IC-NI 
 
 fib MD1 
 
 
OF 
 JEROME B. LANPFIELD 
 
IN JOYFUL RUSSIA 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN A. LOGAN, JR. 
 
 WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOURS 
 AND BLACK AND WHITE 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1899 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1897, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
 *fa 
 
 /'{0 f 
 

 8 
 
 TO MY WIPE, 
 
 WHO SHEPHERDED OUE LITTLE FLOCK WHILE I TRAVELLED, 
 
 I DEDICATE, 
 
 WITH GREAT LOVE AND AFFECTION, 
 THIS FIRST FRUIT OF MY PEN. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 THIS book is neither a social tract, a political or eco- 
 nomic study, nor a guide-book. It is the record of a thor- 
 oughly delightful trip to a country which to me, at least, 
 had all the charm of the unknown. I have tried to 
 chronicle as graphically as lay within my untried powers the 
 impressions I received, the gorgeous pageants I saw; and 
 if my views of Eussian conditions seem rose-coloured to some 
 of my readers, let them remember that I saw the country in 
 holiday attire; but let them also remember that a country of 
 unmitigated gloom, such as others have pictured Eussia to 
 be, has never existed on the face of the globe, and never 
 can exist. My experiences were gathered among all classes 
 of people and over a large stretch of territory from the 
 Holy City to Helsingfors and beyond. Wherever I went, 
 I found the same splendid national qualities, the same 
 unity of character, ay, and the same content with the 
 powers that be, which make Eussia not merely a vast 
 geographical term, but a great and mighty nation. 
 
 If I succeed in giving my readers but a part of the 
 pleasure I experienced, I shall feel satisfied, and consider 
 that, in some measure at least, the debt is paid which I 
 owe to my captivating Eussian hosts. 
 
 JOHN A. LOGAN, JR. 
 
 WASHINGTON, D. C., February 15, 1897. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PA.QB 
 
 I. AT THE THRESHOLD OF THE TsAR .... 1 
 
 II. AN HOUR IN WARSAW 10 
 
 III. GUESTS OF THE TSAR 26 
 
 IV. THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD .... 35 
 
 V. AS SEEN EN ROUTE 51 
 
 VI. LOVELY, LAUGHING Moscow 64 
 
 VII. HOW WE KEPT HOUSE IN MOSCOW .... 70 
 
 VIII. ROUND ABOUT THE cow PATHS 81 
 
 IX. RAIN AND ETIQUETTE 90 
 
 X. THEN THE TSAR CAME 97 
 
 XI. PROCLAIMING THE CORONATION 106 
 
 XII. THE CROWNING OF A TSAR 113 
 
 XIII. THE CROWNING OF A TSAR 130 
 
 XIV. AN IMPERIAL FEAST 138 
 
 XV. THE COSSACKS AND Li HUNG CHANG . . . 149 
 
 XVI. THE TSARITSA 159 
 
 XVII. BREAD AND SALT AND DANCING 167 
 
 XVIII. THE PEOPLE'S FETE 174 
 
 XIX. HOW WE WASHED IN RUSSIA 184 
 
 XX. THE GALA PERFORMANCE AND THE RUSSIAN STAGE . 193 
 
 XXI. THE CITY OF THE FIRST MODERN TSAR . . . 200 
 
 XXII. RUSSIAN HORSES 208 
 
 XXIII. RUSSIAN RACES 217 
 
 XXIV. THE RUSSIAN CHURCH 231 
 
 XXV. VILLAGE LIFE 241 
 
 XXVI. SLAVIC LITERATURE 249 
 
 XXVII. SLAVIC ART 262 
 
 XXVIII. A GLANCE AT FINNISH RUSSIA , 268 
 
 Til 
 
PRESERVATION 
 COPY ADDED 
 ORIGINAL TO BE 
 RETAINED 
 
 1261995 
 
Chapter 1 . 
 
 AT THE THRESHOLD OF 
 THE TSAK. 
 
 " STRAVSTVUITE! " 
 said the conductor. 
 
 "Go to the devil! ?> 
 said I. 
 
 "Pojaluista chas! " said 
 the conductor with entreat- 
 ing insistence. 
 
 "You go to the devil!" 
 said I, half awake but 
 
 wholly in earnest. Then I sat up, spurred into sudden 
 and entire wakefulness, as the sleepiest man will often be, by 
 a potent consciousness which " neither poppy nor mandra- 
 gora" can ever quite drown a consciousness that some- 
 thing novel, interesting and long-waited for, has at last hap- 
 pened that one of life's milestones has been reached. 
 We were tired. We had gone " the pace " in Paris and 
 Berlin, and had had to catch both sleep and rest as best 
 we could en voyage; for the Dutch gentleman and the 
 Chinese merchant prince who shared our compartment 
 had jabbered together in execrable French with an in- 
 cessancy that then, there, and forever destroyed my belief 
 in the phlegm and reticence of their respective nations. 
 
gj-V 1 ;: ^ JN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Yet after one brief moment of somnolent impatience we 
 woke promptly and good-naturedly, nor needed to rub our 
 eyes, remembering that we must be on the threshold of 
 Tsarland. It was one o'clock 1 A. M. It was cold as the 
 shores of Lake Michigan in March, and the wind and rain 
 beat against our window-panes with all the vigour but 
 none of the good-fellowship of a negro camp-meeting. We 
 straightened our overcoats and stretched our legs, and rose 
 to follow the guide, without so much protest as a frown, 
 for we had travelled far to see Nicholas II crown him- 
 self with the crown of Peter the Great, the crown of all 
 the Russias, and we were quite willing to stand about in 
 a cruelly cold custom-house at that hour of the morning, 
 while the suavest and slowest of officials examined each 
 separate button of our two wardrobes since that exami- 
 nation was part and parcel of the " open sesame " at which, 
 and at which alone, the portals of Russia would cautiously 
 but courteously swing wide. 
 
 The conductor was a " common or garden " Russian 
 railway official; but the Kodak of my mind took a fine 
 snap-shot of him, and the picture developed vividly on the 
 plate of my memory, for he was the first Russian official 
 I encountered in the exercise of his office. He wore a 
 most gentlemanly looking frock coat of good black cloth, 
 a pair of trousers tucked into high boots of black Russian 
 leather, and a decidedly smart affair in the way of caps: 
 a turban of black astrachan topped with a straight flat 
 crown of black cloth, brightened up in front with the 
 wheel and two silver wings of Mercury, which guards and 
 conductors all over the Continent wear. His coat was 
 buttoned diagonally from the top of his left shoulder to 
 his waist. He wore a belt of patent leather fastened by a 
 sturdy silver buckle. On his left breast hung a silver chain 
 with a whistle attached, which was tucked into the space 
 between two of the upper buttons of his coat. Two pecul- 
 iar united leather tubes hung from his belt. From one 
 tube a little knob of green wood projected. A similar 
 knob, identical in all but colour it was red stuck out 
 of the twin tube. These knobs were on the handles of two 
 
AT THE THRESHOLD OF THE TSAE. 3 
 
 flags one emerald, one ruby that were tightly furled 
 and thrust into the leather cases. One meant " Stop," 
 the other " Start." This was the conductor of one car. 
 Had he been a master conductor, the conductor of the 
 entire train, the crown of his hat would have been magenta- 
 coloured, his clothes would have been proud with magenta 
 pipings, and his neck swathed in a magenta collar. In 
 Eussia the railways are under the direct control and man- 
 agement of the Government, and every railway official is a 
 Government official, a Government servant. Every train 
 is under the charge of a master conductor, and each car 
 has a conductor of its own a man who combines the 
 duties of an English guard with those of the blithe and 
 nimble darky porters of the United States. 
 
 " Stravstvuite! " the conductor had said, which meant 
 " Good morning." 
 
 " Go to the devil! " I had said, which meant " I am 
 sleepy and I decline to get up." 
 
 " Pojaluista chas! " the conductor had urged, which 
 meant " If you please, it is one o'clock." 
 
 " You go to the devil! " I had said, which meant, 
 " Speak to me again if you dare! " Knowing no Eng- 
 lish, and perceiving that I knew no " Bus," he betook him- 
 self to French, and asked for our passports. We produced 
 them. He pocketed them. He then beckoned to two or 
 three subordinates, who possessed themselves of our hand 
 baggage. We hastened after them. I agreed to follow 
 our passports, and G. agreed to follow our collars and 
 brushes. But travelling man proposes and Eussian official 
 disposes. I was warned back with the utmost courtesy, 
 but with no uncertainty of gesture. So we went into the 
 custom-house together G. and the satchels, the rug straps 
 and I. The porters laid our small traps on a table in front 
 of a patriarchal-looking Eussian. He had a splendid 
 gleaming white beard quite two feet long, and kindly, 
 shrewd brown eyes. He spoke to us in fluent French, and 
 looked through our parcels with entire courteousness and 
 entire thoroughness. We were not asked whether we 
 were or were not carrying anything dutiable. That im- 
 
4- IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 pressed us, and impressed us pleasantly, in contrast to the 
 rather insulting habit of our own custom-house officers, 
 who first make you declare upon oath that your boxes con- 
 tain nothing dutiable, and then proceed to search for 
 secreted proof that you have lied. After a sojourn abroad, 
 this always starts me back into my own country in a bit 
 of ill-humour. When I am asked to pledge my word of 
 honour as to the contents of my luggage, knowing per- 
 fectly well that my word, my very oath, will not be ac- 
 cepted as final, I always long to say, "You had better 
 find out for yourself/' 
 
 The old Eussian was surprisingly slow. He looked 
 Oriental, and, as I overheard a pert English schoolboy, 
 who had evidently lived in the East, say, "he moved 
 Oriental." But that was of little or no consequence to us. 
 We had two hours to get through before we might go on 
 toward Warsaw, and we were literally so hard up for some- 
 thing to do that it was a trifle better than nothing to 
 watch the slim brown hands taking a thorough inventory 
 of our smaller goods and chattels. The old official seemed 
 to have an eye in every finger tip and two in each thumb. 
 Nothing escaped him. But he crushed nothing, and he ad- 
 dressed us now and then with a word or two of almost 
 deprecatingly polite French, which made us quite feel 
 that he was going through an empty though obligatory 
 form, though both he and we knew perfectly well that it was 
 quite the contrary. At last he closed each parcel, buckled 
 each strap, and returned our keys with a bow and a word 
 of thanks for our goodness in having complied with a 
 rule which we were absolutely powerless to evade. He 
 had altogether the manner of being under an obligation 
 to us, and there was something so contagious about his 
 courtesy that, on my word, I felt rather a boor for having 
 given him so much trouble, and had half a mind to apolo- 
 gize as elaborately as my command of French would per- 
 mit. 
 
 We were moving toward another room, where the 
 boxes and large luggage had to be examined, when the con- 
 ductor who had disappeared with our passports accosted 
 
AT THE THRESHOLD OF THE TSAR. 5 
 
 us. It was not necessary, he informed me, to open my boxes, 
 or to have them opened, as mine was a " diplomatic " 
 passport. He added that he had been ordered to reserve 
 a compartment for me and for monsieur my friend in the 
 Warsaw train, and that in an hour, when that train was 
 ready to start, he would see that our luggage was properly 
 placed, and have the honour to guide us to our compart- 
 ment. 
 
 I had no bombs with me, but I was more than glad 
 that one of my three trunks escaped examination. My 
 mother, who preceded us by a week or more to Moscow, 
 had been betrayed and disappointed by her Paris milliner, 
 and the contents of my hugest trunk consisted of a fine con- 
 glomeration of uniforms and chiffons, of waistcoats and 
 satin trains. The Russians though a smileless race, in the 
 masses, at least have a large and Epicurean sense of 
 humour. I was palpably travelling without a lady, and I 
 should have felt sheepishly like a man dressmaker had all 
 that feminine finery been dragged into the semi-light of 
 that gusty, ill-lighted station, beneath the eyes of grinning 
 moujiks, supercilious officials, and delighted fellow-passen- 
 gers. 
 
 I had a dull wait for G. It was one of the longest hours 
 I can recall, but it was not long enough, and it was too 
 cold and too dark and too early even to attempt to ex- 
 plore the old Polish city which Alexander I gave to the 
 beautiful Marie Grudzinska, and which she, dying, be- 
 queathed to the kings of Poland, to be theirs and their 
 heirs' forever. Much less was there time or light or op- 
 portunity to see the one really unique thing that the Alex- 
 androvno of to-day can boast an almost unsurpassed and 
 wonderfully interesting deer park. 
 
 They were through with G. at last; one more proof 
 that everything has an ending even a Russian custom- 
 house examination. We had still twenty minutes to spend, 
 and we spent them in the station restaurant. We had a large 
 supply of bread, butter, and tea, and were charged some- 
 thing that at the time seemed to us ridiculously small. 
 We might have made a substantial meal of many courses 
 
6 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 had we elected to do so, for the buffet was largely supplied 
 with eatables and drinkables. But our appetites were not 
 fairly awake yet, and G. seemed a bit dispirited. I learned 
 why afterward. He had bought a very English suit of 
 clothes before leaving London checker boards were not 
 in it with the material of these garments, and a rainbow 
 in the full flush of perfection was a thing of gray shreds 
 and neutral-coloured patches if thrown into juxtaposition 
 with these Bond Street trousers. G. is acquisitive. He 
 likes to get into touch, en rapport as he expresses it, with 
 any nation he visits; and he delights to spend hours and 
 hundreds in Kegent Street and the Eue de Kivoli. He 
 was peculiarly proud of this remarkable chef-d'ceuvre of 
 his London tailor, and felt distinctly rasped at what fol- 
 lowed when the examining officer drew them forth and 
 spread them widely on the examining table. The officer 
 had said something in Eussian to a brother official, who 
 had replied in the same incomprehensible tongue. They 
 had been quite grave, and twisted the well-waxed tips of 
 their mustaches almost sadly. "But I'll be hanged 
 if I don't believe the beggars would have laughed if they 
 had not thought that it would have been impolite," G. 
 grumbled when he told me of it. A pretty Frenchwoman 
 who sat in the next dentist's chair I mean who stood 
 near watching her laces and gossamers and velvets and 
 embroideries and exquisite lingerie being tumbled out of 
 their chamois-lined, violet-scented boxes had lifted up her 
 pencilled eyebrows delicately, pursed up her vivid red 
 lips daintily, and exclaimed, " Mon bon dieu! " 
 
 The tea they served us was boiling hot. We had to 
 let it cool somewhat, but the Eussians drink it so even 
 little mites who can scarcely lift the tall glasses in which 
 it is served. It used to distress me when I thought of the 
 tender inner coats of their throats, but they gulped it down 
 with such evident relish and such unmistakable lack of 
 discomfort, that I soon learned to mind my own business, 
 my own tea-glass, and the scalding of my own throat. 
 The Eussian tea is very light of colour, very fragrant, and 
 very grateful to the palate. They bring it to you with 
 
AT THE THRESHOLD OF THE TSAR. 7 
 
 slices of lemon floating in it, and also bring you a small 
 dish of lump, or rather stick, sugar, to use or not, as your 
 taste may be. The Russians have two methods of using 
 the sugar when they take it with their tea. The great 
 majority tuck a goodly sized lump under their tongues, 
 and leave its melting to the natural juices of the mouth 
 and the trickling of the tea. They who are elegant hold 
 their tea-glass in one hand and their sugar-stick in the 
 other. They take a nibble and then a swallow. But, how- 
 ever they take their tea, they all take it. And like the 
 Siamese, the Russians not only drink tea out of doors, but 
 commonly stop in the streets or public squares to brew 
 and drink their favourite refresher. In Siam it is the noble 
 who is followed by his servants carrying a stove and all 
 the impedimenta of tea-making. At a sign from him they 
 pause and prepare his dearly loved and non-intoxicating 
 tipple, while he gravely waits, gravely drinks, and then 
 gravely walks on until his next thirst halts him, when he 
 again stops his cavalcade. And this is repeated as often 
 as he feels inclined for a tiny cupful of the yellow fluid. 
 This is so much a custom that on the streets of Bangkok 
 no one but the lately arrived " globe-trotter " turns to look 
 at it, and tea drinkers and tea makers are almost as many 
 as moving pedestrians. But in Russia it is the plebeian 
 and not the patrician who is the nomadic open-air tea 
 drinker. 
 
 A pilgrim of such the streets are always full lifts 
 from his back the bulging, gourd-shaped bundle which 
 is all his luggage, and as likely as not all his earthly pos- 
 sessions, opens it, takes out his cheap samovar, and makes 
 him or herself a brimming glassful of sizzling tea. A 
 peasant family abroad for a holiday will pause anywhere 
 and spend an hour or more over their tea. The mother 
 makes it while the father and children watch with the 
 utmost interest. When it is made, all sit down on some- 
 thing, on anything or, if needs be, as nearly on nothing 
 as is possible in this world of an omnipotent and vacuum- 
 abhorring Nature. Then they all drink and chatter and 
 gaze at the well-dressed passers-by. Often they regale 
 2 
 
8 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 themselves on tea and tea only. Sometimes they munch 
 kalatschs as they drink. Kalatsch is the delicious national 
 bread of which I for one feared that I never should get 
 enough, until I discovered, as I soon did, that " eat much 
 and eat often " is the first law of all Russian life, save 
 that of the most impecunious. I never heard how kalatschs 
 were made, but, to my thinking, they are the bread of 
 breads. They are twisted, Oriental-looking things about 
 twice the size of your fist, not altogether unlike a pret- 
 zel in appearance. 
 
 We were few, we tea drinkers, in the Alexandrovno 
 buffet. Almost all who broke their fast there were Rus- 
 sians, and all save the palpably poor Russians drank cham- 
 pagne. And the palpably poor were conspicuous by their 
 absence. The Russian poor travel on foot, and it was too 
 early in the morning for the station to be infested by 
 mendicant hangers-about, if any such there be in Russia. 
 If it is true that every one in Russia drinks tea and drinks 
 it often, it is even truer that every one in Russia who can 
 afford it drinks champagne and drinks it all the time. 
 In a hotel or a family mansion of any luxury the pop- 
 pings of the riotous cork outnumber the tickings of the 
 clock. The men who waited upon us were dressed in the 
 picturesque costume peculiar to all Russian waiters (there 
 are no barmaids in Russia), but the effect was rather chilly 
 in the cold, half-dark station. Each wore a long white 
 smock, white trousers, slippers, and a red sash into which 
 was tucked a Russian-leather pocketbook full of change. 
 
 From 1 to 3 A. M. is not a choice time for sight- 
 seeing, nor a favourable hour for gaining new impressions; 
 but three things did impress me indelibly during our two 
 hours' wait at that Russo-Polish station. It would have 
 been a very sleepy and a very unobservant traveller that 
 had failed to be impressed, first, with the something 
 Oriental about the place and the people; secondly, with 
 the quantity and the quality of the soldiers on duty; and, 
 thirdly and most, by their dignified and self-contained 
 manner. The more I saw of Russia, the more emphasis 
 was given to my first impression an impression that in 
 
Nikolsky gate of the Kremlin 
 
AT THE THRESHOLD OF THE TSAR. 9 
 
 many essentials Russia was more Oriental than European. 
 I am, of course, greatly interested in all soldiers and in 
 all things that pertain to soldiers. One corps of the 
 Russian army is detailed for railway station service. 
 Those at Alexandrovno there were an incredible number 
 of them were a splendid-looking lot of men. They 
 averaged well over six feet. They wore coarse, thick, 
 heavy, blanket-like overcoats, well cut, and well put on. 
 Their black astrachan caps had scarlet crowns and smart 
 white pompons. They wore the regulation sabre which is 
 common to all the Russian service, from the private sol- 
 dier to the Grand Duke. It is very heavy. The scabbard 
 is a cheap, cumbersome-looking affair of leather and brass. 
 They wear their sabres edge upward, which is done, I 
 imagine, by no other soldiery, certainly by none of Europe. 
 It was cold, it was dark, it was dank, it was shivery, but 
 for all that every one seemed saturated with good humour; 
 and this was what I saw and felt through each hour of every 
 day of the months we spent in Russia. I do not pretend to 
 say that Siberia has no existence save in the imagination 
 of the lexicographers. I do not deny that there are knouts 
 in Russia, and that they are sometimes used. But I 
 never saw one, never heard one whizzing through the 
 wintry air. The Russia I saw was a rejoicing and pros- 
 perous Russia. The icicles were wreathed with roses, the 
 air was fragrant with loyalty and softly musical with 
 blessings. I must write of Russia as I saw it; and as I saw 
 it, it was mostly admirable. I contradict no one whose 
 pen has preceded mine; but I can but feel that many of 
 those pens have exaggerated, and that some of them have 
 set forth much in malice. The people that I saw were con- 
 tented and brimful of rejoicing at the sacred coronation 
 of their well-loved Tsar. There is doubtless much to re- 
 gret and to mourn over in Russia, as there is and will be 
 everywhere else until the millennium comes; but the Rus- 
 sia that I saw was a joyful Russia. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 AN HOUK IN WAESAW. 
 
 I HAVE been told that trains are sometimes missed in 
 Eussia. On my word, I don't see how it's done. The 
 official on the platform and the official on the engine 
 whistle away at each other with an emphasis and at a 
 length that ought to make it clear to the thickest-headed 
 traveller within miles that it behooves him to board his 
 train. I never heard quite so much fuss made over an 
 every-day occurrence as was made over the starting out 
 of Alexandrovno of that Warsaw-bound train. 
 
 True to his promise, the conductor of our carriage 
 the conductor who had roused us two hours earlier came 
 for us when our waiting was over and showed us to the 
 very comfortable compartment in which we were to travel 
 on, where we found all our small luggage trimly stowed 
 and not a porter in sight to tip. A few moments after 
 we were seated we had almost had time enough to grow 
 impatient the chief conductor, the conductor of the train, 
 strolled leisurely across the platform, pulled out his whistle 
 and gave a gentle, deprecating blow upon it. There was 
 an almost insolent pause, and then a lazy, indifferent an- 
 swer was sounded from the locomotive. 
 
 " Off at last! " said G. 
 
 But we were not off, nor were we to be off for some 
 time. After a most respectable pause the whistle on the 
 platform cried out in an almost imperative tone, " Are 
 you ready? " At that the whistle in the engine answered, 
 " Yes, I'm ready." Then there was a long, sullen silence. 
 The officials stood about unconcernedly. Several pas- 
 
 10 
 
AN HOUR IN WARSAW. H 
 
 sengers crawled on board. Three or four minutes passed. 
 Then the whistle on the platform cried out, " Are you 
 sure you're ready? " 
 
 " Yes, you fool! " screamed back the other whistle, " I 
 told you so." 
 
 " Then why don't you go? " 
 
 " I am going to go." 
 
 " Then go! " 
 
 But nothing went. After another pause the con- 
 ductor's whistle grew truly eloquent. The engine whistle 
 answered back for all it was worth, and the station re- 
 sounded and reverberated with what sounded for all the 
 world like insane, metallic profanity. For now the con- 
 ductor was both blowing his whistle and pulling the rope 
 of a bell that hung outside the station door. The station 
 bell threatened. The station whistle entreated. The en- 
 gine whistle defied. And their noisy altercation treated 
 us to an exhibition of sound that might safely have chal- 
 lenged the Chicago Fire Department in full flare to equal 
 it. After an incredible time the engine gave a snort 
 of mingled rage and despair. The conductor dropped 
 the platform-bell rope, tucked his whistle into his 
 breast, walked very deliberately to his compartment at 
 the rear of the train, got in, touched his cap to some 
 brother officials on the platform, and closed the door. 
 The engine gave a groan, then a shriek, and we were 
 off off at a pace that would have disgraced an active 
 snail. 
 
 It was our last look for months at darkness and night 
 as we understood the words. It never was decently dark 
 in Moscow; a couple of hours of deep gloaming was the 
 depth of every night we saw there, and in St. Petersburg 
 there was not even that much of an attempt on the part 
 of night to array herself in sable robes. 
 
 Our train moved on with annoying slowness, but 
 easily. The road beds are admirable in Eussia, at least 
 so far as our experience went, and we travelled consider- 
 ably before we left the Empire. The credit for this, I 
 understand, is due to American enterprise and skill in 
 
12 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 the person of Mr. Winans, the pioneer of railroad con- 
 struction in Kussia. 
 
 Our train was cold, but otherwise most comfortable. 
 Like all Eussian trains, its carriages were very wide, and 
 we had our compartment to ourselves; not the best way 
 to study new Russian types, but for all that a consum- 
 mation devoutly to be wished for when one is tired and 
 travelling by night. Our conductor quickly made up two 
 very clean and cosy beds upon the seats, and we tucked 
 ourselves in between the sheets and rugs without detain- 
 ing each other with any elaborate or prolonged good- 
 nights. It was almost seven in the morning when we 
 were awakened and made to understand that we were at 
 Warsaw, for we had only travelled at an average rate of 
 about twenty miles an hour. That is no slower than most 
 Eussian trains go. The Russians consider it safe, and 
 time is absolutely no object to them. Eailway accidents 
 are almost unheard of there. 
 
 After a dash into the toilet-room and a hasty brush 
 and sponge, we hurried out on to the platform. No 
 one paid the slightest attention to us. Our conductor 
 brought us our bags (our boxes were booked through to 
 Moscow), touched his cap, said a few words of presum- 
 able farewell, which sounded civil but were quite incom- 
 prehensible, and disappeared. It was a cold, inhospitable 
 station, and we spent a heart-breaking twenty minutes 
 there trying to find some man, woman, or child who spoke 
 or understood English, French, or German. G. even tried 
 them with a little Latin. All in vain. We were tired, 
 travel-stained, hungry, and in a hurry. At last G., who 
 in a dilemma never fails to propound some brilliant but 
 splendidly defective scheme, suggested our committing 
 some breach of the law in the hope of attracting attention 
 in some quarter, and being escorted to the police station, 
 from which we could probably communicate with the 
 American consul. We seriously began to feel rather in a 
 fix, when at last I spied a sign, " Wagons-Lits," and we 
 executed a double quick toward the little office upon 
 which it was painted. The man in charge spoke fluent 
 
AN HOUR IN WARSAW. 13 
 
 French and was a brick into the bargain. "We intended 
 to push on to Moscow as soon as we comfortably could; 
 but I knew the name of a hotel at which I wished to 
 breakfast and hoped to find others of our party. 
 
 Our " Wagons-Lits " friend found us a drosky (I dare say 
 it was no less comfortable than the others of its kind), 
 helped us into it, stowed our traps as best he could about 
 our persons and that of our extraordinary Jehu, whom, 
 by the way, he paid for us then and there, that we might 
 be neither in doubt nor overcharged at the end of our 
 drive, and, after telling the man where to take us and 
 assuring us that we would find French spoken at our 
 hotel, wished us a courteous Ion- voyage, and crowned 
 all by almost declining the coin which we felt he had 
 royally earned. It is mere justice to record that while 
 we were in Tsarland we never failed to receive courteous 
 treatment, nor, when we were able to make ourselves under- 
 stood, did we ever find any one less than eager to help us 
 in every possible way. 
 
 While memory holds her throne I shall not forget 
 that, my first, drosky ride. A drosky is a vehicle by acci- 
 dent. First and foremost it is an instrument of torture. 
 As the latter, it is a superb success. As the former, it is 
 a sad failure. There are two kinds of droskies: one that 
 moves as slowly as it is possible to do without absolutely 
 standing still; and one that moves with a celerity not 
 to be imagined by any mere mortal who has never felt 
 it. It is a thing to be experienced and to be remembered, 
 not to be seen much less to be described. As a rule, the 
 slow droskies ply where roads are level, smooth, wide, and 
 of little traffic; and the rapid droskies where thorough- 
 fares are broken, lumpy, rutty, and dense with carts, car- 
 riages, and pedestrians. After grave deliberation I am 
 quite at a loss to determine which of the twain is the more 
 terrible, the more distressing to mind and body. The 
 drosky of Eussia in no way resembles the drosky of Ger- 
 many. It has wheels (usually of unequal sizes) and two 
 perches, one for the driver or " isvoschik," and one for the 
 fare. The back perch is usually both sideless and back- 
 
14 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 less, and is always cushioned with lumps of some hard but 
 shifty substance, covered with incredibly dirty cloth. It 
 is an absolute feat to stick on, and a positive misfortune 
 to be driven to this mode of locomotion. And yet the 
 streets of every Eussian city I ever saw were thick with 
 droskies. I never could make out why the Eussian people, 
 who are both sensible and comfort-loving, supported such 
 an abominable institution. The Eussian peasant is thick- 
 skinned and thick-headed, and is magnificently imper- 
 vious to sensations of comfort or discomfort; but the Eus- 
 sian peasant has no spare coins for cab fares, and the Eus- 
 sians of the upper, and even of the middle and merchant, 
 classes are sensitive and impressionable to a degree. I 
 give it up! 
 
 Our Warsaw isvoschik was a picture! I doubt if he 
 had been washed since his baptism. He belonged to a 
 class that is said never to wash, and, on my word, he looked 
 it. He wore a long dressing-gown, which G. said he must 
 have borrowed from his mother, to wear while she patched 
 his own clothes. But the guess was less shrewd than it 
 sounded. Such garments are worn by all isvoschiks and 
 are called kaftans. It was the cleanest part of our 
 charioteer and of his raiment; but it was filthy. For all 
 that it was bright of colour and made a prime background 
 for the many patches of faded stuff which were roughly 
 darned on to it. He wore a low hat of the " stove-pipe " 
 order, something of a cross between the one commonly 
 depicted on the head of Uncle Sam and the one described 
 by Mr. Dickens as the head gear of old Tony Weller, very 
 fuzzy, and so greasy that one could not be quite sure 
 whether the foundation was fur or cloth. It was far too 
 big even for his huge, unkempt head, and fell down al- 
 most to his eyebrows. Beneath it a tangled mat of tow- 
 coloured hair, looking as if it had been banged across his 
 forehead with a dull penknife, hung down on all sides. 
 From under this peered two dull, heavy blue eyes, an in- 
 significant nose, and the dirtiest face I ever saw. The 
 horse no, on second thought I won't try to describe the 
 horse. It was the hungriest-looking animal I ever saw, and 
 
AN HOUR IN WARSAW. 15 
 
 I almost never saw a drosky nag that I did not long to 
 feed personally. 
 
 One beautiful detail of the isvoschik's tout ensemble I 
 must by no means fail to chronicle. His perch is uncush- 
 ioned until he sits upon it. A plump pillow is stitched 
 to the back of his coat at a convenient height. When he 
 is standing it gives him a peculiarly weird appearance 
 when viewed from the back; and it adds greatly to the 
 picturesqueness of the ensemble when he is in the active 
 exercise of his professional duties, for he is not a self- 
 pamperer, and as often as not contrives to so twist his 
 kaftan and wriggle himself that instead of using his cush- 
 ion as a seat-softener, he wears it as a dress-improver or 
 a shoulder-pad. He never knows how to drive, but he is 
 a genial soul and treats you like a brother, and he de- 
 serves great credit for not breaking your neck. 
 
 Ours was a rapid drosky. I was never considered a 
 slow boy, and I do not believe that I am a peculiarly timid 
 man; and I am, and all my life have been, accustomed to 
 horses, and to horses that knew how to get over the ground. 
 But I certainly thought that it was all up with the corona- 
 tion of His Imperial Majesty Nicholas II, so far as my illus- 
 trious self was concerned, and that I had come all the way 
 to Warsaw to have my neck broken. G. did not quite like 
 it either, though I have seen him do some fine riding at 
 steeple-chases. " Logan," he jerked as he popped up and 
 down, but not serenely, on the drosky seat, " can't y-you 
 t-tell h-h-him th-th-that w-we d-do-an't w-want t-to g-go 
 t-t-to a fire, b-b-but t-t-to th-the ho-ho-hotel? " 
 
 Hearing G.'s voice, the isvoschik turned half round as 
 to body, swinging one leg over the back edge of his back- 
 less seat and resting one mud-incrusted boot confidingly , 
 upon my new sole-leather travelling case. He turned round 
 full as to head and let his countenance beam directly 
 upon us, and addressed us in soft guttural Eus. We won- 
 dered whether he was drunk or mad, but he was neither. 
 They are a brotherly lot, are the Muscovite isvoschiks, and 
 treat you with a guileless familiarity and a childlike inno- 
 cent patronage which are calculated to disarm all but the 
 
16 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 superlatively stern, and which even such a "fare" finds 
 it difficult to stem. It is the commonest sight to see the 
 isvoschik with his back, or at least his side, to the horses, 
 chatting cordially with his wide-eyed, wide-mouthed Eng- 
 lish or American patron, who can by no miracle under- 
 stand one word of his uttering. He does not throw down 
 the lines, to be sure, but he ceases to bear upon them with 
 any method. But as the horse is accustomed to go as it 
 pleases at all times and never pays any heed to his driving, 
 this is of no consequence. An isvoschik does not handle 
 the reins. He wrists them; that is, he twists the right 
 line many times about his right wrist, and the left line 
 many times about his left wrist. The lines are yards 
 I had almost written miles long, and of worsted; when 
 he wishes to urge on his nag he thrashes him with the 
 long lengths of thong that trail down from his wrists. If 
 this proves insufficient, he uses a cruel little whip which 
 he keeps fastened to his right wrist, or which he snatches 
 from between his legs. As a matter of fact he seldom 
 beats his horse, but he often threatens in gesture, and the 
 horse, being always without blinkers, sees what appears 
 to be about to happen and accelerates its pace. 
 
 On we went, bumping into ruts, dashing round corners, 
 crashing into carts and crashing out again. The isvoschik 
 smiled blandly and continued his monologue. G. stam- 
 mered, and bobbed, and groaned, and I didn't know 
 whether to laugh or to swear. The horse must have under- 
 stood the " Wagons-Lits " man when he directed the isvo- 
 schik, for it brought its last dash round a corner to a sud- 
 den halt that sent our bags and bundles sprawling on the 
 sidewalk, threw G. on his knees, and almost dislocated 
 my neck. We had arrived at our hotel. 
 
 Our friends were not there, so after we had made our- 
 selves fresh with soap and water, and had breakfasted, 
 we bribed a porter who spoke French to get us a slow 
 drosky, and to tell the isvoschik to take us to the St. Peters- 
 burg station. This vehicle was not fast. Ordinarily one 
 would have been galled by its slowness. But the drive 
 through the old Polish capital was crowded with interest, 
 
AN HOUR IN WARSAW. 17 
 
 and we were quite content literally to creep through the 
 quaint streets. It had been fully light when we drove to 
 the hotel, but we had absolutely moved too rapidly to see 
 anything, or to perceive anything except a rushing kalei- 
 doscope of barbaric colour. Now, as we plied our slow way 
 onward through the clear, cool morning light and the not 
 yet crowded streets, we were able to take a long, deliberate 
 view of Warsaw. Its chief characteristic was dirt. It was 
 so enormously en evidence that, until our eyes grew accus- 
 tomed to it, it drew and held our attention to the exclusion 
 of everything else. Next I was impressed by the dumb, 
 dirty, uninteresting faces of the peasant people. They 
 were a hopeless, unattractive-looking lot. 
 
 It is no part of the purpose of this volume to enter 
 into a discussion of politics Russian or international, or 
 of Russian methods of government. I am writing pri- 
 marily to please myself, moved to do so by an irresistible 
 and almost juvenile impulse to make for myself, and even 
 more for my mother who was with me, and for my wife 
 who was detained in Paris, a permanent record of a su- 
 perbly enjoyable holiday. Secondly, I am writing in the 
 hope of pleasing, or at least interesting, others; emboldened 
 to hope so because I felt and feel that an American who 
 had never witnessed any function at all analogous to the 
 coronation festivities of Nicholas II, seeing them with 
 fresher eyes, might retain a more vivid and detailed im- 
 pression of them than could a much more gifted European, 
 accustomed more or less to such sights from his birth. Even 
 my republican but much-travelled mother was often re- 
 minded of some state banquet at Vienna or court ball 
 at Madrid. But I was reminded of nothing. I had no 
 standard of experience with which to compare anything. 
 I saw everything for the first time. I went to Russia with 
 at least a few prejudices against the modus operandi of 
 the powers that in Russia be; I came away without one. 
 And though to repeat myself I emphatically do not in- 
 tend to fill any page of this volume with things political 
 or diplomatic, I think it only honest to say that when I 
 first saw the lower orders of Russians (I use the word 
 
18 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 widely, and mean Poles and half a dozen others as well 
 as pure Eussians) they impressed me as a class at present 
 quite incapable of self-government, quite unfit to have 
 any voice in law-making or law-enforcing, and entirely 
 unqualified to be governed by any but the most drastic 
 methods. Every day spent in Russia deepened that im- 
 pression, and I left Russia wholly convinced of its sound- 
 ness. Everything I saw of the Russian officials of any 
 rank and I saw a great deal convinced me that they were 
 as a class both as kind and as considerate to the subservient 
 classes as was at all consistent with not only the general 
 good, but even the good of those governed masses. 
 
 I believe that Russia has been widely misunderstood, 
 the Russian Government deeply slandered, and that we have 
 wasted a foolish lot of sympathy upon an undeserving 
 criminal class a class either spiritually coarse or spiritual- 
 ly fanatic and insanely seditious a class no more numer- 
 ous or vicious in Russia, according to population and exist- 
 ing conditions, than that of any other civilized nation. 
 It is a curious fact, well worth the attention of students 
 of social conditions, that during the last fifty years as many 
 rulers of republics have met death by assassination at the 
 hands of so-called social reformers as rulers of monarchies 
 and autocracies. I believe that Russian reforms are as rapid 
 as they can be without doing more harm than good; and 
 I believe that the powerful classes show as much leniency 
 to the lower and criminal classes as those classes either 
 deserve or appreciate. 
 
