The carnival—Amusements at the fair—Curious
procession—Palm fair—Whitsuntide—The Resurrection on
Easter-night—Easter-day—Easter privilege—Anecdote of
the Emperor—Bell-ringing—Kindness of heart among the
Russians—Household gods—Christmas—Midsummer-eve—Heathen
custom—New-year’s eve—A Russian election—Unfortunate
orator—Russian maypole—Characteristic dance by a soldier, its
beautiful execution—Military picnics—Disagreeable traits of
character—Shopkeepers’ balls—Splendid festivals—The Kremlin
illuminated.
The Carnival in Russia, although not so gay and animated as in Italy,
has its pleasures nevertheless. There are continual parties, visits, and
feasting, almost in as great a degree as during the Easter week. There
is a grand fair held for the amusement of the people, in the great place
opposite the Admiralty, in which whirligigs of all fashions, swings,
ice-hills, and theatres _à la_ Richardson, form the delight of their
hearts. The Russians of the lower class are just like overgrown children:
they are as much pleased with a ride on a wooden horse, or in one of
the boats of a whirligig, in a swing, or down an ice-hill, as a party
of school-children would be. In the grand theatre this last Carnival
they have been intensely gratified with the “glorious battle of Sinope,”
fought over for their amusement about twelve times every day, in which
not a single Russian got wounded, although the heads of the poor Turks
were rolling by scores in all directions. It was, as they said, really
a special Providence that nobody was hurt at all, and only shows _how
just their cause is_. Of course the pleasant sight of the destruction
of so many unbelieving dogs of Mahometans gave immense satisfaction
to everybody, and tended much to their self-glorification, and the
conviction of the Emperor’s might, and so on.
[Illustration: The Carnival at St. Petersburg. Russian Mountains.
page 215.]
The “ice-hill” is an amusement peculiarly Russian. A framework, with
steps up one side, is erected, and on the upper part is a small stage,
covered with an ornamental roof supported by four pillars, and a rapidly
inclined plane on the other side, which terminates in a long run, both
of which are paved with blocks of ice, and rendered perfectly smooth by
pouring water down, which quickly becomes frozen. The pastime consists in
going up the steps and then sliding down the descent on small sledges. At
the other end are a similar inclined plane and a similar flight of steps,
which enable the slider to return to the first, and so on to and fro.
The Russians are extremely fond of this amusement, and often have these
ice-hills erected at some village at a little distance from the town,
whither they repair in picnic parties to enjoy the game for a few hours.
During the Carnival week everybody feasts on blinnies, a kind of pancake,
something like our crumpets, which are eaten with sour cream or melted
butter. There are blinnies at lunch and blinnies at dinner, whilst the
lower classes do nothing but regale on them all the day long.
“Well, Grushia,” I once said to the servant, “and how many have you had
to-day?”
“Thirty-four, Madame; but I am going to have some more.”
The custom of going about masked from one friend’s house to another’s at
the new year and in Carnival time is no longer _bon genre_. It was some
time since very fashionable to go thus disguised, and dance a polka or
quadrille in one place, and then proceed to another, and so on until they
were weary of the amusement. I believe the various articles missing have
contributed to render the custom obsolete.
During the week of the Carnival there is the grand promenade round and
round the place where the fair is held. Everybody that keeps a carriage
or a sledge joins in the procession, which consists in a long line or
single file of vehicles following each other at a foot’s pace, marshalled
by mounted _gensdarmes_. I could never, for the life of me, imagine what
pleasure could be discovered in it, excepting that of staring at one’s
acquaintances and envying their new bonnets. But it pleases the Russians,
_et cela suffit_.
I remember when in Archangel seeing a curious kind of procession at this
festival. A large sledge, made to imitate a ship, having many stuffed
animals on board, with skins and other objects, and accompanied by men
in various disguises, was drawn round the town, in the same manner as
our chimney-sweeps have their public show and Jack-in-the-green, raising
contributions on the spectators, which they spend, _à la Russe_, at the
whisky-shop. In no other part of the country did we ever see such; and
I think somebody told us that it was not a national custom, but one
introduced by settlers many years ago.
