Police Requisites.--The Russian Capital.--Equestrian Statue of Peter
the Great.--The Alexandrine Column.--Architectural Wonders.--The
Summer Islands.--A perilous Achievement.--Origin of St.
Petersburgh.--Tombs of dead Monarchs.--Origin of the Russian Navy.
JULY FOURTH. I had intended to pass this day at Moscow, and to
commemorate it in Napoleon style by issuing a bulletin from the Kremlin,
but it was a long time since I had heard from home. At Constantinople I
had written to Paris, directing my letters to be sent to Petersburgh,
and, notwithstanding my late hours the night before, I was at the
postoffice before the door was open. I had never been so long without
hearing from home, and my lips quivered when I asked for letters, my
hand shook when I received them, and I hardly drew breath until I had
finished the last postscript.
My next business was at the bureau of general police for a _carte de
sejour_, without which no stranger can remain in St. Petersburgh. As
usual, I was questioned as to my reasons for coming into Russia; age,
time of sojourn, destination, &c.; and, satisfied that I had no
intention of preaching democratic doctrines or subverting the government
of the autocrat, I received permission to remain two weeks, which,
according to direction, I gave to my landlord to be entered at the
police-office of his district. As no stranger can stay in Petersburgh
without permission, neither can he leave without it; and, to obtain
this, he must advertise three times in the Government Gazette, stating
his name, address, and intention of leaving the empire; and as the
Gazette is only published twice a week, this formality occupies eight
days. One of the objects of this is to apprize his creditors, and give
them an opportunity of securing their debts; and few things show the
barbarity and imperfect civilization of the Russians more clearly than
this; making it utterly impossible for a gentleman to spend a winter in
St. Petersburgh and go away without paying his landlord. This must
prevent many a soaring spirit from wending its way hither, and keep the
residents from being enlivened by the flight of those birds of passage
which dazzle the eyes of the denizens of other cities. As there was no
other way of getting out of the dominions of the Czar, I caused my name
and intention to be advertised. It did not create much of a sensation;
and though it was proclaimed in three different languages, no one except
my landlord seemed to feel any interest in it. After all, to get in debt
is the true way to make friends; a man's creditors always feel an
interest in him; hope no misfortune may happen to him, and always wish
him prosperity and success.
These formalities over, I turned to other things. Different from every
other principal city I had visited, St. Petersburgh had no storied
associations to interest the traveller. There is no Colosseum, as at
Rome; no Acropolis, as at Athens; no Rialto, as at Venice; and no
Kremlin, as at Moscow; nothing identified with the men and scenes
hallowed in our eyes, and nothing that can touch the heart. It depends
entirely upon itself for the interest it creates in the mind of the
traveller.
St. Petersburgh is situated at the mouth of the Neva, at the eastern
extremity of the Gulf of Finland. It is built partly on islands formed
by the Neva, and partly on both sides of that river. But little more
than a century ago, the ground now covered with stately palaces
consisted of wild morasses and primeval forests, and a few huts tenanted
by savage natives, who lived upon the fish of the sea. In seventeen
hundred and three Peter the Great appeared as a captain of grenadiers
under the orders of one of his own generals, on the wild and dreary
banks of the Neva, drove the Swedes from their fortress at its mouth,
cut down the forests on the rude islands of the river, and laid the
foundations of a city which now surpasses in architectural magnificence
every other in the world. I do not believe that Rome, when Adrian reared
the mighty Colosseum, and the Palace of the Caesars covered the
Capitoline Hill, exhibited such a range of noble structures as now
exists in the Admiralty Quarter. The Admiralty itself is the central
point, on one side fronting the Neva, and on the other a large open
square, and has a facade of marble, with ranges of columns, a quarter of
a mile in length. A beautiful golden spire shoots up from the centre,
towering above every other object, and seen from every part of the city
glittering in the sun; and three principal streets, each two miles in
length, radiate from this point. In front is a range of boulevards,
ornamented with trees, and an open square, at one extremity of which
stands the great church of St. Isaac, of marble, jasper, and porphyry,
upon a foundation of granite; it has been once destroyed, and reared
again with increased splendour, enormous columns of a single block of
red granite already lifting their capitals in the air.