 We passed many shops, but saw no signs, at least none 
 printed or written. And this we found so throughout the 
 Empire. A lettered sign is never used except by such shops 
 as are exclusively patronized by the rich. So few of the 
 peasant class, so few of the lower middle class, can read, 
 that an alphabetical advertisement would be quite thrown 
 away upon them. So each shopkeeper (with the exception 
 I have indicated) decorates the front of his shop with a 
 pictorial representation of the wares purchasable within, 
 and he never spares the paint, nor intentionally spoils his 
 story, in the telling. He would no more be guilty of under- 
 
AN HOUR IN WARSAW., 19 
 
 picturing his goods than Barnum the Great would have 
 wronged his fattest fat lady by underrating her size on 
 the canvas portrait hung outside the fair one's tent. As 
 we crawled by the Warsaw shops, absolutely stopping more 
 than once, we were greatly diverted by the discrepancy 
 between the pictorial advertisements and the wares actu- 
 ally displayed in them. For example, a display that was 
 calculated to turn Tiffany greener than any emerald was 
 painted outside a shop whose stock-in-trade consisted of 
 a tray of brass and silver rings, another of glass brooches, 
 two rusty clocks, and half a dozen battered copper 
 samovars. An assortment of cakes and confitures that 
 would have put Buzzard to the blush adorned the face of 
 a shop whose sole commodities were a score of black loaves, 
 three white ditto, and a keg of mouldy biscuit. Some- 
 thing in the way of sweetmeats, which Fuller in his most 
 inspired moments could never hope to rival in quantity, 
 quality, or arrangement, was the frontispiece of a small 
 volume whose sole text consisted of half a comb floating 
 in a tray of honey by way of preface, half a dozen jars of 
 red and purple lollipops for the subject-matter, and a 
 broken dish of fly-specked marsh-mallows as an appendix. 
 An ox in the goriest death agony imaginable proclaimed 
 a butcher. A relative of Jonah's foe and a string of pisca- 
 torial beauties that could only have been caught off the 
 shores of Ceylon or Hawaii, so brilliant and rainbowy were 
 they of hue, announced a fishmonger. Corsets, on and off, 
 more or less, were among the most prudish signs pictured 
 on the sartorial marts. And the collection of articles 
 depicted on many shops of household furniture and etcet- 
 eras would have been unpardonably indecent if they had 
 not been splendidly funny. But G. and I were unanimous 
 in giving the palm to the pictorial display of the drink- 
 ing places. I remember one, for instance. A truly bibu- 
 lous-looking fellow was seated upon a throne of vodka 
 casks. He was kept from sprawling off by two beautiful, 
 gorgeously attired maidens, while a third held to his lips 
 a brimming bowl of champagne. Around him danced and 
 shouted and sang three boon companions, and on the 
 
20 IN JOYFUL EUSSIA. 
 
 floor slept four more, all very drunk, but all very, very 
 happy. 
 
 " Do you notice a peculiar smell? " I inquired; " some- 
 thing queer, but not nasty; something you associate with 
 rather smart things?" 
 
 " By Jove, yes! said G. " It's Russian leather! " 
 
 And Eussian leather it was, and we never ceased to 
 smell it while we continued within the realm of the Tsar 
 and inhaled the air of Russia. The national leather is so 
 universally worn in the shape of boots, it is used for 
 things so multitudinous, that in all parts of the Empire 
 which are inhabited the entire atmosphere is positively 
 and most perceptibly impregnated with its unique odour. 
 Our isvoschik's great boots were of Russian leather, and 
 so were those of the policemen we saw at every corner. 
 By the police I mean the police of the streets, who are 
 an entirely separate body from the secret police, of which 
 I shall have but little to say, and that little anon. 
 
 The police in Warsaw struck me as a fine, large, well- 
 behaved body of men, and so they did in Moscow and St. 
 Petersburg. Every American, or Englishman, or German 
 who had ever been in Russia, and with whom I had spoken, 
 had assured me of the contrary, and I have been told by 
 those who are well (or ill let me amend it, and say much) 
 read regarding Russia, that the consensus of the testimony 
 of all writers on Russia is that her police are little, inactive, 
 inefficient, stupid, and vicious. That may have been so, 
 may be so in some places to-day, but it was not so in those 
 parts of Russia which I visited, at the time I visited them. 
 We came into contact with these police seldom or never; 
 but we saw them, " single spies " and " whole battalions " ; 
 we saw them at every street corner every day we were in 
 Russia; and in Moscow during the coronation festivities 
 we saw regiments of them regiment after regiment; and 
 the men we saw were, almost without exception, large and 
 businesslike. They wore their black trousers tightly 
 tucked into immense Wellington boots. All the Russians 
 have large feet. Thirteen is the size chiefly kept in stock 
 in a Moscow boot-shop. And the average gorodovoy wears 
 
Street vender of sweets and prune cider. 
 
AN HOUR IN WARSAW. 21 
 
 sixteens at least. It is said that Napoleon chose his gen- 
 erals by the size of their noses. It certainly looked to 
 me as if the chief of the Russian police chose his gorodo- 
 vies, or street police, by the size of their feet. The gorodo- 
 voy wears a long black kaftan. The kaftan is the universal 
 Russian top-coat. At first we thought that it looked very 
 much like a dressing-gown. But we grew accustomed 
 to it soon, and then we thought it a very manly, service- 
 able-looking garment. The street police wear a flat-topped 
 military cap, a sword and a revolver. 
 
 Each gorodovoy has his own dwelling furnished him 
 by the Government. It is built at the corner of some prin- 
 cipal street, and in it he lives alone, sleeping there, resting 
 there, breakfasting there, lunching there, dining there, and 
 dressing and undressing there if he ever does undress 
 entirely. He often takes off his outer garments, I know, 
 for I have more than once seen him hasten to some small 
 disturbance within his beat in an indescribable state of 
 undress uniform. I do not know whether he is forbidden 
 by law to share the shelter of his roof with any one; but 
 his doing so is a physical impossibility: his house is a 
 kennel, and a kennel emphatically built for one. 
 
 It is the duty of the gorodovoy to keep peace and order 
 in the streets, and to awake those who fall asleep there if 
 they seem in danger not of being run over, but otherwise. 
 The isvoschik and the drosky horse that will knock down 
 and run over a pedestrian as a matter of course are scrupu- 
 lous about not disturbing the slumber of a street sleeper. 
 The middle of the busiest street is by common consent the 
 appointed and chosen place of repose for the peasant 
 classes, and at noon in summer time you will see scores 
 of men, women, and children with one accord lie down 
 in the centre of the roadway and go to sleep in the most 
 businesslike way. Then for an hour or two some of the 
 chief streets are almost impassable. No one dreams of 
 disturbing the seventy times seven sleepers. All Russia 
 knows that, eat he ever so much, man does not live by bread 
 alone, but even more by sleep. But in winter the street 
 police are very busy arousing those who should freeze 
 
22 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 to death if they slept on. An old pilgrim woman, on the 
 way to say her prayers, offer her kopecks, and tell her 
 every trouble to the Mother of Iberia or some other saint, 
 sits down to rest. She dozes off, and soon the policeman 
 shakes her gently, helps her up, and starts her on. But 
 for him she should die. The streets of the Eussian cities, 
 especially during the carnival times and on the frequent 
 fete days, are full of drunken men, nor freed from drunken 
 women. In the summer they are left where they fall to 
 sleep themselves sober. In winter they must be made to 
 move on, or they will sleep but to awake in eternity. Then 
 the gorodovoy's billet is no sinecure. A drunken man, 
 roughly roused from his first slumber, is never a pleasant 
 person to deal with, and in Eussia he is superlatively un- 
 pleasant. The Eussian peasant sober, is patient, plodding, 
 dumb, and docile. The Eussian peasant mad with drink 
 (or with his mind poisoned by fanatic Nihilistic teachings) 
 is an uglier customer than any enraged wild beast. For- 
 tunately, vodka is as apt to stupefy as to excite his heavy 
 senses. But perhaps the sleeper whom the police have 
 most often to waken is the poor isvoschik. He has sat 
 for hours in his sleigh waiting for the " fare " that never 
 came. He has fought with sleep, and sleep has conquered. 
 He is so muffled up in his padded kaftan and his great 
 shaggy cap that the gorodovoy must be very vigilant of eye 
 and mind to discover that the Jehu has dropped off into 
 the land of " Nod," and summon him quickly back to the 
 Eussia of the living and the awake; for in Eussia, out of 
 doors and in the winter, the land of " Nod " is the nar- 
 row, abruptly downward-sloping bank of the river Styx. 
 
 The street police have little trouble in keeping peace. 
 The Bussians splendid fighters as they are are anything 
 but a quarrelsome people. I can recall seeing but two 
 street fights during my stay there. Even in the indescrib- 
 able, unimaginable, dense crowds of the coronation cele- 
 brations, where men and women knocked each other down, 
 trod upon each other constantly, often tearing garments 
 as a sudden storm in Farther India rips into ribbons the 
 great leaves of the fan-palms, no one lost his temper. I 
 
AN HOUR IN WARSAW. 23 
 
 thought the lower classes stupid and often coarse, but I 
 must write them down good of heart and saccharine of 
 temper. I do not doubt that there are some supreme 
 stupids among the street police. It could not be other- 
 wise where so large a body is drawn from the uneducated, 
 inexperienced, and intellectually as well as socially com- 
 mon masses. Mr. Whishaw, who writes warmly about 
 Russia, who liked the place and the people and has the 
 honesty to say so, tells this amusing story: 
 
 " As an instance of the thick-headedness of that Jack- 
 in-office, the town policeman or gorodovoy, I may mention 
 the following circumstance, for the absolute and unvar- 
 nished truth of which I can vouch: On one occasion, just 
 after the ice had begun to move (on the Neva), a disciple 
 of Bacchus was suddenly descried stumbling across the 
 unstable roadway afforded by the slowly floating ice. He 
 had been accustomed to cross the river at this spot, and 
 was not in a condition to observe the rude barricades 
 erected to inform would-be passengers that the crossing 
 was no longer safe. Having therefore surmounted the ob- 
 struction, he was now embarked upon his perilous journey. 
 The genial soul was not in the least alarmed, however, 
 doubtless supposing that the insecurity of his footing was 
 caused not by any movement of the ground beneath his 
 feet, but by his own deplorable, though familiar, condition. 
 He had often experienced this sensation before; pavements 
 frequently seemed to move beneath one's feet; it was noth- 
 ing. The special Providence which is the recognised 
 friend of drunken men brought him safely, amid a scene 
 of great excitement, to the point on the opposite side of the 
 river toward which he had steered, and where a large 
 crowd, among whom stood the gorodovoy aforementioned, 
 had collected to watch the sensational episode. On the 
 arrival of the traveller, however, the minion of the law 
 delivered himself of the following: 'How dare you cross 
 the river while the ice is moving? Idiot! don't you know 
 it is forbidden to do so? I have no authority to allow you 
 to land here while the ice is in motion; go back and come 
 round by the bridge as the authorities demand. 5 And back 
 3 
 
24 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 went the reveller, perfectly contented to obey so simple 
 a request, escorted once again by that special Providence 
 in whose good offices he had long since acquired by con- 
 stant use a vested interest. A sober man would undoubt- 
 edly have been drowned, but our Bacchanalian staggered, 
 floundered, and pounded along with impunity, and eventu- 
 ally reached his original starting point with impunity and 
 without the slightest suspicion that he had twice performed 
 a most dangerous feat, such as the boldest and soberest 
 might shrink to essay." 
 
 There is a moral in everything, even in a funny story, 
 if one will patiently distil it. The moral of Mr. Whishaw's 
 story, and of a plethora of such, seems to me that the 
 pristafs, or chiefs of police, deserve great credit for mak- 
 ing the efficient and effective use they do of the crude 
 and seemingly impossible material available for under- 
 lings. There are few street accidents in Eussia, and few 
 serious blunders in the management of street traffic or 
 of crowds. 
 
 After a long, slow drive which we would have found 
 unbearably tedious had it not been through streets that 
 to us were both strikingly novel and uniquely interesting, 
 we reached the square of the Eoyal Castle. We moved 
 slowly across the stones that thirty-five years ago were 
 slippery with the blood of the Polish people, and had a 
 look (as long a look as we desired) at the Zamk which 
 was once the royal Polish residence, and where the Cham- 
 ber of Deputies met. Where Poland's laws were once dis- 
 cussed and made, there is now a Eussian barrack; and 
 the Governor of Warsaw lives and rules in the apartments 
 which once sheltered the kings of Poland. 
 
 A little farther on, a splendid iron bridge, that looked 
 for all the world as if it had been stolen some dark night 
 from the East Eiver, enabled us to cross the wide and beau- 
 tiful Vistula, and we were in the Praga suburb, the in- 
 describably dirty Jewish quarter. There is a large cattle 
 and horse market here, and it needed not to be seen to be 
 recognised. 
 
 At the station for we got there at last we handed our 
 
AN HOUR IN WARSAW. 25 
 
 much-booted, coated, and hatted cabby his legal fare with 
 a kopeck or two over for vodka. He took it, hat in hand, 
 and, contrary to what we had been told and therefore ex- 
 pected, made no demur as to the amount. We employed 
 many isvoschiks first and last, and not one ever demurred 
 at the price paid him. The only time I saw one question 
 the equity of his " f are," he was promptly knocked down 
 and got up hat in hand. The typical isvoschik is as docile 
 as he is dirty he could not be more so. He is composed 
 of dirt and docility. 
 
CHAPTEK III. 
 
 GUESTS OF THE TSAK. 
 
 INSIDE the handsome station all was bustle, warmth, 
 light, and brightness. Eed carpets (but not for hoi polloi), 
 noble palms, and proud little banners betokened that some 
 royal arrival or departure was imminent. I confess I felt 
 rather out of it all the Babel of foreign tongues, the 
 rushing about of liveried servants, the dignified strutting 
 of the officers and soldiers of several different services, 
 and at least twenty different and striking uniforms. Whom 
 could we make understand us? "Where should we buy our 
 tickets? How find our train? But we were at a loss only 
 for a moment. I turned, and lo! he whom I shall always 
 call my good angel of Warsaw was at my elbow. He of 
 the Wagons-Lits, who, earlier in the morning and at the 
 other side of Warsaw, had rescued us from the slough of 
 linguistic despond, stood there, cap in hand, and smiling 
 like a long-lost brother, having escorted a distinguished 
 person across the city, so he informed us. The distin- 
 guished person was in his carriage, and he of the Wagons- 
 Lits was now altogether at our service. If we would do 
 him the distinguished honour to stand still, he would ascer- 
 tain what arrangements could be made for us in the train 
 about to depart for Moscow. We stood still and amused 
 ourselves watching the thronging crowds of men and 
 women. It was a holiday crowd. All laughed and chatted 
 and crashed into each other, and made way for each other 
 with the frankest, happiest, most cordial air of good- 
 fellowship. The upper ten were there en masse. Four 
 fifths of the men were in uniform. A Russian officer is 
 
 26 
 
GUESTS OF THE TSAK. 27 
 
 never seen in mufti in Russia, at least. Some of the ladies 
 were young, many of them were old. Some were hand- 
 some, others were plain. But all were gowned in triumphs 
 of Paris's greatest art. Most Frenchwomen dress well, 
 and many Americans; but the Russian gentlewomen excel 
 them both. I never saw a Russian lady who was not ex- 
 quisitely robed. The Dowager Empress, H. I. M. Marie 
 Feodorovna, was for fifteen years conceded to be the best- 
 dressed woman in Europe. The lovely Empress of Aus- 
 tria excelled her in beauty, but no one touched her in 
 frocks. A grande dame who was intimate with Worth 
 (almost from the first days of his reign) told me the fol- 
 lowing little anecdote and vouched for its accuracy: 
 
 " A client of Worth's, a lady of birth and rank equal, 
 or very nearly equal, to that of her Russian Majesty, once 
 charged the grand old man of Paris with partiality. ' Why 
 will you never create for me the chefs-d'oeuvre, the sublime 
 triumphs that you make every week for the Empress of 
 Russia? ' was her question. 
 
 " ( Madame, it is impossible. I do my best for every 
 one, but I can do but little alone. It is not enough that 
 you pay me when your robe is accomplished (un fait ac- 
 compli); it is necessary first that you inspire me before 
 your robe is begun here,' tapping his brow and then his 
 heart. 'Her Majesty, the Empress of the Russias, she 
 gives me the inspiration sublime, divine. And when she 
 carries my work she so improves it, I do with difficulty 
 recognise it. Bring to me any woman in Europe queen, 
 artiste, or bourgeoise who can inspire me as does Madame 
 Her Majesty, and I will make her confections while I live 
 and charge her nothing.' ' ; 
 
 It occurred to me when I heard this that every Russian 
 mondaine must have something of the same effect upon 
 her own particular milliner. 
 
 Our champion returned smiling but anxious. Were 
 we going to the coronation? 
 
 We were. 
 
 He seemed a little embarrassed. Who were we? Were 
 we anybody? That was the purport of his next question. 
 
28 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 But he did not put it so. He beat about the bush beauti- 
 fully, and added that a special train was just starting, 
 and that perhaps we might catch it. It was for Eoyalties 
 and other distinguished guests. "We hastened to assure 
 him that we were no one at all (nor were we from his 
 probable point of view) and that we could not possibly 
 board the Eoyal train. G. had his ticket. I wished to 
 buy mine; and then we desired to journey by the first 
 available train for the common run of travellers to Mos- 
 cow. He was pitifully crestfallen; but he clung to his 
 first idea desperately. Had either of us a carte de visite, he 
 asked despairingly. I owned that I had. He was a man 
 transformed. He thanked my distinguished respectability, 
 and would my honourableness intrust it to him? I gave 
 it to him it seemed brutish to damp his ardour but I 
 did insist that we neither wished nor intended to thrust 
 ourselves where we did not belong. He waved me and 
 my remark away with a superb gesture, and rushed off, 
 leaving us feeling most uncomfortable. 
 
 Our self-appointed chaperon returned almost at once 
 returned triumphant. A Russian officer came with him 
 a pleasant, well-bred looking fellow, who introduced him- 
 self as Lieutenant Gourko. He wore the bright blue, red- 
 piped uniform of the Lancers, and an exceedingly effective 
 helmet of black patent leather, surmounted by a mortar- 
 board shaped piece, from which sprang a large snow- 
 white, drooping aigrette. He had been detailed, he told 
 us, by the Master of Ceremonies to be in attendance during 
 the coronation period upon the members of the special 
 embassy of the United States and the persons from that 
 country upon the "List of Distinguished Guests." He 
 added that a special train was about to start their Royal 
 
 Highnesses were already on board would 
 
 we kindly come with him. I explained to him that my offi- 
 cial position was really infinitesimal, and that, moreover, 
 I had yet to get my ticket. He disallowed all this less 
 dramatically, but quite as emphatically as the Prince of 
 Wagons-Lits had done. I was the guest of the Tsar, he 
 insisted, and I would have no use for a ticket. So be- 
 
GUESTS OF THE TSAR. 29 
 
 tween them the officer and him of the Wagons-Lits they 
 bundled us into the special train literally neck and crop, 
 bag and baggage. And as the train pulled out, which it 
 did almost at once, we left our friend bowing and smiling 
 on the platform, cap in hand and hand on heart, a model 
 knight of the honourable order of Wagons-Lits. 
 
 I have never been the recipient of such thoughtful 
 hospitality so thoroughgoing, so tireless, alert, and grace- 
 fully systematic as the hospitality which began for ns 
 when we entered the St. Petersburg station at Warsaw, 
 and that neither ended nor flagged until we recrossed 
 the frontier and passed out of Tsarland. We were in- 
 deed guests of the Emperor. We were the guests of 
 Eussia. We were welcomed royally; we were entertained 
 imperially. It seemed as if that mighty nation had con- 
 spired as one man to do honour to its master by honour- 
 ing his bidden guests, and all the strangers within Rus- 
 sia's gates, who had gathered together to keep his sacred 
 coronation fete. It was inconceivable that our faithful 
 squire had been prompted officially to look out for 
 strangers and befriend them. We had fallen upon him 
 quite by accident, and had seized upon him in our diffi- 
 culty. No; it was the spirit of the place, the people, the 
 hour, and he breathed it. 
 
 Lieutenant Gourko was the first acquaintance we made 
 on Russian soil. We soon grew to hold him as one of our 
 brightest and best-liked friends, and as such I shall always 
 remember him. The Americans going by that train 
 chanced to be few, and so we had Gourko quite to our- 
 selves, which was a stroke of good luck that we soon learned 
 to appreciate. He is the son of the great Field Marshal 
 Gourko, one of the heroes of Plevna, and, aside from 
 being one of the best of good fellows, interested me greatly 
 as a specimen of a Russian gentleman, born in the army 
 and brought up in the army. Almost every Russian offi- 
 cer is courtier as well as soldier. Gourko was both courtly 
 and frank. He said some very pleasant things but said 
 them simply and with apparent sincerity about being 
 pleased that he was temporarily attached to the United 
 
30 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 States Legation. Indeed, I feel sure that the Eussians 
 rather like us. I saw several little straws that indicated 
 a blowing of the wind in that direction. 
 
 This special train was as complete as it was comfort- 
 able, and as splendid as a special train well could be, even 
 in Russia, the land of glitter and colour and luxury. We 
 had a compartment entirely to ourselves. There were 
 liveried servants eager to answer the slightest tintinnabula- 
 tion of our little bell. Cigars and cigarettes were ours for 
 the ordering, as well as everything liquid not technically 
 poisonous that I had ever heard of, and many things that 
 I had not. 
 
 One car in the train was a dining-room and restaurant. 
 We do that sort of thing rather well in America, but the 
 Coronation Committee of Entertainment did it better. It 
 did it inconceivably well. Everything of the choicest was 
 served, and freer than water. We didn't even get a chance 
 to tip the waiter. 
 
 Gourko took us in to lunch soon after we left Warsaw, 
 and we went most willingly, having breakfasted early and 
 lightly. 
 
 It was our first Russian meal. I thought it capital. 
 G. was beyond words disgusted. Chacun a son gout! 
 " Raw fish! Raw pig! Fermented kerosene! Sweet cham- 
 pagne! Hades! " exclaimed he to me when Lieutenant 
 Gourko left us for a moment after we had lunched. That 
 was what he said every time we ate in Russia veritably 
 a la Russe. And he says it yet whenever the Russian 
 cuisine is referred to. He was so revolted by the invariable 
 first course of Zakuska that he could never bring himself 
 to eat, much less enjoy, any meal that it preceded. 
 
 The Russian Zakuska corresponds to the Norwegian 
 Smorgasbrod and to the hors d'oeuvres of London and Paris; 
 but it is a much more elaborate, varied, and substantial 
 course than either. 
 
 At a normal meal the Zakuska is served separately at 
 a small side or corner table. All partake of it standing, 
 helping themselves and each other, whetting their appe- 
 tites for the meal to follow with many mouthfuls of hot, 
 
GUESTS OF THE TSAR. 31 
 
 savoury comestibles, and generous tastes of strong fiery 
 drinks. The appearance of the Zakuska is a matter of 
 much moment and of serious consideration, both to the 
 careful Russian housewife who looks after her own domes- 
 tic affairs, and to the important maitre d'hotel who is re- 
 sponsible for the daily household arrangements of great 
 people. Table decorations, though by no means overlooked 
 or slighted, are not an over-important item in every-day 
 Russian life, but the Zakuska table is always spread with 
 care and as much positive presentableness as possible. No 
 pains are spared to excite the eye and the nostrils, that 
 they, reacting upon the palate, may excite it too. This 
 struck me very forcibly later, when I came to move about 
 among the peasants a little, and to see something of how 
 they lived. With the poorer of them the details of life 
 are reduced to the utmost possibility of simplicity pushed 
 to its very verge. But there is another class, composed of 
 prosperous farmers, petty tradespeople, etc., who quaintly 
 combine naked simplicity with more elaborate observances 
 borrowed from the rich and well-bred. One of the first 
 things with which a Russian family concerns itself when 
 it emerges from the humblest into the next social stage 
 is the arranging and the serving of the Zakuska. In a 
 household where all other food was served and partaken 
 of in the coarsest, most primitive way, I have seen a snowy 
 towel, embroidered in red and green and blue, and elabo- 
 rately fringed, laid upon the Zakuska table. The table 
 itself was clean, with grotesquely carved legs. The raw her- 
 rings were on a gaily painted plate, and the slices of bread 
 thickly spread with caviar were on another; and three 
 small glasses of red and yellow placed symmetrically 
 around the green and yellow bowls of liquor. And all 
 this to preface a dinner of Spartan simplicity ill-cooked, 
 thrown on the board rather than served, and gulped down 
 rather than eaten. 
 
 Ivan Ivanovitch is a shock-headed, untutored peasant. 
 His dinner is of boiled buckwheat, highly salted and sea- 
 soned with garlic. He eats from a dirty wooden bowl, and 
 with his dirty fingers seizes upon any portions that fall 
 
32 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 upon his dirty red shirt, if they are of enough constituency 
 to be seized upon; otherwise he seizes them with his mouth, 
 if they have fallen within the possible reach of that mighty 
 but untidy member. But before he dines he has his 
 Zakuska, and he takes it standing, as a Eussian should. 
 He eats a piece of black bread dried in the sun and 
 sprinkled with vinegar. With it he devours a good-sized 
 onion, well seasoned with cayenne. Then he has three 
 peppery red radishes and a cup of vodka. And, mark 
 me, the radishes were laid upon a saucer clean and pink, 
 and the liquor cup is en suite! 
 
 Upon the special train the Zakuska was of necessity 
 placed upon the tables upon which the lunch itself was 
 to be served, and its arrangement was unelaborate but 
 bountiful. Down the centre of the table I counted ten 
 kinds of liquor. About the drinkables were ranged the 
 eatables. The Eussians take a glass of one liquor and then 
 a generous snack from one dish. They follow this with 
 a glass of some other liquor, and then a snack from an- 
 other dish. And so on until they feel that their appetites 
 are stimulated up to a pitch that will enable them to do 
 justice to the long and heavy meal which is sure to follow. 
 The Eussian liquors are fiery and potent; and at first I did 
 not care to toy with more than two or three of them at 
 a time. The vodka the rival of tea with the Eussian 
 masses I did not like. It was rough and disagreeable of 
 aroma. Listofka I thought decidedly good. I liked the 
 flavour, which was unlike any I had known before. It 
 was partly due, I learned, to the steeping of young black 
 currant leaves in the fermenting spirits. The solids of the 
 Zakuska I tasted one after the other, led by curiosity to 
 run the risk of spoiling my real meal. Eadishes, olives, 
 and smoked salmon I skipped. I had tasted them many 
 a time and oft. And I also knew several of the pickles 
 and all the cheeses, and passed them also by. The raw 
 sucking pig was good. It doesn't sound nice, but I can't 
 help that; it was distinctly good. It was served in very 
 small cubes, highly seasoned, and laid on toast. The 
 smoked goose was aggravatingly tasty, for you could not 
 
GUESTS OF THE TSAR. 33 
 
 manage much of it at least I couldn't. The uncooked 
 fish was not bad. But it was the fresh caviar that I revelled 
 in; it was spread on bread or on toast. In either case it 
 was put on thick, and was sprinkled with chopped onion 
 and lemon. They removed the Zakuska and brought the 
 soup. It was ice-cold and delicious, the perfection of soup 
 to follow the h'res of the vodka, the delightful torments 
 of the cayenned fish, and the accentuated caviar. 
 
 It was okroshka they served us the king of potages, 
 barring sterlet soup. Okroshka is largely made of a fer- 
 mented rye wine called kvas. There were slices of cu- 
 cumber, shreds of fish, and scraps of meat floating in it. 
 It was colder than any ice, and, as I heard a small country- 
 man of mine remark some weeks later in a St. Petersburg 
 restaurant, " it was better than ice cream! " 
 
 The fish with which they served us looked for all the 
 world like bleached doughnuts. It was in fact patties of 
 sturgeon and isinglass, served with an excellent sauce a 
 sauce highly flavoured with the sturgeon. 
 
 From that on our luncheon became very cosmopolitan. 
 We might have been eating in New York or San Francisco, 
 in Paris or Vienna, in London or Venice, except that we 
 would most certainly have had fewer courses and less of 
 each. We had the invariable Eussian salad: eggs, beet- 
 root, lettuce, onion, radishes, capers, tomatoes, celery, 
 chicken, and salmon, smothered in rich mayonnaise. For 
 our jarkoe or roast of game they served young blackcock 
 with a salad of salted cucumber. Several of the sweets 
 were new to me; but I passed them by for the favourite 
 goody of my Chicago boyhood, Nesselrode pudding. 
 Liqueurs and coif ee and cigarettes followed the lunch, which 
 had been of almost a dozen courses, and which every one 
 but I had washed down with oft-repeated bumpers of 
 champagne. Wines of every kind and vintage were to be 
 had for the asking, however; and when I selected claret 
 they brought me something very sound and with a per- 
 fect bouquet. 
 
 Verily, in Russia good digestion seems to wait on appe- 
 tite. As a people, the Russians eat often, much, and richly; 
 
34: IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 but I never heard the word dyspepsia spoken there save 
 by alien lips. The Eussians are as hospitable as the Arabs 
 are; and the stranger within their splendid gates who 
 would not eat himself to death must be firm of will and 
 know how to say gracefully, " Hold! enough! " 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD. 
 
 THE welfare of a people and the character of a 
 people depend largely upon what that people eats, when it 
 eats, and how it eats. Many a rebellion, many a revolu- 
 tion, has heen begotten in the kitchen. Many a dynasty 
 has fallen, many a ministry gone wrong, because of an 
 ill-filled larder or a badly advised breakfast. The food of 
 one generation forms a very essential portion of the com- 
 ponents parts of the bone, the blood, the muscle, and the 
 brain of the next. Yes, and it determines in a most ap- 
 preciable degree the morality of the unborn. Page after 
 page of history, national as well as personal, international 
 as well as national, has been written in the cook house, 
 the dairy, the bakery, and the wine cellar. More than 
 one of the world's decisive battles have been fought on no 
 broader a battlefield than a dinner-table, with hors d'ceuvres 
 for spies, roast beef for big cannon, and coffee and cigar- 
 ettes for the ambulance corps. Many a defeat, many a 
 triumph of world : wide importance, has been born of, or 
 achieved by, a batterie de cuisine. 
 
 Most of the ride from Warsaw to Moscow was devoid 
 of any interest but that which was purely personal, and 
 I make no apology for substituting for a chronicle of it 
 a few notes upon the important subject of what the Rus- 
 sians eat and how they eat. 
 
 I know no other country where there is so great a 
 contrast and yet so distinct a kinship between the food 
 of the rich and the poor as there is in Russia. And a 
 friend who is world-travelled assures me that there is no 
 
 85 
 
36 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 other such country except China. A Eussian is a Russian, be 
 he prince or serf, and in no other respect is the Russian 
 strain more clearly marked than it is gastronomically. 
 
 I have written enough to indicate the character of the 
 cherished national Zakuska. Let me repeat that it pre- 
 cedes every Russian repast, except where poverty has 
 swept the board of every toothsome crumb and left it bare 
 of all but the most meagre necessaries. 
 
 There are people in Russia so poor that they never 
 have Zakuska, perhaps do not even know what it is. 
 Among the most destitute of the people, who, in Russia as 
 elsewhere, are usually the most shiftless also, there is a 
 class only one degree, and that a small one, removed from 
 starvation. The character of the staple food of this class 
 is well-nigh incredible. It is made of finely ground tree 
 bark mixed with a modicum of flour. They mix it with 
 water, bake it if possible; if not, devour it raw. It is their 
 substitute for bread, it is their substitute for meat, but it 
 is not their sole article of diet. They have an accompany- 
 ing vegetable. They eat grass. It is their salad, their 
 hors d'ceuvre, their vegetable, the single other solid item 
 upon their unvaried bill of fare. One meal differs from 
 another, from all others, only in the " bread " being raw 
 or cooked, and in the relative proportions of bread and grass. 
 The less bread they have, the more grass they must eat 
 and do eat. Water is the only beverage they know. 
 Neither tea nor vodka ever passes their lips. They have 
 only tears always bitter and water often brackish to 
 slake their misery and their thirst. But these wretched 
 creatures form an inexpressibly small fraction of the whole 
 of Russia's immense population. And they shed no tears; 
 they are thriftless, shiftless, and unconcerned. If they 
 find food to eat, they eat. If they find no food, they lie 
 down stolidly and die. The shiftlessness of the lowest 
 type of Russian peasant is his chief characteristic. In- 
 deed, I may almost say that it is his only characteristic; 
 but for that he is a man of dough nerveless and un- 
 malleable. Shiftlessness is his curse, and he is the curse 
 of Russia one of her greatest curses. The only good 
 
THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD. 37 
 
 thing about him is that there are so few of him. Eebels 
 can be checked, reformed even, sometimes; traitors ban- 
 ished or executed; but the creature I have described is 
 worthless, hopeless. He is of no use to his Tsar, his coun- 
 try, or himself. Nor can he be made of any, or his condi- 
 tion be bettered. Extermination is the only fate he is fit 
 for and since the children must, indeed, for endless gen- 
 erations suffer for the sins of the fathers, the only fate he 
 .merits. Stay! He serves one purpose, a most petty one 
 'tis true, but even so let me give the poor devil his due. 
 He serves excellently to point my theory that as the meat 
 is, the man is; that the food a man eats both shows what 
 he is and largely determines what he shall be. Conceive 
 of a man a man with all his parts about him and usable 
 content to browse as Nebuchadnezzar, in his accursed 
 madness, browsed; a man willing to live upon powdered 
 bark! It seems natural enough, does it not, that he 
 grovels through all his life, and never cares to rise? Verily, 
 there is nothing to be done for him, nothing to be done 
 with him, and I, for one, feel that he should not be al- 
 lowed to perpetuate his kind. His only virtue is his 
 Sobriety, and it is of so negative a kind that it really doesn't 
 count. A man who never looks upon the meat when it is 
 smoking, juicy, and crisp, who never cares to break bread 
 that is white and wholesome, who never longs for fruit 
 that is ripe and perfumed, is scarcely to be praised because 
 he never looks upon the wine when it is red, nor gulps the 
 vodka when it is fiery. He is an abomination. He is not 
 even a feather worth the wearing of the total abstainers. 
 
 As I have said, and as I wish to emphasize, these grass 
 eaters are in the minutest conceivable proportion when 
 considered in relation to the total of the Tsar's subjects, or 
 even in relation to any other class of Eussians. But 
 the shiftlessness which is their only characteristic is un- 
 fortunately one of the salient points of a large body an 
 enormous body of Eussians, who dwell on the next low- 
 est rung of the social ladder. If the Eussian masses could 
 be inoculated with the energy, the love of beauty and com- 
 fort, the appetite for active enjoyment which are so splen- 
 
38 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 didly characteristic of the well-born Russians, the worst 
 of Russia's civil battles would be fought and won, half 
 of Russia's blackest problems forever solved. But all the 
 lower Russian orders are permeated with this deplorable 
 spirit of laisser aller. " It will all be ground up fine and 
 make excellent flour/' is an oft-used Russian proverb, and 
 expresses clearly the doggerel faith of the average Russian, 
 that the good and evil of life, when mixed together in the 
 mill of Time and Fate, will be ground up for good, and 
 furnish a very passable flour of life. " Man may walk, 
 but it is God who leads him," is a saying often quoted 
 and firmly believed by Ivan Ivanovitch. This apathy of 
 the masses is, I firmly believe, the chief reason why we 
 find millions of people living from generation to genera- 
 tion upon buckwheat and sour cabbage soup people who 
 might live upon an amplitude of good things if they would 
 only mingle a decent amount of forethought and common 
 sense with a manly proportion of industry; for Russia is 
 a land of inestimable, if hidden plenty, and only needs 
 the touch of a well-directed wand of industry to gush forth 
 with milk and honey. 
 
 At the Russian dinner or luncheon of affluence, soup 
 is only tasted. In many a meal of Russian poverty it is the 
 chief, and often indeed the only course. The soups used 
 by the rich are often cold, and frequently made of fish. 
 The soups eaten by the poor are usually steaming and made 
 of cabbage. I remember a cold potage Botvinia which I 
 first tasted when I dined at the " Yard," and which greatly 
 attracted me by its peculiarly beautiful green colour. All 
 Russians rich and poor are devoted to cabbage soup. 
 Made in the kitchens of the elite, it is called stchi and is 
 generously diluted with sour cream. I liked it immensely. 
 It is not unlike a piquant asparagus bisque. Made in the 
 kitchens of the poor, it is an abomination a thing to 
 smell once and fly from. To see it is to lose your relish for 
 all soups for many a long day. It is called schee and is 
 made of rotten cabbage. Its odour is unequalled by all the 
 other vile smells on earth, and it clings for weeks to the 
 room in which it has stood for only a few moments, and 
 
THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD. 39 
 
 clings forever to the garments and the persons of those 
 who eat it often. Hundreds of thousands of Russians lit- 
 erally live upon it. The porter at your gate, the policeman 
 at your corner, the soldier you meet on the streets, and the 
 sailor on the Neva, adore it and consume incredible quan- 
 tities of it. A Russian of the lower orders never opens a 
 window. He likes foul air and seems to thrive upon it. 
 Imagine a little, air-tight room of ten by fourteen feet 
 a room in which eight or nine people have eaten schee, 
 two or three times a day, and seven days a week, and every 
 week of the year. Remember that they have been doing 
 this not for one year but for many, and that their fathers 
 and their father's fathers did it before them. Remember 
 that the one window is never opened, and that all through 
 the long winter the temperature is kept at red heat. Need 
 I say more? 
 