The day before Palm Sunday another fair is held in the Nevsky
Perspective, close to the Gostinoi Dwor—indeed, a part of it is under
the piazza—where are to be seen immense quantities of toys, including
little figures of John the Baptist lying asleep in a mossy cradle, with
a cross by the side; the queerest-looking dolls that it is possible
to imagine,—some of them swathed up like mummies, and forming close
imitations of Russian babies, for the nurses in the country confine the
infant’s arms down to its side, and wrap it up so that nothing but the
face is visible, giving it the appearance of the papouse of the savages.
Added to these are endless varieties of military toys for juvenile
warriors, and palm-branches for the morrow’s festival. These branches are
variously ornamented, but the most common have the figure of a cherub
with its wings spread, stuck on a small branch of artificial leaves,
roses and lilies, &c. Small boughs of the downy buds which our boys call
catkins are also very generally used for this purpose. In the evening the
priest comes to bless the palm-branches, when he presents one to each of
the family, which he or she is expected to carry to church on the next
day, in commemoration of the entry of Christ into Jerusalem.
At Whitsuntide the servants always place a large bough of the linden
at the head of every bed, and also in the corner of the rooms, men
carrying them about in carts to sell, in the same manner as they do the
holly-branches at Christmas with us.
Easter is the greatest of the Russian Church festivals, and is a season
of universal rejoicing, for the long fast of Lent is now over, or will
be so when midnight strikes on Easter-eve. Everybody is dressed in his
or her finest clothes: rich and poor, great and small, the Czar and
the humblest serf in his dominions, men, women, and children, are all
joyfully preparing to celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord. Service
is performed at midnight in all the cathedrals. The sacred corpse that
was supposed to have been buried on Good Friday will rise again at that
hour, amid the songs of the choristers and the joyful thanksgiving
of the people. At midnight the mass begins. The archbishop is in the
Holy of Holies, praying for the pardon and absolution of the multitude
that are waiting in silence in the body of the cathedral. Every one is
standing, for there are no pews or seats in the Russian churches. The
splendid silver doors are thrown open; the devotions of the archbishop
are concluded. He appears standing on the highest step of the altar; he
raises his hands towards heaven, and bestows his benediction upon the
people. Descending from the altar, he advances towards the bier, and,
raising the cover of the coffin, he discovers that the body of Christ
is no longer reposing therein; he announces it to the congregation, and
then leaves the sacred edifice, at the head of the procession of the
clergy. The people wait in silence, for he is gone to seek the body,
which is no more “where it was laid.” The sound of solemn voices is heard
at intervals from without, whilst the procession makes the circuit of
the cathedral three times in the search. Amid the breathless silence
of the expectant multitude the procession re-enters. The archbishop
then, remounting the steps of the altar, and standing upon the highest,
in front of the Holy of Holies, pronounces, in a voice whose tones
reverberate to the remotest corner of the edifice, and thrill like
an electric shock through the hearts of his congregation, the words
“Christos vos chris” (Christ is risen). In an instant the singers burst
out into a joyful chorus; every one lights the taper in his hand;
universal delight pervades the people, who turn and congratulate each
other upon the happy event, and return thanksgivings to Heaven. The
archbishop, bearing incense, followed by the priests, goes among the
congregation, still proclaiming the welcome tidings; and, amid the
cheerful voices of the choir, the fumes of incense, and the brilliancy
of a thousand lights, moving with each inclination of the people, the
gratitude of the Russians for their salvation ascends doubtlessly to the
throne of the Creator, who, we are taught to believe, will not reject
those that worship Him. The form of celebrating the resurrection of the
Saviour is not according to our Protestant sentiments; but we must not
condemn the Russians, who have been taught from their youth to reverence
such ceremonies. The hour for a Sclavonic Luther is not yet come.
The service is concluded by reading a portion of the Scriptures in twelve
different tongues; and then the benediction is given by the archbishop.
No organ or instrument of any kind is used in the Greek Church; the
whole of the music is vocal; it is not joined in by the multitude, but
is entirely performed by the clergy and the choristers. The celebration
of the mass is really splendid: the innumerable lights, the magnificent
robes of the clergy, the brilliant uniforms and costumes of the
congregation, and the beauty of the psalms and choruses, make a _tout
ensemble_ that easily accounts for its taking so strong a hold on the
minds of an illiterate and semi-barbarous people.
On returning from the church a magnificent supper is always laid out.