On the right of the facade, and near the Isaac Bridge, itself a
magnificent structure, a thousand and fifty feet long and sixty feet
wide, with two drawbridges, stands the well-known equestrian statue of
Peter the Great. The huge block of granite forming the pedestal is
fifteen hundred tons in weight. The height of the figure of the emperor
is eleven feet, that of the horse seventeen feet, and the weight of the
metal in the group nearly thirty-seven thousand pounds. Both the idea
and the execution of this superb monument are regarded as masterpieces
of genius. To immortalize the enterprise and personal courage with which
that extraordinary man conquered all difficulties and converted a few
fishermen's huts into palaces, Peter is represented on a fiery steed,
rushing up a steep and precipitous rock to the very brink of a
precipice; the horse rears with his fore feet in the air, and seems to
be impatient of restraint, while the imperial rider, in an attitude of
triumph, extends the hand of protection over his capital rising out of
the waters. To aid the inspiration of the artist, a Russian officer, the
boldest rider of his time, daily rode the wildest Arabian of Count
Orloff's stud to the summit of a steep mound, where he halted him
suddenly, with his forelegs raised pawing the air over the brink of the
precipice. The monument is surrounded by an iron railing, and the
pedestal bears the simple inscription, Petro Primo, Catharina Secunda,
MDCCLXXXII.
On the other side of the square, and in front of the Winter Palace,
raised within the last two years, and the most gigantic work of modern
days, rivalling those magnificent monuments in the Old World whose ruins
now startle the wondering traveller, and towering to the heavens, as if
to proclaim that the days of architectural greatness are not gone by for
ever, is the great Alexandrine Column, a single shaft of red granite,
exclusive of pedestal and capital, eighty-four feet high. On the summit
stands an angel holding a cross with the left hand, and pointing to
heaven with the right. The pedestal contains the simple inscription, "To
Alexander I. Grateful Russia."
[Illustration: Column of Alexander I.]
Surrounding this is a crescent of lofty buildings, denominated the Etat
Major, its central portion having before it a majestic colonnade of the
Corinthian order, placed on a high rustic basement, with a balustrade of
solid bronze gilt between the columns. In the middle is a triumphal
arch, which, with its frieze, reaches nearly to the upper part of the
lofty building, having a span of seventy feet, the entablature
sculptured with military trophies, allegorical figures, and groups in
alto relievo. Next on a line with the Admiralty, and fronting the quay,
stands the first of a long range of imperial palaces, extending in the
form of a crescent for more than a mile along the Neva. The Winter
Palace is a gigantic and princely structure, built of marble, with a
facade of seven hundred and forty feet. Next are the two palaces of the
Hermitage, connected with it and with each other by covered galleries on
bold arches; the beautiful and tasteful fronts of these palaces are
strangely in contrast with their simple and unpretending name. Next is
the stately Grecian theatre of the Hermitage. Beyond this are the
barracks of the guards, then the palace of the French ambassador, then
the marble palace built by Catharine II. for her favourite, Prince
Orloff, with a basement of granite and superstructure of bluish marble,
ornamented with marble columns and pillars. In this palace died
Stanislaus Poniatowsky, the last of the Polish sovereigns. This
magnificent range, presenting an uninterrupted front of marble palaces
upward of a mile in length, unequalled in any city in the world, is
terminated by an open square, in which stands a colossal statue of
Suwarrow; beyond this, still on the Neva, is the beautiful summer garden
fronting the palace of Paul II.; and near it, and at the upper end of
the square, is the palace of the Grand-duke Michael.
Opposite is the citadel, with its low bastions of solid granite, washed
all around by the Neva; beautiful in its structure, and beautifully
decorated by the tall, slender, and richly gilded spire of its church.
On the one side of the Admiralty is the senatorial palace, and beyond
opens the English Quay, with a range of buildings that might well be
called the residence of "merchant princes;" while the opposite bank is
crowded with public buildings, among which the most conspicuous are the
palace of the Academy of the Fine Arts; the Obelisk, rising in the
centre of a wide square, recording the glory of some long-named Russian
hero; the building of the Naval Cadet Corps, with its handsome front,
and the barracks of the Guard of Finland; finally, the great pile of
palace-like buildings belonging to the Military Cadet Corps, reaching
nearly to the palace of the Academy of Sciences, and terminating with
the magnificent Grecian front of the Exchange. I know that a verbal
description can give but a faint idea of the character of this scene,
nor would it help the understanding of it to say that it exhibits all
that wealth and architectural skill can do, for few in our country know
what even these powerful engines can effect; as for myself, hardly
noting the details, it was my greatest delight to walk daily to the
bridge across the Neva, at the summer gardens, the view from which more
than realized all the crude and imperfect notions of architectural
magnificence that had ever floated through my mind; a result that I had
never found in any other city I had yet seen, not excepting Venice the
Rich or Genoa the Proud, although the latter is designated in
guide-books the city of palaces.