 IJkha, or soup made of fish, is most popular. The 
 cheaper sorts are rancid and nasty. That served to the 
 well-to-do is rich and delicious, but very expensive. Sterlet 
 soup is the triumph of the Russian gourmet. It is better 
 than clam chowder, and not altogether unlike it; but it 
 is a costly dish. Sterlet often sells for five dollars (one 
 sovereign) a pound. From the standpoint of the fish- 
 monger, the epicurean, and the social economist, Russia is 
 rich in fish. From the standpoint of the piscatorial sports- 
 man she is poor. In other words, there is an abundance 
 of fish easily caught and cheaply bought; there is also 
 a variety of delicate and delicious fish for those who are 
 particular of appetite and careless of purse; but there are 
 almost no fish worthy an expert or enthusiastic angler's 
 skill. Most of the fish that are found in Great Britain 
 are found in Russia. There are pike, perch, bream, bleak, 
 and roach in plenty. There are gudgeon and salmon and 
 trout and grayling and salmon-trout for the million. And 
 for the few there are the four unique and choice fishes of 
 Russia the sterlet, the sturgeon, the sig, and the soodak. 
 
 Herrings are perhaps the favourite of the humbler 
 classes. Cooked herrings and vodka are often the dinner 
 the sole dinner of thousands of families. And raw 
 4 
 
40 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 herrings are lavishly used in the Zakuskas of rich and poor. 
 In the middle classes a thickly salted raw herring is often 
 eaten, and a cup of vodka drained, at any point in the 
 meal at which the consumer of food feels that he can " no 
 more." He does not give it up as we of more craven 
 stomachs might. Not he! He spurs his inner man on 
 with vodka and raw fish. Sometimes he will do this half 
 a score of times at one meal. This is pre-eminently his 
 habit at " butter time " and on feast days. A recent 
 traveller says: " While upon the heroic subject of her- 
 rings and vodka, I may mention that there is to be seen 
 in a certain restaurant in Moscow, written in large letters 
 upon the wall of the common dining-room, a legend of 
 which the following is a translation: 'I ate twelve her- 
 rings to one glass of vodka.' This is a more remarkable 
 feat for a Eussian than would at first sight appear, for 
 salted herrings are thirsty fare, and the Eussian is a 
 thirsty soul even without herrings twelve to add a dozen 
 arguments to the promptings of Nature. The legend is 
 capped, however, by a second, written just underneath the 
 first; it is to the following effect: "The more fool you! 
 I drank twelve glasses of vodka to one herring! ' A less 
 remarkable but more Eussian feat." 
 
 I personally know of one or two exceptions to the gen- 
 eral rule that in Eussia the angler will find but tame sport. 
 On the marvellous little Zaritch Eiver, about three hours' 
 journey from St. Petersburg, if I remember, the trout 
 are so splendid and so abundant that at one point the 
 owners of the preserve allow no fish not weighing slightly 
 over a pound to be permanently taken from the water. 
 Two- and three-pound beauties are the average! Men who 
 have angled far and wide assure me that in all the world 
 there is no trout fishing to match that on the Zaritch 
 Eiver. 
 
 When in Finland we had some capital sport with sal- 
 mon-trout, and it is from Finland that the St. Petersburg 
 fish markets get their abundance of this fish. A Fin 
 peasant took charge of each of us and paddled us up and 
 down one of the fish-rich Finnish rivers. The little boat 
 
THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD. 41 
 
 in which I sat (G.'s was almost identical) was as light as 
 our birch-bark canoe, and, on my word, the heavy, dull- 
 looking native managed it as dexterously, got over the 
 water, rough or smooth, as quickly as did ever Indian skim 
 the blue and placid and bright and churning waters of 
 the St. Lawrence. It was a lovely river; I forget its name, 
 but it was not far from the world-famed Imatra Falls, and 
 I think tributary to the Imatra River. Now the banks 
 were wild with unkempt, mutinous shrubs and trees, now 
 they were soft and seductive with delicate, tender flowers. 
 More than once the air was heavy with the incense-like 
 breath of Nature's sweetest child, the lily of the valley. 
 For yard after yard, rod after rod, the dainty, exquisite 
 things fringed the river's edge and perfumed the air until 
 my senses ached from their sweetness. Then once more 
 the scene grew wilder. Flowers trembling and fragile, 
 and unknown to me, followed the dainty lilies. The ferns 
 claimed all the bank, spreading it with carpets of quiver- 
 ing, matchless green. Then coarser ferns and hardier 
 flowers and quarrelsome grasses tangled together and waged 
 sweet-scented, gay-coloured warfare. Now and again we 
 passed a tiny island. From one, where flowers of timid 
 pink and flowers of flaunting ochre grew among the ferns, 
 a brood of bright blue birds rose at our approach and 
 winged swiftly away. On several of the small islands only 
 the sweet, frail white flowers grew. Over one of these in- 
 describably beautiful islets, upon no inch of which a hum- 
 ming bird could have pressed his weight without crushing 
 one of the delicate sprays of tender bells, a swarm of milk- 
 white butterflies hung. Over all was the golden sunshine, 
 under all the emerald water. It seemed too beautiful to be 
 real. But it was real. I saw it with my waking eyes; and, 
 rough and tough though I am, I held my breath, fearful 
 that any sign of my presence should disturb some lovely 
 thing of satin petal or of velvet wing. And as our canoe 
 dashed on like some happy water bird, my heart gave a 
 beat or two of sheer happiness that I had seen so much 
 beauty. I own it without a blush. I'm rather proud of 
 it, in fact. We dashed on into the shadow, and passed a 
 
42 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 tiny island so completely covered with magnificent bright, 
 blue gentians, that, rising from the still, dark-green river, 
 it looked like some great soft sapphire set upon a vast slab 
 of malachite. On we went on to a tiny waterfall and over 
 it. Yes, we did! I can't say how much danger we were in, 
 but it looked dangerous. And it felt dangerous pain- 
 fully so the first time Ivan did it. But I grew used to 
 it soon and resigned myself to the guardian angel of 
 fishermen and to him. We caught, that day, the finest perch 
 I have ever seen and some magnificent salmon-trout. 
 I will not say how many fish I got, nor what they weighed. 
 It is a thankless task to tell of one's piscatorial achieve- 
 ments. But I assure the reader that in the eyes of our 
 Finnish boatman G. was by no means a hero when he 
 landed an eighteen-pound salmon-trout, for the river was 
 full of such fish weighing twenty pounds or more. And 
 even on the next day, while we were fishing on a match- 
 lessly lovely lake, when a monster pike, a perfect sea- 
 horse of a fellow, took the bit between his teeth and, hook 
 in mouth, actually towed G. for several yards, neither of 
 our attendants evinced the least surprise. I may add 
 that all our fishing was done as it always is in that part 
 of the world with spinning bait. 
 
 Perhaps the four fish that of all the known varieties 
 of finny life afford their captors the least sport are the 
 four that are by all the world conceded to be the choicest 
 that swim in Russian waters the sterlet, the sig, the 
 soodak, and the sturgeon. The perfection of the sterlet 
 is so dependent upon its size and freshness that in many 
 of the crack restaurants of Moscow, and of a few other 
 cities that are near enough to the Volga, a great marble 
 basin forms the centre of the dining-room. This basin 
 is three quarters filled with limpid water water in which 
 great aquatic plants dwell plants between whose splen- 
 did leaves magnificent sterlet dart, lifting now and again 
 their shapely heads to catch the spray falling from the 
 fountain that with a slim, straight, and then gracefully 
 falling shaft of water punctuates the small pool's centre. 
 The Russian gourmet who is old enough and the Russian 
 
Lady in Russian dress. 
 
THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD. 43 
 
 gourmet who is young enough to take a keen satisfac- 
 tion in the display of his gastronomical judgment and 
 exquisite taste goes to the marble brink of this artificial 
 lake and nets his own sterlet. The waiter hands him a 
 net, fanciful of handle and silken of web. He grasps it, 
 looks critical, then wise, and thrusts it into the pool. If 
 he is lucky he brings up a fish. If not, he tries again. 
 When sooner or later he captures his prey, with a gesture 
 of triumph he hands his net to the attendant and hies 
 him to his poiage. Almost before his soup is removed 
 the sterlet is brought to him, dressed in any way he has 
 ordered, and cooked to perfection. I noticed that most 
 of the travellers dining at the Moscow restaurants liked 
 to net their own sterlet. I did it once. But it was stupid 
 sport, and after that I always left the selection of my fish 
 to the waiter, who understood what I did not which were 
 the choice specimens. 
 
 During the world-famed annual fair at Nijni Nov- 
 gorod many capital restaurants are kept by famous Mos- 
 cow caterers, who come to Nijni for the purpose, and 
 pride themselves in excelling their Moscow standard of 
 excellence. One boniface is noted throughout the Empire 
 for the excellence of his fish and the extent and condition 
 of his fish wells, as his father was noted before him. The 
 following little description of a visit to these wells is in- 
 teresting, I think. It was written over fifty years ago, 
 but it might have been written yesterday: " The dinner 
 over, we sallied forth. In the middle of dinner, a portly 
 man, his face beaming with good humour, had come up 
 to inquire of our well-doing. This was the host, from 
 Moscow for the nonce, a large genial man. Each year he 
 made a little fortune at Nijni. Now he was told that I 
 wished to see where he kept his sturgeon and sterlet in the 
 river. These were kept under lock and key out on the 
 bridge. Presently he returned with the keys and directions, 
 and confided the guardians of his treasures to Mr. P. with 
 many injunctions; and so we drove off to the great bridge. 
 Arrived at about a third of the way over, we got down 
 from our drosky, and found stairs leading out to what was a 
 
44 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 floating town. On what a scale it was! Here were wooden 
 erections so extensive and so substantial that one might sup- 
 pose they had been there for a century, and were intended 
 to last another century or two, living rooms and covered 
 decks, passages and galleries, small wells for delicate fish, 
 and large wells for the royal sturgeon and princely sterlet. 
 In various parts of the deck were the sacred cavities, the 
 wells fastened with massive iron locks and bars. One 
 of the keys of the Moscow landlord opened a monster pad- 
 lock, and a wide, dark pool yawned beneath the spreading 
 cover. A man with bare legs and short white linen 
 brogues, with red beard and bare neck, came with a net 
 six feet square, in a frame with a long handle, and plunged 
 it into the pool. Then there was a mighty turmoil below 
 of huge monsters rushing about in the wide space, the 
 water surging up all round, and now a great head half 
 appearing, and now a tail fin, the splendid fish lashing 
 in its descent the boiling water. At last the skilful attend- 
 ant secured one in the corner and bore him to the surface a 
 hundred-pounder, a sturgeon a noble fellow. 
 
 " ' That's not one of the largest/ said the man quietly, 
 and then he dipped the net, turned it over with a twist 
 of the wrist, released the fish, and struck out for another. 
 Then began the turmoil amid the seething water. ' That's 
 a good one,' he exclaimed, as one bigger than the last rose 
 to the surface, and after a savage rush and struggle was 
 captured in the bellying net. ' That's about one hundred 
 and twenty,' said the man, ( and in good season too.' 
 
 "What a splendid fellow he was! bright and shin- 
 ing and of beautiful proportions. What play that fish 
 would give one on a good line downstream, methought! 
 It would be an hour or two's work to land him, and here 
 he comes up in his prison in two turns of the wrist. He 
 seemed all too grand for his narrow dungeon. Then we 
 had another well opened, and the delight of gourmands, 
 the sterlet, was fished up in the same way. Of all sizes 
 these were from ten pounds up to fifty. Mr. P. told us a 
 story of a fine sturgeon caught in the Volga some years 
 back, on the occasion of the visit of the Crown Prince 
 
THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD. 45 
 
 to Nijni, and presented to him. The Prince requested 
 that he might not be killed, but turned back into the river. 
 This was done, a gold ring with an inscription being run 
 through his gill. Three or four years after, a peasant 
 caught the fish with the ring in his gill, and the Governor 
 of Nijni, hearing of the capture, sent off to save the fish's 
 life. ' The Prince had spared his life, no one must kill 
 him/ So the Governor decided, and he gave the peasant 
 five hundred roubles for it, adding a second ring with a 
 fresh inscription in the gill of the fish, and gave him his 
 liberty. ' That fish,' said Mr. P., ' has a fair chance of 
 dying in his bed of old age, a rare case for a sturgeon 
 within reach of Nijni.' ' : 
 
 One more word in connection with Eussian fish, and I 
 am done. If you ever go to "Russia and a dish called soli- 
 anka is offered to you, as you love your inner man, re- 
 fuse it not. Its ingredients are vulgar, but it is divine. 
 It is created out of fish and cabbage. But sprinkle it 
 royally with cayenne, and oh, ye gods, but it's good! 
 
 The Muscovites eat buckwheat as the Orientals eat 
 rice. Indeed, their Orientalism is in no way more strongly 
 marked than in the matter and the manner of their eat- 
 ing. The ill-bred Eussian is often dirty in his eating, and 
 the ill-bred Oriental is never that. But still, the Eussians, 
 high and low, have many little table tricks, or rather tricks 
 of table manner, that remind one strangely of their kinship 
 with the peoples of the East, and above all with the Chinese. 
 The use of rice itself the Eussians understand as does 
 no other people in Europe, and we of America even less. 
 Buckwheat porridge, stewed buckwheat, gaieties of buck- 
 wheat, almost piquant with salt and pepper, and half a 
 dozen other primitive dishes of buckwheat, are used by the 
 common and middle-class people enormously, and often 
 to the exclusion of all other foods. Eussian buckwheat 
 has a threefold merit: It is sweet (Ivan Ivanovitch has a 
 complete set of big sweet teeth), it is nutritious, and it is 
 stimulating. And it has another a crowning virtue 
 it is cheap. In the kitchens of the rich buckwheat is usu- 
 ally made into puddings or used to stuff joints of meat. 
 
46 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Mutton and beef crammed with buckwheat and then baked 
 or roasted are excellent eating. And gurief the best of 
 buckwheat sweets is a pudding that I recall with respect 
 and admiration. At certain periods of the year, at butter 
 time, and on feast days, all Eussia devours pancakes as 
 one man. Mushrooms and cabbage seemed to me to be 
 their favourite vegetables. The people eat honey in in- 
 credible quantities. A great shock-headed fellow will take 
 a pound or two of the dripping comb in his greasy, grimy 
 fist, and devour it at a few bites and then he'll buy 
 more, if he has kopecks enough. 
 
 The Eussians are as fond of nuts as squirrels are. The 
 people munch them. The select introduce them into 
 many of their best-liked and most-used dishes. Nor must 
 I forget the Eussian gourd. Thousands of peasants live 
 on it. Millions of the Tsar's subjects eat it with every- 
 thing. It is, when ripe, sometimes a pale green, sometimes 
 a pale yellow. It tastes rather like a green cucumber, 
 and a little like a mango. It is a small gourd, seldom 
 over four inches long. Endless acres of land are devoted 
 to its culture, and tens of thousands of peasants (chiefly 
 women) earn their livelihood picking it, packing it, and 
 carrying it to market. 
 
 Eussia has a distinctive game population, most of it 
 exceedingly good to eat, much of it good to kill. No 
 people understand the cooking and the serving of game 
 better than the Eussians do. They almost always serve 
 salads with it, and nothing else except a modest portion 
 of some condiment exactly calculated to accentuate or 
 draw out the bird's flavour. And they know to a nicety 
 what the ingredients should be of the salads served with 
 each kind of game. Blackcock, capercailzie, woodcock, 
 and snipe abound in Eussia. Hazel grouse are plentiful 
 from January to January. The raibchink, or tree par- 
 tridge, is used beyond all other game. And I thought it 
 the most toothsome. I ought perhaps to qualify this ex- 
 pression of my opinion by saying that several varieties 
 of the most highly prized of Eussian game I did not taste. 
 In Eussia " close time " for game begins in May and ends 
 
THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD. 47 
 
 late in July, and regarding many kinds of game the law 
 is strictly enforced and implicitly obeyed. The raibchink 
 is chiefly killed in spring, but it is eaten always. It is 
 delicious; it wears well. Your palate never tires of it, eat 
 you it ever so often. It is so plentiful that in many parts 
 of the Empire you can buy a sledge load of it, frozen, for 
 a ridiculously small sum. It is the chief source of income 
 of the sporting peasants. Thousands and thousands of 
 these professional hunters bring sledge after sledge load 
 of brown raibchinks to every large Russian town at cer- 
 tain seasons. No one thinks of buying frozen raibchink 
 by the pair or by the hundred. Every well-to-do house- 
 wife invests in at least one cart load. They keep for 
 months. In many households raibchink is a never-omitted 
 item of the daily menu. In almost every home of even 
 comparative comfort it is eaten constantly when other 
 game is scarce or unobtainable. At no Russian restaurant 
 or hotel of even second- or third-class pretensions need 
 one ever hesitate to order tree partridge. You will get it, 
 for they are never out of it. They would as soon think 
 of being out of salt, or bread, or caviar, or vodka. You 
 will get it good, for the toothsome fellow is hard to spoil, 
 and the Russians, who are born cooks, excel in the broil- 
 ing of birds and the dressing of salads. When free, this 
 partridge affects the tallest of pine trees. It is swifter 
 than swift of wing, and only expert sportsmen ever bring 
 it down, unless they "pot" it as it sits. Every peasant 
 who makes a business of killing this bird carries a small 
 affair which is called a " raibchink whistle." When blown 
 upon by a skilled hunter it emits an infinitesimal sound, very 
 shrill and high of pitch, but sweet and soft of tone. This 
 is so excellent an imitation of the raibchink's note that it 
 deceives the birds themselves. Those of the tribe that 
 hear it wing toward it. The hunters hide behind the trees, 
 or in the grass or undergrowth. The birds perch upon 
 the tree tops, look eagerly about for their comrades, who, 
 as they think, have called to them, and as they sit they 
 are shot. Not very noble sport! Much of the game shoot- 
 ing in Russia is of a kind that we would call unsports- 
 
4:8 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 manlike. If raibchink shooting as usually practised is 
 not noble sport, the bird's white flesh is exceedingly noble 
 eating, and we should but seldom taste it, even in the 
 heart of Russia, if it were never bagged but in a strictly 
 sportsmanlike manner. The luring to their death of the 
 raibchink by the note of the false bird is peculiarly like, 
 almost identical with, a custom of some tribes of our 
 North American Indians, who fashion a " deer whistle " 
 out of the bark of some young sapling's shoot, and with 
 it lure many a distant deer to their gun's range and its 
 death. The whistle of the Indian is a little longer than 
 that of the Russian peasant, but both are small. "Ma- 
 ma " softly calls the Indian's wee instrument. The dis- 
 tant deer hearing it thinks that some fawn is lost or in 
 distress, and rushes to its cruel fate as the soft, feathered 
 partridge rushes to its own. Treacherous instruments! 
 
 Snipe are to be shot in Russia only during two weeks 
 each year, for that is the length of the bird's sojourn in the 
 Empire of the Tsar. During these two weeks the men 
 and the boys who are not out snipe shooting are either in 
 prison, in bed, or insane. This, again, is not very brave 
 sport, not much for a man to boast of. The birds are too 
 easily shot. Often they are too fat to fly quickly. 
 
 There is an abundance of good duck shooting in Rus- 
 sia. The bagging of blackcock is the favourite sport of 
 those who hunt for pleasure; but as the capercailzie is 
 the king of all game birds, so is its slaughter the chief 
 joy of the Muscovite hunter. 
 
 The conditions of sport in Russia are so entirely differ- 
 ent from sport as we know it, that I am tempted to linger 
 over the subject. But we must get on to Moscow; and 
 I must for the moment content myself with saying that 
 blackcock hunting is as curious and interesting as caper- 
 cailzie hunting is great. The blackcocks hold a wonder- 
 ful tournament every spring. They parade and fight (or 
 pretend to fight) while the female birds sit and watch 
 them. And it is then, while doing doughty deeds for its 
 lady love, that the blackcock is oftenest shot. The Rus- 
 sian sportsmen justify this slaughter of the cocks during 
 
THE BREAKING OF RUSSIAN BREAD. 49 
 
 the pairing and breeding season. The blackcock is a Don 
 Juan of a bird. It is unfaithful to its mate from the first. 
 It never does a stroke of work. Long before the eggs are 
 hatched, it is off. and away, seeking new hens to woo. Its 
 mate and babies are every bit as well off with it dead as 
 alive. Then, too, there is in this species a very large pre- 
 ponderance of male birds. The hens don't go round. Con- 
 sequently two or more cocks frequently select the same 
 gray hen as the object of their ardent if temporary atten- 
 tions. Then there is a fight as is a fight. And the grand 
 finale is almost invariably a nestful of broken eggs and a 
 broken-hearted hen. The preservation of this valuable 
 and useful species necessitates a constant thinning of the 
 male ranks, especially in hatching time. And the Rus- 
 sian sportsman, who is nothing if not a casuist, is stanch 
 in the belief that the righteous end justifies the unsports- 
 manlike means. 
 
 Eussia is full of fruit. Among the upper classes it is 
 not much used at dinner, except as an ingredient of ices 
 and frozen puddings, or as a confiture. But the people 
 who can get it eat it lavishly, chiefly between meals, as 
 do the people of the Orient. The ubiquitous, the in- 
 evitable banana flaunts its long yellow coats at you 
 wherever you go in Russia. I don't know where they grow, 
 or where they all come from, or where they go to (for they 
 are beyond the common people), but there they are wher- 
 ever you go, millions of them yes, and billions! Of the 
 fruits that I ate in Russia, and was told grew there, I on 
 the spur of this moment's writing recall an endless variety 
 of grapes, strawberries, currants, apricots, peaches, goose- 
 berries (as big as plums), raspberries, pears, and melons. 
 
 In a later chapter I shall have much to say about a 
 dinner of the Tsar, and about another that I ate as his 
 guest. Let me close this chapter .with just a word about 
 the dinner of a Russian convict. As I have already stated, 
 it is no part or parcel of my purpose to go into any burn- 
 ing Russian questions. I am firmly convinced that all 
 that sort of thing has been overdone to the verge of ab- 
 surdity; that Russian outrages have been grossly exag- 
 
50 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 gerated, and, above all, that Eussia is quite capable of tak- 
 ing care of herself and hers, and of doing her own re- 
 forming. Moreover, I have matter more attractive for my 
 pen. The bells are ringing, the bugles call, all Eussia 
 is glad and gay. And I am en route for the crowning of 
 the Tsar. But this is by the way. I personally saw some- 
 thing of the food served to the prisoners in three of Eus- 
 sia's largest prisons. It was not a Delmoniconian diet, 
 but it was ample, clean, and wholesome. In both quality 
 and quantity it was superior to the food given to the con- 
 victs at Sing Sing and to that served to the prisoners in 
 Holloway. And this is, I think, a most significant fact 
 it is at least sixty per cent better than most of the mis- 
 demeanants were accustomed to before they became the 
 involuntary guests of the Government, as is almost uni- 
 versally the case. 
 
 Among both the plutocracy and the aristocracy of Eus- 
 sia the cuisine is largely French. But almost always there 
 is a dash of Orientalness a dish or two, at least, that are 
 sharply Eussian. No people have more characteristic 
 and palatable dishes of their own. No people know better 
 how to cook, serve, and enjoy food a la Frangaise. Eussia 
 is the gastronomic link between the tables of the Orient and 
 of the Occident. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 AS SEEN EN BOUTE. 
 
 INSIDE the car all went merry as coronation bells. Out- 
 side it was for the most part uninteresting enough even 
 while the sun shone, as it did most of the time in an opu- 
 lent, Oriental sort of way. When the sun sulked behind 
 a barricade of heavy clouds, for all the world like some 
 peevish, vacillating Eastern potentate, the prospect from 
 the windows was bleak in the extreme. We passed through 
 forests that were monotonous and unimpressive ; we 
 crossed long, weary tracts of gray, sterile-looking land like 
 a Kansas prairie deserted by the Indians, unimproved by 
 the white settlers, and stricken by the blight. But now 
 and again we steamed slowly through some interesting 
 Russian villages, and twice, when we made an unexpected 
 and by no means brief halt, we saw something of village 
 life. 
 
 Every village in Russia is like every other village there. 
 Let me assure you of this emphatically, for it is unquali- 
 fiedly true. See one, and you have seen them all. I sus- 
 pected this during that first ride from Warsaw to Moscow; 
 I knew it for a surety a few weeks later when we had 
 traversed Russia, north, south, east, and west. Look out 
 of the car window with me, will you? We are merely 
 crawling along and are on the outskirts of a village. That 
 rickety, gray, weather-beaten signpost proclaims it. The 
 sun is out, but even so we can only half read the inscrip- 
 tion on the post, " vtsee " ! That is the last syllable, 
 and all that we can decipher of the village's name. No 
 matter; our loss is small, as we could by no possibility pro- 
 si 
 
52 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 nounce it. Beneath, the name there is a clearer line, a less 
 defaced " 61 " that is plain enough. And Gourko courte- 
 ously translates the accompanying word of Eussian. It 
 means souls " 61 souls." Sixty-one men and boys (the 
 women and girls don't count) when the last Government 
 revision was made. The taxes of each village are assessed 
 and collected in a lump by the Government when a re- 
 vision is made or the census is taken. Every man or male 
 child counts one, be he a century old or aged but one hour. 
 
 Their number forms the basis of taxation, and the tax 
 then fixed remains unchanged until the date of the next re- 
 vision. The male population may increase or decrease 
 greatly; the tax never fluctuates, but remains a fixed, un- 
 debatable, unchanging, and unchangeable sum for a period 
 not often less than ten years. If such a thing should or 
 could occur as the death of every male but one in the 
 village, that one survivor would have the pleasure of pay- 
 ing the whole of the communal village taxes. Were this 
 one " soul " still in his swaddling clothes, what would 
 he do then? It would be rather embarrassing to the tax- 
 collecting official, would it not? On the other hand, the 
 allotment of land to the different villagers, the portion 
 and situation given to each, and the share of the general 
 tax that each must contribute to the common fund on or 
 before tax day, are all decided in the village itself, and by 
 a governing body elected by the villagers from their own 
 number. And though the sturdy women never figure as 
 souls on the aforementioned wooden documents, they 
 are allowed to work the land, to labour for the common 
 good, and to contribute their hard-earned kopecks to the 
 fund. The official assessment is never disputed, its equity 
 is never questioned, and I never heard of the figures on 
 the signpost being altered or defaced (save by time and 
 weather), though. I often asked if such an enormity ever 
 happened. The Russian moujik is patient, law-abiding, 
 law-respecting, except where sedition and alcohol have 
 done their damning work. 
 
 Having touched upon the eternal woman question, 
 let me interject a passing word about the women of the 
 
AS SEEN EN ROUTE. 53 
 
 Eussian peasantry. We saw far fewer women doing hard 
 out-of-door work in Eussia than we did in Germany and 
 some other continental countries. By " hard out-of-door 
 work " I mean such work as we in America associate with 
 men and beasts only; such work that, should it suddenly 
 occur to us that it was fitted for women's hands, we should 
 find forever left undone. What a nation of men left in 
 the lurch we should be, indeed, did we depute to woman 
 any one of a dozen occupations which are her common lot 
 in Germany and Holland! I do not mean that we saw no 
 women working in the Eussian fields; we saw many, but 
 they had no monopoly of such labour. And in Eussia 
 you never by any chance see a woman and a cow yoked 
 together, a woman and a dog hitched to the same cart 
 sights common in nearly all other European countries. 
 In one picture of peasants harvesting which I bought 
 there are five men and one woman. As far as my observation 
 went, this is about the proportion in which Eussian men 
 and women are apt to do those sorts of labour which we do 
 not associate with women's hands at all. 
 
 The village street no, that won't do; I must hit upon 
 some other term, for there is no village street. The muddy 
 space which takes its place stretches for a quarter or half 
 a mile, and separates the fronts of one row of tumbledown 
 wooden huts from the fronts of another row of tumble- 
 down wooden huts, and is never by any chance edged with 
 footways. In the village there is usually one two-storied 
 house and (unless the souls be very few) a church. All 
 the other buildings are alike. They are low, one-storied, 
 sharp-roofed structures, built of roughly hewn, unpainted 
 logs. In the front of each are three windows, narrow and 
 close together, with frames of vivid red and violent green, 
 and above each frame a crude cornice of redder red and 
 shrieking yellow. The solid blinds are thrown open, and we 
 see that their inner surfaces are daubed white and deco- 
 rated with barbaric curves and lines of red, blue, and orange. 
 Each window is glazed with five disproportionate panes. 
 The low doorways are at the sides. The tone of the houses 
 is mellow gray, with roofs and foundations of dull, cold 
 
54: IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 brown. The decorated windows give a flash touch of 
 colour that is as characteristic as it is striking, and saves 
 the street from being sad and hopeless. On the side of 
 the house which is unbroken by doorway, porch, or window, 
 there often hangs a duga, for nearly every peasant owns 
 some sort of rough cart or vehicle for the hauling of grain, 
 fuel, and other necessaries. The points of the shafts of 
 every Eussian vehicle are bound to this duga. It is a high, 
 cumbersome yoke, shaped like a gigantic horseshoe, and 
 rises two or three feet above the horse's collar, to which 
 it is attached near the bottom. It holds the collar and 
 shafts together rigidly, and a bearing rein is attached to 
 a ring at its apex. It thus serves as a combination of har- 
 ness, tug-loop, and over-check. 
 
 Where there are three horses driven abreast (Troika 
 fashion), as is often the case in Eussia, the duga is placed 
 upon the middle horse. From the duga's apex hangs a 
 big, noisy bell. In some parts of Eussia two, three, or 
 even more bells adorn each duga. These bells are heard 
 at a distance of a mile or more. " The use of the bell/' 
 writes an extensive Eussian traveller, "is variously ex- 
 plained. Some say it is in order to frighten the wolves 
 and others that it is to avoid collisions on the narrow forest 
 paths. But neither of these explanations is entirely satis- 
 factory. It is used chiefly in summer when there is no 
 danger of an attack from wolves; and the number of bells 
 is greater in the south, where there are no forests. Per- 
 haps the original intention was I throw out the hint for 
 the benefit of a certain number of archaologists to 
 frighten away evil spirits; and the practice has been re- 
 tained partly from unreasoning conservatism and partly 
 with a view to lessen chances of collision. As the roads are 
 noiselessly soft, and the drivers not always vigilant, the 
 dangers of collision are considerably diminished by the 
 ceaseless peal/' 
 
 The moujik's duga is always a highly coloured affair. 
 Most often it is a deep, bright crimson, forming a pleasant 
 relief to the cold gray of the wall upon which it hangs, 
 and a barbaric clash of colour with the vivid scarlet decora- 
 
AS SEEN EN ROUTE. 55 
 
 tions of the windows. The interiors of these houses are 
 as like each other as the exteriors. At the side of the hut, 
 two or three steps, more or less rickety, lead to a small 
 roofed stoop or porch which protects the entrance. From 
 the more or less decayed roof hangs a gipsy-like earthen 
 kettle having a spout and thin handles. Ivan Ivanovitch 
 is not a monomaniac on the subject of personal cleanliness, 
 but once in a great while he, or some member of his family, 
 is moved to wash his face or hands. This spirit of clean- 
 liness is very apt to move him, if at all, as he enters or 
 leaves the house. In that case he gives the hanging 
 earthen vessel a tip, tilts a little water on to his hands, 
 rubs them together, smears them over his face, wipes them 
 on the tails of his red shirt (which is never tucked in), and 
 then goes on his way washed and rejoicing. And this is 
 the manner in which the moujik washes. To be sure, he 
 takes a steam bath two or three times a month, and would 
 almost as soon do without vodka as without this red-hot 
 lavation. But upon close observation, I am firmly per- 
 suaded that he goes to the village bath-house for sensuous 
 enjoyment, and that his shedding there of a certain amount 
 of extraneous matter is a mere accidental accompaniment 
 to which he himself is sublimely indifferent. 
 
 Pass through the door it will probably be shut to 
 keep the fresh air out, but is never locked and you are 
 in the house, in its principal and, I may say, only room. 
 There is a shed or catch-all at the back, but it is never 
 lived in and need scarcely be counted. The room you have 
 entered is twelve feet wide and sixteen feet long. Such 
 rooms are occasionally, but only occasionally, larger than 
 is the one we have entered, but they are very often much 
 smaller. There is one piece of furniture in the room, and 
 only one, unless you count as furniture a bench and a 
 stove, both of which are stationary and really integral 
 parts of the house, having been built with it and for it. 
 The family sit and sleep upon the bench and stove. They 
 eat off the table a rough, rickety, lopsided thing, not 
 over clean, and put together in the most shiftless way. 
 One of its four legs is gone and another is charred; at 
 5 
 
56 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 least half of its bulk has crumbled away. The table stands 
 in the angle of the bench which extends along the side 
 and back walls of the room. By this arrangement the en- 
 tire family are able, with crowding, to sit near enough the 
 table to reach each his or her share of the family meal. This 
 is a consummation greatly to be wished for, as it does away 
 with any temptation toward the extravagance of chairs 
 or stools. Were it not for the bench and the table and 
 their relative positions in the room, Ivan Ivanovitch would 
 certainly be compelled to either purchase or, worse still, 
 to manufacture chairs or stools. Perish the thought! 
 Ivan has no kopecks to squander on superfluities. He 
 needs every coin for the purchase of vodka and herrings 
 and black bread and greasy soup ingredients and red shirts, 
 and other stern necessities. But for all that, Ivan Ivano- 
 vitch must sit down (and therefore must have something 
 to sit down upon), and so must all the little Ivan Ivano- 
 vitches, and Mrs. Ivan too, especially at mealtimes. He 
 is a single-minded man, is Ivan Ivanovitch, and he likes 
 to eat with an undiverted mind. He has no mental or 
 physical energy to spare from the all-important rite, and 
 it would entail some exertion both of mind and body did 
 Ivan Ivanovitch stand during his meal. This is why the 
 table is commensurate in size with that of the family. In 
 the living room of almost every Eussian peasant you will 
 find a table large enough to allow the entire family to 
 sit at two of its four sides. The bench is at a convenient 
 distance from the ground. It is a foot, or at the most two 
 feet, wide more often the former. From these dimen- 
 sions the reader will without difficulty infer that with 
 the broader members of the family the stove is usually 
 the more popular bed. As a rule, however, the Ivan 
 Ivanovitches are not broad except in the matter of clothes. 
 But, though niggardly narrow, the bench is always gener- 
 ously substantial. Sometimes it is unpainted and almost 
 unplaned, but often it is stained, or coloured a gorgeous 
 red, a brilliant yellow, a flashing green, or a royal blue. 
 It is this love of colour and indifference to dilapidation 
 (both traits are universal) that largely make every Eussian 
 
AS SEEN EN ROUTE. 57 
 
 interior picturesque,, even the poorest. Somehow, Ivan 
 contrives to make of his surroundings one barbaric blaze 
 of shrieking, wrangling colour. Then time and decay 
 creep in, and, backed by Ivan's laziness, his deep-rooted, 
 insuperable laissez faire, touch all with quaint deft fingers, 
 and soften the whole into a thing of real artistic value 
 and genuine beauty. 
 
 In the corner of the room diagonally opposite the table 
 stands the stove. This is the most important thing in the 
 house, not excepting the ikon. Another ikon could be 
 purchased for a few kopecks; another stove would cost 
 many, many roubles. Mr. Whishaw, to whom I owe a debt 
 of deep gratitude for his delightful book on Eussia, and who 
 must be a jolly good fellow as well as a charming writer, 
 describes this ubiquitous and all-important stove so pho- 
 tographically that I will borrow his words rather than use 
 less adequate ones of my own. 
 
 It is, he tells us, a huge brick structure reaching almost 
 to the ceiling, five feet in breadth and four feet deep, and 
 "having a lower portion jutting out from the side to a 
 length of six feet or so. This branch establishment is 
 used by the family to sleep upon, and a nice warm bed it 
 makes. As for the stove itself, a description of its work- 
 ing may be of interest to the reader. The door of the 
 stove is a foot or so from the ground, and opens into a 
 huge empty cavern formed by the whole of the inside of the 
 stove. Into this logs of wood are thrust in quantities 
 and are ignited. This is only the beginning, and the heat 
 of the wood while burning is a mere trifle. "When the 
 logs are reduced to red embers the door of the stove is shut 
 up tight and the chimney securely closed. By this means 
 all the heat is kept in the stove, which soon becomes a 
 veritable scorcher, and retains its heat for nearly twenty- 
 four hours. But woe to the inhabitants of the house if 
 the chimney be closed before the wood shall have properly 
 consumed, for speedy suffocation is their certain fate 
 death if they happen to be asleep, terrible nausea and sick- 
 ness if awake and able to whisk off the iron covering which 
 closes the chimney in time to save their lives. I have spoken 
 
58 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 to an English gentleman who once nearly fell a victim 
 to suffocation through the carelessness of a Russian servant. 
 He was passing the night at a shooting box near St. Peters- 
 burg, and, the cold being intense, had instructed the 
 keeper on retiring to enter his room at six in the morning 
 and relight the stove in case it should have cooled down 
 by that time. The keeper obeyed these instructions to 
 the letter, but closed the chimney before the wood had 
 been sufficiently reduced. At half-past seven my friend 
 was awakened by the most violent headache he had ever 
 experienced, accompanied by terrible sickness. He barely 
 had strength to crawl out of bed and stagger into the fresh 
 air, thus saving his life, when he fell insensible into the 
 snow. There he was found shortly afterward, half frozen 
 and very ill, but alive enough to make remarks to that 
 offending keeper which were almost sufficiently strong to 
 thaw the snow in which he found himself outstretched." 
 