Each family, like the Jews, holds a kind of Passover feast, at which
twirock (a sort of white cheese), ham, hard eggs, and butter made in
the form of a sheep with gilt horns, form necessary dishes. The ham,
the Russians say, is a _sine quâ non_ at Easter, because the eating of
it is a proof that they are neither Jews[12] nor Mahometans; the butter
represents the paschal lamb, and the eggs are in remembrance of the
persecutions of the early Christians, who recognised each other by the
presentation of one as a symbol of the Resurrection.
It is quite an amusement for the ladies and children to prepare these
eggs, by staining them of different colours, by boiling them in pieces
of silk several days previous to the festival. Very beautiful ones, made
of china, sugar, chocolate, and various other materials, are sold at the
shops, for Easter presents, and they frequently contain some valuable
article of jewelry, such as a pair of diamond ear-rings, a broach, &c. &c.
If a Russian die during Easter, his soul is supposed to ascend
immediately into heaven with Christ; and it is always rather a source of
rejoicing than of sorrow when the decease of a friend takes place at this
season, as a sojourn in the intermediate state is thereby avoided.
The lower class in Russia have a curious privilege during the whole of
Easter week, that of becoming intoxicated with perfect impunity; it may
therefore be easily imagined how many drunken men are to be seen at that
season reeling about the streets.
On Easter-day everybody congratulates everybody: the ministers and
nobility go to pay their respects to the Imperial family, the _employés_
to their chiefs, the servants to their masters, and acquaintances to each
other.
We were told that His Majesty the Emperor kisses one man out of every
regiment on this day.
One morning, as he was leaving the palace, he accosted, as is his custom,
the first man he met, which happened to be a private soldier, with the
usual phrase, “Christos vos chris.” The latter turned instantly, and
denied the fact, saying that Christ was not risen. “How!” exclaimed the
Czar, in great astonishment; “who and what then are you?” “I am a Jew,
your Majesty.”
The manner of offering congratulations at Easter is to present an egg,
saying, “Christos vos chris.” The party accepting it answers, “Christ is
risen indeed.” Both then embrace, kiss each other thrice on the cheeks,
bow, and retire.
The bells of the churches play a prominent part in all these grand
festivals; and, as each place of worship prides itself on the size,
number, and loudness of its peal, it may well be imagined what an awful
din they make; added to which, the boys and men think it quite a treat to
pull them, and are privileged to do so on every particular occasion, such
as Easter, the Ascension, &c. In Moscow we were nearly stunned with the
noise, for there are about three hundred and sixty churches, and some
of their bells are enormous; so, when they were all ringing at once, the
tintamarre was terrific.
On all these occasions of public rejoicing, the stranger may remark how
kind and hospitable, how friendly and sociable, the Russian people are.
Their hospitality is unbounded; from the highest to the lowest they
will give what they can afford. They display their good will by making
presents to those about them, to their relations and acquaintances, and
their charity by freely giving alms to the poor. The clergy receive gifts
from the members of their congregations: it is a period of pleasure
and of profit to them; and they are frequently so extremely poor that
it ought not to be grudged. They go about from house to house to sing
hymns and consecrate anew the saints’ pictures with which almost every
room is furnished. From all the opportunities that I had of judging, I
am convinced that there are many estimable and conscientious men among
the superior grades of the Greek clergy, who religiously believe the
creed they teach, and endeavour to set a good example to their flocks.
In regard to the attachment of the people to their crosses and saints’
pictures, although it may seem strange in a Protestant to say so, yet it
appears to me a very natural feeling, and we ought not to be surprised
at so great a reverence paid to objects which from their birth they have
been taught to regard as holy. “I would not have a post removed which
I had been accustomed to see,” was the remark of a French philosopher:
how much greater then must be the affection that these poor people have
for these sacred things! besides which, they may feel that they have
a friend always near at hand whom they can address in their grief and
trouble, and who will not _betray them_.
I never saw a peasant carrying his picture of the Virgin and Child from
one isba to another, holding it as carefully in his arms as if it were
some treasure of incalculable price, without being reminded of the
household gods of antiquity,—the Lares and Penates of nations that now
exist no more. We have heard many turn these superstitions into ridicule,
because to them a clearer faith has rendered such unnecessary; but let
him that does so consult his own heart, and ask if he also have not some
object that he regards with love and reverence, and prizes almost as
highly as the Russian does his saint’s picture.