Next to the palaces in solidity and beauty of structure are the bridges
crossing the Neva, and the magnificent quays along its course, these
last being embankments of solid granite, lining the stream on either
side the whole length of its winding course through the city.
I was always at a loss whether to ride or walk in St. Petersburgh;
sometimes I mounted a drosky and rode up and down the Newski
Perspective, merely for the sake of rolling over the wooden pavement.
This street is perhaps more than twice as wide as Broadway; the gutter
is in the middle, and on each side are wooden pavements wide enough for
vehicles to pass each other freely. The experiment of wooden pavements
was first made in this street, and found to answer so well that it has
since been introduced into many others; and as the frost is more severe
than with us, and it has stood the test of a Russian winter, if rightly
constructed it will, no doubt, prove equally successful in our own city.
The road is first covered with broken stone, or Macadamized; then logs
are laid across it, the interstices being filled up with sand and stone,
and upon this are placed hexagonal blocks of pine about eighteen inches
long, fitted like joiner's work, fastened with long pegs, and covered
with a preparation of melted lead.
When I left Paris I had no expectation of travelling in Russia, and,
consequently, had no letter of introduction to Mr. Wilkins, our
minister; but, long before reaching St. Petersburgh, I had made it a
rule, immediately on my arrival in a strange place, to call upon our
representative, whatever he might be, from a minister plenipotentiary
down to a little Greek consul. I did so here, and was probably as well
received upon my own introduction as if I had been recommended by
letter; for I got from Mr. Wilkins the invitation to dinner usually
consequent upon a letter, and besides much interesting information from
home, and, more than all, a budget of New-York newspapers. It was a long
time since I had seen a New-York paper, and I hailed all the well-known
names, informed myself of every house to let, every vessel to sail, all
the cotton in market, and a new kind of shaving-soap for sale at Hart's
Bazar; read with particular interest the sales of real estate by James
Bleecker and Sons; wondered at the rapid increase of the city in
creating a demand for building lots in one hundred and twenty-seventh
street, and reflected that some of my old friends had probably grown so
rich that they would not recognise me on my return.
Having made arrangements for the afternoon to visit the Summer Islands,
I dined with my friend the colonel, in company with Prince ---- (I have
his name in my pocketbook, written by himself, and could give a
facsimile of it, but I could not spell it). The prince was about
forty-five, a high-toned gentleman, a nobleman in his feelings, and
courtly in his manners, though, for a prince, rather out at elbows in
fortune. The colonel and he had been fellow-soldiers, had served in the
guards during the whole of the French invasion, and entered Paris with
the allied armies as officers in the same regiment. Like most of the
Russian seigneurs, they had run through their fortunes in their military
career. The colonel, however, had been set up again by an inheritance
from a deceased relative, but the prince remained ruined. He was now
living upon a fragment saved from the wreck of his estate, a pension for
his military services, and the bitter experience acquired by a course of
youthful extravagance. Like many of the reduced Russian seigneurs, he
was disaffected toward the government, and liberal in politics; he was a
warm admirer of liberal institutions, had speculated upon and studied
them both in France and America, and analyzed understandingly the spirit
of liberty as developed by the American and French revolutions; when he
talked of Washington, he folded his hands and looked up to heaven, as if
utterly unable to express the fulness of his emotions. With us, the
story of our revolution is a hackneyed theme, and even the sacred name
of Washington has become almost commonplace; but the freshness of
feeling with which the prince spoke of him invested him in my eyes with
a new and holy character. After dinner, and while on our way to the
Summer Islands, we stopped at his apartments, when he showed me the
picture of Washington conspicuous on the wall; under it, by way of
contrast, was that of Napoleon; and he summed up the characters of both
in few words, by saying that the one was all for himself, the other all
for his country.