 The small children crawl down from the top of the stove 
 as we enter Ivan's room and stand staring at us. On the 
 table there is a samovar, or Russian urn, hissing very com- 
 fortably, and Mrs. Ivan smiles and bows over it. She 
 has been cutting hunks from a large round loaf of black 
 bread, for this is dinner time. There is also a smoked 
 herring lying on the table, half wrapped in a truly hor- 
 rible scrap of newspaper. Probably Ivan will get the 
 whole of this dainty morsel, for he is a " soul " and must 
 be fed; black bread will do well enough for the women, 
 who have no souls to support. No, thank you, Mrs. Ivan, 
 we won't take any tea, though it is very kind of you to 
 offer it. So far as I can see you only possess one tumbler, 
 and that a remarkably unclean one. What would the 
 " soul " do if we used his tumbler? You suggest, reader, 
 that Ivan would go to the kabak and drink vodka, and 
 so he would; but he will do this anyhow, for we shall 
 probably give him twenty kopecks for his services in show- 
 ing us over his establishment, and Ivan's money all goes 
 one way. 
 
 In the corner of the wall, as near the ceiling as pos- 
 sible, hangs an ikon. On entering the room every faith- 
 
AS SEEN EN ROUTE. 59 
 
 ful peasant crosses him or herself, and the men uncover. 
 I have seen Ivan stumble across the threshold so very 
 drunk that only the proverbial luck that protects babies, 
 puppy dogs, and tipsy men enabled him to move at all, 
 and yet he contrived to pull the greasy cap from his 
 greasier head, lift his bleary, bloodshot eyes to the ikon, 
 and cross himself. There is an ikon on the wall of every 
 room in every Eussian house, be it an imperial palace or 
 a prison, a luxurious hotel or wayside inn, a foetid peasant's 
 hut, or some woman of the town's gaudy boudoir. Nor 
 does the orthodox Eussian leave his religion behind him 
 (as do the orthodox of so many other peoples) when he 
 leaves his home and goes to his counting-house or shop. 
 Go to buy velvet: on a corner of the wall above the chif- 
 fon-strewn counter you will see an ikon. Step inside the 
 nearest fishmonger's: on a corner of the wall above the 
 marble slab heaped with slippery beauties hangs an ikon. 
 Join the steady stream of moujiks, and press your way 
 into the crowded vodka shop: it has an ikon as surely 
 as it has its supply of liquor and its plenitude of patrons. 
 Enter some luxurious restaurant, the favourite haunt of 
 the gilded, reckless youth of Moscow or St. Petersburg 
 look up from your richly laid table, where the blackcock 
 smokes and the champagne bubbles against the ice: on 
 the corner of the wall you will see an ikon a costly one 
 this time. 
 
 Some reader will perhaps wonder what an ikon is. It 
 is a half-length picture, or, to speak with more exactness, 
 a pictorial representation of the Virgin or of Jesus, or of 
 some one of the many saints of the Eusso-Greek Church. 
 Ikons are usually square, and vary greatly both in size 
 and quality in cost, beauty, and workmanship. I have 
 seen many that were not larger than a square inch, and 
 I have seen a considerable number that covered many 
 square feet. The background of the figure is usually gold 
 leaf or vivid yellow. Yellow is supremely the Eussian 
 favourite colour, and is also of significance to the devout 
 believer of the Greek Church. The artist or the artisan 
 who makes the ikon invariably employs the archaic Byzan- 
 
60 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 tine style. The picture may or may not be framed; when 
 it is, the frame is always as costly as its owner or guardians 
 can afford. Whole fortunes have been spent on the fram- 
 ing of an ikon, sometimes even on the purchase of a single 
 jewel for the enriching of such a frame. Usually the 
 whole picture, with the exception of the face and hands, 
 is covered with an embossed plaque of metal. Great pains 
 are lavished upon this embossing, that it may represent 
 faithfully the undulations of the drapery and the outlines 
 of the limbs and the body. The garments and the halo 
 (the sacred figure always wears a halo) are frequently set 
 with jewels of more or less value sometimes with gems 
 that are priceless. Pearls are used oftenest, for the Rus- 
 sians, like all Oriental people, prize pearls above rubies 
 and diamonds. Emeralds, diamonds, turquoises, rubies, 
 sapphires, opals, garnets, amethysts, beryls, and a score 
 of other precious and semi-precious stones often appear 
 in the ikon's adornment. They are sometimes, but not 
 often, placed on the figure itself, even when it is other- 
 wise quite flat that is, neither in semi-relief nor covered 
 with a plaque. Quite frequently the halo alone is in bas- 
 relief. Upon the ikons are found some of the finest speci- 
 mens of the celebrated Russian enamelling. An authority 
 says: " A careful examination of ikons belonging to vari- 
 ous periods has led me to the conclusion that they were 
 originally simple pictures, and that the metallic plaque 
 is a modern innovation. The first departure from purely 
 pictorial representation seems to have been the habit of 
 placing on the head of the painted figure a piece of orna- 
 mental gold work, sometimes set with precious stones, to 
 represent a nimbus or a crown. This strange and, to our 
 mind, barbarous method of combining painting with haut- 
 relief if such a term may be applied to this peculiar kind 
 of decoration was afterward gradually extended to the 
 various parts of the costume, until only the face and 
 hands of the figure remained visible, when it was found 
 convenient to unite these various ornaments with the gilt 
 background into a single embossed plate/' 
 
 There are no jewels on the ikon of Ivan Ivanovitch. 
 
AS SEEN EN ROUTE. 61 
 
 It belongs to an immensely larger class, called " simple " 
 ikons, which are accredited with no miraculous powers. 
 Should a " simple " ikon work a miracle, it would at once 
 pass from the second to the first or superior class. There 
 is probably in Eussia no peasant's home without at least 
 one simple ikon. They are manufactured in incredible 
 numbers, and are the sole industry of one entire province. 
 Men, women, and children make or help to make the sacred 
 pictures, and do as little else in the way of work as is con- 
 sistent with existence itself. After the ikon has been 
 blessed by a priest it is sacred. A peasant buys it and 
 enshrines it on the wall of his room, high up, where it 
 may easily be seen by all who cross the threshold. In 
 Ivan's home bread is never broken, nor soup swallowed, 
 but that each one who is about to partake, or who has 
 partaken, bows to the ikon and crosses himself. On the 
 night preceding a fete day a lamp filled with holy or con- 
 secrated oil is lighted and placed before at least one ikon 
 in every house. 
 
 Of the first class, or miracle-performing ikons, there 
 are, comparatively speaking, very few. They are called 
 tchudotrormy. It would be impossible to convey to the 
 mind of any Anglo-Saxon not well acquainted with Eus- 
 sia and things Eussian any commensurate idea of the 
 reverence in which these tchudotrormies are held by rich 
 and poor. The shrines and temples that are built for them, 
 the gems, the fortunes that are given to them, the revenues 
 that are dedicated to them, the incomes that are secured 
 to them, the pilgrimages that are made to them, the secrets 
 and sorrows that are told to them, and the punctilious 
 and adulating respect that is shown to them must be seen 
 to be believed. 
 
 A tchudotrormy is never, I believe, kept in a mere 
 dwelling, but is enshrined in a cathedral, church, monas- 
 tery, nunnery, or other holy house. Several of them have 
 estates broad acres of their own. Many of them have per- 
 sonal servants, all of them have devotees and jewels. It is 
 the general belief that the tchudotrormies are not only 
 endowed with miraculous power, but are of miraculous 
 
62 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 origin, and that before their installation in their present 
 regal shrines their whereabouts have been shown to some 
 holy man in a vision. 
 
 A goodly-sized book, and a very interesting one, might 
 easily be filled with the histories of the more celebrated 
 ikons. Many of them have annual fete days; the anniver- 
 sary of their discovery is held as a holiday. " A few of 
 them," writes Wallace, " have an additional title to popu- 
 lar respect and veneration that of being intimately asso- 
 ciated with great events in Russian national history. The 
 Vladimir Madonna, for example, once saved Moscow from 
 the Tartars; the Smolensk Madonna accompanied the 
 army in the glorious campaign against Napoleon in 1812; 
 and when in that year it was known in Moscow that the 
 French were advancing on the city, the people wished 
 the Metropolitan to take the Iberian Madonna, which 
 may now be seen near one of the gates of the Old Wall, 
 and lead them armed with hatchets against the enemy." 
 
 When I add to the table, stove, bench, ikon, etc., al- 
 ready enumerated, a meagre supply of crockery and cook- 
 ing utensils, and a liberal number of dogs, I have, I believe, 
 given a complete inventory of the things contained within 
 the four walls of the living room of Ivan Ivanovitch. 
 There are thousands and thousands of just such homes, con- 
 taining just such rooms and inhabited by just such people, 
 scattered thickly over the length and breadth of Russia. 
 
 It is not worth our while to peep into the lower shed 
 into which the door at the back of the living room leads. 
 Very cramped is this little back room, and " chock-a- 
 block " with the shreds and patches of peasant life none 
 of them very clean and none of them of interest. In this 
 place as many of the household dogs sleep as can not crowd 
 their way in among the family. In this heterogeneous 
 mass of things is sure to be at least one litter of extremely 
 young puppies. Multiply the inhabitants of any Russian 
 village by thirteen, and you arrive at something near the 
 number of the village dogs. This estimate is not exces- 
 sive, I assure you. 
 
 Against the outside of the house leans a ladder; climb 
 
AS SEEN EN ROUTE. 63 
 
 it, crawl through a hole of a window, and you are in the 
 cherdak or garret squat, dirty, and oh, what a triumph 
 of disorder! Here clothes are dried, if they ever by any 
 chance get washed, or as often as any of the family get 
 caught out in a rain storm. Here Ivan stores his grain, 
 if he has any, and here is also stored all the overflow of 
 rubbish from the little lower back room, or from the out- 
 house or shed which is usually found standing like a 
 great gray ant-hill somewhere in the waste of mud which 
 Ivan calls his back yard. It would be interesting to ex- 
 amine the interior of the two-storied building which is 
 the house and shop of that great and good man, the vil- 
 lage merchant. And the sociology of the village would 
 well repay our study. But we have time for neither now, 
 for we must on to Moscow. 
 
CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 LOVELY, LAUGHING MOSCOW. 
 
 There is a charm peculiar to Moscow among the cities of the 
 world. She is in herself the centre of the history of a people a peo- 
 ple fated to play a great part in the drama of the future. But at 
 present the charm of Moscow is in its past story, and in its present 
 life. The interest of the past story of the city arises out of its pecul- 
 iar position as the connecting link between the East and the West. 
 In this its situation is somewhat analogous to that of Constantinople, 
 standing upon the confines of two divisions of the earth, and thus it 
 has to bear the discords of different races and to be the scene of the 
 conflicts of opposing peoples. Moscow grew up from a collection of 
 small villages to a town in the midst of warring and half -barbarous 
 tribes, and thus as it increased in concentration, and therefore in im- 
 portance, it was sometimes attacked by Polish forces from the west, 
 partly with the ambitious object of the sovereigns of Warsaw to ex- 
 tend their possessions eastward over the Muscovite plains, and partly 
 out of the fear of the threatening increase of strength of the popula- 
 tions accumulating on their exposed and eastern border. At other 
 times the country round was invaded from the east ; and Tartar 
 hordes came up in overwhelming numbers to the walls, and, bursting 
 over them, devoted the unhappy place to sack and pillage. These 
 latter were actuated by no motives such as those which led the Poles 
 up to the gates of Moscow motives of possession and increase of 
 national strength. These were only lured from their tents and their 
 wild plains on the Don by the hopes of plunder and the gratification 
 of their instincts of destruction. But the hardy sons of Muscovy, 
 though often beaten by the Poles and frequently despoiled by the 
 Tartar hordes, yet rose from their defeats in renewed strength, as 
 Antaeus from his mother earth, until, becoming the nucleus of a na- 
 tion, they were able to beat off their enemies both on the east and on 
 the west, and becoming the victors in the place of the vanquished, 
 they threw back the armies of Poland on the one side and the horse- 
 men of the Don on the other, and, following the rule of the law of the 
 
 64 
 
LOVELY, LAUGHING MOSCOW. 65 
 
 weak and the strong, they forced all their former enemies to submis- 
 sion. It is thus, in and around Moscow, that the story of Russia is to 
 be read. St. Petersburg is but the modern town of yesterday. It is 
 as yet but the port of Russia, an imperfect city, and bearing in all its 
 accessories the marks of a new town. Even Peter could not make at 
 once a capital city in all its completeness by even his iron and dom- 
 ineering will. G. T. LOWTH. 
 
 IN addition to some of the villages through which we 
 passed, there were a few little bush houses huddled together 
 here and there. They were shapeless; they sank in and 
 bulged out at the sides; and as for their roofs of grass, 
 these were at most picturesque. But as for architectural 
 definiteness or any pretence to symmetry of form, they 
 were utter failures. The more desperately conditioned of 
 them were held together by lackadaisical, irregular sup- 
 ports of undressed branches. But only where the hut 
 was palpably new and not always then did any roof 
 appear to have been planned to measure, or built with 
 even moderate care. 
 
 Most of the villages looked deserted, as they momen- 
 tarily were; all the inhabitants were working in the fields. 
 Later in the day we passed idle groups of men, women, 
 and, numerically speaking, unlimited children, all of them 
 clad in blazing colours. All were tow-headed, all were 
 shock-headed. The women and girls wore over their heads, 
 and knotted under their chins, kerchiefs even more gaily 
 coloured than their dresses. Every positive hue known to 
 the eye of man was there, and so was every combination 
 of colour calculated to set an artist's teeth on edge. They 
 were almost all barefooted, though I recall one little red- 
 headed fellow who wore a pair of high Eussian boots, and 
 nothing else. They sat on the ground and on the stray 
 logs that littered their untidy doorways, and stared at 
 us stolidly or grinned at us uncouthly as we steamed slow- 
 ly by. 
 
 But for the most part we were moving on through 
 dull, desolate wastes of uninhabited and unimproved land. 
 It was all flat and gray and dreary. Much of it was marshy. 
 Clouds gathered thickly over the sun. Now and again 
 
66 IN JOYFUL KUSSIA. 
 
 the dim horizon line was broken by dreary belts of timber. 
 Just before sunset we plunged into a wood. It was al- 
 most a forest, and the most desolate place I was ever in. 
 It was sadder than any dismal swamp that the mind can 
 picture. The train crept through it painfully like some 
 huge reptile, twisting its slow way among the gloom and 
 the trunks of the tall attenuated trees. It was the deso- 
 lation of Nature. The glass in the carriage windows rattled, 
 and I shivered for very sympathy. The cold and sickly 
 air stirred slowly among the half-clad branches, and the 
 craven trees bent their great heads meekly and sullenly in 
 their complete inertia. There was no diminution of the 
 sad wood's density or gloom. We passed from it far more 
 suddenly than we had entered. Chained by a. horrid fas- 
 cination, I gazed into its repellent gloom, then closed my 
 eyes but for a moment; and on opening them Moscow, 
 the triumph of daring, lavish architecture; Moscow, the 
 golden, glittering link between the Orient and the West; 
 Moscow, holding high her imperial gem-decked head, sit- 
 ting proudly upon her green hills, basking radiantly in 
 her own regal beauty and God's superb sunlight, smiled 
 into my amazed, enchanted eyes. 
 
 Earth has no picture to compare with this. Nature 
 has often done more than she has upon the shores of the 
 Moskva, but man has achieved nothing to equal Moscow 
 in unique, surprising, irregular, lawless beauty, nor in 
 imperious barbaric splendour. Did the old City of Mexico 
 present half so brave a sight when Cortez and his "iron 
 warriors" beheld it first? I doubt it. Moscow, "Mother 
 Moscow," whom the Eussians love with a love passing 
 the love of women, a love unmatched in history even by 
 those superb old warriors who prayed to their father 
 Tiber and proudly died for Eome. Moscow, " Holy Mos- 
 cow," where all that is most sacred in the Greek Church 
 is enshrined, where religion and devotion wear their 
 brightest, richest vestments. Moscow! Imperial Moscow, 
 to which the great White Tsar comes to receive the crown 
 of all the Russias from the hand of God. Moscow, where 
 the newly crowned Tsar kneels and prays to God for 
 
LOVELY, LAUGHING MOSCOW. 67 
 
 strength and wisdom, and for his people's, his children's 
 welfare. Moscow, where the autocrat of all the Eussias 
 makes a solemn covenant with all his subjects and with 
 God himself. Moscow the Beautiful! Moscow the Glad! 
 Moscow the Gay and Laughing! 
 
 The city lies upon the banks of the Moskva like some 
 Asiatic Venus Genetrix. I shall not attempt to give any 
 detailed description of the marvellous, gorgeous build- 
 ings which, welded together with the trees and lovely 
 smiling gardens, made up the sumptuous panorama that 
 met my delighted eyes. Time enough for that, reader (I 
 know that I shall have at least one reader), when we walk 
 together, as Robert Browning walked, 
 
 Over the Kremlin's pavement bright 
 With serpentine and syenite. 
 
 To see Moscow for the first time and in its entirety is an 
 intoxicating event, enough to stir the pulses and confuse the 
 cool judgment of a far more sober-minded man than I 
 am. It was a red-letter day a punctuation point in my 
 life which I shall never forget, a wealth of which I can 
 never be robbed. Blase travellers often tell us that the 
 world is a small place and everywhere much alike. They 
 are blind, or they have never seen " Moscow the White 
 Walled! " 
 
 Sumptuousness of colour and eccentricity of form was 
 what impressed me more than all else. Centring all, and 
 above all, stood- the Kremlin, the indescribable, the sacred. 
 I could but recognise it, with its splendour of churches and 
 palaces, its gate-pierced and tower-broken wall, and its 
 outer encirclement of exquisite gardens that were once a 
 formidable moat. About the Kremlin lay beautiful, bar- 
 baric Moscow. Wherever the eye rested were roofs of 
 blue, of green, of red; walls of yellow and of purple. 
 Green parks and gardens broke the picture everywhere, 
 a grateful relief to stranger eyes, wearied by their first 
 gloating over this mad carnival of colour. Innumerable 
 churches, Oriental of shape and barbarically sumptuous 
 of roof, lifted on high the cross of Christ, made of pure 
 
68 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 gold, and, pointing to the calm blue heavens above, 
 bore bright but silent witness that as Rome is the city 
 of Mary, so is Moscow the dedicated city of Jesus of 
 Nazareth. You can not lift your eyes as you stand in 
 the streets of Moscow without seeing the sacred emblem 
 of the Christian Church. Almost every church is a mass 
 of green and glittering cupolas, of star-bespangled 
 belfries and golden spires, of twisted towers and grace- 
 ful minarets that look as if they had been filched from 
 some Oriental mosque and bodily transported to Mos- 
 cow. 
 
 It is a city of indescribably sumptuous churches, of 
 splendid palaces and palace-like buildings, of twisting, 
 irregular streets, of gaily painted houses and plenteous, 
 well-kept gardens. Yes, it is all that, the Moscow that 
 I looked upon with awed eyes and pulsating admiration. 
 As I try to solve the riddle of her permanent fascina- 
 tion, I am convinced that she both startled and held 
 me, not so much because of her beauty, her unequalled 
 splendour, her supreme peculiarities, as because of her 
 diversities. No two churches were alike in colour or out- 
 line. All glittered, gleamed, and sparkled, but all differed. 
 The sun was slowly setting and intensifying the splendour 
 of colour it could not rival, illuminating the myriads of 
 creations of Russo-Byzantine architecture with which Mos- 
 cow is replete. Moscow rests upon a succession of low 
 waving hills. Almost through the heart of the sacred 
 and glittering city flows that lazy, lagging river, the pur- 
 plish Moskva. Its motionless bosom reflected the bright 
 but gentle colours of the prodigal sunset that was bathing 
 with a good-night benediction every nook and crevice of 
 this strangely fascinating city. 
 
 Among all this vast, indescribable melee of colour and 
 of bizarre form (Moscow has a circumference of twenty- 
 five miles) the great gold dome of the Temple of the 
 Saviour glittered supreme. Rising against the bright blue 
 sky, and crowning a magnificent edifice of pure white, 
 it is pre-eminent among all the showy ornaments of " Holy 
 Mother Moscow," and attracts the eye and holds it, until 
 
LOVELY, LAUGHING MOSCOW. 69 
 
 the gathering dark dims the matchless picture and re- 
 minds us that our journey is ended. 
 
 At the station all was bustle, life, and excitement. A 
 fine spread of crimson carpet was laid along the platform, 
 bordered by double lines of smart soldiery. We wasted 
 little time after we had thanked Lieutenant Gourko and 
 bidden him au revoir, but drove at once to the house that 
 our Consul had kindly taken for us, and where I found 
 my mother waiting to welcome us, surrounded by many 
 familiar objects from our own far-distant home. Could 
 journey have a better ending, or sojourn in a foreign land 
 a brighter beginning? I thought not. In one corner of 
 the room hung a resplendent ikon; on an easel stood my 
 mother's ikon, my father's picture, and, surrounding it, 
 that which he had loved and reverenced as the devoutest 
 Russian loves and reveres the Holy Iberian Mother; for 
 about his portrait my widowed mother had with loving 
 hands draped the Stars and Stripes. 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 HOW WE KEPT HOUSE IN MOSCOW. 
 
 "I WONDEK if we won't have batter cakes for break- 
 fast ? " said G. as he rubbed his eyes the next morning. 
 He, as I have already mentioned, had not taken kindly to 
 Slavonic diet, and had great faith in my mother, but I 
 knew better. I knew that we should find ourselves in 
 a truly Muscovite menage. And so it proved. My mother 
 emphatically believes in trying the ways of the people 
 among whom one chances to be, and I knew that she would 
 seize upon our four weeks' residence in Moscow as an ex- 
 cellent opportunity to educate us in the domestic customs 
 of the upper-class Muscovites. And so she did. There- 
 fore a slight record of how we kept house in Moscow may 
 be of interest. 
 
 Our rooms were brightened here and there with a few 
 flowers. That was a shocking extravagance of mother's, 
 for in Moscow just then flowers were worth many times 
 their weight in silver. And the place was made homelike 
 by the presence of some trifles that she always carries with 
 her, her Lares and Penates, each of which is the valued 
 memento of some sacred bit of home history. But for 
 all that it was the veriest Russian home, and we led a 
 Eussian sort of home life in it. 
 
 Our temporary abode had been secured for us months 
 before, and luckily so; for at the time of our arrival the 
 price for such accommodations would have been quite 
 prohibitive, if any had been obtainable, which is most 
 improbable. "When we had determined, several months 
 before, to see the Eussian coronation, we had written to 
 
 TO 
 
HOW WE KEPT HOUSE IN MOSCOW. 71 
 
 the United States Minister in St. Petersburg begging his 
 good offices in securing for us a temporary domicile in 
 Moscow. Minister Breckinridge had kindly put the matter 
 in the hands of Dr. Billiard, the United States Consul in 
 Moscow, and the latter had taken for us Dom Schlippe, 
 Gagarinski Pereulok. Dom Schlippe was the name of the 
 house, and Gagarinski Pereulok was the little street on 
 which it stood. No Russian house has a number, but all are 
 named after their owners instead. Dom Schlippe means 
 the house of Schlippe; and Dom Schlippe was all we ever 
 said to an isvoschik when directing him to take us home. 
 We neither mentioned the street nor the quarter. The 
 reader must not infer from this that ours was an excep- 
 tionally fine or well-known place. It was not. It was good 
 enough, but there were thousands like it in Moscow, and 
 thousands much better. No matter where we wished to 
 drive, we merely mentioned the name of the building 
 which was the object of our search. It seemed a miracle 
 to me that we always reached our destination without the 
 slightest confusion or delay. And this seems a miracle 
 to me still when I recall the intricate labyrinths of the twist- 
 ing, turning Moscow streets, and the unnumbered houses 
 bearing only the owner's name, with nothing to indicate 
 their particular situation or relation to other houses. Most 
 of all I marvel when I reflect what a stupid fellow the Eus- 
 sian isvoschik always seemed to be. The fact of the matter 
 is that, looks or no looks, Ivan has a phenomenal bump 
 of locality and a gigantic memory for names hidden some- 
 where in that thick, dumb, shaggy head of his. 
 
 Our landlord was not Schlippe, but the house had some 
 years before belonged to a well-known citizen of that name. 
 It was now the residence of a Mr. Spohr, a very well-to-do 
 Muscovite, who, like many of his thrifty fellow-citizens, 
 tempted by the rents offered for temporary accommodation, 
 had adjusted himself and family to the narrow confines 
 of the upper rooms, and placed the lower apartments in 
 which he usually lived at our disposal. They were large, 
 comfortable, and fairly luxurious. Our landlord we scarce- 
 ly ever saw. He often sent a courteous inquiry if he could 
 .G 
 
72 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 be of any service, or if the servants he had procured for us 
 were satisfactory? Sometimes we passed him in the 
 courtyard. But our intercourse seldom went beyond a 
 civil greeting, and we felt that Dom Schlippe was quite 
 our own. 
 
 Our servants were a dainty lot. First, there was the 
 dvornik or yard porter. He was the most solemn man I 
 ever met. He deserves more than passing mention, not 
 only because he was a person of character, but because he 
 represents a very essential wheel in the domestic machinery 
 of every Eussian household of the better class. Then 
 there was Anuska, our cook, and pretty Yertza, our gipsy- 
 faced kitchen-maid. Anuska looked somewhat matronly. 
 I think that her head-dress was that of a wife. Except 
 in the matter of head-dress and a scarf that Anuska wore, 
 these two servants dressed alike. They both wore thick, 
 loose boots. Each wore a white linen or cotton shirt, 
 coarsely embroidered with crimson, with very loose elbow 
 sleeves leg-o'-mutton is the technical term, I believe. 
 Each wore several strings of coloured beads about her 
 throat, and a big, green baize, crimson-bound apron 
 fastened about her waist. Under the apron was a short 
 Eussian skirt, reaching to within a foot of the ankles, 
 made of coarse stuff, in which fancy stripes of light yellow 
 .crosses and pink and green lozenges alternated with plain 
 ones of green, magenta, scarlet, and brown. The effect of 
 the whole was rich, dark, and hideous. These skirts were 
 stiff and straight. They opened in front over a longer but 
 equally stiff garment of white. Indeed, they were more 
 like an ugly imitation of the straight piece of cloth which 
 the women of so many Eastern countries wrap about 
 their hips than a civilized dress skirt. Yertza wore a band 
 of crimson among her black braids. Anuska covered her 
 hair turban fashion with a gaudily embroidered, magenta- 
 coloured scarf, whose long fringed ends she brought round 
 her waist and knotted in front. Please observe our stove 
 our Moscow cooking-stove! How and where upon it 
 Anuska cooked I never could discover. But she did cook, 
 and cook supremely well. We had kalatchs and chocolate 
 
Our little servant. 
 
HOW WE KEPT HOUSE IN MOSCOW. 73 
 
 in bed each, morning, and a hearty breakfast later. We 
 always emphasized our morning meal because of the ex- 
 hausting and fatiguing functions which usually lay be- 
 fore us. Dinner we rarely had at home. But the occa- 
 sional ones we did have were astonishingly good, admirably 
 selected, and admirably cooked. Anuska did the market- 
 ing, and the day's menu was left quite to her discretion. 
 The result amazed us until we learned her history from our 
 landlord, Mr. Spohr, who related it as follows: 
 
 " There was an old nobleman in Russia, some fifty or 
 sixty years ago, who was famous throughout the Empire 
 for his appetite, both for its quantity and for its quality. 
 To make Anuska's story intelligible, I must preface it with 
 his. I will not mention his name. He made it his boast 
 that he was the greatest gourmand in Eussia; his whole 
 conversation was concerning savoury dishes and delicious 
 meats, to the concocting of which his entire mental ener- 
 gies were devoted. His dreams were visions of soups, 
 fricassees, and pates, varied with ragouts, jellies, and 
 macedoines. Whenever his genius had discovered some 
 new combination of good things he seemed to think it 
 redounded as much to his honour as the victory at Aus- 
 terlitz did to Napoleon's, or the discovery of the theory 
 of gravitation to Newton's. By excessively high living 
 he had attained so enormous a size that the door of his car- 
 riage had to be made of the entire width of one side to 
 allow of his getting in and out; his eyes were almost 
 buried in the fat of his cheeks, and his thick lips and heavy 
 looks showed to what an extent he pursued the gratifica- 
 tion of his favourite vice. 
 
 "This estimable old gentleman, in order to have the 
 cookery of every nation in its highest perfection, hit upon 
 the ingenious plan of sending one of his serfs to each of 
 the great capitals of Europe to be initiated in all the 
 mysteries of the cuisine of that country. One was in 
 Vienna, another in Paris, a third in London, and the 
 fourth in Naples. The sum this cost him was enormous, 
 not only for the journeys, but on account of the high 
 premium demanded for their instruction. The man sent 
 
74 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 to Paris was bound for three years; he was the most in- 
 telligent of the four. His master built many castles in 
 the air about him; he was never tired of talking of the 
 great progress this servant was making in the culinary art, 
 while the agreeable prospect of innumerable good din- 
 ners, -rich soups, and magnificent entremets solaced him 
 and served to cheer him up whenever an attack of indiges- 
 tion caused him a fit of the blues. He did not know, poor 
 man! that the dreams of his distant serf were widely dif- 
 ferent from his own; nor perhaps had it ever entered his 
 mind that in learning la cuisine Frangaise he might pos- 
 sibly learn the language, and imbibe French notions of 
 liberty as well; but so it was. The three years at last were 
 up, and the old gentleman was on the tiptoe of expectation; 
 his delicious dreams were about to become realized; he 
 had invited a host of acquaintances to dine with him on 
 a certain day. But, alas! the very morning on which he 
 made so sure of welcoming with open arms his chef de 
 cuisine from abroad there came a letter in which the 
 former slave politely and delicately informed him that, 
 owing to a great change in his views, both social and 
 political, he could not decide upon devoting the rest of his 
 days to his service; that he was going to be married to a 
 charming young grisette, and had resolved upon becoming 
 a French citizen in fact, as he was already one at heart. 
 He concluded by returning his sincere thanks for the 
 protection and patronage his former master had given him, 
 sent the receipted bills for the expenses which had been 
 incurred on his account, which he assured him had been 
 honourably paid in his name out of the money forwarded 
 to Paris for the purpose, and finished with the most amiable 
 wishes for his health and prosperity. The grief and dis- 
 may of the old gourmand were inconceivable, and such 
 an effect did the mortification have on him that he re- 
 mained in bed a whole fortnight to lament in solitude his 
 irreparable loss. The serf who had been sent to Vienna 
 came faithfully back, and proved a veritable cordon bleu, 
 the joy, the pride, and the solace of his high-born mas- 
 ter's declining years. In the course of time he became 
 
HOW WE KEPT HOUSE IN MOSCOW. 75 
 
 Anuska's grandfather. Anuska's father was born with 
 a talent for cooking; was he not the son and the pupil of 
 the Vienna-trained cJief? Anuska inherited the family 
 gift, and, having no brothers, fell heir to the ancestral 
 lore." 
 
 She came high, if I remember aright, but why not? 
 She was an artist. And who shall say that that rara avis, 
 a cook who can cook, is not worth a great wage? Not I, 
 for one. I know better. As I write, we are again keeping 
 house, but the scene has changed from Moscow to Lucerne, 
 a little village where the shadows of Pilatus and the Eigi 
 meet upon the rippled mirror of the lovely lake, and I 
 am engaged in writing, and in handing over princely 
 fractions of my income which is less princely than I 
 could wish to incompetent, bungling Swiss servants. 
 The first fortnight we were in residence here we had two 
 chefs, a kitchen-maid, and three lady cooks (you must be 
 polite to your servants in Switzerland; it is a republic 
 and the people are proud). They don't import labour here. 
 I wish they did. 
 
 I am no gourmet and far less a gourmand, but often 
 of late have I sighed for the sweets and the savouries pro- 
 duced by Anuska, our Moscow cook. And she was as will- 
 ing as she was efficient. Cooking was both her art and her 
 trade, and she loved to ply it. She never stood upon the 
 order of her cooking, but was always upon the qui vive to 
 cook at once. Several nights, or rather very early in the 
 mornings, she rose with alacrity in answer to our hungry 
 summons, and cooked us a quick, hearty, delicious meal. 
 She gloried in doing it, and we gloried in eating it, tired, 
 famished, and worn out as we so often were. 
 
 I have no exact information about Yertza's history or 
 duties; the latter were, I believe, very similar to those 
 of other scullery maids all the world over. She washed 
 pans and scoured pots, and fetched and carried and waited 
 upon Anuska, and kow-towed to her. To be honest, I only 
 saw Yertza once. I believe her wages were small. She 
 was rather a delicate-looking little thing, but they said 
 that her appetite was large. There were three men servants 
 
76 IN JOYFUL EUSSIA. 
 
 in our menage. They all were quiet, quick, well-trained, 
 and obliging. 
 
 I have spoken of our dvornik spoken of him as part 
 and parcel of our household and so indeed he was; but 
 for a household servant he continued to spend an amazing 
 amount of time on the street. Our house stood at the 
 back of a deep and not over-clean courtyard. Beside the 
 gate, directly on the street, stood the lodge, the dvornik's 
 little one-roomed house. It was a dirty room and evil- 
 smelling. Small wonder that its occupant occupied it as 
 little as possible, but left it to his wife and their four 
 children. But I fear that a distaste for foetid air and the 
 smell of decomposed cabbage soup had nothing to do with 
 the porter's distaste for indoor life. He liked to see and 
 be seen. And unless the day was drenching wet, he nearly 
 always was to be seen sitting on the narrow old bench that 
 stood beside the gate opposite to his house. He was a 
 great musician that is, if quantity as well as quality 
 counts in the musical art and why should it not? Ivan 
 Dvornik made much music. He made it upon a square, 
 greasy concertina, an instrument dear to the heart of 
 every moujik, and euphoniously called a garmouka. I 
 personally did not dote upon Ivan Dvornik's musical re- 
 citals. But far be it from me to hint that the fault was 
 his. I am not musical not seriously so. And I have even 
 heard world-famous virtuosos whom I did not yearn ever 
 to hear again. Certainly, I did not understand the sacred 
 spirit of Slavonic music as possibly Ivan Dvornik did. 
 Moreover, I have never loved the concertina; he adored 
 it. When I was last in London, all the music-hall world 
 was singing or whistling a Homeric ditty, which began 
 
 He wanted something to play with, 
 
 Something to love and adore ; 
 Something attractive and pretty, 
 
 Something to love evermore. 
 
 I never hear those pathetic lines without thinking of 
 Ivan Dvornik and his concertina. He wanted something 
 to play with, something to love and adore, and, by Jinks! 
 