In Russia, Christmas is not so great a feast as that of Easter, nor are
there any national dishes set apart for that season, but the New-Year’s
Day is a very high festival. Similar congratulations between inferiors
and superiors, friends and acquaintances, take place as at Easter, whilst
hospitality, generosity, and charity are shown in an equal degree. On
Midsummer Eve a custom still exists in Russia among the lower classes
that could only be derived from a very remote antiquity, and is perhaps
a remnant of the worship of Baal. A party of peasant-women and girls
assemble in some retired, unfrequented spot, and light a large fire,
over which they leap in succession. If by chance any one of the other
sex should be found near the place, or should have seen them in the act
of performing the heathenish rite, it is at the imminent hazard of his
life, for the women would not scruple to sacrifice him for his temerity:
I was assured that such instances had often been known. Numberless charms
and acts of sorcery are supposed to succeed on this eve, among which may
be mentioned the sitting alone for about an hour before midnight with
the eyes fixed on a looking-glass, in order to see the reflection of the
future husband’s face thereon when the clock strikes.
On New-Year’s Eve the Russians “try their luck” in a great many ways.
They pour melted wax or lead into water, and exercise their imaginations
regarding the varied forms that it assumes; they fill two bowls with
water, one of which is for the men and the other for the women, and stick
slips of paper round them, on each of which is a name, either male or
female as the case may be: a wax taper is then set afloat on the surface,
and those whose names have the good fortune to be burned will be married
ere the next year. The ladies send out their servants and the gentlemen
their valets to watch at midnight for the passers by; the first one that
is perceived is asked his or her name, which, of course, will be that of
the future spouse, &c. &c.
Numerous superstitions of this kind are practised, and too often believed
in, by the upper as well as the lower classes.
Among the festivals ought to be mentioned the elections, which, even in
despotic Russia as well as in Britain, are attended with speeches, votes,
and opposition.
I was present once at one of these public ceremonies; it was the election
of the Maréchal de Noblesse, a kind of officer chosen in each province
from among the landed proprietors. His duties are various, but the most
important one is his guardianship of orphans whose fathers have died
intestate: he is a kind of provincial lord-chancellor, and, next to the
governor, is the most important personage in the county.
The election is perfectly free, and supposed to be entirely unbiassed by
the government authorities: even the governor himself is not allowed to
be present or to have the least voice in the matter.
The ceremony takes place once in three years, and is looked forward
to with as much interest and anxiety as the choice of a member of
parliament could be with us, and perhaps even more so, for it is the only
opportunity the people here have of making a _free election_ of anything.
On the morning of the election the carriages of the pamestchicks
or landowners rolled into the town from all parts of the province.
Innumerable gentlemen descended therefrom and entered the assembly-rooms,
in which the extraordinary event was to take place, with all the
_manière affairée_, the bustle, the importance, the seriousness, and the
chattering of the members of a “Constitution République” or a Congress.
Two or three were gravely consulting upon somebody’s pretensions to
the honour; two or three in another place were laughing him and his
pretensions to scorn. The noise was so great that I could only catch a
word or two here and there, which, rising above the din, reached the
ladies up in the gallery. “We won’t have him, he’s a rogue”—“A most
amiable man”—“Don’t let S——ff speak”—“Hold your tongue, S——ff is the
man”—“Hush! N——toff is going to make a speech”—“Speak more loudly, we
can’t hear”—“What does he say?” and so on.
Amid all this noise and confusion, a gentleman placed his chair on a
table and mounted thereon, intent on addressing, not _the people_, for
there were none, but the _free and independent_ electors. Scarcely a word
of what he said reached us; whether he proposed himself or anybody else
it was impossible to make out, but, apparently, his speech did not meet
with general approbation. He however became more and more excited, made
frantic gestures with his arms, tossing them above his head as if he
were mad. His speech was suddenly cut short by his rapid disappearance
from the table, chair and all; whether intentionally or accidentally
there was no evidence to show, but he got up again as well as he could,
and, amid shouts of laughter from the audience, he was glad to hide his
diminished head among the crowd. The next speaker was a little, round,
bald-headed old gentleman, who made a long and energetic discourse upon
the moral excellences of one of the candidates. The audience listened to
it with attention, so probably there was truth in it. The third was an
orator who, by all appearance, was “unaccustomed to public speaking,” &c.