The Summer Islands on Sundays and fete days are the great promenade of
the residents of the capital, and the approach to them is either by land
or water. We preferred the latter, and at the Admiralty took a boat on
the Neva. All along the quay are flights of steps cut in the granite,
and descending to a granite platform, where boats are constantly in
attendance for passengers. These boats are fantastically painted, and
have the stern raised some three or four feet; sometimes they are
covered with an awning. The oar is of disproportionate thickness toward
the handle, the blade very broad, always feathered in rowing, and the
boatman, in his calico or linen shirt and pantaloons, his long yellowish
beard and mustaches, looks like anything but the gondolier of Venice. In
passing down the Neva I noticed, about half way between low-water mark
and the top of the quay, a ring which serves to fasten vessels, and is
the mark, to which if the water rises, an inundation may be expected.
The police are always on the watch, and the fearful moment is announced
by the firing of cannon, by the display of white flags from the
Admiralty steeple by day, and by lanterns and the tolling of the bells
at night. In the last dreadful inundation of eighteen hundred and
twenty-four, bridges were swept away, boats floated in some parts of the
town above the tops of the houses, and many villages were entirely
destroyed. At Cronstadt, a vessel of one hundred tons was left in the
middle of one of the principal streets; eight thousand dead bodies were
found and buried, and probably many thousands more were hurried on to
the waters of the Gulf of Finland.
It was a fete day in honour of some church festival, and a great portion
of the population of St. Petersburgh was bending its way toward the
Summer Islands. The emperor and empress were expected to honour the
promenade with their presence, and all along the quay boats were
shooting out loaded with gay parties, and, as they approached the
islands, they formed into a fleet, almost covering the surface of the
river. We were obliged to wait till perhaps a dozen boats had discharged
their passengers before we could land.
These islands are formed by the branches of the Neva, at about three
versts from St. Petersburgh. They are beautifully laid out in grass and
gravel-walks, ornamented with trees, lakes, shrubs, and flowers,
connected together by light and elegant bridges, and adorned with
beautiful little summer-houses. These summer-houses are perfectly
captivating; light and airy in their construction, and completely buried
among the trees. As we walked along we heard music or gentle voices, and
now and then came upon a charming cottage, with a beautiful lawn or
garden, just enough exposed to let the passer-by imagine what he
pleased; and on the lawn was a light fanciful tent, or an arbour hung
with foliage, under which the occupants, with perhaps a party of friends
from the city, were taking tea, and groups of rosy children were romping
around them, while thousands were passing by and looking on, with as
perfect an appearance of domestic _abandon_ as if in the privacy of the
fireside. I have sometimes reproached myself that my humour changed with
every passing scene; but, inasmuch as it generally tended toward at
least a momentary satisfaction, I did not seek to check it; and though,
from habit and education, I would have shrunk from such a family
exhibition, here it was perfectly delightful. It seemed like going back
to a simpler and purer age. The gay and smiling faces seemed to indicate
happy hearts; and when I saw a mother playing on the green with a little
cherub daughter, I felt how I hung upon the community, a loose and
disjointed member, and would fain have added myself to some cheerful
family group. A little farther on, however, I saw a papa flogging a
chubby urchin, who drowned with his bellowing the music from a
neighbouring arbour, which somewhat broke the charm of this public
exhibition of scenes of domestic life.
Besides these little retiring-places or summer residences of citizens,
restaurants and houses of refreshments were distributed in great
abundance, and numerous groups were sitting under the shade of trees or
arbours, taking ices or refreshments; and the grounds for promenade were
so large and beautifully disposed, that, although thousands were walking
through them, there was no crowd, except before the door of a principal
refectory, where a rope-dancer was flourishing in the air among the
tops of the trees.
In addition to the many enchanting retreats and summer residences
created by the taste, luxury, and wealth of private individuals, there
are summer theatres and imperial villas. But the gem of the islands is
the little imperial palace at Cammenoi. I have walked through royal
palaces, and admired their state and magnificence without one wish to
possess them, but I felt a strong yearning toward this imperial villa.