HOW WE KEPT HOUSE IN MOSCOW. 77 
 
 he had it. He loved and adored his garmouka, and, by 
 all the gods and little fishes, he played with it evermore, 
 and even more. He loved it every moment of his life, and 
 in his waking hours he only ceased to play it when food 
 and vodka were placed before him, or when he was con- 
 fronted by some piece of work which he found it abso- 
 lutely impossible to depute to a lieutenant, or to leave 
 unperformed. He had three lieutenants his wife and 
 his two strapping boys. The elder boy was nearly grown, 
 and the younger a sixteen-year-old giant. In the summer 
 the three subordinates do most of the work, and musical 
 Ivan Dvornik keeps up appearances and the dignity of 
 the position. In the winter he does rather more work 
 himself, not so much because there is more work to be 
 done as because for the moment his darling garmouka 
 is hushed, for the most skilled concertinaist can not ply 
 his charming art with frozen fingers. And through all 
 the long cold winter Ivan Dvornik still sits on the narrow 
 old bench that stands beside the gate. Oh, the cruel, cruel 
 Eussian winter! There is snow snow everywhere. Icicles 
 hang their frosty fringe from the old bench's edge. And 
 the falling, ever-falling snow drifts up swiftly, burying 
 the bench, icicles, Ivan Dvornik's legs, and all. Still, he 
 sits on stolidly; even when he moves heavily to kick and 
 shake himself free from the fleecy covering, you can only 
 see his eyes, so thickly and so completely is he swathed 
 and swathed again in shaggy, greasy sheepskins. He is 
 even a duller, sadder dog then than he is as I knew him 
 in summer time, for his sweet- voiced, or rather his squeak- 
 voiced, garmouka is laid away, and the vodka has only half 
 the effect upon his sluggish nature that it has in summer. 
 Let me enumerate such of Ivan Dvornik's duties as 
 linger in my memory. I beg of my patient victim to bear 
 in mind that some are only performed in winter, others only 
 in summer, and that three fourths are always done by 
 deputy. It is his duty to see to the passports of all who 
 dwell within the house, and to see that each of these in- 
 mates is properly provided, as the law prescribes, with all 
 due papers and documents pertaining to citizenship, tern- 
 
78 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 porary residence, etc. He is responsible to the police for 
 all this. He must also see that all passports are duly 
 vised or renewed at the proper time and at the proper 
 place. It is his duty to aid the street police in arresting 
 the miscreants and arousing the benumbed about his gates. 
 He must also assist the gorodovoy when any disturbance 
 or accident occurs in the near street. In the house-yard 
 shed there are vast piles of firewood. These he must cut, 
 break, or saw into lengths or shapes suitable for the dif- 
 ferent stoves in the house's many rooms. Then he must 
 carry the fuel to the flame, the wood to the stove. Every 
 drop of water used in the house for any purpose whatso- 
 ever is brought to the gates in carts or barrels. At least 
 it was so in our house, and it is in almost all. From the 
 gate Ivan Dvornik must carry it into the kitchen. In 
 many households Ivan has to bring it from the river to 
 the door as well. In many ways our dvornik was, com- 
 pared with others, a man of leisure. Often ten or twenty 
 families occupy apartments or flats in the same house. 
 Then there is work for the dvornik, and to spare. In ad- 
 dition to the many things I have mentioned, he often acts 
 as the landlord's agent or steward, letting the apartments, 
 collecting the rent, etc. Ivan Dvornik our particular 
 Ivan Dvornik never, that I remember, spoke to me. He 
 touched his greasy cap solemnly when he saw me, and 
 crossed himself devoutly when I tipped him. He was 
 superlatively "a smileless man," though I knew him in 
 the springtime when the fields were brightening with 
 bloom, the birds in voice, and the garmoukas well in tune. 
 Take him all in all, I have no wish to meet his like again. 
 Our house itself was most comfortable and spacious. 
 We had rooms enough. They were all large and well 
 furnished. The floors were of different patterns, but all 
 of inlaid oak. There was not a carpet in the place, except 
 a bright blue Persian square on the floor of a delightful 
 little boudoir, which was quite a gem of a room. Figures 
 in scenes a la Watteau smiled and courtesied from the walls, 
 and on the ceilings quite an army of bowed and arrowed 
 Cupids waged their pretty warfare and pursued their harm- 
 
HOW WE KEPT HOUSE IN MOSCOW. 79 
 
 less amourettes. There was a bit of gilt everywhere on ceil- 
 ing and wall; there were dainty gilt ornamentations on 
 the crystal candelabras, delicate threads of gold woven in 
 the rose brocade that hung at window and door and cov- 
 ered the chairs and couch. Every room on the entire 
 floor opened into at least one other. This is usual in the 
 houses of the Kussian better classes. Such an arrangement 
 lends itself to lavish entertaining and to display in per- 
 spective effects. In front of each bedroom door stood a 
 large screen. And into each room an enormous porcelain 
 stove projected. These stoves are built so as to heat two 
 rooms. 
 
 No nation is more hospitable than the Eussian. The 
 half-starved moujik will share with the stranger, traveller, 
 friend, or foe, his last loaf of black bread and his last 
 glass of tea as willingly and generously as will the Arab 
 of the desert divide his last handful of dried dates and the 
 remnant of brackish water in his almost empty water skin. 
 To the lavish hospitality of the Eussian of the upper 
 class there is no limit. The rich spend their wealth like 
 water to entertain their friends, and many a family, nobly 
 born but impoverished, stints itself of all but the neces- 
 saries of life for months that enough money may be saved 
 to give a sumptuous dinner. 
 
 Our Moscow household had one great drawback. The 
 day after our arrival I desired, I trust not unreasonably, 
 to take a bath. Lo and behold, there was neither bath-tub 
 nor bathroom in the house! I used a sponge and some 
 language, dressed as best I could, and went out to order a 
 tub made. I succeeded in bribing the tinsmith to be quick 
 in executing the order. On the second or third day at 
 about noon the tub arrived. I ordered a warm bath. They 
 were about three hours and a half preparing it, and then 
 it was not emphatically warm. They had heated the water 
 in the samovar, and while one vesselful had been boil- 
 ing, its predecessor had been growing cold in my tub. 
 About five o'clock one of the servants asked for kopecks 
 that he might send for enough water for our afternoon 
 tea. It had all been used in the Barm's bath, he said. After 
 
80 IN JOYFUL EUSSIA. 
 
 that we had a larger quantity of water bought from the 
 cart that came to our door each day. "We paid for the 
 water on delivery, and bought it by the quart. Scarcity 
 of water seemed to me rather a characteristic of Russian 
 housekeeping. 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 ROUND ABOUT THE COW PATHS. 
 
 THEY used to say of Boston, before the great fire 
 straightened out a large portion of that Athenian city, 
 that it was originally laid out upon the paths which the 
 cows had made in their wanderings about the pastures! 
 That may or may not be true of Boston, but it certainly 
 appears to be true of Moscow. As it is one of the most 
 picturesque, so it is one of the most bewildering cities in 
 Europe to the stranger. We engaged early in our stay, as 
 guide and courier, an individual who had formerly been 
 in the employ of the American Consul, Dr. Bilhard. We 
 also secured for use during our stay in Moscow two car- 
 riages; it may interest the reader to know that, notwith- 
 standing the enhanced price of everything at this time, 
 we paid for each at the rate of twenty dollars per day. 
 Thus armed at every point, we prepared to see the city. 
 Of course, as every other traveller has placed on record, 
 we found the streets of Moscow irregular, narrow, and bad- 
 ly paved. The buildings, with few exceptions, are of two 
 stories. On every hand were swarms of workmen, and 
 swarms of Russian peasants, strangers, and pilgrims who, 
 most of them, had journeyed great distances to be present 
 at the crowning of the Great White Tsar. What Mecca 
 is to the Mohammedan, what Jerusalem used to be, and 
 perhaps still is, to the devout Israelite, that Moscow is to 
 the devout Russian. It is the capital of the nation. St. 
 Petersburg, called into being by the mandate of the auto- 
 crat Peter the Great, has never displaced in the affec- 
 tions of the patriotic and devout Russian the sacred city 
 
 81 
 
82 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 which is known as "Mother" Moscow. To the Eussian 
 it represents nationalism. It is the head centre of the 
 Holy Church; here its Tsars have been crowned for centu- 
 ries, here they have been buried. Here are grouped to- 
 gether six hundred sacred shrines, among the most beau- 
 tiful in the world; and here the stream of modernism 
 has dashed in vain against the traditions and memories 
 of the past. Miracles have been performed within its 
 walls; the inrushing footsteps of savage hordes have been 
 turned back at the threshold of its gates, and armies that 
 have elsewhere conquered all before them have here failed, 
 or won their victory only to see it turned into defeat. I 
 suppose that every one interested in military affairs, as 
 I have always been, naturally reverts in thought to the 
 experience of Napoleon when he first visits Eussia, or, 
 indeed, when he reads of it. I certainly did; and so one 
 of the very first pilgrimages I made in the ancient city 
 was to the spot where Napoleon caught his first view of 
 it, and where the entire French army is said to have 
 burst out in one exultant shout, " Moscou! Moscou! " All 
 the streets through which we drove on the way to this 
 celebrated spot were in the hands of workmen busy erect- 
 ing Venetian masts and triumphal columns. I noticed 
 that they did all their work on the spot, not bringing their 
 poles hewn and painted and ready to pop into holes already 
 dug. They hewed and planed them on the spot, and 
 erected them one by one with a deliberate earnestness quite 
 out of tune with the nervous haste which would have char- 
 acterized such preparations in one of our own cities. In 
 Eussia time seems to be of no moment; indeed, the nearer 
 to the rising sun one travels, the more time every one 
 appears to have at his disposal. There were enormous 
 numbers of these workmen, but not one was in a hurry. 
 The crowning of the Tsar might have been twelve months 
 off rather than a few days, so deliberate was the move- 
 ment of those engaged in decorating. The nature of the 
 buildings in Moscow lends itself readily to the erection of 
 temporary decorations. The houses in the more preten- 
 tious quarters are most of them covered with stucco; in the 
 
a, 
 S 
 o 
 
HOUND ABOUT THE COW PATHS. 83 
 
 poorer quarters they are of wood. Strips of narrow lath 
 were nailed to the walls, forming the' designs intended. 
 To these strips were fastened the brackets of wire into 
 which the small different-coloured globes were set. In 
 these globes candles were placed during the morning of 
 the day of the coronation and the two days succeeding, 
 for use at night. During the ceremonies millions of these 
 candles must have been used. The Venetian masts which 
 lined the streets at regular intervals were painted in black 
 and gold, and decorated, at a height convenient to the 
 eyes, with the arms of Moscow, St. George and the Dragon, 
 the Eussian Imperial arms, the double-headed eagle, and 
 the significant letters " N " and " A." 
 
 It was on this drive that I for the first time attended 
 a regular service of the Eussian Church at the Cathedral 
 of Our Saviour. I believe that I was hemmed in by the 
 immense crowd for not less than four weary hours listen- 
 ing to a service of which not one word was comprehensible 
 to me. The church, however, richly repays a visit. Viewed 
 from the bridge which crosses the sluggish Moskva in its 
 vicinity, the Cathedral of Our Saviour is indescribably beau- 
 tiful. I know of no temple in Europe to compare with it. 
 It appears a trifle commercial to attempt to convey an im- 
 pression of any of these buildings by their money value; 
 but as this one has been built in the present century, by 
 Eussian labour, and exclusively of Eussian materials, we 
 get a fair estimate of its superb extent and magnificent 
 appearance in a statement of the cost, which is put down 
 at twelve millions of dollars. It was originally intended 
 to erect this cathedral in the neighbourhood of Sparrow 
 Hill, as commemorating the retreat of the French army, 
 but the ground was found to be unsuitable, and in 1839 
 the present site was chosen. The interior is richly deco- 
 rated with gold and syenite marble, and at night is illumi- 
 nated by candles running around the lofty cornice. The 
 pictures on the ceilings of the domes of the several cupolas 
 are costly and magnificent. They may be said to be some- 
 what grotesque, containing figures of Jehovah, the Old 
 Testament patriarchs, and Eussian emperors in juxta- 
 
84 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 position, which a close reading of Eussian history does not 
 always justify. Of these pictures, which have all been 
 painted by Eussian artists, those in the central dome alone 
 cost one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. On 
 the walls of the galleries and in other parts of the cathedral 
 are tablets enumerating the officers who fought and fell 
 in the endeavour to repulse the Napoleonic invasion. From 
 without, the cathedral is massive and resplendent. The 
 cross on the central dome is three hundred and fifty feet 
 from the ground, and the dome itself and the four sur- 
 rounding cupolas are all covered with pure gold. The 
 effect of these domes surmounting the white marble of 
 the building in contrast with the cobalt blue of the other 
 portions of the roof can be safely left to the imagina- 
 tion, for it is difficult to describe it moderately. From this 
 remarkable building we drove rapidly to Sparrow Hill 
 from the church built to commemorate the retreat of 
 Napoleon to the spot from which that brilliant genius 
 of the art of war first looked upon the Holy City. On the 
 14th of September, 1812, Napoleon, having ridden to the 
 spot now occupied by a monument, cried out to his sol- 
 diers, " All that is yours! " Never was boast more idle. 
 
 The city they entered was empty of all save the dissolute, 
 the priests, and the liberated prisoners, who had been set 
 free by Eostopchine and instructed to fire the city after 
 the entrance of the French Emperor. How well they 
 kept their bargain history records, for within three days 
 from the French occupation Moscow lay in smouldering 
 ashes. After brief but ineffectual attempts to obtain 
 terms of peace, Napoleon turned his saddened steps toward 
 France, followed by the broken and disorganized remnant 
 of the splendid army with which he had set out to subdue 
 the Muscovite, as he had in the past humbled the Italian, 
 the Austrian, the Turk, and the Prussian. On this spot 
 the greatest military disaster recorded in history occurred. 
 From Moscow to the Berezina the snow was strewn with 
 the bodies of French soldiers, and at the frightful 
 slaughter which occurred during the crossing of that fate- 
 ful river it is estimated that not less than forty thousand 
 
ROUND ABOUT THE COW PATHS. 85 
 
 Frenchmen perished. On Sparrow Hill the Russians have 
 erected a monument to commemorate the tragic event of 
 which it was the scene, and on summer evenings they are 
 wont to walk and lounge in the neighbourhood and to 
 drink their tea and gossip. A writer of much interest in 
 regard to all things Russian has thus described this famous 
 spot: " On the western side of the Moskva, at a distance 
 of three miles from the barrier, rises a hill, or a succession 
 of hills, of no great height. These are the Sparrow Hills, 
 and at their foot flows the Moskva. There is a small vil- 
 lage on the ridge, and a few private houses of gentlemen 
 stand on either side of the village and look down over the 
 river toward the city. There are some small wooden build- 
 ings along the roadside in front of the village, and these 
 are used by people from the city-^-parties of pleasure who 
 come up to the Sparrow Hills to enjoy their tea or dine 
 and look out from the veranda over their sacred and 
 glittering Moscow. The position, the broken and green 
 and grassy slopes with trees and shrubs at intervals, puts 
 one in mind of Richmond Hill, London. The height 
 from the water to the houses is about the same in both; 
 but instead of running, like the Thames, in a straight line 
 across the wide expanse of country below, the Moskva 
 comes up from the left hand with a circular sweep, passes 
 along at the foot of the hill, then descends again by a 
 similar bend to the right, and continues in sight until 
 it is concealed by the houses and bridges of the city at a 
 distance of three miles. From this height the whole of 
 Moscow lies spread out before you like a map. You can 
 see every part of it to its extremities, can mark every 
 rise and fall of the numerous hills, its endless pinnacles 
 and cupolas glittering in the sun, its towers, its bright- 
 coloured houses, and its universal gardens/' 
 
 As I stood there and looked out upon the spectacle 
 before me, I could well imagine the emotions of Napoleon 
 and his soldiers as they gazed upon it after their terrific 
 journey through frost and snow and blood. Here, at last, 
 was the reward of all their hardships. Here, surely, was 
 spoil enough to satisfy the most exacting; here was a 
 
86 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 conquest great enough to add a star even to the crown 
 of that great French conqueror. But the star of destiny 
 had begun to set, the tide of that overwhelming fortune 
 which had prostrated thrones and laid ancient dynasties 
 humbly at his feet had begun to ebb, and Napoleon left 
 Moscow defeated and .broken. Defeated, as he claimed, 
 by the severity of the winter and all its horrors; defeated, 
 as the Russians claim, by their superior military prowess. 
 
 From the Sparrow Hills we drove homeward by way of 
 the Holy Gate, where the traveller, no matter what his 
 faith may be, is compelled by usage to remove his hat as 
 he passes through. It is said that when Napoleon rode 
 through this gate he was told of this custom, but haughtily 
 declined to uncover, whereupon a providential gust of 
 wind did for him what he had refused to do for himself, 
 and he passed through the sacred portals bareheaded. 
 
 Upon our return we had only sufficient time to effect 
 the necessary change of dress and hasten away to the palace 
 of the Civil Governor of Moscow, to attend the reception 
 given by the Grand Duke Serge to all connected with the 
 foreign embassies and legations then in the city for the 
 purpose of being present at the coronation ceremonies. 
 The reception was purely formal, and such as might have 
 occurred in any official circle, and served but to introduce 
 me to the invariable and exquisite polish of manner which 
 everywhere characterizes the high-born Russian. The 
 presentations were made by the Grand Duke's chamber- 
 lain, and the entire function lasted but a little over an 
 hour. 
 
 I was glad to meet here again an old friend, Admiral 
 Selfridge, of the United States Navy, who had been or- 
 dered to Moscow to attend the coronation as our special 
 ambassador, representing the naval forces of our Govern- 
 ment. The admiral's position is not only one of the high- 
 est in our navy, but is unique in that his official rank and 
 position are the same as those held formerly by his father. 
 There is no parallel case to this either in our army or navy, 
 and, more remarkable still, both men are still living to 
 enjoy their well-merited distinction, and, I trust, will con- 
 
BOUND ABOUT THE COW PATHS. 87 
 
 tinue to do so for many years to come. I also met at this 
 function the British Ambassador, Sir Nicholas O'Connor, 
 Count Yamagata of Japan, and many other dignitaries. 
 Li Hung Chang, the Grand Old Man of China, had not 
 yet arrived. 
 
 The following day, Monday, I was kept busy paying 
 calls of ceremony. Among those called upon were the 
 Grand Dukes Serge, Dimitri Constantinovitch, Mikalovitch, 
 Vladimir Alexandrovitch, Alexis Alexandrovitch, and Con- 
 stantine Constantinovitch; Prince Dolgorouki and Prince 
 Jules Ourroussow. This was not so formidable a task as it 
 sounds, for all that is required of one in fulfilling this 
 social obligation is to inscribe his name in the register 
 which is kept at the door of all great houses for that 
 purpose. 
 
 On Monday a function corresponding to that of the 
 previous day was held by the Grand Duchess Serge for the 
 ladies accompanying the different foreign embassies. My 
 mother, who attended this, tells me that the Grand Duchess 
 Serge was peculiarly gracious in her manner. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of the same day I drove to the 
 railway station for the purpose of seeing the Tsar arrive 
 from St. Petersburg, but the crowd about the station was 
 so enormous that I only caught a most distant view of him 
 as he was being whisked away to his temporary abiding 
 place in the Petrovski Palace. 
 
 The evening, however, afforded a sufficiently delight- 
 ful form of enjoyment to atone for the mere officialism of 
 the day. I dined with the officers of the guard at the 
 " Yard " (pronounced yar). The Yard has scarcely an 
 equivalent in America or England. It is situated in the 
 Petrovski Park, and unites the functions of a restaurant 
 wifh those of a concert hall and a variety stage, the pecul- 
 iarity being that the performance proceeds during dinner. 
 If you could add Delmonico's to Koster and Bial's, or 
 Frascati's to the Empire, you would pretty closely assimi- 
 late the Yard. Only you would still have to add the Kus- 
 sian features and hosts, which were upon this occasion the 
 chief charm of the entertainment. The front of the 
 7 
 
88 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Yard is entirely of glass; the spacious dining-room is 
 elaborately decorated, and was adorned, I imagine for 
 this occasion, with oleanders and palms. At one end is 
 the stage. The variety performers, who were all distinctly 
 good, were chiefly Americans and English. They were 
 treated munificently by the Eussian officers, who showered 
 gifts upon them. I have been told by some of these artists 
 that there is no place in the world where a favourite is so 
 generously treated as in St. Petersburg or Moscow. The 
 only distinctively Eussian feature of the entertainment 
 was a gipsy dance. This is as popular in Eussia as 
 the dance of the Nautch girl in India, the Geisha girl 
 in the Farther East, or the ubiquitous skirt dancer in 
 America. 
 
 I had heard a great deal of the grace and beauty of the 
 gipsy dancers the " Tsiganes," as they are called but 
 I must confess that those that I saw were neither fascinat- 
 ing from the standpoint of beauty nor bewitching from 
 the standpoint of grace. I believe it is considered quite 
 the thing for the jeunesse doree of the capital to engage 
 these gipsy dancers to assist at such entertainments; but 
 to me they were a distinct disappointment. They wear 
 short skirts and jackets of bright colours, knee boots of 
 red, yellow, green, or bronze, and bright-coloured hand- 
 kerchiefs about their heads and necks. They sing and 
 dance to wild Tartar music, swaying their bodies as they 
 do so. The chief characteristic of the dance is that it 
 proceeds in a constantly increasing ratio of noise and mo- 
 tion until it reaches the climax of a final crash. They 
 were very popular with our hosts, who applauded vocifer- 
 ously and bestowed much largess upon them. The dinner 
 we had upon this occasion was mainly of French cooking, 
 and everything was upon a lavish scale. Certainly, Eus- 
 sian hospitality is of a free and generous type. Expense 
 is never spared in the entertainment of a guest in the ter- 
 ritory of the Tsar; and one has the delightful feeling when 
 entertained in Eussia that he is conferring as well as re- 
 ceiving a favour. This, I take it, is the acme of hospitality. 
 It was four o'clock as I drove home from the Yard, and as 
 
The Cathedral of St. Basil, Moscow. 
 
ROUND ABOUT THE COW PATHS. 89 
 
 the silver bells of Moscow announced the hour in the soft 
 light of the opening day, I remembered that it was the birth- 
 day of the Emperor, and before turning in for a few hours' 
 rest, wished him from afar "many happy returns of the 
 day/' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 RAIN AND ETIQUETTE. 
 
 IT has always proved a good rule with me to do in Rome 
 as the Romans do. And I certainly never found the rule 
 to work more satisfactorily than in Moscow. A little de- 
 liberation, a bit of careful forethought, and a due regard for 
 the minute directions which had been laid down by the 
 officials in charge of the guests at the coronation ceremonies, 
 saved us, I have no doubt, a world of trouble. During 
 the few days immediately preceding the entree of the Em- 
 peror into his sacred capital it rained hard enough to per- 
 suade one almost that the heavens, too, were in prepara- 
 tion for the great event, emptying themselves of all the 
 spare rain they had on hand. This impression was deep- 
 ened by the splendid weather which was reserved for the 
 ceremonies and for the days immediately following. They 
 speak of the Queen's weather in England, meaning there- 
 by fair weather, and it is an observable fact that it is almost 
 invariably fine when the Queen honours London with a 
 visit. I am sure that they have Tsar's weather in Mos- 
 cow, for no sooner did the young Emperor draw near the 
 capital where he was to be crowned, than the rain abated, 
 the sun shone forth, and all Nature assumed a smiling 
 aspect, which augured well for the reign just about to 
 receive the indorsement of a coronation in the most sacred 
 city of Russia. 
 
 During the days immediately preceding the Tsar's 
 solemn entry we concerned ourselves with getting set- 
 tled in our apartments, securing our courier and carriages, 
 and paying such visits of ceremony as were incumbent 
 
 90 
 
EAIN AND ETIQUETTE. 91 
 
 upon us. Besides this we took pains to inform ourselves 
 as to the exact requirements of court etiquette in the dif- 
 ferent functions to which we had been, or knew we were 
 to be invited. First of all we called upon the Gentlemen 
 of the Chamber to make inquiries about the course to be 
 observed in the matter of dress and other details. They 
 were most polite and thorough, and the brief visit we paid 
 them persuaded us that, with the aid of a little common 
 sense, we should be able to avoid the rocks and shallows 
 which usually bring novices to grief. The names of these 
 Gentlemen of the Chamber were Nicholas von Bunting, 
 Basil de Verechagine, and Lubounier Dinisha. I was 
 interested to see to what perfection of detail these court 
 functions are reduced in the Old World. Nothing was left 
 to the imagination, everything was provided for. And the 
 hands of the Tsar were as firmly bound by a cut-and-dried 
 pre-arrangement of detail as were those of the most incon- 
 spicuous visitor to the coronation. Not only was the 
 position fixed of every person who was at all entitled to 
 consideration, but the very costumes to be worn at the 
 different receptions and ceremonials were decided for one. 
 It is, I imagine, this autocratic supervision of individuals 
 in the older world upon such occasions as the one under 
 consideration that makes it possible for European coun- 
 tries to far surpass us in the display they make at any 
 state or official assemblage. I have beside me, as I write, 
 a card giving explicit instructions for the dresses to be 
 worn by ladies at more than a couple of dozen functions, 
 all under the direction of the Arch Grand Master of Cere- 
 monies. As for men, it was either court dress or uniform. 
 The former, of course, was fixed within certain and im- 
 movable limits, and the latter as elaborate as the individ- 
 ual's service and rank permitted. During this round of 
 investigation I had occasion to visit several of the best 
 hotels; and I can, without reservation, testify to the ad- 
 mirable character of Eussian hostelries. They are large 
 and luxuriously furnished, have splendid sleeping apart- 
 ments, good French cooking, and are in every way quite 
 abreast of the age, comparing favourably with the hotels 
 
92 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 of any other European country. During even a short call 
 at a Russian hotel or private residence overcoats are in- 
 variably removed and left in charge of servants in the 
 hall. In the hotels the domestic work is all in charge of 
 men, the chambermaid nuisance thus being done away 
 with. The rates at the best hotels are about five dollars 
 a day for ordinary accommodation. Of course, one look- 
 ing for extra luxuries in Russia will have to pay for them 
 there as elsewhere. Although I have mentioned it previ- 
 ously, I find, upon referring to my notebook, that it was 
 upon this day, Tuesday the 19th, that we bargained with 
 a Polish individual, Count Bobjinski, for the use of two 
 carriages during our stay in Moscow. The carriages were 
 in all ways satisfactory, but before we got through with 
 the Count we found that it is quite as possible for an 
 aristocrat to be tricky as it is for the veriest democrat in 
 the world. During our use of his carriages he was to 
 furnish us with extra horses if either of those in use went 
 lame. "Well, of course one of them did go lame; but the 
 Count was not forthcoming with an extra horse, and upon 
 an occasion when we especially needed both carriages we 
 found that he had let one of them over our heads for the 
 day without making any provision for us. It was a nasty 
 bit of trickery, which only served as a foil for the other- 
 wise splendid treatment which we received during our 
 stay. 
 
 During the rambles which we made on the 19th and 
 20th we had ample opportunity to observe those features 
 of every Russian city, the isvoschiks and the gorodovoys. 
 During the festivities of the coronation there were within 
 Moscow sixty-three thousand policemen, not counting the 
 large number of troops that practically did police duty. 
 It is no exaggeration to say that in the matter of discipline 
 the Russian police are as good as any in the world. In the 
 streets of Moscow the police are supreme. The isvoschiks 
 live in constant and unending dread of them. It is but 
 necessary for a policeman to glance angrily at an isvoschik 
 to send the latter into a state bordering on collapse. 
 
 It was during our drives about the city on these two 
 

 The holy or Redeemer's gate of the Kremlin. 
 
RAIN AND ETIQUETTE. 93 
 
 days that we saw a good deal of the Kremlin, and over- 
 came that feeling of comparative disappointment with 
 which I believe almost every one gazes for the first time 
 upon that sacred pile. The Kremlin, of course, stands 
 quite by itself, and defies comparison with any other group 
 of buildings in the world. Its arrangement is Oriental 
 that is, in the massing together of a large number of im- 
 portant buildings within very prescribed and narrow 
 limits. Let me erase from the reader's mind a mistake 
 under which I had always rested until I visited Moscow 
 namely, that the Kremlin is a single magnificent building, 
 famous for a variety of reasons. This is not so. The 
 Kremlin, to speak strictly, is a wall, or rampart, about one 
 third of a mile in circumference, which surrounds and 
 incloses a collection of churches^ palaces, and public build- 
 ings, among the most costly and sacred in all Russia. 
 This wall is pierced by five gates, which are all of more or 
 less traditional significance to the devout and patriotic 
 among the Eussians. The first and chief gate is the Spaski 
 Vorota, or Gate of the Redeemer; next comes the Mkolsky, 
 or Nicholas Gate; then the Troitski, or Trinity Gate; while 
 the last two, of less significance, are the Borovitski and 
 the Tainitski, or Prison Gate. The principal one of these, 
 the Holy Gate, is, as I have already indicated, of the very 
 highest sanctity in Russian eyes. Over it is a golden ikon 
 of the Saviour, which is held in peculiar veneration by all 
 the faithful. It is supposed to have withstood any number 
 of sacrilegious attempts to displace it, and is worshipped 
 by the Russians with a devotion as sincere as it is universal. 
 Sentries are constantly on duty to see that strangers going 
 through this gate uncover; here the highest ecclesiastical 
 dignitaries, the Emperor and the noble, as gladly do rever- 
 ence as the humblest peasant that comes to Moscow on in- 
 frequent and memorable pilgrimages. 
 
 The Kremlin stands almost in the centre of Moscow, 
 as any one may see by a glance at the plan of that city, 
 which, by the way, looks as much like a spider's web as 
 anything one can suggest. The moat, which originally 
 surrounded the Kremlin, has been turned into a garden, 
 
94: IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 and now lies at the base of the grim wall like a gay fringe 
 upon a sombre garment. The glories of the Kremlin have 
 been frequently described, and by able pens; but I should 
 do injustice to my own most vivid recollections if I failed to 
 record the splendid and imperishable impression made 
 upon me by a view from the summit of the Tower of Ivan 
 Veliki. This tower stands within the Kremlin, and con- 
 tains a chime of forty bells, the heaviest of which weighs 
 some sixty tons. The smallest of these bells are cast of 
 pure silver, and the sound issuing from them is peculiarly 
 liquid and sweet. The bells of Moscow are almost as cele- 
 brated as those of Newport, but, like the latter, they struck 
 me as being sometimes a trifle loud. In fact, when the 
 Eussians ring, they ring for all they are worth, and their 
 chiming quite as often as not reminded me of Ophelia's 
 lament over Hamlet, 
 
 Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh. 
 
 Near our house there were two churches, and when, 
 after some late function, we were inclined to take a bit of 
 extra sleep in the morning, their bells were definitely re- 
 solved that we should not; and they usually had their way. 
 But the view from the summit of Ivan ah, that was a 
 coup d'ceil well-nigh matchless! I have often looked upon 
 the beauties which may be seen from the Washington 
 Monument. I have surveyed the splendid panorama spread 
 before one from the top of some high building in lower 
 New York; I have looked over the might and gloom of 
 London from the summit of St. Paul's; I have seen the 
 fairy spectacle Paris presents from the Eiffel Tower, but 
 I never saw anything so bewitchingly beautiful as the 
 view of Moscow from the Tower of Ivan. It was as if a 
 rainbow had been broken up by the hand of some god 
 and thrown down in splendid and yet symmetric confusion, 
 the whole being sprinkled with gems of some genie of 
 the East. At the very foot of the tower was the un- 
 rivalled collection of magnificent buildings within the 
 wall of the Kremlin, huddled together with an opulent 
 disregard of wealth, in a confusion of beauty. Beyond, 
 
EAIN AND ETIQUETTE. 95 
 
 the city of Moscow its squares, its brilliant thoroughfares, 
 seen through the light of an early summer's day looked 
 like a glittering stage spectacle viewed through a gauze, 
 with different-coloured lights thrown on the different ob- 
 jects; only that no stage spectacle was ever so over- 
 whelming or quite so beautiful. Think of it six hundred 
 churches with glittering, bejewelled roofs, all of different 
 style; yonder the Arc de Triomphe, there the Eed Gate 
 with its figure of Fame; just at hand the splendid pile of 
 the Hotel de Ville, contrasting in severe but fine simplicity 
 with the Orientalism all about it. And beyond are the two 
 green towers with their golden crosses which surmount 
 the Chapel of the Mother of Iberia; still farther away, 
 and glistening in the sun like the helmets of a group of 
 mighty giants, are the five cupolas of the Cathedral of 
 Our Saviour; and St. Basil, more beautiful than a poet's 
 dream the beauty of which cost the architect his eyes, 
 for when Ivan the Terrible first saw its glory he resolved 
 that its like should not be built again, and so blinded the 
 architect. In the distance stands the Petrovski Palace, 
 showing brightly with its white and red against the sur- 
 rounding landscape, and behind it its many-pinnacled Im- 
 perial Chapel, displaying its dark-green cupolas and pin- 
 nacles against a sky just now as blue as any the languor of 
 Southern seas may ever woo; and through it all the Moskva 
 threads its silent way to the plains beyond, till at last 
 it is lost to sight, a single gleam of silver in a magnificent 
 tangle of green. Do I exaggerate? Stand where I stood 
 upon that summer's morning, and then tell me whether 
 I have not fallen short, far short, of the scene spread 
 before you? 
 
 It was, if my memory serves me rightly, upon this visit 
 to the Palace of the Kremlin that I first had the pleasure 
 of meeting Prince Dolgorouki, who is the Arch Grand 
 Master of Ceremonies, and who figured through all the 
 ceremonies of the coronation as supreme in control. The 
 Prince is an exceedingly polished gentleman, and with 
 his swarthy complexion and silver hair presents a most 
 striking and handsome appearance. In his hands are all 
 
96 IN JOYFUL KUSSIA. 
 
 the details of ceremony connected with the Court of the 
 Tsar, and if easy manner and courteous bearing to all be 
 the essentials of such a position, certainly the Prince is 
 well placed. Tuesday, the 20th of May, the day before the 
 solemn entry of the Tsar into Moscow, was used in about 
 the same way as the previous day had been. We made our- 
 selves better acquainted with Moscow and all there was to 
 be seen within it. On the afternoon of this day a pleasant 
 diversion was presented by a serenade offered by all the 
 musical societies of Moscow to the Emperor, which was 
 given outside the Petrovski Palace. In the afternoon, also, 
 the Dowager Empress arrived to take part in the coronation. 
 I was pleased to notice how warm a welcome this gracious 
 lady received, not only when she arrived in Moscow, but 
 whenever she was seen by the public during the various 
 functions. Not even the Emperor himself was the recipient 
 of warmer popular favours. The Dowager Empress is 
 strikingly like the Princess of Wales, except that now her 
 face wears an invariable expression of sadness, which that 
 of the English Princess has begun to lose. I could not 
 help reflecting how in the very midst of life she is called 
 upon to retire into the background by that imperious 
 Master before whose wand even Tsars must bend. It is such 
 thoughts as these that serve to brush away the cobwebby 
 thing called pomp and majesty, and to show us all on what 
 a complete level we stand in the court of Death. Before 
 that Mighty Monarch we all are commoners. It seemed 
 but yesterday that the Emperor Alexander was on the 
 throne; and now his stricken widow came as in duty 
 bound to be present as her son took the seat left vacant 
 by the death of his father. It is a pleasant and a consol- 
 ing thought that behind all the purple of royalty, and be- 
 neath the imperial crown, the heart of a loving son beats 
 in warmest sympathy for the solitary mother whose chief 
 comfort he is. Thus does the one touch of Nature, not 
 excepting emperors and kings, make the whole world kin. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THEN" THE TSAR CAME. 
 
 I SUPPOSE that in the medieval ages, when knights and 
 crusaders, gaily caparisoned horses and mail-clad warriors 
 abounded on every hand; or in, the old Eoman days, when 
 sweeping togas contrasted with golden armour, glittering 
 shields, and the decorated helmets of the Praetorian 
 Guards; or in those days when the gallant Harry the Fifth 
 made uproarious war on France, and ended by carrying 
 off the gentle Katharine; or when bluff King Hal and 
 Frangois Premier made peace upon the Field of the Cloth 
 of Gold I suppose that in those days they had splendid 
 spectacles; sights to make men cry out with wonder and 
 surprise; but I do not believe that any ancient spectacle 
 ever exceeded the entry of Nicholas II into the ancient 
 capital of Moscow, except, perhaps, the magnificent scene 
 at Alexandria, when Antony and Cleopatra sat in sensuous 
 abandon and gazed upon the glories of Rome and Egypt 
 linked. From every corner of the Russian Empire sub- 
 sidiary princes, covered with gold and gems and sweeping 
 draperies of texture so rich as to put to the blush the weav- 
 ing of many a European loom, had gathered to swell the 
 mighty train. Every European crown was represented, 
 every petty principality, every republic. And all had come 
 to the crowning of the Tsar, prepared to make a brave dis- 
 play to show that they honoured the occasion. 
 
 The cortege was arranged at or near the Petrovski 
 Palace, where the Emperor had spent his time since his 
 arrival in Moscow. Early in the morning the firing of 
 nine guns and the ringing of the bells on the Cathedral of 
 
 97 
 
98 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 the Assumption told all who were to take part in the 
 ceremonial, either actively in the procession or as passive 
 spectators, that they had better be up and stirring. Then 
 in every direction might be seen a stream of splendidly 
 caparisoned horses, carriages decorated with royal and im- 
 perial arms, bodies of troops in spotless and brilliant uni- 
 forms, all hastening to the one objective point the Petrov- 
 ski Palace. The morning was beautiful. There had been 
 overnight a slight shower of rain just enough to lay the 
 dust; a gentle breeze was blowing, and the sun lit up the 
 scene with a brilliance which brought out every detail 
 of the magnificent spectacle that had been prepared. 
 
 The procession must leave the palace and make its way 
 past the railway station, along the Tverskaya, past the 
 palace of the Grand Duke Serge, the Civil Governor of 
 Moscow, and the Chapel of the Sacred Mother of Iberia, 
 and so on to the Kremlin. There were two points of 
 supreme advantage from which to witness this, the gala 
 cortege of the nineteenth century: one at or near the 
 station, which the procession must pass on its way to the 
 palace; and the other at the palace of the Grand Duke 
 Serge, which may be spoken of as the central point of the 
 display. I had arranged to drive to the station, see the 
 cortege pass that point, and then by a detour reach my 
 place in the pavilion that had been erected in the square 
 facing the Grand Duke Serge's palace. I found, by com- 
 paring notes with others afterward, that I could not have 
 hit upon a better plan for viewing the spectacle in its en- 
 tirety. 
 
 Of course the procession was a bit late in starting. I 
 suppose none ever did, or ever will, start quite on time. 
 But after waiting patiently for a little time three guns 
 were heard in quick succession, announcing that Nicholas 
 had mounted his snow-white horse and, attended by his 
 liegemen from all his mighty Empire, was about to enter 
 in state the Holy City of which he is the supreme ruler. 
 From the station I could look down the wide boulevard 
 that stretches between this building and the Petrovski 
 Palace, and see the procession approaching long before it 
 
T 
 
 in m m n o n 
 
 Chapel of the Iberian Mother of, Gpd. 
 