&c., for he quickly got into a labyrinth, and did not know for the life
of him how to get out of it: he soon descended amid intense and general
disapprobation. Several others “trespassed upon the time and attention
of the assembled electors,” and put their patience to a sore trial,
some with greater and others with very indifferent success, after which
the meeting was adjourned until the following morning. The second and
third days offered but a repetition of the scenes of the first: at last
the election was referred to the ballot, and the candidate who had the
majority of votes was declared duly elected.
The whole affair terminated in a grand dinner and ball, whereat the
opposition and the maréchal side seemed equally to enjoy themselves.
The next day the landowners and their carriages left the town: they had
all had their say, they had strutted in “brief authority,” and were now
going home to bury themselves in their woods and forests for the next
three years, until another such opportunity of exercising the freedom of
election should occur.
Among other ancient customs of Oriental origin is a species of maypole
dancing, but it has little or no resemblance to what was once the delight
of the merry lads and lasses of Old England. The peasant-women and girls
fix upon a small fir-tree or bush; they then attach streamers to it
of as many gay colours as they can obtain; the ends are held in their
hands, and they continue to walk round and round the maypole, singing a
monotonous chant one after the other until they are tired.
The different provinces in Russia have dances peculiar to each as well as
different costumes. I remember at a picnic we were all greatly delighted
with the picturesque dances of some soldiers from Malo Russia. One dance
in particular, executed by a private soldier to the singing of his
comrades, was descriptive of the love and occupations of a peasant-girl.
It began by a song, during the performance of which the supposed maiden
was seated on the ground, imitating the making of thread so well that we
could almost fancy we saw it between her fingers and the distaff in her
hand. Presently she pretends to be listening to the chorus, the subject
of which is her absent lover. Her fingers move faster and faster as she
becomes agitated. At last she throws away the distaff in despair and
weeps bitterly. The chorus goes on to describe the warlike exploits of
the loved one, the thoughts of her and his far-off village that occupy
his mind. Hope begins to spring up; joy reanimates her features; the
spinning is resumed; she makes responses to the singers, who tell her
that a horseman is in sight, that he comes nearer; they perceive it is
the absent warrior. She can no longer contain her emotions: she springs
up, dances a beautifully descriptive pas-seul, and then rushes among
the chorus as if for the purpose of welcoming the supposed lover to her
cottage.
It is perfectly impossible to convey an idea of the charming manner in
which the story was told by the very expressive and graceful movements of
the dancer, or the wild and beautiful air to which the whole was executed.
In speaking of this picnic I may mention, just to show how everything
in Russia is _à la militaire_, and how the love of the wild life of
their nomadic ancestors is not yet banished from the hearts of their
descendants, the way in which these amusements were conducted, at least
all that I witnessed.
On some place being fixed upon, little tents of boughs were erected, and
a number of watch-fires lighted, round which the company were seated in
groups: there was always a military band and a great number of soldiers
hired to sing the national airs, to dance, and to amuse the guests. They
stood in parties at a distance, one composed of the musicians, and the
others of the dancers and singers. As soon as one party had finished
their performance another commenced, and so on during the whole time.
Whilst we were at supper the band marched round the wood and played the
soldiers’ war-song, and the others stood as sentinels and videttes. It
was really a great treat for foreigners to go to one of these military
picnics, and they seemed never to lose their novelty. One of the
principal amusements at them was firing pistols at a mark, and, from
the display of skill on these occasions, I should say that the Russian
ladies are much cleverer at it than the gentlemen. There were generally
several officers of rank present, yet the ladies hit the target certainly
four times as frequently as _they_ did. Parties of the peasantry always
formed the spectators of these scenes, and they came in for the remains
of the good things that happened to be left. On the national festivals,
such as the coronation-day, the Emperor’s birthday, &c., as well as at
Easter and the new year, the governor of a province holds a levée, as
the representative of his majesty, and receives the congratulations of
the military and government _employés_. It is at such times that the
Russian character shows to the greatest disadvantage: respect sinks into
slavishness, politeness into fawning, civility into adulation, and the
conversation throughout is a mass of hypocrisy and deceit. Heaven only
knows how many centuries it will take to teach the Russians to speak the
truth. The wives and grown-up daughters of the _employés_ congratulate
the governor’s lady just as the husbands do his excellency, when it
is customary to invite them to a ball and supper in the evening. The
government allows three hundred silver roubles per month to pay for their
entertainment. The same ceremony takes place on the anniversary of the
governor’s birthday as on that of the Czar.