It is not so grand and stately as to freeze and chill one, but a thing
of extraordinary simplicity and elegance, in a beautifully picturesque
situation, heightened by a charming disposition of lawn and trees, so
elegant, and, if I may add such an unpoetical word in the description of
this imperial residence, so comfortable, that I told the prince if I
were a Rasselas escaped from the happy valley, I would look no farther
for a resting-place. The prince replied that in the good old days of
Russian barbarism, when a queen swayed the sceptre, Russia had been a
great field for enterprising and adventurous young men, and in more than
one instance a palace had been the reward of a favourite. We gave a sigh
to the memory of those good old days, and at eleven o'clock returned to
the city on the top of an omnibus. The whole road from the Summer
Islands and the great street leading to the Admiralty were lighted with
little glass lamps, arranged on the sidewalks about six feet apart, but
they almost realized the conceit of illuminating the sun by hanging
candles around it, seeming ashamed of their own sickly glare and
struggling vainly with the glorious twilight.
The next morning the valet who had taken me as his master, and who told
others in the house that he could not attend to them, as he was in my
service, informed me that a traveller arrived from Warsaw the night
before had taken apartments in the same hotel, and could give me all
necessary information in regard to that route; and, after breakfast, I
sent him, with my compliments, to ask the traveller if he would admit
me, and shortly after called myself. He was a young man, under thirty,
above the middle size, strong and robust of frame, with good features,
light complexion, but very much freckled, a head of extraordinary red
hair, and a mustache of the same brilliant colour; and he was dressed in
a coloured stuff morning-gown, and smoking a pipe with an air of no
small dignity and importance. I explained the purpose of my visit, and
he gave me as precise information as could possibly be had; and the most
gratifying part of the interview was, that before we separated he told
me that he intended returning to Warsaw in about ten days, and would be
happy to have me bear him company. I gladly embraced his offer, and left
him, better pleased with the result of my interview than I had expected
from his rather unprepossessing appearance. He was a Frenchman by
descent, born in Belgium, and educated and resident in Poland, and
possessed in a striking degree the compounded amor patriae incident to
the relationship in which he stood to these three countries. But, as I
shall be obliged to speak of him frequently hereafter, I will leave him
for the present to his morning-gown and pipe.
Well pleased with having my plans arranged, I went out without any
specific object, and found myself on the banks of the Neva. Directly
opposite the Winter Palace, and one of the most conspicuous objects on
the whole line of the Neva, is the citadel or old fortress, and, in
reality, the foundation of the city. I looked long and intently on the
golden spire of its church, shooting toward the sky and glittering in
the sun. This spire, which rises tapering till it seems almost to fade
away into nothing, is surmounted by a large globe, on which stands an
angel supporting a cross. This angel, being made of corruptible stuff,
once manifested symptoms of decay, and fears were entertained that he
would soon be numbered with the fallen. Government became perplexed how
to repair it, for to raise a scaffolding to such a height would cost
more than the angel was worth. Among the crowd which daily assembled to
gaze at it from below was a roofer of houses, who, after a long and
silent examination, went to the government and offered to repair it
without any scaffolding or assistance of any kind. His offer was
accepted; and on the day appointed for the attempt, provided with
nothing but a coil of cords, he ascended inside to the highest window,
and, looking for a moment at the crowd below and at the spire tapering
away above him, stood up on the outer ledge of the window. The spire was
covered with sheets of gilded copper, which, to beholders from below,
presented only a smooth surface of burnished gold; but the sheets were
roughly laid, and fastened by large nails, which projected from the
sides of the spire. He cut two pieces of cord, and tied loops at each
end of both, fastened the upper loops over two projecting nails, and
stood with his feet in the lower; then, clinching the fingers of one
hand over the rough edges of the sheets of copper, raised himself till
he could hitch one of the loops on a higher nail with the other hand; he
did the same for the other loop, and so he raised one leg after the
other, and at length ascended, nail by nail, and stirrup by stirrup,
till he clasped his arms around the spire directly under the ball. Here
it seemed impossible to go any farther, for the ball was ten or twelve
feet in circumference, with a smooth and glittering surface, and no
projecting nails, and the angel was above the ball, as completely out of
sight as if it were in the habitation of its prototypes. But the daring
roofer was not disheartened. Raising himself in his stirrups, he
encircled the spire with a cord, which he tied round his waist; and, so
supported, leaned gradually back until the soles of his feet were braced
against the spire, and his body fixed almost horizontally in the air. In
this position he threw a cord over the top of the ball, and threw it so
coolly and skilfully that at the first attempt it fell down on the other
side, just as he wanted it; then he drew himself up to his original
position, and, by means of his cord, climbed over the smooth sides of
the globe, and in a few moments, amid thunders of applause from the
crowd below, which at that great height sounded only like a faint
murmur, he stood by the side of the angel. After attaching a cord to it
he descended, and the next day carried up with him a ladder of ropes,
and effected the necessary repairs.