THEN THE TSAR CAME. 99 
 
 came abreast of me. And now all was excitement, as it 
 is at a race meeting when the word passes, " They're off! 
 they're off! " First came a body of gendarmes under the 
 control of the chief of police, followed by the splendid 
 bodyguard of the Emperor. Then came a squadron of 
 those wild and fearless soldiers of whom one hears so con- 
 stantly in Kussia the Cossacks of the Guard. These men, 
 with their swarthy faces, black hair, and piercing eyes, 
 made a fine appearance as they passed. Their uniform 
 consists of a scarlet tunic with silver facings and broad 
 silver epaulettes and blue breeches tucked into knee-boots 
 of black leather. They wear small round caps of black 
 astrachan with scarlet tops, faced with the arms of Russia. 
 These formed a fitting vanguard for the splendid body of 
 Asiatic princes which followed a body of men as various 
 in face and figure as they were brilliant in garb, and dis- 
 playing by their differences the extent of the victories won 
 by the arms of Eussia through all the mighty wastes of 
 central Asia. 
 
 Following these were the representatives of the various 
 Cossack populations which acknowledge the sceptre of the 
 Tsar, and behind them representatives of the nobility of 
 Moscow, led by their marshal. Following this brave dis- 
 play of horsemen came a troop of court footmen and court 
 couriers half of them white and half of them coal-black 
 Africans all in gorgeous uniforms; then a troop of the 
 imperial huntsmen, led by the Master of the Hunt, an 
 official equivalent to the Lord High Falconer in England. 
 All these officials were apparelled in uniforms resplendent 
 with colour, gold embroideries, and glistening orders. 
 
 And now the line of horsemen was broken for the 
 introduction of some magnificent vehicles, bearing the high 
 officials having in charge the different ceremonies of the 
 coronation. First of these were the two Grand Masters of 
 Ceremonies; and then immediately following was Prince 
 Dolgorouki, the Arch Grand Master of the Court, in a 
 splendid court carriage drawn by six white horses, and 
 riding in solitary state. I should have noticed, in order 
 to be altogether faithful in my narrative, that an imperial 
 
100 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 band preceded the huntsmen, led by the chief of the band 
 on horseback. After Prince Dolgorouki came twenty-four 
 Gentlemen of the Chamber, and then twelve Chamberlains. 
 Following these, and in the order named, were four digni- 
 taries of the foreign courts; the Marshal of the Court with 
 his insignia of office; members of the council of the Em- 
 pire, their Grand Marshal, bearing his insignia of office, 
 being seated in a magnificent state phaeton worthy of a 
 king. Then followed a squadron of the Cavalier Guard, of 
 which her Imperial Majesty, the Dowager Empress, is the 
 Honorary Colonel; and a squadron of the Gardes a Cheval. 
 These are supposedly the two crack regiments of the Bus- 
 sian army though, for my part, I preferred the light and 
 dashing Hussars, who, I thought, made a much more effect- 
 ive and taking appearance, judged from a military point 
 of view. 
 
 The Gardes a Cheval correspond to the Life Guards of 
 the English army. They are a splendid body of men, but 
 serve more for purposes of display about the court than 
 for really effective field service. They are recruited from 
 the flower of the Eussian population, wealth being a sine 
 qua non of admission to their ranks. Their uniform, 
 which is beautifully bright, consists of a white tunic 
 trimmed with gold braid laid on scarlet, a golden cuirass, 
 and a massive golden helmet surmounted by the Imperial 
 Eagle in gold. On the front of the helmet is a white star 
 with a blue centre, and the uniform is completed by white 
 gauntlets, blue breeches tucked into black boots, and a 
 cavalry sabre. The saddle-cloth is dark blue edged with 
 scarlet and gold, and bears in each corner a star similar 
 to that worn upon the helmet. The uniform of the 
 Cavalier Guards is very similar. There is more white in 
 the facings, and scarcely any scarlet in the body of the 
 dress. The helmet is topped with a silver eagle instead of 
 a gold one, the epaulettes are of silver, and the saddle-cloth 
 is scarlet edged with blue and white. Of course, the dis- 
 play made by such bodies of men is imposing in the last 
 degree. It was to these two regiments that the place of 
 honour, immediately preceding his Majesty the Emperor, 
 
THEN THE TSAR CAMjJ.' /, j ^ 
 
 was accorded. And now the supreme moment in the pro- 
 cession had arrived. A hush fell over all. I was reminded 
 I hope not sacrilegiously of that triumphant line, " Lift 
 up your heads, ye everlasting gates, and let the King of 
 Glory come in! " Who is the King of Glory? Look! 
 
 A fair-haired boy, slightly built, with blonde and silken 
 beard, astride a horse that is white as untrodden snow 
 and as gentle as the plaything of a child, clad in a simple 
 uniform of dark green, and holding his gloved hand con- 
 stantly to his astrachan cap in salute this is the King of 
 Glory. He is pale evident emotion stirs within him as 
 he turns quietly from side to side acknowledging the thor- 
 oughly imperial reception accorded him. His eye glistens. 
 And he is alone, the one solitary. figure in all that mighty 
 host. His person is open to the admiration, or it may be 
 the assault, of all. At any rate, no craven fear prevents his 
 riding in such a position that all his faithful people may 
 have a complete view of their Emperor. It was a moment 
 to stir the most phlegmatic breast. It was of no use to 
 say to one's self, " I am a republican; it will never do for 
 me to display enthusiasm over a regal show." No; the 
 veriest socialist in the world yes, even a deep-dyed 
 Nihilist would, as he glanced upon that youthful figure, 
 have cast his theories to the wind and shouted, in spite of 
 himself, " Long live the Emperor! " 
 
 At the gate of the city opposite the railway station 
 the Governor of Moscow advanced on foot and tendered to 
 the Emperor the plate of bread and salt which is the sym- 
 bol of friendship and fealty. 
 
 And now I made my escape. Driving swiftly by a cir- 
 cuitous route that removed me altogether from the crowds 
 gathered along the route of the procession, I made my way 
 to the pavilion erected opposite the Grand Duke Serge's 
 palace, to occupy the place which had been reserved for 
 me, and to which the ladies of our party had gone earlier 
 in the day. Here the crowd was very dense. Looking 
 either way from this elevation, one saw nothing but in- 
 terminable lines of soldiers, and a sea of upturned eager 
 faces, all gazing in one direction all watching for the 
 
^ IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 coming of that solitary horseman. While we were thus 
 waiting, an unexpected incident occurred in the Grand 
 Duke's palace, where the dignitaries of the Diplomatic 
 Corps were assembled. A fire started in to celebrate the 
 coronation in its own way and afforded an almost amusing 
 diversion. No harm was done, but there was about as lively 
 a scattering of diplomats as was ever witnessed; and con- 
 spicuous among those to make what is called upon the 
 stage, I believe, " a quick exit," were the members of the 
 Chinese Embassy. The way they held their many-coloured 
 skirts aloft in running across the street was worthy of a 
 Paris boulevard upon a rainy day. Here, also, I had an- 
 other confirmation of my fast-growing conviction that 
 there is no country on earth superior to Eussia in the 
 matter of discipline. The fire department was called out. 
 It came with little or no bustle. The crowd displayed no 
 excitement; the men went to work, and in a very few 
 minutes all was over. There are no water mains in Mos- 
 cow; and that used for extinguishing fires is brought to the 
 scene in barrels and pumped on to the flames by hand appa- 
 ratus which would disgrace a third-class Western town. The 
 firemen wear short double-breasted jackets of gray blanket 
 goods, a very wide leather belt, and attached to the latter 
 a big ring and hatchet. All bear coils of rope over their 
 shoulders. The brass helmet is very similar to that worn 
 by the London Fire Brigade. They are large men, under 
 perfect discipline, and go to work without the slightest 
 show of excitement. Indeed, the only excitement on this 
 occasion was on the part of the diplomats. 
 
 While we were awaiting the arrival of the procession, 
 I noticed that in the square beneath us the police had made 
 room for a large number of school children, who were 
 marched to the place for the purpose of catching a glimpse 
 of their Emperor. At about two o'clock the murmur of 
 voices, which always in a great crowd preludes a climax, 
 began to grow louder and still louder, and all knew that 
 the Tsar was approaching. It was indeed a scene to live 
 forever in the memory of the spectator. The street was 
 lined with infantry; behind these were mounted Cossacks, 
 
THEN THE TSAR CAME. 103 
 
 behind the latter the police, and then everywhere crowds 
 of faces. And now they come the Tsar riding alone, as 
 before. Such a roar as greeted him! Such a waving of 
 handkerchiefs from the balconies resplendent with femi- 
 nine beauty attired as richly as that in the pageant below! 
 The Emperor was followed at some little distance by an 
 imperial escort of grand dukes and royal princes, which 
 would have graced the retinue of a world-conqueror in the 
 zenith of his glory. Among these foreign princes the Duke 
 of Connaught looked remarkably well, and was every- 
 where greeted with enthusiasm and respect. Before this 
 royal group rode the Minister of War, the Aide-de-camp 
 General commanding the military household of the Tsar, 
 and other great military officials. 
 
 Shortly after the Tsar in the procession came, first, the 
 Dowager Empress in a state carriage drawn by eight horses; 
 then the Tsaritsa, to whose golden vehicle were attached 
 eight snow-white stallions; and for these two the crowd, 
 already hoarse, seemed anxious to expand its last fragment of 
 lung power. And after them came a train of queens, grand 
 duchesses, princesses, and other high ladies, followed by 
 squadrons of the Cuirassier Guards, the Lancers, and the 
 Hussars. Think of a procession of human beings clothed 
 so richly that the pen falters at a description of their 
 attire, most of them mounted on as fine a lot of horses as 
 the eye could wish to look upon; vary the picture by in- 
 serting here and there the representatives of the Orient; 
 then punctuate it with these magnificent vehicles which 
 carried the high officials and court ladies! Watch it as it 
 passes along. Listen to the ringing of bells, the firing of 
 cannon, the ever-repeated shout of the never-tired multi- 
 tude. Flood this scene with undimmed sunshine worthy 
 of Italy in her fairest moments, and keep in sight that 
 fair boy yonder on the white horse as he passes into the 
 Kremlin, and you will have been witness to as grand a 
 display and to as touching a sight withal as this genera- 
 tion, or indeed any other, is likely to look upon. 
 
 And thus it swept along, borne by the hoarse cheers 
 of men, the chorused shout of soldiers, the shrill voices of 
 8 
 
104 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 school children, the flaunting of flags, the waving of hand- 
 kerchiefs, and the blare of trumpets. Surely, never was 
 prince more royally welcomed to his capital; never more 
 heartily blessed by his waiting subjects. It should be a 
 proud moment for Nicholas II, never to be effaced from his 
 memory; for to him, at least, can there come no other day 
 quite so significant or so grand. 
 
 From this point the Emperor passed on until he came 
 to the entrance of the Kitai Gorod. Here he dismounted 
 and, with the Tsaritsa, entered the Chapel of the Mother 
 of Iberia, and all alone in this tiny sanctuary they two did 
 reverence to one of the most revered of Russian saints. 
 
 No Tsar ever comes to Moscow without dismounting 
 on his way to the Kremlin to worship here. 
 
 When at last the Tsar came within the Kremlin walls, 
 he found a mighty throng awaiting him. All around the 
 great square had been erected tribunes, which were filled 
 with Eussian nobles and the dignitaries from the Asiatic 
 countries under Russian rule or protection. Prominent 
 among the latter, the Ameer of Bokhara and the Khan of 
 Khiva in their gorgeous robes of red and green and gold 
 viewed the scene with Oriental stoicism. Near them the 
 Lamas from Thibet blazed in yellow satin robes and brass 
 head-dresses. In contrast to these were prelates from every 
 evangelical denomination in their serious and sober-col- 
 oured vestments. Farther on, great numbers of Russian 
 nuns and long rows of orphans and charity-school chil- 
 dren occupied a considerable space; bodies of men repre- 
 senting the trades and industries filled in the centre of 
 the square, and bordering all was a double line of soldiery. 
 The Metropolitans, clothed in vestments of cloth of gold, 
 awaited the Emperor's coming at the doors of the churches, 
 holding the censers, crosses, and ikons. The cortege, when 
 it arrived, dismounted and entered the Cathedral of the 
 Assumption; the Emperor was preceded by his marshals, 
 and had on either side the Empresses, whose long trains 
 were borne by pages. They were followed by the grand 
 dukes and duchesses and foreign sovereigns and princes, 
 and the ladies and gentlemen of the court. After a brief 
 

THEN THE TSAE CAME. 105 
 
 service they left the Cathedral of the Assumption and 
 visited those of the Archangel Michael and of the Saviour 
 in the Wood; returning, the Emperor mounted the Eed 
 Staircase, and, amid the shouting and rejoicing of his 
 people, took possession of the Palace of the Kremlin. He 
 had at last come to rule in the house of his fathers as the 
 father of his people. Thus ended the first great act in this 
 wonderful spectacular performance which meant so much 
 to this mighty nation. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PROCLAIMING THE CORONATION. 
 
 IN no European country has the rich ceremonial of 
 past ages so perfectly survived as in the Russian Empire. 
 Linked as the state is in closest intimacy to the Greek 
 Church, and rich in the atmosphere of the Orient, it is 
 the soil of all others for the growth and fruition of an 
 elaborate and perfected pageantry. The succession of 
 functions at the coronation of the Tsar was at once fas- 
 cinating and bewildering. I found myself wondering what 
 new forms this extended series of acts of allegiance and 
 devotion could still assume; and I also found myself won- 
 dering whether I should not become hopelessly mixed 
 when I came to try to assort them and place them in order 
 in my memory. This was at the time; but distance some- 
 times has a clarifying effect, and, as I look back, the dif- 
 ferent scenes in the brilliant spectacle arrange themselves 
 in as orderly array as the succession of views presented in a 
 well-painted panorama. I see their relations to each other 
 and to the whole; and I wonder at the ingenuity, the skill, 
 and the infinite industry and painstaking of the persons 
 to whom was intrusted the weaving of this perplexing 
 fabric. One of its most interesting features from the 
 standpoint of the populace was the proclamation of the 
 coronation. This was attended with very intricate detail, 
 and by a body of officials arrayed in garments as bright 
 and glowing as those of any stage king, and of far greater 
 value. This ceremony was under the direction of a full 
 general, who was assisted by two aide-de-camp generals, 
 two aide-de-camp lieutenant-generals, two Grand Masters 
 
 106 
 
.> 
 
PROCLAIMING THE CORONATION. 107 
 
 of the Ceremonies of the Coronation, two Imperial Heralds 
 at Arms, four Masters of Ceremonies, and two Secretaries 
 of the Senate. The military escort consisted of four squad- 
 rons of cavalry: two from the Chevalier Guards and two 
 from the regiment of the Gardes a Cheval, with a complete 
 corps of drummers and trumpeters. The proclamation was 
 to be repeated on three days the three immediately pre- 
 ceding the coronation i. e., the llth, 12th, and 13th of 
 May, according to the Eussian calendar, corresponding to 
 the 23d, 24th, and 25th of ours. The proclamation, which 
 was first read in the Senate building within the Kremlin, 
 is as follows: 
 
 " Our Most August, Most High and Puissant Sover- 
 eign, the Emperor Nicholas Alexandrovich, having as- 
 cended the hereditary throne of the Empire of Russia, and 
 of the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Fin- 
 land, which are inseparable therefrom, has deigned to 
 order, after the example of the most pious sovereigns his 
 glorious ancestors, that the holy ceremony of the corona- 
 tion and anointment of his Imperial Majesty should, with 
 the help of the Almighty, take place on the 14th day of 
 May; furthermore, his Majesty has commanded that his 
 august spouse, the Empress Alexandra Feodorovna, should 
 participate in this holy function. 
 
 "By the present proclamation this solemnity is an- 
 nounced to all the faithful subjects of his Majesty, in order 
 that on this ardently desired day they may raise their most 
 fervent prayers to the King of Kings, so that of his un- 
 failing grace he may deign to bless his Majesty's reign, 
 and preserve the public peace and tranquility to the 
 greater glory of his Holy Name and the unalterable pros- 
 perity of the Empire." 
 
 From the Senate building the procession proceeded 
 in great state to the Red Square, which is immediately 
 without the inclosure of the Kremlin, and there, the cav- 
 alry having taken up positions on each flank, the heralds, 
 secretaries, and other officials being in the centre, after a 
 fanfare of trumpets, the proclamation was again read, this 
 time to the assembled multitude, which listened in silence, 
 
108 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 and at the close, as the trumpets and drums executed the 
 National Anthem, broke out in cheers and shouts. The 
 display was very imposing and interesting, and highly 
 successful in all respects, save the reading, which was 
 scarcely a first-class elocutionary effort. From this point 
 the cortege separated, and, riding to different well-known 
 points throughout the city, repeated the reading and the 
 salutes. During the three days this ceremony was carried out 
 at between thirty and forty different places within the city. 
 The heralds were supposed to scatter the printed proclama- 
 tions among the people, but this was a detail which, so 
 far as I could observe, was not carried out. At any rate, 
 I had to pay two roubles for the copy I secured, and I did 
 not hear of any one else procuring a free copy. The 
 heralds, in all their finery of gold and white, and decorated 
 surtouts, riding white horses clad in golden trappings, 
 looked for all the world like the conventional pictures of 
 that king of England who was as much celebrated for his 
 fondness of marriage as he was for defending the faith. 
 Such, then, was the ceremony of the Solemn Proclamation 
 of Nicholas II similar, I suppose, to all other proclama- 
 tions for the last two centuries at least. 
 
 Among the delightful Americans I met at Moscow 
 who have taken up Eussian citizenship was the Baroness 
 Hune. Baron Hune is commander of the squadron of the 
 Chevalier Guards which is on duty in the Imperial Palace; 
 and consequently, during all the ceremonies of the coro- 
 nation, he was actively engaged and very near the person 
 of the Emperor. He is a tall, handsome man, a fine sol- 
 dier, and reminded me more of a splendid specimen of 
 the German guard than of a thorough Eussian, as he is. 
 The Baroness is an exceedingly popular and very beautiful 
 woman. She is the daughter of Cyrus Lothrop, a former 
 United States Minister to St. Petersburg, and is an illus- 
 tration of the typical American woman. She told me in con- 
 versation that she had grown very fond of Eussia and the 
 Eussians, and that, while she had not forgotten America, 
 she felt that America and Eussia should be bracketed to- 
 gether. They are both great countries, and, although they 
 
PROCLAIMING THE CORONATION. 109 
 
 differ widely in many respects, they have a great deal in 
 common, which should tend to cement a perpetual friend- 
 ship. Another link between the two countries is found 
 in the person of Mr. Alexander P. Berry, that brilliant 
 and successful engineer, who designed and constructed 
 the buildings of our Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia, 
 and who, while seeking rest and recreation in foreign 
 travels, perceived the opportunity presented in Eussia 
 for the employment of skill and enterprise. In his thir- 
 teen years of residence in that country, by the combina- 
 tion of American energy and talent with Kussian industry, 
 he has not only achieved for himself a national reputation 
 and amassed a large fortune, but has been personally in- 
 strumental in developing the iron manufacturing industry, 
 and raised to a high standard mechanical construction in 
 all its branches. He at present maintains offices in eleven 
 of the principal cities of Eussia, and has works of various 
 kinds scattered over the length and breadth of the Em- 
 pire. 
 
 Within the last few years American enterprise and 
 capital have found a highly productive field in Eussia. 
 Among those thus induced to make their homes in that far- 
 off country is Mr. Fred. Smith, formerly of Philadel- 
 phia, who, with his associates, has established a large loco- 
 motive works and steel plant, whose success is assured. 
 
 A number of these self-exiled Americans meeting in 
 Moscow during the coronation celebrated the event by a 
 little dinner at the Ermitage. There was nothing remark- 
 able about the dinner, except the place in which it was 
 given. There are in Moscow several first-class establish- 
 ments for the giving of entertainments, but none is better 
 than the Ermitage. The Praga is smaller and more of the 
 order of a club; this is an enormous establishment and 
 quite unique of its kind. If one goes to Eussia with the 
 idea that he will have to live on an indifferent diet, he only 
 needs to dine at the Ermitage to have that impression 
 swiftly and permanently dissipated. The dinner we had 
 upon this occasion was as good as we could have secured 
 at the best places in London or New York; it was served 
 
HO IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 smoothly and picturesquely by the white-clad waiters, 
 and the cost was about what it would have been elsewhere 
 in Europe, or in America. The dinner passed off very 
 pleasantly. 
 
 While we were feasting, the Tsar and Tsaritsa had 
 already entered upon the three days of fasting and prayer 
 which immediately preceded the coronation. This is a 
 kind of retreat prescribed for the Tsar's observation by 
 the Church functionaries, and religiously observed by 
 him. These three days were spent in the Petrovski Palace, 
 largely in the observation of certain acts of devotion and 
 self-abasement which are regarded by the ecclesiastical 
 authorities as of the highest value in connection with the 
 enthronement of the Emperor. To omit this retreat and 
 its accompanying ceremonies would be an offence in the 
 minds of the faithful, and would augur ill for the reign 
 about to commence. No Tsar, whatever his own proclivi- 
 ties, would think of neglecting a single link in this long 
 chain of elaborate ceremony. 
 
 Sunday, the 24th, was passed quietly. In the morning 
 took place the consecration of the imperial standards in 
 the armory of the Kremlin. This is a ceremony which is 
 observed afresh with the accession of each new occupant 
 of the Russian throne. It is essentially a private func- 
 tion, and was attended only by the Tsar, his immediate 
 family, and the more intimate and exalted members of 
 his military household. The ceremonial merely consists 
 of the blessing of the standards, and the offering of prayers 
 appropriate to the occasion for the prosperity of those 
 standards during the forthcoming reign. In the after- 
 noon I visited the Cathedral of St. Basil, which, as I have 
 mentioned elsewhere, cost its architect the loss of his 
 eyes. From without, its aspect is most perplexing, sur- 
 mounted as it is by no less than eleven different domes. 
 By looking closely at the illustration, it will be observed 
 that no two of these domes are exactly alike; but when 
 one looks at the building in its entirety, and sees the 
 variety of colours employed in the adornment of the domes 
 and minarets, the effect is strange and weird. Here is a 
 
PROCLAIMING THE CORONATION. 
 
 deep magenta, there a sky-blue, yonder a rich terra-cotta, 
 beside it a tender violet, flanked with a deep sea-green; 
 and over all, on the principal, shaft-like steeple, a golden 
 dome surmounted by a slender, graceful cross of the same 
 precious metal. It is easier to imagine the effect of this 
 combination than to describe it. The cathedral stands at 
 one end of the Eed Square, and was originally erected on 
 the site of an ancient cemetery where the remains of St. 
 Basil were buried. Ivan the Terrible caused a wooden 
 church to be built over the saint's remains in 1554, in com- 
 memoration of the victory of his arms over some foreign 
 foe. Later the wooden structure was taken down, and the 
 present and magnificent house of worship erected. As may 
 be well imagined, the church within is quaint in the ex- 
 treme. Each of the domes covers a distinct and separate 
 chapel, and these are all connected by a labyrinth of pas- 
 sages covered with the pictures of saints and with sacred 
 relics. Among these are the chains and crosses which 
 St. Basil used to wear for the purpose of penance and to 
 further promote his growth in grace. The cathedral is, 
 of course, worth visiting, but one never gets a better im- 
 pression of it than when it is seen from a distance under 
 the illuminating effect of a brilliant sun. It then presents 
 a vision of startling, irregular beauty, such as the spec- 
 tator is not likely to see repeated, travel he ever so far. 
 
 We ended this quiet Sunday most delightfully by din- 
 ing at the German Embassy. This was a state dinner 
 given by Prince Radolin, the German Ambassador. This 
 dinner, although given by Prince Radolin, was presided 
 over by the Grand Duke Vladimir, who took the Princess 
 Radolin in to dinner, the Prince escorting the Grand 
 Duchess. My mother was escorted by the Portuguese Am- 
 bassador. The dinner was purely formal, and there was no 
 after-dinner speaking, or any other form of mental torture 
 with which so many good dinners are spoiled, both in Eng- 
 land and America. At one end of the dining-room there was 
 suspended a full-length portrait of the German Emperor. 
 The menu was in French. Emperor William had sent 
 to Moscow his own plate for use at this occasion, and the 
 
IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 servants were in the elaborate livery of the German court. 
 There was, of course, music during the dinner. I learned, 
 among other interesting items, that the dates of the entire 
 list of state dinners had been arranged by the Grand Master 
 of Ceremonies, so that there might be no clashing; some- 
 thing altogether necessary when one reflects upon the 
 gigantic scale upon which everything connected with the 
 coronation was conducted. 
 

n 
 
 
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 * 
 
 I 
 
 e 
 
 I 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE CROWNING OF A TSAE. 
 
 I HAVE been assured by those familiar with court func- 
 tions that this century has not witnessed anything superior 
 as a state spectacle to the crowning of Nicholas II. I can 
 easily believe this. To say that I had never seen anything 
 approaching it is to say little, for almost all my experi- 
 ence has been along the line of republican simplicity, 
 rather than in the direction of monarchical display. I 
 should not, therefore, have trusted my own judgment in 
 comparing this ceremony with others of the same sort at 
 other courts. There were, however, present in Moscow 
 during the coronation celebrities from every clime 
 diplomats who had had experience of Oriental opulence, 
 Occidental extravagance and democratic simplicity, and 
 their unanimous decision was that which I have stated. 
 Moscow had outdone herself. The resources of Tsardom 
 had been called upon to make such a display as this gen- 
 eration had not seen, and they proved equal to the de- 
 mand. 
 
 A blaze of glory! Jewels without number and without 
 price bedecking women as fair as poet's dream could paint 
 them! A constant stream of brilliant uniforms, flashing 
 with decorations, and putting the rainbow to shame for 
 variety and splendour of colour. A city scintillating by 
 night with millions of minute illuminations in such a 
 combination of colour and form as to baffle description 
 and defy the imagination; by day gay with innumerable 
 flags, bannerets, and picturesque designs all this set off 
 by a city whose normal beauty and quaintness excel those 
 
 113 
 
114 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 of any of Europe, and perhaps of the world. Such was the 
 impression left en Hoc upon my mind by the coronation 
 day and its elaborate functions. 
 
 I shall perhaps give the reader a fairer idea of this 
 full and fascinating day if I describe the event as we 
 actually saw it from its beginning, and drift through its 
 hours, pen in hand, trying to reproduce the dazzling, 
 kaleidoscopic panorama as it impressed itself upon my 
 memory. 
 
 Of course, we were all excitement. We had reached 
 the apex. Everything else in the way of ceremony had 
 been simply preparatory to this. After it, all else would 
 gradually fade away until the dead level of the common- 
 place had been reached once more. We had retired early 
 on the previous night, knowing well that a hard day's 
 work awaited us. At 5.30 we were aroused, and soon 
 all were astir and bustling with excitement. Our one 
 long looking-glass was in great demand, for every one was 
 to display everything in the way of full dress which he or 
 she possessed. To-day G. revealed himself in the very 
 fetching court costume which he had procured in Paris. 
 And I must confess that, when he appeared in all the glory 
 of cocked hat, brass buttons, knee breeches, silk stockings, 
 dress sword, and silver buckles, he was a very fine-looking 
 young American. We did ample justice to a hearty break- 
 fast before starting, as we were forewarned that it would 
 be many a long hour before we should have another chance 
 to eat. At 6.45 we left the house in two carriages my 
 mother, whom I thought beautiful enough for a place 
 in any court ceremony the world over, and the other ladies 
 occupying one, G. and I, with our ubiquitous, not to say 
 iniquitous, courier, the other. 
 
 Our first rendezvous was at the house of the Turkish 
 Ambassador, to whom, as the senior of the Corps Diplo- 
 matique, the ambassadorial honours of the day were paid. 
 At his residence we formed in line and made our way to 
 the Kremlin. The air was charged with electricity. Every 
 one was more or less excited. The crowds in the streets 
 gazed with open-mouthed wonder at anything and at 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. H5 
 
 everything. A Eussian crowd is not mercurial. One 
 might, perhaps with justice, declare it lymphatic. During 
 the coronation itself, however, the fire of genuine interest 
 and enthusiasm seemed to have melted the ice, and from 
 prince to peasant all classes were alive with eager curiosity 
 and clamorous applause. The scene on the way to the 
 Kremlin was indicative of the representative nature of the 
 multitude assembled in Moscow to do honour to the Tsar. 
 From every corner of his Empire, men, women, and little 
 babes even, had come many of them travelling hundreds 
 of miles afoot to be present at the crowning of the Great 
 White Tsar. What devotion! At best, all they could hope 
 for was a far-away glimpse of their ruler as he drove 
 through the streets, perhaps the shadow of one of the win- 
 some smiles which illuminated and beautified the features 
 of the Tsaritsa throughout all the weary succession of 
 form and ceremony. The order was superb. I could 
 scarcely realize that I was in the land of which so many 
 exaggerations had been published, as I looked upon the 
 quiet, orderly, and enthusiastic throngs which lined the 
 streets on our way to the function which should enthrone 
 the Tsar. 
 
 By one of those remarkable mistakes which our courier 
 was constantly making, we succeeded in getting lost on 
 our way to the Kremlin. It was a habit of this person 
 to make mistakes which resulted almost invariably in land- 
 ing us in just the place for which we were not intended. 
 Usually we landed in a better one. As a matter of fact, 
 we could scarcely have been in better hands or worse. 
 For the seeing of sights, for the securing of advantages 
 difficult to be obtained, for the framing of useful lies in 
 the midst of embarrassing emergencies, our courier was cer- 
 tainly a past master. As may be well supposed, a nature 
 possessing these qualities would not be altogether free 
 from certain capacities in the way of duplicity and im- 
 pertinence. However, cheek and deception are probably 
 more valuable in a courier at such a function than modesty. 
 
 As a matter of fact, we were bound for the diplomatic 
 tribune, but, as G. described our experience afterward in 
 
116 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 a letter home, " we got lost in the shuffle, and turned up 
 in the throne room." "We did not, however, immediately 
 enter the throne room, but by one of those sudden move- 
 ments which one experiences in a crowd, we found our- 
 selves in one of the antechambers which seemed to be 
 devoted to the ladies in waiting. G. immediately became 
 an object of interest. And I fancied that I detected a 
 slight straightening of the vertebras on G.'s part when he 
 found himself the cynosure of so many sparkling eyes. In 
 this room we had our first and, indeed, only glimpse of 
 the imperial baby. It was a sweet little thing, peacefully 
 reclining in its nurse's arms, and might have been any one 
 else's baby quite as well as the baby of a Tsar and a 
 Grand Duchess of Eussia. We were allowed to look at it, 
 and, indeed, it was allowed to look at us, which it did 
 in a very witching way, smiling sweetly. After all, when 
 one gets down to the buff, we are all very much alike. I 
 have often seen my own babies smile quite as sweetly; but 
 still, in that tiny tot's smile I found the one touch of 
 Nature which established between it and us the human 
 kinship that is universal. 
 
 Firmly convinced that we were in the wrong shop, we 
 yet determined to assume an air of proprietorship and see 
 what was to be seen. So we sauntered out of the ante- 
 chamber in which the little Grand Duchess Olga was hold- 
 ing her court, and, passing into the next room, found that 
 we were in the throne room of the palace, otherwise known 
 as the Hall of St. Andrew. This was simply crowded with 
 uniformed and order-bedecked princes, generals, official 
 and court dignitaries of the highest rank. It was diffi- 
 cult to realize their exalted positions on account of their 
 multitude. 
 
 Anything more beautiful than this hall it is scarcely 
 possible to conceive. The floor is of polished woods, which 
 throw back into the spectator's eyes brilliant reflections 
 of the gold and crystal ornamentation of the walls and 
 ceiling. The hall is one hundred and sixty feet long by 
 sixty-eight feet wide; down each side is a row of columns, 
 which at the top bend to the curve of the domed ceiling. 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. H7 
 
 These pillars are picked out in gold on a background of 
 light blue, the colour of the Order of St. Andrew. Be- 
 tween the columns, and pendent from the ceiling, which 
 is also of blue and gold, are the splendid gold and crystal 
 chandeliers. At night, when the candles required to il- 
 luminate this room more than two thousand in number 
 are lighted, the scene presented to the eye is one of scintil- 
 lating magnificence, difficult to exaggerate. It reminded 
 me of some splendid stage spectacle, with this difference: 
 that here all the properties were genuine. The Order of 
 St. Andrew is the Russian equivalent of the English Order 
 of St. George, being the senior among Russian orders. At 
 the extreme end of this hall, on a platform reached by six 
 gentle steps, was the throne of Russia. It was made august 
 by a rich over-reaching canopy bedight with gold and sil- 
 ver embroidery; and the draperies which depended on 
 either side were without of velvet and cloth of gold heavy 
 with the arms of Russia, and within white with costly 
 ermine, the fur which royalty chiefly affects. When I 
 saw the throne, there were three chairs on the platform. 
 These were for the Tsar, his wife, and his mother. That 
 was, I thought, as it should be. The Dowager Empress 
 is not pushed aside by the incoming Tsar. The affection 
 between mother and son is said to be very intense, and 
 certainly, through all the ceremonies, next to the gentle 
 lady by his side, she whom the Tsar most delighted to 
 honour was the widowed mother whose chastened grief 
 seemed to sanctify and ennoble every scene upon which 
 she gazed. I suppose that moralizing in such circum- 
 stances is a rather cheap refuge, and I had hoped to avoid 
 it altogether. It was, however, difficult to stand before 
 that throne and suppress all reflections of a sociological 
 character. Napoleon the Great, in one of his bitter mo- 
 ments, scoffed at the throne as a device of pine boards 
 and velvet. Even so: With what significance can pine 
 boards and velvet be laden in certain circumstances! This 
 throne before which I stood, how tremendous is its power, 
 how sweeping are its responsibilities! It is charged with 
 the government of one seventh of the land surface of the 
 
118 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 earth; revered by a population of over one hundred and 
 twelve millions of human beings; supported by an army 
 of more than a million men, which on a war footing is 
 swiftly turned into two millions; gathering within its 
 paternal embrace men of all colours and many climes; in- 
 trenched in a series of traditions strong as death; but- 
 tressed by a Church whose chief is the Tsar, and whose 
 highest tenet, after faith in God, is submissive devotion 
 to him. Surely, I thought, as I looked upon it, that pine 
 boards and velvet are in such circumstances significant 
 and eloquent. And as my thought turned to the young 
 monarch upon whose shoulders so early in life this tre- 
 mendous power had been placed, I found myself hoping 
 that he might find a way to soothe the irritated among his 
 subjects, and to lead his people, like a modern Moses, into 
 the broad fields of peace, plenty, and contentment. 
 
 While we were in the throne room I noticed on each 
 side of it a rank of the Chevalier Guards on duty. Why 
 they were there, except as part of the general pageant, 
 it is difficult to say. Upon this occasion they were all in 
 absolutely new uniforms to grace the Holy Coronation, 
 and I was much amused, as they stood there in all their 
 magnificence, to notice a couple of soldier-servants going 
 down each line and dusting off their boots, of which opera- 
 tion they took no more notice than if carved out of stone. 
 In this room (I had an excellent chance to observe them) 
 were the crown jewels of Russia. They were exhibited on 
 a long table covered with cloth of gold and surrounded 
 by a silver chain which was suspended from the beaks of 
 silver eagles surmounting silver posts. The jewels were 
 there awaiting the supreme moment when they should be 
 taken away to be used in the sacred ceremony in the 
 cathedral. Among them were the Imperial Sceptre, the 
 globe of gold with its sparkling ornamentations, the sacred 
 crown with which Nicholas II later crowned himself the 
 supreme monarch of the Russian Empire, the two crowns 
 of the Empresses (both masses of diamonds), the two 
 jewelled collars of the Order of St. Andrew, the two royal 
 robes, the great Sword of State, and the Imperial Seal. 
 
THE CROWNING OP A TSAR. H9 
 
 I could have stretched forth my hand and touched these 
 precious gems. If crowns are going to be worn at all, I 
 should say that the imperial crown of Eussia is a very 
 good kind of a crown to wear; though when an hour or 
 two later I saw it upon the brow of the Tsar, I was forcibly 
 reminded of the line, 
 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, 
 
 for it was tilted slightly, and appeared to be a bit too large for 
 his Majesty's head. However, real monarchs unlike the 
 kings and queens of stage life do not spend their entire 
 lives carrying about their crowns. I should pity them if 
 they did. 
 
 This view of the throne room and crown jewels, as also 
 of the baby Grand Duchess, the reader will understand 
 was entirely accidental, and altogether owing to the crass 
 impertinence of our courier, who had driven us up to the 
 wrong entrance, and then, by the exercise of a degree of 
 assurance which would have made him an eminent com- 
 petitor of the lamented Barnum, had forced our way into 
 an imperial zone, where, to say the least, we were not ex- 
 pected. This was one of the occasions when his assurance 
 yielded a rich return. Besides the sights we thus unex- 
 pectedly saw, we experienced one more instance of the 
 unfailing courtesy of Russian court officials. While we 
 were looking at the jewels we were approached by a gentle- 
 man one of the chamberlains I took him to be who pro- 
 ceeded to enter into a pleasant conversation with us about 
 the gems. He gave us the history of each and every one 
 of them, together with much valuable information, and 
 from this turned to a pleasant remark about the corona- 
 tion, asking us almost indifferently if we were not going to 
 the tribune ? We answered, " Yes." And with the greatest 
 possible ease he said, " I shall take pleasure in sending 
 an official with you to show you the way." It was about 
 the most delightfully easy manner in which I had ever 
 been told that my room was more desired than my com- 
 pany. We had, however, seen the throne, the crown, and 
 the baby! 
 