Balls in Russia are much the same as in other civilized countries, but
it is a disagreeable fact that it is absolutely necessary to burn scent
in the rooms. “I will really speak to the police-master’s daughters,”
said the lady of a governor after one of these general balls; “and I will
advise them to put on _clean linen_, otherwise I will not invite them to
the ball!” There is also another disagreeable custom, that of leaving
the lady in the middle of a room after the dance is over, instead of
escorting her to a seat.
[Illustration: Imperial Ball.
page 231.]
I went several times to balls given by merchants, generally on the
occasion of a daughter’s marriage; they were all in the same style. It
seemed to me that the grand object in view with the shopkeepers’ wives
and daughters was not to dance, but to show off their finery. They sat in
a straight line all round the room, dressed in a most splendid manner,
with magnificent diamonds, rubies, and pearls, their hands folded over
each other, loaded with valuable rings; just as if they were so many
portraits or waxen figures, placed there for exhibition. They scarcely
moved, excepting when they partook of some refreshment handed round. A
very few of the younger portion danced, but the sole amusement of the
remainder seemed to consist in criticising and admiring the costume
and jewelry of each other. A room was always on these occasions set
aside for the governor’s family. As soon as we entered, the host and
hostess stepped forward, and respectfully indicated with many bows and
inclinations the apartment prepared for our reception; it was sure to
contain several tables completely loaded with refreshments of all kinds,
immense cakes, trays of fruit, preserves, bonbons, &c., twenty times as
much as it was possible to require. Nothing would ever induce the host
and hostess to sit down; they came in occasionally to entreat us to do
honour to the feast and to show their hospitable wishes for our sakes;
they appeared never so pleased as when they saw us eating; indeed, they
seemed to expect us never to leave off for a single instant from the time
of our entrance to that of our departure.
The most splendid fêtes at which I was present during my stay in
Russia were two given by the Emperor: the first was on the occasion of
the Archduchess Olga’s marriage, and the second on the twenty-fifth
anniversary of his own accession. The former took place at Peterhoff, the
marine palace, not many versts distant from Cronstadt. The banqueting,
illuminations, and rejoicings lasted three whole days, and cost, as
the Russians said, “des millions de roubles.” The bride was one blaze
of diamonds, but she looked anything but happy. All the riches and
magnificence of the court and nobility were displayed on the occasion:
the variety of national costumes, Georgian, Circassian, and others; the
glitter of the innumerable military uniforms, belonging to every regiment
and race in the Czar’s dominions; the foreign ministers and visitors—all
formed a _coup-d’œil_ of extreme splendour: not the least conspicuous
among the throng were the negroes belonging to the court in their rich
and picturesque oriental costume.
The court-ladies wear an uniform taken from the national dress; the
_married ladies_ of honour wear a train of green velvet embroidered with
gold over a white robe, and the _maids_ of honour a train of crimson
velvet; the head-dress is in the shape of a crescent, similar to that
of the peasants, only much enriched with diamonds and other precious
stones; on the shoulder is a bow of blue ribbon, in which are the
Empress’s initials in brilliants. A long blonde veil is thrown over the
head and descends in folds behind. Notwithstanding the richness of the
costume, there is a stiffness about it, and there are not many faces to
which it is becoming, as it can be so only to classic features. There
were very few handsome or pretty women in the whole assembly; indeed,
generally speaking, beauty is rare among the Russians. It is very
uncommon in every rank, yet, perhaps, no people value exterior appearance
so much as they do, or are so vain of their persons. One proof of the
latter failing may be seen at every step, for there is not a single shop
in St. Petersburg in which a looking-glass is not placed for the benefit
of the customers. Mirrors hold the same position in Russia as clocks do
in England; with us time is valuable, with them appearance.
Every night during the festival the gardens of the palace were
illuminated; Russians said that there were ten millions of lamps.
