to the storms."
Before we rose from table my friend of the theatre came in and took his
seat at one end; he talked and laughed louder than any one else, and was
received generally with an outward appearance of cordiality; but the old
marquis could not endure his presence. He said he had become too old to
learn, and it was too late in life to temporize with dishonour; that he
did not blame his countrymen; fair words cost nothing, and it was not
worth their while wilfully to make an enemy who would always be on their
haunches; but as to himself, he had but a few years to live, and he
would not sully the last moments of his life by tolerating a man whom he
regarded as a disgrace to his country. We rose from the table, the old
marquis leaning on my arm, and pouring in my ears his honest indignation
at the disgraceful character of his countryman, and proceeded to the
Kitaigorod, or Chinese Town, the division immediately encircling the
Kremlin. It is enclosed by a wall with battlements, towers, and gates;
is handsomely and compactly built, with wide, clean, and regular
streets, and thronged with every variety of people, Greeks, Turks,
Tartars, Cossacks, Chinese, Muscovites, French, Italians, Poles, and
Germans, in the costumes of their respective nations. The quarter is
entirely Russian, and I did not find in the shops a single person who
could speak any language but Russian. In one of them, where I was
conducted by the marquis, I found the old mongik to whom I before
referred, who could not agree with his master for the price of his
ransom. The principal shops resemble the bazars in the East, though they
are far superior even to those in Constantinople, being built of stone,
and generally in the form of arcades. They are well filled with every
description of Asiatic goods; and some of them, particularly their tea,
and tobacco, and pipe shops, are models of propriety and cleanliness.
The facade of the great bazar or market is very imposing, resting the
whole length on Corinthian columns. It fronts on a noble square, bounded
on the opposite side by the white walls of the Kremlin, and contains six
thousand "bargaining shops." The merchants live at a distance, and, on
leaving their shops at sundown, each of them winds a piece of cord round
the padlock of his door, and seals it with soft wax; a seal being with
the Russians more sacred than a lock.
In another section of the Kitaigorod is the finest part of the city,
containing the hotels and residences of the nobles, many of which are
truly magnificent. The hotel at which I put up would in Italy be called
a palace. As we moved slowly along the street by the Pont des
Mareschaux, we discoursed of the terrible inroads at this moment making
by the French in the capital of the north, almost every shop having an
inviting sign of nouveautes from Paris. Foiled in their attempt with the
bayonet, they are now advancing with apparently more feeble but far more
insidious and fatal weapons; and the rugged Russian, whom French arms
could not conquer, bows to the supremacy of the French modistes and
artistes, and quietly wears the livery of the great mistress of fashion.