 9 
 
120 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 And now came a supreme moment not so much in its 
 present significance as in its historic associations. We were 
 led through the two lines of Guards, returning the salute 
 so gallantly given with a simple bow, then through a throng 
 of civilians, and at last, by a sudden turn to the left, 
 brought to a stop at the head of the Eed Stairs, at whose 
 foot was a sea of faces, all of them eagerly looking for the 
 Tsar. The effect was startling. From these stairs Napoleon 
 had turned to look upon Moscow as he entered the Palace 
 of the Kremlin; down these stairs he had gone when Mos- 
 cow, fired by the torch of Rostopchine, no longer gave 
 shelter to his army; from them the father of the present 
 Tsar had turned to salute, and to be saluted by his people, 
 when returning from the very function through which his 
 son was about to pass. The picture was dazzling. Every- 
 where faces faces! On every side were colour, gold and 
 gems glistening in the sun, fair women vivacious and 
 eager, stalwart men glittering with steel and gold and brass 
 and scarlet, swarthy Cossacks, lithe Hussars, gigantic 
 Guards, sturdy police, and, above and beyond all else, the 
 eager, throbbing, acclaiming multitude, waiting for ita 
 monarch. I shall not soon forget the scene. I should like 
 to make the situation plain to the reader. Standing at 
 the head of the Eed Stairs, and so looking out from the 
 palace, we saw to the immediate right an open tribune, 
 full of Russian nobles and their womenkind; beyond this, 
 in the right-hand corner of the square, nearest the palace, 
 stands the Cathedral of the Saviour in the Wood, and in 
 the farther corner of the right-hand side of the square 
 stands the Cathedral of St. Michael. Between these two 
 churches was erected a two-storied tribune. This also was 
 filled with a glittering multitude. Immediately opposite 
 the Red Stairs, and with their backs to the Tower of Ivan, 
 were other tribunes; and, turning sharply to the left from 
 the foot of the Stairs, and going through a human lane, 
 one would reach the Cathedral of the Assumption, in which 
 the great ceremony was to take place. Will the reader, 
 then, imagine himself at the head of this famous Red 
 Staircase? Before him he will see a multicoloured mass 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 121 
 
 of human beings, on every side bunting, for a background 
 the splendid architecture of the churches, and, if he 
 glances to the right, over the two-storied tribune between 
 the two cathedrals, he will catch a glimpse of field and 
 woodland, looking like some superb landscape framed and 
 hung in a crowded palace. A band stationed in the corner 
 is playing soft and sensuous strains, the distant boom of 
 cannon is heard mingling with the chime of bells; and 
 over all and through it all, like a solemn river making its 
 way slowly but irresistibly through a great, unheeding 
 metropolis, is the imperishable murmur of the multitude 
 waiting for its king. 
 
 We now made our way to the seats in the tribune, which 
 my mother, with genuine maternal care, had kept for us all 
 this time. From this coign of vantage we had a splendid 
 view of the square of the Kremlin, as well as of the large 
 number of distinguished individuals gathered to do honour 
 to the Tsar. The square itself had been marked off into 
 a huge cross which intersected it at right angles. This 
 cross was carpeted in royal red a colour which served 
 to throw into vivid contrast the splendid uniforms of the 
 Guards and of the Cossacks that lined its arms. In the 
 spaces not marked off as pathways, and not occupied by 
 the military, were the people. And when, shortly before 
 noon, the Tsar came out of the palace, on his way to the 
 coronation, one might almost have thought that he was 
 looking down upon an American crowd assembled at the 
 installation of a president, so genuine and so hearty was 
 the applause. Hats were thrown in the air, handkerchiefs 
 waved, and men and women cheered and cheered again 
 until they were hoarse. The only thing which was dis- 
 tinctly different from either an English or American crowd 
 was the cheer, which was certainly the most peculiar I 
 ever heard. It sounded very much like a prolonged growl, 
 rising higher and higher as it approached its culmination; 
 and again and again this peculiar acclamation swept over 
 the multitude, and was caught up by those without the 
 palace walls, and then by the more distant masses, until the 
 volume of sound was deafening. 
 
122 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 As it rose and fell there approached the first proces- 
 sion the procession of her Imperial Majesty, the Dowager 
 Empress Marie Feodorovna. This was composed of the 
 members of her own court, and of other dignitaries ap- 
 pointed for the occasion. She bore herself with regal 
 dignity. Every detail of the order of her procession had 
 been fixed to a nicety. Preceded by a detachment of the 
 guards of her own regiment, accompanied on either side 
 by two very distinguished court ladies, and wearing her 
 imperial crown and robe, she slowly made her way from 
 the Hall of St. Catherine in the palace down the Eed 
 Stairs, at whose foot her palanquin awaited her, and under 
 its shade across the square to the Cathedral of the Assump- 
 tion. How full of both joy and sorrow must this day have 
 been to her! It was only thirteen years ago that she had 
 taken part in a similar function as one of the two leading 
 dramatis persona. Then she had walked beside Alexander 
 to take up a share of his crown and of his responsibilities; 
 now she was at the best a revered looker-on. In her train 
 were ladies of honour, pages of honour, grand duchesses 
 and their dames of honour, and any number of lesser 
 officials. She looked well, but sad, and bowed with stately 
 dignity to the cheering multitude through which she 
 passed. At the door of the cathedral her Majesty was met 
 by the Metropolitan of Moscow and his assisting clergy, 
 who presented to her the cross and the holy water. After 
 this she took her place in the church on the throne of the 
 Tsar Alexis Mikhalilovitch, which was placed on a special 
 dais and surmounted by a magnificent canopy. A few of 
 the more important members of her suite remained in the 
 cathedral, but the large majority passed out by another 
 door and waited for the conclusion of the service in the 
 Synodal Chamber hard by. After the Dowager Empress 
 had entered the cathedral, an official known as the Treas- 
 urer of the Emperor, carrying the cross, assisted by two 
 deacons,^ went over the course to be traversed by the Em- 
 peror, and sprinkled it with the holy water the deacons car- 
 ried. This function, much to my surprise, was the signal for 
 a flourish of trumpets and the ringing of bells and cheering. 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 123 
 
 After this had been done, the Arch Grand Marshal in- 
 formed his Majesty that the august moment had arrived 
 for him to proceed to the cathedral, and the Tsar and the 
 Tsaritsa entered the throne room and took their places 
 on the throne which I have already described, to await 
 the formation of the procession by which they were to be 
 accompanied. A nourish of trumpets by the trumpeter 
 of the Chevalier Guards announced the moment of the 
 departure of the Emperor from the throne room. I will 
 give a brief statement of the order of the procession which 
 accompanied him: 
 
 1. A detachment of the Chevalier Guards the regi- 
 ment of the Dowager Empress. 
 
 2. The Pages, and Pages of the Chamber. 
 
 3. The Masters of Ceremony. 
 
 4. A group of the rural representatives of the Empire. 
 Of these the eldest fourteen were allowed to remain in the 
 cathedral; the rest waited outside. 
 
 5. The Mayors of the two capitals. 
 
 6. Delegates from the Grand Duchy of Finland. 
 
 Following these, and in the order named, came dele- 
 gates from the government of Zemstvos, the President 
 and members of the Committee of the Moscow Bourse, 
 delegates of the bourgeoisie and artisans, of the different 
 banks, and the principal manufactories of Moscow, to- 
 gether with its City Government; delegates from the 
 various public institutions of Moscow, and so many others 
 that to enumerate them in complete detail would weary 
 both the reader and the writer. I noticed among the 
 deputations one which specially interested me viz., a 
 delegation from the Cossack troops and populations. These 
 were arrayed in semi-barbaric splendour, which was quite 
 characteristic. The reader will gain some idea of the 
 magnitude of this procession if I mention that in the 
 official order of the Grand Master of Ceremonies it is set 
 out in fifty-seven separate divisions. It is quite certain 
 that none of the fifty-seven was absent. Of course, every 
 important interest and section of society was represented, 
 though a majority of those in the procession only passed 
 
124 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 through the cathedral, catching the merest glance of the 
 sacred spot, and then passed on to await the conclusion 
 of the service in the adjoining Synodal Chamber. The 
 forty-fifth division is worthy of a moment's notice. It 
 consisted of the officials bearing on cushions of gold and 
 silver cloth, or of velvet studded with jewels, the jewels 
 which we had shortly before unexpectedly seen in the 
 throne room. It may prove of interest to the careful 
 reader to know just what these were. I give them in the 
 order in which they were borne: The Collar of the Order 
 of St. Andrew for the Empress; the Sword of State; the 
 Standard; the State Seal; the Imperial Mantle of the 
 Empress; the Emperor's Eobes; the Globe; the Sceptre; 
 the Empress's Crown; and the Emperor's Crown. On 
 each side of the imperial insignia marched the Emperor's 
 aides-de-camp, the generals of the suite, and the aides- 
 de-camp of the generals, in the reversed order of their 
 seniority, the juniors marching first. 
 
 The fiftieth division was the group of which his Majesty 
 was the centre. This was made up of the most eminent 
 men in his Empire. Beside him walked two members of 
 the nobility, and he was followed immediately by the 
 Ministers of the Household and of War, the Commander of 
 the Imperial Household, the Aide-de-Camp in General and 
 other military officials, with the commander of the 
 Chevalier Guards at the rear with drawn sword and 
 wearing his helmet. Then followed the Empress. This 
 group was sheltered by a magnificent canopy of gold, silver, 
 and embroidered silk. 
 
 And in the midst of all this was the youthful Tsar! 
 The first thought that struck me was, How young is he, 
 to be burdened with the government of a mighty state! 
 Fair of face, with a kindly, beaming eye, an almost boyish 
 expression, he reminded me much of his English cousin, 
 the Duke of York. On him, at this moment, every eye 
 was fixed as he slowly moved along. His face was pale, 
 as though the tremendous strain of function on function 
 had begun to tell; but there was a quiet determination 
 in his mien, a simplicity and modesty that augured well 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 125 
 
 for the future of Eussia. If ever monarch was blessed 
 with a kindly, benevolent face, certainly Nicholas II 
 has been so endowed by Nature. And so quietly, and al- 
 most with an air of humility, as is becoming on the edge 
 of such terrific responsibilities, the young Tsar and his 
 sweet, gracious wife made their way to the Cathedral of 
 the Assumption. It is scarcely needful for me to say that 
 during all the time the procession had been making its way 
 from the palace to the cathedral there had been a ringing 
 of bells, presenting of arms by the military, and cheering 
 by the multitude. Arrived at the door of the cathedral, 
 the Emperor and Empress were met by the Metropolitans. 
 After the customary genuflexions, the Metropolitan of Mos- 
 cow pronounced an allocution; the Metropolitan of St. 
 Petersburg held a jewelled crucifix to their lips for them 
 to kiss, and the Metropolitan of Kieff besprinkled them 
 with holy water. Then they passed on with slow and rev- 
 erent step, bowing, and bowing low, to the sacred images 
 on either hand, until they reached at length the plat- 
 form in the centre of the cathedral, which was to be the 
 centre of the stage for all the intricate ceremonial which 
 was to follow. On this platform were two thrones, those 
 of the Tsars Michel Feodorovitch and Jean III. "When 
 Emperor and Empress were seated, the archbishops, archi- 
 mandrites, and the officiating clergy formed in two lines 
 between the platform and the Holy Door leading to the 
 sanctuary, in which the anointing of the Tsar was to take 
 place. This position assumed, the clergy and choristers 
 took up the refrain of the Misericordiam et Judicum Can- 
 tabo Tibi Domine. 
 
 Meanwhile, the officials who had borne the insignia, and 
 the high officials of state, had grouped themselves about 
 the thrones of the Tsar and his spouse. At each corner 
 of the platform stood a Chevalier Guard with drawn 
 sword, and right behind the Emperor, the commander of 
 this famous regiment with drawn sword also, and clasping 
 his helmet in his right hand. All the insignia had been 
 placed on a table, and the officials who had borne them 
 stood near by in readiness to pass them to the Metropolitan 
 
126 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 or the Tsar when they were demanded. All this had 
 been done while their Majesties were slowly approaching 
 the throne and doing obeisance to the sacred images. 
 Near the throne stood the Civil Governor of Moscow with 
 a roll of cloth of gold and crimson velvet, ready to un- 
 fold it before the Tsar when he should leave the throne 
 to approach the sacred altar. All was now in readiness. 
 The cathedral was a blaze of light and beauty. The vest- 
 ments of the priests, the uniforms of the soldiers, the coro- 
 nets and crowns of assembled monarchs, the sacred pic- 
 tures, the odour of incense, the intoning of priests, the 
 sunlight distilled through the rich windows of the sacred 
 edifice all this made up a scene never to be effaced from the 
 mind. And in the centre of all stood the young Tsar, 
 panoplied with the dignity which responsibility gives, the 
 strength which necessity creates. 
 
 The ceremony itself was just such an one as one would 
 look for in a church which is interwoven with a state so 
 splendid and so Oriental. First, the Metropolitan of St. 
 Petersburg called upon the Emperor for a confession of 
 faith, handing him a book from which to read it. This 
 the Tsar read in a clear voice, but low; and then the 
 Metropolitan pronounced the blessing, Gratia Spiritus 
 Sancti sit semper tecum. Amen. After the reading of the 
 Gospel by the Metropolitan, the Emperor, having removed 
 the collar of the Order of St. Andrew, replaced it with the 
 coronation robe and the diamond collar of the same Order. 
 The robe and collar were presented to the Emperor on 
 two cushions by the Metropolitans of St. Petersburg and 
 Kieff; and then the former crossed his hands upon the 
 Emperor's bowed head and pronounced the benediction, 
 In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. 
 While holding his hands in the form of a cross, the Metro- 
 politan also delivered two prayers, prescribed by ritual. 
 After this the Emperor in a low voice ordered the imperial 
 crown to be brought. The official who had borne it in 
 the procession now advanced with it to the Metropolitan 
 of St. Petersburg, who in turn presented it to the Em- 
 peror. Very deliberately and with great dignity the Tsar 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 127 
 
 placed the crown upon his head; and then in a high voice 
 the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg pronounced the pre- 
 scribed allocution. 
 
 To me this was a significant moment. Nicholas had 
 crowned himself, not as Napoleon did, in defiance of the 
 Church, but with all the ecclesiastical sanction, as being 
 the highest functionary in that Church. I was impressed 
 at every step in this lengthy ceremonial with the supreme 
 wisdom of the ecclesiastical authorities who had shaped the 
 early course of the Greek Church in the Eussian Empire. 
 It has not alienated itself from the State, as Rome has 
 done, but has so welded itself to it that every function of 
 State is also a function of the Church. Here there is no 
 possible antagonism. There is no question of relative au- 
 thority and comparative dignity, no jealous observation 
 of the Church by the State, no acrid recriminations ad- 
 dressed to the State by the Church. Here there is no 
 division of interests, for the interest of both is one; and 
 the chief care of the Church in Russia is to inspire all its 
 children, from the highest Grand Duke to the poorest 
 peasant, with loyalty and reverence for the Tsar. As head 
 of the Church, therefore, Nicholas II had crowned him- 
 self as head of the State; and that because in the Church 
 there was no higher functionary to crown him. The 
 sceptre and the globe having next been presented to him, 
 the Emperor seated himself for a moment only the high- 
 est embodiment of power, civil, military, or ecclesiastic, 
 within the Russian Empire. Then, having placed the 
 globe and sceptre on the cushions held in readiness by the 
 officials, he called the Empress. With stately step, and 
 clothed with a simple grace and beauty more rich than all 
 the gold and gems by which she was surrounded, the young 
 Empress took her place before her husband, and kneeled 
 down with a devout air to await her coronation at his 
 hands. The Emperor, having first touched the brow of 
 the Empress with his own crown, as a sign of her partner- 
 ship in that crown, then crowned her with the coronet 
 of diamonds which had been especially made for her. The 
 crown and imperial mantle having been adjusted by the 
 
128 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Ladies of Honour,, the Archdeacon then proclaimed in a 
 loud voice all the titles of the Emperor and Empress., in- 
 toning the line, Domine, Salvem fac Imperatorem and 
 Domine, Salvem fac Imperatricem. This is intoned three 
 times, and is responded to by the choir, with the words 
 Ad multos annos. At this all the bells within and with- 
 out the Kremlin were set to ringing. One hundred and 
 one guns were fired as an imperial salute, and the multi- 
 tude took up the paean of rejoicing, for the Tsar was 
 crowned at last, and the throne of Russia was once more 
 filled. 
 
 And now perhaps the most solemn and really impres- 
 sive moment of the entire celebration had arrived. The 
 Emperor uttered a prayer for himself and his people, of 
 which I give here the translation: 
 
 " Lord God of our fathers, and supreme Ruler of 
 Sovereigns, who hast created everything by Thy word, 
 and in Thy wisdom hast set up man that he may govern 
 the world in holiness and righteousness; Thou hast chosen 
 me as Tsar and judge of the people. I confess Thy in- 
 scrutable providence with regard to me; and in giving 
 thanks, bow down before Thy Majesty, and Thou, my 
 Lord and God, instruct me in the work for which Thou 
 hast sent me; enlighten my path and direct me in this 
 great ministry; let the wisdom of Thy throne abide with 
 me, send it down from Thy holy heavens, that I may know 
 what is pleasing in Thy eyes, and what is in accordance 
 with Thy commandments. Let my heart be in Thy hand, 
 that I may order everything to the advantage of the people 
 intrusted to me, and to Thy glory, so that even on the 
 Day of Judgment I may without condemnation render my 
 account to Thee; by the mercy and bounty of Thy only 
 begotten Son, with whom, and with Thy holy and good 
 life-giving Spirit, Thou art blessed unto the ages. Amen." 
 
 This prayer concluded, the Emperor stood alone, and, 
 figuratively, at least, all Russia knelt, while the Metro- 
 politan offered prayers for the long life and prosperity 
 of the Tsar and his Empress. 
 
 And before the pathetic solemnity of this moment 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 129 
 
 all the ceremonial fades away. The booming of thousands 
 of cannon, the ringing of thousands of bells, the chanting 
 of choirs, the waving of flags, the cheering of a million 
 throats may blazon forth the fact, but they can not add to 
 the majestic significance of that moment, when the Tsar, 
 pale, and perhaps nervous, stood, a solitary figure, within 
 the Cathedral of the Assumption, while all within the 
 sacred building were prostrate, invoking Heaven's blessing 
 on his reign an invocation echoed and re-echoed in thou- 
 sands of Eussian homes and millions of Eussian hearts. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CEOWNING OF A TSAE. 
 
 BEFOEE taking tip the legend at the point where I 
 dropped it in the last chapter, it may interest the reader 
 to interweave a sentence or two about the Cathedral of the 
 Assumption, in which the coronation took place. There 
 are within the Kremlin, let me say, a half dozen cathedrals, 
 a dozen or more special chapels, a monastery, a convent, 
 an arsenal, and the splendid Imperial Treasury. A de- 
 scription in detail of any one of these would fill a good- 
 sized volume, and would besides, I fear, prove rather dry- 
 as-dust reading. So much, however, has been said and 
 written of late about the Cathedral of the Assumption, 
 that I shall be easily forgiven for giving at this point 
 some slight description of it. 
 
 Unpenski Sobor, as the cathedral is called in Russian, 
 was built early in the fourteenth century by the Metro- 
 politan Peter, who lies buried within its walls in a place 
 of honour. It is of massive, costly, and magnificent con- 
 struction. As to size it can not vie with many other 
 sacred shrines in Russia; but, as the burial-place for many 
 decades of the chiefs of the Church, and as the scene of 
 all Russian coronations since that of Ivan the Terrible, 
 it is held in peculiar sanctity by the Russians, and con- 
 tains in the way of jewels, gold and silver ornamentations, 
 precious robes, holy relics, paintings, and sculpture, riches 
 which would form the ransom of many kings. The build- 
 ing stands almost in the centre of the space inclosed by 
 the Kremlin. The doors through which the Tsar and 
 Tsaritsa entered are surrounded and adorned with sacred 
 
 130 
 
Place of Coronation. 
 Interior of the Cathedral of the Assurnption, Moscow. 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 
 
 pictures and images, to which they addressed their first 
 genuflexions upon entering the sacred shrine. It is here 
 that they were met by the three leading Metropolitans 
 of the Church, and welcomed with significant rites to their 
 coronation. Standing within these doors, the scene is 
 one of resplendent magnificence. On every side are paint- 
 ings of sacred subjects framed in precious stones and 
 metals. Upon a screen which faces the spectator as he 
 enters, and which is seen at a distance through a vista 
 of golden columns decorated with elaborate frescoes, is 
 the celebrated picture of the Virgin brought from Con- 
 stantinople in the twelfth century, to which wonderful 
 and miraculous powers have been ascribed. Its frame 
 alone is decorated with jewels to the value of $250,000, 
 among them being a matchless emerald valued at $50,000. 
 Immediately in the centre of the space formed by the four 
 columns which support the roof of the body of the build- 
 ing is the platform on which all the Tsars are crowned. 
 In front of this are the "Royal Doors," through which 
 the Tsar enters to receive the sacrament and to be anointed. 
 At this function the Tsar is surrounded by the highest 
 nobles and officials of his Empire. Before him is the altar 
 with its varied, sacred, and priceless adornments, and 
 almost at his feet the throng of ecclesiastics of every rank 
 who take more or less important parts in the ceremony. 
 
 It is almost impossible to exaggerate to one who has 
 never seen it the magnificence or value of this splendid 
 fane. But above this one should remember that to the 
 devout Eussian the very ground on which it stands is 
 sacred. Westminster Abbey, with its wealth of sacred 
 dust, its resplendent record of literary, military, diplo- 
 matic, and patriotic fame, is significant, indeed, to every 
 member of the Anglo-Saxon race. The Cathedral of the 
 Assumption occupies in Russian thought an even more 
 sublime eminence; for here not only lie the famous and 
 holy dead, but here are those emblems of the faith and 
 relics of miraculous interposition on behalf of Holy Rus- 
 sia, which lend to the building and all within it a super- 
 natural glory to the faithful, and give a promise of pro- 
 
132 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 tection and guidance in the future for all within the sacred 
 fold of the Greek Church. One needs to wrench himself 
 loose from his Western ideas, to separate himself from 
 modernism, and to plunge reverently back into mediseval- 
 ism before he can place himself en rapport with such a 
 scene and such a shrine. For my part, as I gazed I won- 
 dered. But there what I wondered, and what the re- 
 sult of my wonderings was, would prove of little interest 
 to any save myself. 
 
 I left the Tsar in the last chapter at that point in the 
 coronation ceremonies where he stood a solitary figure, 
 while all about him were prostrate in prayer on his behalf. 
 Immediately after this the Metropolitans and officiating 
 priests bowed their congratulations to the Emperor, the 
 choir chanted the Te Deum, and the bells of all the 
 churches within the Kremlin announced again to the 
 world that the actual crowning was finished. Then the 
 Emperor removed his crown which, to tell the truth, 
 bears the appearance of being a heavy load and did not 
 put it on again until the end of the liturgy. Mass was 
 now intoned; after the reading of the Gospel, the Metro- 
 politan presented the sacred book to the Tsar to be 
 kissed and then the Civil Governor of Moscow the Grand 
 Duke Serge assisted by two aides-de-camp, stretched a 
 roll of cloth of gold and crimson velvet from the platform 
 of the throne to the " Eoyal Doors " of the sanctuary, 
 through which the Emperor was to pass. He spread it as 
 far as the door, where he stopped, the Archdeacon taking 
 up the task by spreading it through the doors, and up to 
 the very altar where the Tsar was shortly to stand. The 
 anthem finished, two Archbishops, assisted by Arch- 
 deacons, advanced toward his Majesty, and announced that 
 the holy ceremony of anointment was to commence. The 
 Emperor, handing his sword to one of his assistants, de- 
 scended from the throne, and, walking on the cloth of 
 gold, approached the door of the sanctuary, followed at 
 a short distance by the Empress. His Majesty was accom- 
 panied by the Grand Master of Ceremonies, the Grand 
 Marshal of the Court, several of the dignitaries who had car- 
 
The Cathedral of the Assumption, in the Kremlin, Moscow, 
 the place of coronation of the Emperors of Russia. 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 133 
 
 ried the insignia, and two officers of the Chevalier Guards, 
 the Empress being followed by ladies of her suite. 
 
 The Emperor alone passed into the sanctuary, where 
 he was met by the Metropolitan. The Empress remained 
 at the door, for beyond the threshold no woman may pass. 
 The different officials ranged themselves on either side, 
 and waited in reverent silence for the return of the Em- 
 peror. Within the sanctuary the Emperor was received 
 by the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg, who anointed him 
 on the forehead, eyelids, nostrils, lips, ears, chest, and 
 hands, pronouncing the words, Impressio doni Spiritus 
 Sancti. The Metropolitan of Kieff removed the vestiges 
 of the holy oil, and, in obedience to a secret signal, all the 
 bells of all the churches again broke forth, this time to 
 the accompaniment of an imperial salute of one hundred 
 and one guns. The Empress next approached the door 
 of the sanctuary, and was there anointed by the same 
 officiant, but on the forehead only. After this the Em- 
 peror received the Holy Communion; and then their 
 Majesties returned to the thrones and resumed their 
 places. 
 
 This was the point in the ceremony which, next to the 
 crowning of the Tsaritsa, presented the most human and 
 touching aspect, for it was then that the various mem- 
 bers of the court presented their felicitations upon the 
 consummation which had been so splendidly and withal 
 so wearily reached. There were many glistening eyes among 
 the august persons who in slow procession moved forward 
 to add their good wishes to the multitude which had gone 
 before. The poor Emperor appeared very weary, as well 
 he might; but his lip trembled as he turned to receive 
 the embrace of the mother whose memories must have 
 been so sad, and for whom many an unheard benediction was 
 uttered at the moment. The sweet young Empress, too, 
 seemed touched almost to the point of tears, as one per- 
 sonage after the other bowed to her felicitations and 
 homage; but as she stood there in all the glory of ermine 
 and gold and gems, with an almost saintly expression on 
 her face, she looked truly an empress! 
 
134 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 It will be seen that the crowning of a Tsar is what we 
 should call in America " a long-drawn-out affair." And 
 yet, so interwoven are Church and State in Russia, that 
 every item of the function has its traditional significance, 
 and not a single detail of the long succession of ceremony 
 could be omitted. 
 
 The ceremonies in the cathedral being finished in due 
 form, with a nice observance of etiquette and the delibera- 
 tion of dignity, the procession filed back to the palace; 
 but on the way it wound in and out among the different 
 buildings of the Kremlin, for the purpose, I thought at 
 the time, of affording all the vast multitude an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing and doing reverence to the newly crowned 
 Tsar. But I afterward discovered that I was mistaken, 
 and thai it was part and parcel of the coronation for the 
 Tsar to visit, before re-entering the palace, two other 
 cathedrals, and to go through certain supplementary cere- 
 monies in these. The first was the Cathedral of the Arch- 
 angel Michael. At the entrance the Emperor and Em- 
 press were met by his Highness the Bishop of Kostroma 
 and his assistant clergy, who offered to their Majesties 
 the golden cross and the holy water. After this, the Em- 
 peror, having removed his crown and passed the sceptre 
 and globe to the officials, made a circuit of the cathedral, 
 offering homage to the images of the saints and the sacred 
 relics, and at the tombs of his ancestors. The Arch- 
 deacon read a litany to which the response was intoned, 
 Ad multos annos. So I take it that the burden of the 
 prayers offered here was for the long life and welfare of 
 the Tsar and his consort. Having completoc 1 the circuit 
 of this cathedral, their Majesties, all the time accom- 
 panied by the same brilliant cortege, next entered the 
 Cathedral of the Annunciation, where they were received 
 by his Highness the Archbishop of Kherson. Here the 
 same ceremonial was repeated. 
 
 It was as the procession left this cathedral that the 
 members of the Corps Diplomatique, who had remained 
 in the tribune set apart for them, caught the best view of 
 its magnificence. The Emperor, robed and crowned, pre- 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 135 
 
 ceded by soldiers of the superb Guards, sheltered by a 
 resplendent palanquin, made his way back to the palace, 
 closely followed by the Empress. The crown he wore is 
 that of Peter I, surmounted by a diamond cross rising 
 from the centre of an uncut ruby. It is said that this 
 crown contains over nine hundred diamonds, besides large 
 numbers of pearls, and what is supposed to be the largest 
 ruby in the world. The orb, which he carried in his left 
 hand, is splendidly decorated with diamonds set in two 
 bands encircling it at right angles. At the centre of the 
 top or vertical band, equidistant from all points of the 
 other or horizontal band, is a large sapphire surmounted 
 by a diamond cross. The sceptre is chiefly remarkable 
 for the magnificent gem at the top, known as the Orloff 
 diamond, which, even in an ordinary photograph, shines 
 above all the other gems. 
 
 The effect of the procession at this point was rich and 
 imposing beyond the reach of exaggeration. The palan- 
 quin under which the Emperor walked was richly covered 
 with velvet and cloth of gold, surmounted by plumes of 
 ostrich feathers in three colours black, white, and yel- 
 low. This was supported at intervals by lances of ebony 
 and mother of pearl, and held firmly by golden cords. 
 The palanquin and cords were carried and held respective- 
 ly by sixteen aides-de-camp generals of the highest rank 
 in the imperial service. The Emperor looked tired, and, 
 I have no doubt, felt so; for the mere watching of the 
 ceremonial during four or five seemingly interminable 
 hours had been extremely fatiguing. The same cheers 
 and cannonading and ringing of bells which had marked 
 his journey to the cathedral and accentuated the principal 
 point in the service accompanied his return; only that the 
 enthusiasm of the Eussians seemed even greater than be- 
 fore. At the foot of the Eed Stairs their Majesties left 
 the shelter of the palanquin and slowly mounted the steps, 
 stopping to turn at the summit and bow their appreciation 
 of the enthusiasm which was now at white heat. My 
 friends have asked me since whom I considered the most 
 beautiful woman I saw at the coronation. I can answer 
 10 
 
136 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 them at this point by saying that when the young Empress 
 turned to acknowledge the applause of her people, and 
 stood clothed in her royal robes, and glistening with in- 
 numerable gems, I thought that there might be a more 
 beautiful woman in Moscow, but that I had not seen her. 
 
 It must not be supposed that the comfort of those who 
 had during all these hours to wait outside the cathedral 
 for the return of the Emperor had been neglected. In 
 the various tribunes an appetizing and generous dejeuner 
 had been served, consisting of sandwiches, pastries, ices, 
 tea, and champagne, to which there seemed to be no limit. 
 So that although those not favoured with entrance to 
 the cathedral had a long wait, they managed to pass the 
 time in comfort and pleasant conversation. 
 
 Entering the palace, their Majesties removed their 
 crowns, the Emperor resigned the sceptre and globe to 
 the appointed dignitaries, and both then retired to their 
 private apartments. We will not seek to follow them, 
 or to analyze their emotions in this surely needed retire- 
 ment. I have often been sorry for public officials in my 
 own country when placed under the strain of enor- 
 mous public entertainments, but I never so sincerely sym- 
 pathized with any one as I did with these two young 
 monarchs on the day of their coronation. And yet the 
 day was only half over, for there was to be a solemn state 
 banquet in the evening, and after that the illuminations. 
 They had borne themselves with simplicity and dignity 
 throughout it all, and must have knit closer to them the 
 hearts of all who were allowed to be present; and now, 
 in the retirement of their own rooms, let us leave them 
 for the moment on the threshold of what every one hopes 
 and expects will be a long and glorious reign. Eussia is 
 just now more prosperous and more peaceful than she has 
 been for years. The restlessness of the radicals seems to 
 be soothed, let us hope permanently. And let us wish that 
 all friends of true reform may find in the reign of Nicho- 
 las II the completion of all that is noble in Eussian his- 
 tory, as well as the dawn of an era of development and 
 advancement. 
 

 i 
 
 
 i 
 
THE CROWNING OF A TSAR. 137 
 
 Nicholas II begins his reign with the good wishes of 
 the entire world. Monarchies, empires, and republics, 
 alike, united to wish him ~bon voyage on his momentous 
 journey. From Germany, from France, from the vener- 
 able Queen who has reigned longest in the history of Eng- 
 land's throne, from our own President, and from many 
 other rulers of nations, great and small, he received mes- 
 sages of warmest greeting; and above all, the great heart 
 of the common people with a single impulse felt that it 
 has in the kindly, smiling face of this youthful Tsar the 
 promise of a reign beneficent and just. He begins his 
 reign with a mind well endowed with all that modern 
 education and foreign travel can do to widen and to en- 
 rich his outlook upon life; he has the history of the past 
 to govern his thought of the future; he has by his side 
 a wife as sweet and queenly as any woman in the wide 
 world; and with all these he has the splendid generous 
 impulse which the spirit of the age in which we live gives 
 to any man that seeks it a spirit of brotherhood, of 
 catholicity, of high endeavour, and of lofty ambition. 
 His power for good is simply enormous. He can preserve 
 the peace of nations or he can destroy it. He can bring 
 prosperity and enlightenment to his subject, he can strew 
 his pathway wherever he goes with the blessings of those 
 he has blessed. And as he stood solitary in that great 
 scene in the Cathedral of the Assumption, while all else 
 knelt in prayer for him, both he and they must have real- 
 ized that never was opportunity more regal bestowed upon 
 man; and as his subjects looked in his face, they must 
 have thought that never was man more likely to turn 
 into glorious fruition the highest hopes and prayers of 
 all the myriad hearts turned toward him. 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 AN IMPEKIAL FEAST. 
 
 AND now to dinner, for even kings and emperors 
 must descend from the lofty heights of statecraft and the 
 splendour of civic function to the commonplace occupa- 
 tion of satisfying the inner man. And yet they dine by 
 rote at least they did at the coronation of the Tsar. 
 As at the coronation itself, here everything was prear- 
 ranged; and the result was that this enormous function 
 passed off without the slightest friction or mistake of any 
 kind. It will give the reader some idea of the perfection 
 of arrangement and detail when I say that at the corona- 
 tion banquet there sat down the large number of eighteen 
 hundred guests; that to serve these there was a retinue 
 of forty-five hundred servants all of them the regular 
 servants of the Tsar; and that the banquet went through 
 from beginning to end as a well-ordered dinner would at 
 any private house in London or New York. But this was 
 so on every hand in Russia. Wherever large numbers of 
 men were employed, there was the most perfect discipline, 
 the most complete submission to authority the result 
 being, of course, good and efficient service. 
 
 The Granovitaya Palata, or Palace of Facets, was 
 where the Emperor took his coronation dinner. It takes 
 its name from the peculiar facets which are presented by 
 the surfaces of its walls, and is certainly one of the most 
 interesting buildings within the Kremlin, when judged 
 from the standpoint of historical association, from the 
 nature and value of its contents, and from its ancient 
 and remarkable appearance. The principal hall, which is 
 
 138 
 
AN IMPE1UAL FEAST. 139 
 
 used for the coronation banquets of the Tsars, is unique. 
 Its vaulted ceiling spreads, umbrella-like, from a central 
 column and is richly decorated with religious and allegor- 
 ical frescoes. The prevailing tones are purple and gold, 
 but in the frescoes of the ceiling and walls bright blues 
 and flaming scarlets are introduced, greatly to the enliven- 
 ing of the scene. At the base of this column and all about 
 it are shelves, upon which on state occasions the imperial 
 plate, or part of it, is displayed. I say part of it advisedly, for 
 it would certainly take many such rooms to exhibit all the 
 gold and silver services of the Emperor. The floor is of rich 
 and beautifully arranged marbles. In the corner stands the 
 throne (upon this occasion, however, there were three 
 thrones) on a canopied dais; and it was on this platform 
 that Nicholas II dined in great state after the ceremony 
 of his coronation. Beside him sat, on his right hand, his 
 mother, and on his left -hand the Tsaritsa. But I am 
 anticipating. 
 
 At the appointed hour or as near thereafter as possible 
 the Emperor and Empress entered the Throne Eoom, 
 and, assuming the insignia which they had laid aside, 
 crowned and sceptred, proceeded to the banquet hall just 
 described. With them entered the Dowager Empress. 
 They were accompanied by chamberlains, court marshals, 
 aides and officers of the Chevalier Guards, and behind 
 these followed the brilliant company of kings, queens, 
 and nobles of every degree, whose privilege it was either 
 to take part in the entire banquet or to be present at its 
 opening. For not every one that sees a Tsar start his din- 
 ner stays for the almonds and raisins. But of that anon. 
 Most of the guests and officials, after accompanying the 
 imperial cortege to the Granovitaya Palata, made profound 
 obeisances, and passed on to the Hall of St. Vladimir, 
 where they were separately dined; for only the very dis- 
 tinguished are privileged to eat in the actual presence 
 of the Tsar upon this august occasion. 
 