Perhaps there were two or three millions at the most; but they always
multiply every number, like the Orientals, who slay tens of thousands,
when probably a few hundreds only are meant. Twenty thousand soldiers
were engaged in relighting the wicks as they became extinguished by
the wind. Walls of light were on each side of the walks and avenues,
pyramids and obelisks from fifty to seventy feet in height, resplendent
stars seemingly suspended in mid air were everywhere to be seen, but
the most beautiful sight of all were the fountains. The palace is
built on an elevation, and the water falls in artificial cascades from
this height, forming a pretty stream. Below, in the hollows of the
overhanging rocks, rows of lamps were placed, over which the fluid rushed
from the cascade like a shower of diamonds, whilst the flashing lights
beneath had an indescribably brilliant effect; the fine bronze figures
untarnished glittered like statues of gold in the rays of thousands of
beaming stars; the long avenues of splendid pines that border each side
of the artificial stream below were also illuminated; and the view was
terminated by an enormous sun, sixty feet in diameter, that appeared to
be hovering over the sea in the distance, invisibly suspended in the
air. There were not many coloured lamps, and those were placed among
the flowers in the gardens, which had an extremely pleasing effect. The
others did not resemble those used in England, but were merely little
earthenware saucers, filled with grease, and furnished with a wick;
these were placed on a framework of wood, painted black, and made into
various designs. Soldiers stood at intervals on it, or were mounted on
ladders behind, in readiness to relight the lamps that might accidentally
become extinguished. One little fact connected with this magnificent
festival deserves to be recorded, if it be only to show that enthusiastic
cheers and delighted shouts can be made to order, and according to the
regulations of the police, by which everything in fact is conducted in
Russia. A general assured us that there was a number of men stationed
among the crowd whose duty it was to shout in extasy whenever the signal
was given them on the appearance of any person of rank on the balcony
whose position demanded notice. This was the key-note for as many as
liked to join in the chorus, otherwise they did not dare to make any
exclamations of pleasure or satisfaction. Disapprobation was of course
entirely out of the question, as the least sign of it would subject the
delinquent to disagreeable consequences. There were also a great many
spies doing duty among the crowd, who were placed there in order to hear
what might be said of the whole affair.
The second festival, that on the anniversary of the Emperor’s coronation,
took place in Moscow. A description of it would be merely a repetition of
what has just been stated. There was one sight, however, that could be
seen nowhere else but in that city, and that was the Kremlin illuminated.
Its numerous churches and towers decorated with what appeared from
below to be a vast number of brilliant little stars,—the gilded crosses
glittering in the dark azure sky,—the high and massive walls covered with
one immense design resembling embroidery in light,—the Alexander gardens
below, illuminated with thousands of lamps,—the showy costumes of the
Circassian guards,—the gay dresses of the people,—the bright uniforms of
the military, as they passed in crowds to and fro,—formed altogether a
splendid sight, well worth the trouble of a journey from St. Petersburg
to Moscow to behold. The illumination was at the expense of the city
merchants and shopkeepers, who subscribed an enormous sum for the
purpose. Magnificent though it was, yet for the large sum subscribed it
ought to have been more so; but as it was necessarily under the direction
of the police authorities, they doubtless took a good percentage for
their trouble.
Illuminations in St. Petersburg are paid for by a kind of tax which
the police demand of each house; and as the Russians illuminate for
everything, they must form a good source of profit to these “honourable
men.” Not a single baby belonging in the fiftieth degree to the imperial
family can either be born or christened without a round of five hundred
cannon and an illumination; not a score of Turks can be killed, or half
a dozen guns taken, without a similar demonstration of public rejoicing.
The latter may be a “make-believe,” very convenient in the time of
defeats and retreats to blind the nation’s eyes to the truth, especially
as no authentic accounts are ever published for the people. The manner
of illuminating in Russia is different from ours. Little grease-pots are
placed at intervals along the kerbstone of the pavement, at about the
same distance apart as are our lamp-posts in London. The effect is not at
all imposing; besides which, they are at the mercy of the wind and rain,
which generally cause an ugly hiatus here and there.
Whilst speaking of illuminations I must not omit to mention one that we
saw in Archangel; it was certainly not to be compared to the two already
described, but it had a very beautiful effect from the lamps being placed
in holes made in the snow. The weather was very cold, and the damp had
frozen in crystals on the trees, so that it looked like a scene in
northern fairy-land, or as if some silver grotto of the gnomes had been
suddenly thrown up on the surface of the earth.
The night on which the news reached St. Petersburg that the Russian army
had crossed the Danube, there was a great illumination by order of the
authorities. The weather was fearful; the high wind and beating storm
soon effaced all traces of the lights, and the streets shortly became as
dark and as desolate as before—an evil augury of the misfortunes so soon
to follow.