But to return. With my eyes fixed upon the spire, I crossed the bridge
and entered the gate of the fortress. It is built on a small island,
fortified by five bastions, which, on the land side, are mere ramparts
connected with St. Petersburgh quarter by drawbridges, and on the river
side it is surrounded by walls cased with granite, in the centre of
which is a large gate or sallyport. As a fortress, it is now useless;
but it is a striking object of embellishment to the river, and an
interesting monument in the history of the city. Peter himself selected
this spot for his citadel and the foundation of his city. At that time
it contained two fishing-huts in ruins, the only original habitations on
the island. It was necessary to cut down the trees, and elevate the
surface of the island with dirt and stone brought from other places
before he commenced building the fortress; and the labour of the work
was immense, no less than forty thousand workmen being employed at one
time. Soldiers, Swedish prisoners, Ingrians, Carelians, and Cossacks,
Tartars and Calmucs, were brought from their distant solitudes to lay
the foundation of the imperial city, labouring entirely destitute of all
the comforts of life, sleeping on the damp ground and in the open air,
often without being able, in that wilderness, to procure their daily
meal; and, moreover, without pickaxes, spades, or other instruments of
labour, and using only their bare hands for digging; but, in spite of
all this, the work advanced with amazing rapidity, and in four months
the fortress was completed. The principal objects of interest it now
contains are the Imperial Mint and the Cathedral of St. Peter and St.
Paul. Brought up in a community where "making money" is the great
business of life, I ought, perhaps, to have entered the former, but I
turned away from the ingots of gold and silver, and entered the old
church, the burial-place of Peter the Great, and nearly all the Czars
and Czarinas, emperors and empresses, since his time. Around the walls
were arranged flags and banners, trophies taken in war, principally from
the Turks, waving mournfully over the tombs of the dead. A sombre light
broke through the lofty windows, and I moved directly to the tomb of
Peter. It is near the great altar, of plain marble, in the shape of a
square coffin, without any ornament but a gold plate, on one end of
which are engraved his name and title; and at the moment of my entrance
an old Russian was dusting it with a brush. It was with a mingled
feeling of veneration and awe that I stood by the tomb of Peter. I had
always felt a profound admiration for this extraordinary man, one of
those prodigies of nature which appear on the earth only once in many
centuries; a combination of greatness and cruelty, the sternness of
whose temper spared neither age nor sex, nor the dearest ties of
kindred; whose single mind changed the face of an immense empire and the
character of millions, and yet who often remarked with bitter
compunction, "I can reform my people, but I cannot reform myself."
By his side lies the body of his wife, Catharine I., the beautiful
Livonian, the daughter of a peasant girl, and the wife of a common
soldier, who, by a wonderful train of events, was raised to wield the
sceptre of a gigantic empire. Her fascination soothed the savage Peter
in his moodiest hours. She was the mediatrix between the stern monarch
and his subjects; mercy was ever on her lips, and one who knew her well
writes what might be inscribed in letters of gold upon her tomb: "She
was a pretty, well-looked woman, but not of that sublimity of wit, or,
rather, that quickness of imagination which some people have supposed.
The great reason why the Czar was so fond of her was her exceeding good
temper; she never was seen peevish or out of humour; obliging and civil
to all, and never forgetful of her former condition, and withal mighty
grateful."
Near their imperial parents lie the bodies of their two daughters, Anne
of Holstein and the Empress Elizabeth. Peter, on his deathbed, in an
interval of delirium, called to him his daughter Anne, as it was
supposed, with the intention of settling upon her the crown, but
suddenly relapsed into insensibility; and Anne, brought up in the
expectation of two crowns, died in exile, leaving one son, the
unfortunate Peter III.
Elizabeth died on the throne, a motley character of goodness, indolence,
and voluptuousness, and extremely admired for her great personal
attractions. She was never married, but, as she frequently owned to her
confidants, never happy but when in love. She was so tender of heart
that she made a vow to inflict no capital punishment during her reign;
shed tears upon the news of every victory gained by her troops, from the
reflection that it could not have been gained without bloodshed, and
would never give her consent for the execution of a felon, however
deserving; and yet she condemned two noble ladies, one of them the most
beautiful woman in Russia, to receive fifty strokes of the knout in the
open square of St. Petersburgh.
I strolled for a few moments among the other imperial sepulchres, and
returned to the tombs of Peter's family. Separate monuments are erected
over their bodies, all in the shape of large oblong tombstones,
ornamented with gold, and enclosed by high iron railings. As I leaned
against the railing of Peter's tomb, I missed one member of his imperial
family. It was an awful chasm. Where was his firstborn child and only
son? the presumptive heir of his throne and empire? Early the object of
his unnatural prejudice, excluded from the throne, imprisoned, tortured,
tried, condemned, sentenced to death by the stern decree of his offended
father!
The ill-starred Alexius lies in the vaults of the church, in the
imperial sepulchre, but without any tomb or inscription to perpetuate
the recollection of his unhappy existence. And there is something awful
in the juxtaposition of the dead; he lies by the side of his unhappy
consort, the amiable Princess Charlotte, who died the victim of his
brutal neglect; so subdued by affliction that, in a most affecting
farewell to Peter, unwilling to disturb the tranquillity of her last
hour, she never mentioned his name, and welcomed death as a release from
her sufferings.
Leaving the church, I went to a detached building within the fortress,
where is preserved, in a separate building, a four-oared boat, as a
memorial of the origin of the Russian navy. Its history is interesting.
About the year 1691 Peter saw this boat at a village near Moscow; and
inquiring the cause of its being built differently from those he was in
the habit of seeing, learned that it was contrived to go against the
wind. Under the direction of Brandt, the Dutch shipwright who built it,
he acquired the art of managing it. He afterward had a large
pleasure-yacht constructed after the same model, and from this beginning
went on till he surprised all Europe by a large fleet on the Baltic and
the Black Sea. Twenty years afterward he had it brought up from Moscow,
and gave a grand public entertainment, which he called the consecration
of the "little grandsire." The fleet, consisting of twenty-seven
men-of-war, was arranged at Cronstadt in the shape of a half moon. Peter
embarked in the little grandsire, himself steering, and three admirals
and Prince Mendzikoff rowing, and made a circuit in the gulf, passing by
the fleet, the ships striking their flags and saluting it with their
guns, while the little grandsire returned each salute by a discharge of
three small pieces. It was then towed up to St. Petersburgh, where its
arrival was celebrated by a masquerade upon the waters, and, Peter again
steering, the boat proceeded to the fortress, and under a discharge of
all the artillery it was deposited where it now lies.
Returning, I took a bath in the Neva. In bathing, as in everything else,
the Russians profit by the short breath of summer, and large public
bathing-houses are stationed at intervals along the quay of the river,
besides several smaller ones, tasteful and ornamental in appearance,
being the private property of rich seigneurs. I went into one of the
former, where a swimming-master was teaching a school of boys the art of
swimming. The water of the Neva was the first thing I had found
regularly Russian, that is, excessively cold; and though I bathed in it
several times afterward, I always found it the same.
At five o'clock I went to dine with Mr. Wilkins. He had broken up his
establishment and taken apartments at the house of an English lady,
where he lived much in the same style as at home. He had been at St.
Petersburgh but a short time, and, I believe, was not particularly well
pleased with it, and was then making arrangements to return. I had never
met with Mr. Wilkins in our own country, and I consider myself under
obligations to him; for, not bringing him any letter, I stood an entire
stranger in St. Petersburgh, with nothing but my passport to show that I
was an American citizen, and he might have even avoided the dinner, or
have given me the dinner and troubled himself no more about me. But the
politeness which he had shown me as a stranger increased to kindness;
and I was in the habit of calling upon him at all times, and certainly
without any expectation of ever putting him in print. We had at table a
parti quarre, consisting of Mr. Wilkins, Mr. Gibson, who has been our
consul, I believe, for twenty years, if, he being still a bachelor, it
be not unfriendly to carry him back so far, and Mr. Clay, the secretary
of legation, who had been twice left as charge d'affaires at the
imperial court, and was then lately married to an English lady in St.
Petersburgh. After dinner, three or four American merchants came in; and
at eleven o'clock, having made an appointment to go with Mr. Wilkins and
see a boatrace on the Neva, Mr. Clay and I walked home along the quay,
under that enchanting twilight which I have already so often thrust upon
the reader, and which I only regret that I cannot make him realize and
enjoy.