 The Diplomatic Corps, the Holy Synod, the high 
 clergy, and the highest of the court ladies, who had been 
 invited to the banquet, gathered at the palace before the 
 
140 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 appearance of the Emperor,, and stood waiting to welcome 
 his Majesty formally to the banquet room. The disposi- 
 tion of the imperial table was interesting. There were 
 three thrones the centre one for the Tsar, the others 
 for the two Empresses. On the platform at the back of 
 the throne stood the various officials chamberlains and 
 marshals whose duty it was to be constantly near the 
 Emperor upon this eventful day. The Grand Carver, or 
 Master of the Table, and the Grand Equerry of the Cup 
 took up their positions on the floor opposite the plat- 
 form, and to the right and left respectively. The com- 
 mander of the Chevalier Guards, with drawn sword and 
 helmeted, stood behind the Emperor on the platform. At 
 the foot of the throne, and on either side, stood four 
 officers of the Chevalier Guards, also with drawn swords. 
 At each front corner of the throne stood two Heralds. 
 Facing the throne were the Grand Marshal, the Grand 
 Marshal of the Court, the Grand Master of Ceremonies, 
 and other high officials. When their Majesties had as- 
 cended the throne in the presence of this brilliant com- 
 pany, the Minister of Finance presented to them the 
 medal which had been struck in commemoration of the 
 event. This medal was also distributed among the in- 
 vited guests present, and to those in the Hall of St. 
 Vladimir. Then the actual dinner began. In the fol- 
 lowing manner was the first dish, and, indeed, were all the 
 successive dishes, brought to the imperial table. 
 
 The Arch Grand Marshal, the Grand Marshal of the 
 Court, the Arch Grand Master of Ceremonies, the Mar- 
 shal of the Court, the Grand Masters of the Coronation 
 Ceremonies, and the Masters of Ceremonies, having made 
 a profound bow to the Emperor, left the hall for the 
 purpose of ushering in the first dish, which was carried, 
 mark you, by retired officers belonging to the nobility of 
 Moscow. The dishes made their appearance after a short 
 pause, and this is the honourable cortege that accompanied 
 them: The Arch Grand Marshal, the Grand Marshal of 
 the Court, the Arch Grand Master of Ceremonies, and the 
 Marshal of the Court, and, on each side of the dishes, two 
 
AN IMPERIAL FEAST. 
 
 officers of the Chevalier Guards, with swords drawn and 
 helmeted; following them came the Grand Master of the 
 Coronation Ceremonies and the Master of Ceremonies. 
 Surely, this should be " a dainty dish " enough " to set 
 before " an Emperor. When this dish had duly arrived, 
 the Emperor removed his crown, and I can imagine him 
 paraphrasing the line of Francisco in Hamlet by saying, 
 
 For this relief much thanks ; 'tis bitter heavy, 
 And I am sick of it. 
 
 Having laid aside the crown, the Emperor also resigned 
 the sceptre and the globe, and was then prepared to prove 
 himself "a valiant trencher man." At this point the 
 Metropolitan of Moscow said the appointed grace, and 
 then their Imperial Majesties broke their long fast and 
 if by this time they wanted their dinners as badly as I 
 wanted mine, I am sure they must have eaten with a right 
 good will. And here came in a most interesting moment 
 a moment and a circumstance which show from what 
 slight beginnings court traditions arise, and, having arisen, 
 how they persist. After the first course was finished 
 no one as yet having sat down save royalty and just at 
 the moment when the Emperor was about to take his 
 first sip of wine, the high clergy and other exalted guests 
 that are privileged to eat in the presence of the Tsar, 
 after making a profound obeisance, took their places at 
 the table. But the Diplomatic Corps and other high 
 guests, who up to this point had been standing in in- 
 terested silence watching this stately ceremonial, bowed 
 profoundly, and, walking backward, quitted the presence 
 of the Tsar, and made their way to their own dinner which 
 had been set for them in another room. They only re- 
 appeared to join in the cortege which was formed to escort 
 their Majesties back to their private apartments. This 
 usage arose from the fact that an early Tsar of Eussia was 
 given to imbibing too freely and, not wishing to be seen 
 in an intoxicated state by foreigners and strangers, ordered 
 that all such should withdraw when he commenced to 
 drink. The custom still remains, although his inebriated 
 
IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Majesty has long since been laid beside his fathers in the 
 Cathedral of the Archangel Michael. 
 
 The following toasts were proposed during the ban- 
 quet in the Granovitaya Palata: First to his Majesty the 
 Emperor, and at the moment of its proposition a salute 
 of sixty-one guns was fired, so that all Moscow might, 
 if it so chose, pledge the health of the Tsar at the same 
 moment; then to her Majesty the Dowager Empress Marie 
 Feodorovna, a salute of fifty-one guns being fired; then 
 to the Tsaritsa, with a like salute; and thereafter, in the 
 order named, to the imperial family, with a salute of 
 thirty-one guns; and to the clergy and all faithful sub- 
 jects, with a last salute of twenty-one guns. The drink- 
 ing cups were presented to their Majesties by the Grand 
 Cup Bearer; the Chamberlains and the Pages of the Cham- 
 ber served at the table, and the Grand Cup Bearer pro- 
 posed the toasts, seconded by a fanfare of trumpets. There 
 was for which the Tsar may breathe a prayer of grati- 
 tude no speech making. 
 
 Throughout the banquet the imperial band discoursed 
 the choicest selections of music from a raised plat- 
 form in the corner of the room diagonally opposite to 
 that occupied by the imperial family. And while every- 
 thing was conducted with a due and formal regard for 
 the etiquette of the occasion, there was an air of relief 
 at the imperial table, as if its occupants were quietly say- 
 ing, "It will soon be over," while the royal and noble 
 guests were quietly jolly among themselves, as became 
 the august and auspicious event. 
 
 The banquet finished, the Emperor reassumed his 
 crown, sceptre, and globe, and left the banqueting hall 
 for the Throne Room. I can not help wondering how 
 the ancient Tsars managed to carry out half or a quarter 
 of this ceremonial. If rumour be true, they were, like the 
 early Anglo-Saxon kings, rather given to look upon the wine 
 when it was red, and, if they managed to carry -the in- 
 ternal and the external load safely from the Granovitaya 
 Palata back to the Throne Room, they must have been 
 blessed with a capacity to which the present generation 
 
AN IMPERIAL FEAST. 143 
 
 is entirely strange. In the Throne Room the Emperor 
 laid aside for the last time on his coronation day the 
 crown of Peter I and the emblems of his kingship, and, 
 slipping back almost into private life, he, his mother, and 
 his wife made their way to their apartments. 
 
 I should like to know what the Tsar himself thought 
 of it all, what were his true feelings, and whether he was 
 thoroughly satisfied with the exalted position which he 
 had just occupied in all its completeness. Certainly, every 
 one else was loud in praise of the dignity, gentleness, and 
 modesty with which he carried himself during one of the 
 most trying days that mortal could be called upon to pass 
 through. But what does lie think of it? Perhaps some 
 of these days he may write down for the public " What I 
 thought of my Coronation," as the Queen of England 
 has let all the world into her domestic life at Balmoral. 
 It would prove interesting reading. But I don't think 
 I'd try it if I were the Tsar. One half of the significance 
 and value of a ceremonial consists in keeping concealed 
 the strings which work the figures; and the divinity which 
 doth hedge a king shines best through the glamour of 
 mystery. 
 
 To complete the record, I should say that, aside from 
 the royal guests who had dined with the Tsar or in the 
 Hall of St. Vladimir, the great throng of distinguished 
 guests were entertained in tents which had been set 
 up in the court of the palace. As I have said, eighteen 
 hundred sat down at this banquet. To serve this 
 host, the total staff of the household of the Emperor 
 was brought into use, the entire dinner being served 
 on gold plate. There was no speech-making anywhere, 
 and "good digestion/' which "waits on appetite," 
 spread a kindly glow over the assemblage; every one was 
 jolly. 
 
 The menu was in Russian, and the repast was as good 
 as the bill was incomprehensible. The fact is, the dinner 
 was a purely French one, with nothing distinctively Rus- 
 sian about it except the place in which it was eaten and 
 the language of this menu which was placed beside each 
 
144 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 plate. The air was full of gladness, the atmosphere was 
 one of rejoicing and congratulation. 
 
 Surely, a day so brilliant in every way called for a 
 brilliant termination; and it had been prepared. The il- 
 luminations, which we viewed from the terrace of the 
 Kremlin, were the most elaborate I have ever seen at any 
 time or place. I remember well the splendid displays pre- 
 sented at the World's Fair in Chicago, but I saw nothing 
 there at all equal to the sight of Moscow on the night of 
 the coronation; even the Court of Honour in its most 
 brilliant aspect was but a feeble flame compared to this 
 mammoth spectacle. To say that the entire city was a 
 blaze of light is but to express feebly the glorious display 
 which had been provided by the people of the ancient 
 capital. It was more. It was a blaze of fantastic and 
 scintillating light. On every hand one saw lines of beauty 
 and grace picked out with myriads of illuminating and 
 varicoloured points, which were utilized in every conceiv- 
 able way. Before going to Moscow I had heard much 
 of its Oriental aspect, but certainly I could truly say, as 
 I gazed upon the fairy vision presented to my view from 
 the terrace of the Kremlin, as the Queen of Sheba said to 
 King Solomon, "Not the half of all thy glory had been 
 told unto me! " I had already seen the vast preparations 
 which had been made to illuminate the city, but the dif- 
 ference between the preparations and the thing itself was 
 about the same as exists between the costume of a famous 
 belle hanging in her wardrobe and its splendour when 
 set off by her imperial beauty. Certainly, one could well 
 and truly call Moscow the " City of Light." To begin 
 with the Kremlin. All the buildings within it were 
 fringed with lines of light beneath the cornices, and the 
 Tower of Ivan, which rises over three hundred feet, was 
 ablaze with electric lights at its summit. In the daytime 
 this matchless array of buildings had been resplendent 
 with costly gems, which flashed from a thousand glitter- 
 ing costumes, from the frames of sacred pictures and from 
 the imperial insignia; at night they were aflame with 
 bewitching lines of light which brought out and threw 
 
AN IMPERIAL FEAST. 145 
 
 into even greater beauty every architectural wonder of 
 the place. And beyond, Moscow was spread as a vision of 
 that celestial city toward which the thoughts of the faith- 
 ful had been so constantly turned by priestly admonition 
 through all the long and sinuous ceremonial of the day. 
 Moscow will be a permanent gainer by the coronation., 
 for in preparation for it there had been a universal 
 freshening and decoration of all buildings, public and 
 private. As one approaches Moscow by day, it offers to 
 the eye a scene of which I can suggest no equivalent. 
 Colour, colour, colour! And everywhere still colour! 
 Domes of colour against backgrounds of resplendent 
 greens and matchless purples, scarlet, yellow, and, indeed, 
 every other hue of which the eye kens or the heart dreams. 
 I used to think when I was a boy that the visions of 
 Lalla Eookh drawn by the pen of Moore were but the 
 creations of the fantastic imagination of a fevered poet; 
 but when I first looked upon Moscow, I said that Lalla 
 Eookh is the positive degree of which Moscow is the 
 superlative. And at night, when all these colours were 
 enriched and deepened, when the golden domes reflected 
 back the myriad lights by which they were encircled, when 
 the soft and shimmering glow melted the differing colours 
 into a woof so dazzling, so bewildering, so indescribable, 
 that one stood enraptured before it, I felt that I beheld 
 a spectacle which would have challenged the most au- 
 dacious pen and would have received no answering taunt. 
 A merchant of Moscow, who was asked during the 
 ceremonies, " How much will the decorations cost the 
 city?" replied with some pride, "It does not matter, we 
 have placed no limit on the expense; we are rich enough 
 to pay the bill whatever it is, and are more than willing." 
 It was this spirit which for the moment emphasized the 
 ever permanent beauty of the place. All Moscow was 
 new at least as to the outside. Everywhere the houses 
 had been recoloured, and the city might have stood as the 
 creation of that invincible Eussian monarch, Peter the 
 Great, who ordered a new capital to be built for him, 
 and when he returned from his shipbuilding apprentice- 
 
146 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 ship complained that it was not yet finished. About the 
 entire city there was no appearance of age, except as to 
 form. The surface of all was new and fresh and bright 
 and beautiful; and only the marvellous varieties of form 
 suggested a city built by different architects from various 
 climes, in widely separated epochs. 
 
 I have already described the decorations of the city 
 along the route followed by the Tsar upon his entry, and 
 will here only specify some of the leading illuminations 
 of the coronation night. There were no fireworks no 
 "pyrotechnics" in our western sense. The city was 
 ablaze, but it was quietly ablaze. The rocket was con- 
 spicuous by its absence; there was nothing to disturb the 
 mind of the spectator. It might have been some mirage 
 lit at every salient point by the pearls, rubies, diamonds, 
 and sapphires of the Orient. As a matter of fact, most 
 of this impression was produced by millions and millions 
 of candles held in globes of different-coloured glass, and 
 affixed to every possible coign of vantage. Everywhere 
 one saw the arms of Eussia, and everywhere else the sig- 
 nificant initials N" and A, written in letters of light. May 
 they never be written otherwise. On some of the more 
 conspicuous buildings there were ambitious set pieces, not 
 to burn but a few minutes and then leave enhanced gloom 
 behind them, but to burn on and on till all Moscow had 
 fallen asleep bathed in the soft and sensuous glow. On 
 the Noblesse Club, one of the finest buildings in Moscow, 
 there was an enormous crystal crown flanked by the ini- 
 tials of the Tsar and of the Tsaritsa. On the Opera House 
 the decorations of light were peculiarly grand and impos- 
 ing. All the lines of the building had been brought out 
 by thousands of candles, which clung like an embroidery 
 of diamonds to its splendid proportions; at each corner 
 of the fagade were great flaming torches, like enormous 
 beacon lights; and behind the figure of Phaeton whipping 
 his fiery-footed steeds was a gigantic sun which threw 
 that mythological charioteer into unwonted splendour and 
 unusual proportions. The famous Eed Gate, erected by 
 the merchants of Moscow to commemorate a past corona- 
 
AN IMPERIAL FEAST. 147 
 
 tion, was decorated entirely with red lights, and the figure 
 of Fame on its summit might have stood for a gentle but 
 fiery companion to the traditional scarlet Mephisto. All 
 the embassies were decorated splendidly, save one, and I 
 regret to say that it was that of my own country. The 
 Persian Embassy and the German Embassy were pecul- 
 iarly beautiful, although the former was, perhaps, a shade 
 too delicate for the very strong and high colours by which 
 it was surrounded. The outlines of the Hotel de Ville 
 were emphasized with pure white lights, which showed 
 its fine proportions most admirably; and, in brief, there 
 was not a prominent public building in Moscow which 
 was not displayed to the very utmost advantage. The 
 word had been given to " decorate," and the city had 
 decorated. It was almost pathetic to observe the dwellings 
 of some of the poorer classes in the obscure portions of 
 the city. They were all lit up in honour of the Great 
 White Tsar, and I thought the few candles which illumi- 
 nated the tiny dwelling of some wage-earner a much 
 more precious gem in the diadem of the young Emperor 
 than all the blazing lights of the grander buildings, or 
 the shimmering jewels with which he had been clothed. 
 The widow's mite was not absent from the fete of Nicho- 
 las II. 
 
 If I have failed to convey an adequate idea of the 
 kaleidoscopic panorama, I am at least resigned, for I have 
 yet to see the spectator of the ceremonies who felt at all 
 equal to setting down on paper anything, like a complete 
 account of it. The difficulty is that to the writer no lan- 
 guage seems opulent enough to portray so delightful a 
 spectacle, while to the reader the constant iteration of 
 superlatives becomes tedious. I have heard those who 
 have looked upon the Taj Mahal in all its glory by the 
 pale light of the moon declare that in that surpassing 
 vision they were repaid for all the weary journey which 
 a pilgrimage to the Holy Tomb involves. They tell me 
 that, as one looks for the first time upon the marble 
 mausoleum of that dead beauty of the East, he catches his 
 breath in ecstatic pain. I can believe it now. I said to 
 
148 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 myself, " Live I a thousand years, I shall not look upon the 
 like again." 
 
 During the evening the young couple walked quietly 
 about the terrace, gazing with evident admiration and 
 keenest interest upon the indescribable sight of this an- 
 cient city glowing with light and love for them. And in 
 the streets thousands upon thousands of carriages were 
 formed in line and compelled to travel only in one direc- 
 tion, and then to make the return journey by another 
 route. To say that the people were wild with excitement 
 would be true; but it would scarcely describe the pent- 
 up, well-suppressed excitement and enthusiasm which 
 marked the occasion and differentiated it from everything 
 of the kind I had ever seen before. Every one for once 
 was happy, or appeared to be so. The carriages of the 
 nobles, full of laughing and merry occupants, jostled, 
 but gently, the happy peasants and pilgrims and moujiks 
 who thronged the streets. Even the isvoschiks and the 
 policemen seemed to have caught the hilarious mood, and 
 it is no exaggeration to say that this was Joyful Eussia 
 indeed. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE COSSACKS AND LI HUNG CHANG. 
 
 ON the 22d of May the day after his solemn entry 
 into Moscow the Tsar received all the ambassadors, 
 ministers, and other distinguished guests from foreign 
 countries in the Palace of the Kremlin. In speaking of 
 the representatives of foreign nations, I shall be forgiven, 
 I am sure, by every patriotic American, if I comment 
 upon the fact that the display made by our own Government 
 at the crowning of the Tsar was quite out of proportion 
 to the size, importance, and wealth of the United States. 
 Add to this the facts that Russia is a country with which 
 we have always lived on terms of cordial amity, and that 
 it was the only one of all Europe which maintained a 
 friendly and sympathetic attitude to us during our own 
 internecine strife, and I think it will be agreed that we 
 might have been much more liberal in our representation 
 and expenditure at this function without compromising 
 in the least our position as a republic, or our neutrality 
 regarding foreign affairs. Our Minister at the Imperial 
 Court, the Honourable Clifton R. Breckinridge, is a de- 
 lightful and thoroughly representative American, and 
 certainly Mrs. Breckinridge supports him with dignity and 
 grace. Admiral Selfridge is a naval officer of splendid 
 record, one calculated to do honour to our country wherever 
 he may represent it, and accompanied by his personal staff of 
 six charming fellows, all creditable representatives of their 
 service, redeemed America from an obscure position among 
 the visiting embassies. It is, however, a matter of regret that 
 our army, filled as it is with gallant men, many with 
 
 149 
 
150 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 brilliant records, and well deserving the honour, should 
 have been so insignificantly represented. 
 
 Small in comparison as our representation was, the 
 beggarly appropriation that was made ($5,000) was even 
 in greater contrast to that of other foreign powers. There 
 was no petty principality in Europe or Asia that did not 
 treat its representatives with more generosity. Republican 
 simplicity is all very well in its way, but I submit that 
 self-respect is quite as important a factor in a nation's 
 life. If we are going to send representatives to such func- 
 tions at all, it would be a wise policy to enable them at 
 least to compete in appearance with other first-class powers. 
 Of course, I am entering upon a wide field, the very fringe 
 of which I shall but skirt. In the East, in Russia, and, 
 indeed, in many European countries, the dignity and 
 power of a nation are estimated according to the appear- 
 ance made by its representatives. If our country was thus 
 judged by the delegates of the different nations at the 
 coronation of the Tsar, they must certainly have placed 
 us at the foot of the list. I wonder how long it will be 
 before our consuls, ministers, and ambassadors are so paid 
 that they can go to their posts without a constant dread 
 of impending financial disaster if they are poor men, or 
 without the knowledge, if they are rich, that their ap- 
 pointment simply means an opportunity to make them- 
 selves a good deal poorer before their term of office ex- 
 pires. Surely the United States is big enough and gen- 
 erous enough to deal with an open hand with the citizens 
 it sends abroad to care for its interests in foreign lands. 
 We must also take into consideration our position among 
 the other great nations of the world, and the nature of 
 our diplomatic intercourse with them. We are essentially 
 a nation of producers, producing more than is necessary 
 for home consumption; we are eager to augment our com- 
 mercial importance in the markets of the world; and in 
 many of those markets we must first of all enhance our 
 importance by lifting up the dignity of those who repre- 
 sent us. It is a very poor policy to make a meagre display 
 in the show window of either a nation or a shop. 
 
THE COSSACKS AND LI HUNG CHANG. 151 
 
 I hope I shall be forgiven for this digression, but I 
 must confess that while in Moscow., although intensely 
 American, I felt more than once put to the blush that our 
 country, which we believe to be the greatest on earth, 
 should have made so poor a display when compared with 
 even insignificant South American powers. And I must 
 confess that the false position into which our accredited 
 representatives abroad are frequently forced by the policy 
 of mistaken economy pursued by our Government is 
 scarcely commensurate with our dignity and position. It 
 is not doing quite the square thing by our representatives 
 to send them to courts where every other power is lavish 
 in the treatment of its diplomatic agents, and then to 
 ask them to " keep up their end " on a beggarly pittance. 
 This may be republican simplicity, but it is not good sense. 
 A nation, to gain the consideration of other foreign powers, 
 must employ diplomats mentally and physically equipped 
 for their duties; and, having employed them, it is its 
 bounden duty to place them upon such a footing, with 
 every available facility at their disposal, that they can 
 command the attention and respect of the Government 
 and people to whom they are accredited. 
 
 In many of the great capitals foreign governments 
 own and maintain at their own expense the houses in 
 which the embassies and legations are domiciled. These 
 are always of a size and elegance suitable to the position 
 of their representatives. In addition to this, they pay 
 them salaries sufficiently large for the maintenance, in 
 every way, of a state creditable to their governments. Our 
 Government owns no house in any foreign capital, nor 
 is any provision or allowance made for the renting or 
 maintaining of such. Our ambassadors and ministers are 
 supposed to provide this from their salaries, which are, 
 when compared to those of the representatives of even 
 third-rate powers, very small and mean. In any of the 
 large capitals of Europe the rent of a house at all suitable 
 for the occupancy of an ambassador or minister is ex- 
 tremely high. I know the case of one American ambas- 
 sador whose house rent alone exceeded his salary by five 
 11 
 
152 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 thousand dollars. There are also courtesies in the form 
 of social entertainments that are almost obligatory among 
 representatives at a foreign court. These entertainments 
 do not represent the personal feeling of one representative 
 for another, so much as the feeling between the two coun- 
 tries represented. Is it, therefore, right or just that we 
 send our representative abroad and expect him to bear 
 personally the expenses of discharging the obligations 
 devolving upon him in order to maintain the dignity and 
 prestige of his country? If this mistaken petty economy 
 be persistently followed by our Government, the time will 
 soon arrive when none but the rich can afford to represent 
 us abroad, and we shall soon build up a plutocratical gov- 
 ernmental service in direct opposition to the fundamental 
 principles of the Eepublic. What matters it if the recom- 
 pense of our representatives abroad be doubled, or even 
 trebled? The increased expenditure would not be felt, or 
 hardly noticed, in the annual expenses of the Government. 
 Then the ablest and the best-fitted men could be sent to 
 represent us abroad, were they rich or poor, without fear 
 of causing pecuniary embarrassment. 
 
 On my way to the barracks, which I drove out to see 
 on this day with Colonel Ismaillof, son of the very dis- 
 tinguished general of that name, whose brilliant record 
 is well known to all students of the Eusso-Turkish War, 
 I passed the Tsar and the Tsaritsa driving in an open 
 victoria, entirely unattended by any escort, and preceded 
 only by a single aide-de-camp in a troika. They were on 
 their way to the Kremlin to the reception of the ambassa- 
 dors, and it was refreshing to observe the complete con- 
 fidence and ease and absence of display with which they 
 drove through the streets. If to show confidence is the 
 surest way to beget confidence, certainly the young Em- 
 peror and his wife were laying the foundation for universal 
 good feeling among their people. They bowed on every 
 hand as they passed along, and everywhere were greeted 
 with cheers and smiles. The Empress was dressed in a 
 beautiful but simple costume of pink and gray, and the 
 Emperor looked very soldierly in his splendid uniform. 
 
THE COSSACKS AND LI HUNG CHANG. 153 
 
 I only mention this to dissipate the impression, which I 
 think is general, that the Tsar never stirs abroad without 
 / a military escort. This incident was more striking, as it 
 occurred at a time when the city was full of strangers, and 
 when one would suppose that more than ordinary precau- 
 tions would be adopted. 
 
 On our way to the barracks we visited the Palanka 
 Square, which is one of the interesting shows of Moscow. 
 Here the " thieves' market " is situated. It is the Rus- 
 sian equivalent of Petticoat Lane in London. I do not 
 know of its like in America. It is averred that only 
 stolen goods are on sale here. Whether this is true I can 
 not say, but I incline to the belief that a very considerable 
 proportion of the second-hand stock-in-trade of these side- 
 walk merchants has been "lifted." Petty thieves, sneak 
 thieves, domestic servants who pilfer trifles from care- 
 less masters, and the more ambitious burglar, are all re- 
 puted to find a ready sale for their spoil at the " thieves' 
 market." The character of many of the faces would quite 
 justify the belief that the thieves themselves were dispos- 
 ing of their gains, for I never saw more beetle-browed, 
 ill-looking specimens anywhere in my life. 
 
 My visit to the barracks was interesting to me, as help- 
 ing me to form an independent opinion of the manner 
 in which the Russian soldier is housed. I had read a great 
 deal about the inhuman treatment of the private soldiers 
 of the Russian Army. This I did not find to be corrobo- 
 rated by my personal inspection. And I saw the barracks 
 at a disadvantage, for accommodations of a temporary 
 character had been erected in every available spot for 
 the enormous number of extra troops concentrated in Mos- 
 cow for the coronation. Indeed, I found upon personal 
 observation that many of the gruesome stories I had read 
 of Russian life were either manufactured out of "whole 
 cloth," or exaggerations of such magnitude that one would 
 scarcely recognise the original. The barracks were one- 
 story buildings covered with stucco. Each room ac- 
 commodated not less than twelve nor more than twenty 
 men. As we passed through the rooms, the soldiers in 
 
154: IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 them stood at attention and saluted. I could only see 
 that they were as well cared for as the men of our own 
 army, and I have seen many English barracks that were 
 not a whit more comfortable. In front of the buildings 
 is a large sandy plain, on which the temporary sheds 
 spoken of above had been erected. The scene was one of 
 bustle and activity; soldiers in various uniforms were 
 everywhere occupied in active preparation for some im- 
 pending military function. I noticed a relief guard going 
 out, and as they marched the soldiers munched big chunks 
 of the black bread of which the lower classes in Eussia 
 are so fond, and which, despite its dark colour, is both 
 wholesome and nutritious. 
 
 . This was the first time I had come in close contact with 
 the famous Cossacks. From what I then saw of them, 
 I can fully realize how they have won and so long main- 
 tained their reputation in every kind of irregular warfare. 
 They are fierce-looking customers, with black hair and 
 piercing black eyes. Fully half of them bore some scar, 
 or were minus an eye or ear. They were, in truth, more 
 disfigured than a corps of German duelling students. They 
 are, so Colonel Ismaillof told me, under complete dis- 
 cipline, regard the Tsar with reverence and affection, and 
 would serve him, in the words of the late Sir John Mac- 
 donald, with their " last man and their last dollar." How 
 strange it all appears, as one glances back through his 
 recollections of history, to see these children of the desert, 
 who were once the terror of the Muscovite, now amenable 
 to discipline, and holding a place among the most valued 
 forces of the Empire. In nothing, it seems to me, is the 
 might and material progress of the Eussian Empire more 
 clearly displayed than in its gradual but complete sub- 
 jugation of the various barbaric tribes which once held 
 its borders in constant terror, and enjoyed an independ- 
 ence as complete as their present subjugation. Among 
 no people has there ever been a more complete system of 
 social equality than among those inhabiting the lower 
 stretches of Eussian territory bordering the Black Sea, 
 reaching across the Caucasus Mountains, and including 
 
THE COSSACKS AND LI HUNG CHANG. 155 
 
 the country surrounding the Caspian Sea. Eepublicanism 
 as practised in the United States, in France, or even in 
 Switzerland where it is said to be most nearly ideal is 
 stark autocracy compared with the social equality and 
 individualism which the Cossacks once enjoyed. In those 
 early commonwealths every man stood on an absolute 
 equality with his fellows. Each individual member of the 
 community could call it together to redress any wrong 
 of which he supposed himself the victim. It is true, their 
 councils were often disturbed by a resort to arms, but 
 even then every man was on an equitable footing, and 
 a rude system of justice was maintained that was alto- 
 gether satisfactory to the people and quite in keeping with 
 their natural proclivities. After the Muscovite Tsar had 
 gained an ascendency in northern or greater Eussia, these 
 wild sons of the desert long maintained their independ- 
 ence; and when at last they succumbed to the sway of 
 the Great White Father, their submission was greatly salted 
 with reservations unexpressed, but none the less emphatic 
 in favour of a continuance of that nomadic life and 
 border warfare which had to them all the charm that the 
 tourney of the Middle Ages held for the feudal lords. It 
 is, perhaps, one of the most hopeful signs of the slow 
 but sure advance of civilization over all the world, that 
 the Cossacks of the Dnieper, the Don, and the Volga are 
 now simply the" Cossacks of the Tsar. Among all his 
 troops the Emperor has none more fearless and none more 
 obedient. 
 
 They are most valuable, however, in those forms of 
 warfare which approach nearest the guerilla, and espe- 
 cially enjoy being engaged in suppressing any uprising 
 among the regular Russian population, between whom 
 and themselves there is little love lost. I could not help 
 thinking, as I looked at them, of the merciless manner 
 in which the forerunners of these same Cossacks had 
 swooped down again and again upon the remnants of the 
 French Army as it struggled through frost and snow 
 toward the borders of what proved its graveyard. They 
 seemed to the French soldiers, according to the account 
 
156 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 of one of their officers, like wolves of the forest, so swift, 
 so cruel, so absolutely without mercy was their mode of 
 attack. They are magnificent horsemen, so far as riding is 
 concerned, and it was this, as well as his brilliant uni- 
 form and bravery, which endeared to them the French 
 General Murat, whom they styled the " Cossack of the 
 French." They have no modern ideas of managing their 
 horses. They rule them by brute force rather than by 
 kindness. The animals they ride are very like the Mexi- 
 can broncho swift and sure of foot, and perhaps more 
 amenable to force than to a gentler sway. I had heard much 
 of their daring riding, and must confess that they are as 
 clever horsemen as our own Indians, but their far-famed 
 riding in a standing position lost some of its wonder to 
 me when I saw that to accomplish this they cross their 
 stirrups over the saddle, and, thrusting their feet into 
 these, secure a pretty firm foothold. They are absolutely 
 fearless, and impressed me as being a troublesome lot to 
 tackle in anything like frontier warfare. An escort espe- 
 cially designed for service near the person of his Majesty 
 is chosen from the Cossacks, and in their long flowing 
 scarlet coats, with white facings, together with their fierce 
 aspect, they make a most picturesque addition to the 
 regiments of the Guard. One peculiar feature of their 
 uniform is a long sweeping black cloak, for all the world 
 the counterpart of the circulars that our ladies used to 
 affect a few years ago. These, when they are walking, 
 reach to the ground, covering them entirely, and when 
 on horseback extend over the quarters of their horses. 
 
 From the barracks I accompanied Colonel Ismaillof 
 to a luncheon at the Ermitage. We sat down to a charac- 
 teristic Eussian meal, which, after all the French menus 
 I had lately faced, was quite a relief. After an elaborate 
 Zakuska, we discussed a delicious iced green soup, a pecul- 
 iarly tasty fish patty, and cold roast pig, served with cu- 
 cumbers and onions. This, washed down with a very good 
 brand of champagne, and followed by a well-concocted 
 article in the way of coffee, served to cast a rosy hue over 
 the very arduous work of sight-seeing. 
 
THE COSSACKS AND LI HUNG CHANG. 157 
 
 After lunch, having bidden my most agreeable host 
 au revoir, I called at the residence of the French Ambas- 
 sador, and ended a very enjoyable and most interesting 
 afternoon by a visit to Li Hung Chang. The astute Chi- 
 nese statesman was in many respects quite the figure 
 among the list of distinguished strangers, and, singularly 
 enough, seemed to overshadow the Japanese representa- 
 tives. I found him a most delightful and entertaining 
 man. He was more polite than the occasion or our relative 
 ages demanded. Kising when I was presented, he greeted 
 me with cordiality, and gave me an opportunity to observe 
 his great height. He talked freely and well through an 
 interpreter. It was evident that, although this was his 
 first trip round the world, he was no stranger to the cur- 
 rent events of Europe, or to the ideas which were mak- 
 ing themselves felt among civilized nations. He spoke 
 of General Grant in terms of enthusiasm, and said 
 that they had been "good friends." He spoke of 
 China as having been too conservative, and hoped to 
 learn much on his trip which would prove of value to his 
 people. He was domiciled at the residence of a promi- 
 nent Muscovite tea-merchant, which had been placed at 
 his disposal during the coronation ceremonies. I noticed 
 that he wore his red button and peacock feather, and that 
 he toyed with a string of aromatic beads as he conversed, 
 constantly inhaling their fragrance. Li Hung Chang is 
 no stranger in either England or America by this time, 
 and has discovered to both countries a vein of humour 
 which he did not attempt to conceal in Eussia. " How old 
 are you ? " he asked the Tsar, when he was presented to 
 him. " Twenty-seven," replied his Majesty. " You look 
 forty, your face contains so much wisdom?" This, of 
 course, from the celestial standpoint was a very emphatic 
 compliment. "And how old are you?" queried the Em- 
 peror, intending to comment pleasantly upon the aged 
 statesman's vigorous appearance and activity. Li Hung 
 Chang smiled, and his bright eyes twinkled slyly as he 
 replied, " Oh, I'm only a boy, too! " To the Duke of Saxe- 
 Coburg-Gotha, who has very noticeably increased in weight 
 
158 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 during the last few years, and had been describing his 
 duchy to Li Hung Chang, the latter quietly said, " But 
 it's such a little country; I should think you would find 
 it difficult to live in it." It is needless to say that Li Hung 
 Chang's touches of humour were received by both Tsar 
 and Duke with merriment. The Chinese statesman im- 
 pressed me as far too astute to give utterance to any im- 
 portant views concerning the future policy of his Govern- 
 ment, so anxiously awaited by the world of diplomacy. 
 And I imagined even then that he would escape from the 
 United States, as he has from Eussia, Germany, France, 
 and England, without committing himself as to China's 
 projects, either commercial or diplomatic. From what I 
 saw of him, I could but feel that if his country had pos- 
 sessed a few more such statesmen, the issue of the war be- 
 tween China and Japan would have worn a very different 
 complexion. But one swallow does not make a summer, 
 and one statesman can not make an empire. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE TSAKITSA. 
 So good, so kind, so clever. 
 
 THE present Tsaritsa of Russia is the daughter of Louis 
 IV, Grand Duke of Hesse-Darmstadt, and that Princess 
 Alice of England who is usually styled "the Queen's 
 favourite daughter.' 3 The name which was conferred upon 
 her in baptism, and which she laid aside upon entering 
 the Russian Church before her marriage, was Victoria 
 Alix Helena Louise Beatrice. She was born on June 6, 
 1872, and from the dawn of her life disclosed the same 
 engaging qualities of heart and mind which led the Prince 
 of Wales to speak of her mother, at the time of her death, 
 as one " so good, so kind, so clever." 
 
 In giving a brief description of the august and gracious 
 lady who now shares the throne of Russia with Nicholas 
 II, it will not be inappropriate to revert to her parentage 
 and family connections. Indeed, it is upon these family 
 connections and their potent though non-political influ- 
 ence that some of the wisest and most far-seeing minds 
 in Europe predicate an era of peace and good-will among 
 the continental nations. At the time of her marriage, 
 the London Times, which always speaks with greatest cau- 
 tion, said: "It is quite possible that the new Empress 
 may be able to exercise a quiet and wholly unobjection- 
 able influence in favour of peace by helping to remove 
 the somewhat jealous and suspicious feeling with which 
 the Russian people regarded both England and Germany 
 during the greater part of the last reign." " Quiet and 
 
 159 
 
160 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 wholly unobjectionable " are precisely the words which 
 one would apply to that kind of influence which proceeds 
 from a gracious and potential personality, and is rooted 
 in family love and affection. Such is likely to be the 
 kind of influence exerted in Eussia and throughout Europe 
 by the Empress Alexandra Feodorovna. The Empress's 
 family connections ally her closely with the royal throne 
 of England and the imperial throne of Germany. If it is 
 true of royal as of ordinary mortals, that " blood is thicker 
 than water," it is also true that the quality of blood in royal 
 veins is determined altogether by considerations of he- 
 redity. Judged by the standards of heredity, no happier 
 or more benign personality than that of the Empress of 
 Eussia is to be found among the crowned heads of Europe. 
 Her mother, Princess Alice of England, was universally 
 conceded, by her own family, by the people of England, 
 and by the inhabitants of Hesse-Darmstadt, to be a woman 
 of great sweetness and beauty of nature, as well as the 
 possessor of an incisive intellect and a thoroughly cultured 
 mind. At the time of her death, the Earl of Beaconsfield, 
 Lord Granville, and many others of scarcely less au- 
 thority, united to praise the strength and beauty of her 
 life in no measured terms; and her biographer, writing 
 at or near the same time, and speaking of her swift 
 adaptability to her new sphere at the time of her mar- 
 riage, says: " Brilliant, but solid in her accomplishments, 
 she speedily entered, in her new home among the Ger- 
 man people, on an increasing interest in their art and 
 literature; and being an accomplished sculptor and painter, 
 with a hearty and kind disposition, she soon drew around 
 her friends who forgot the Princess to love and admire 
 the woman." The Princess Alice was always a prime 
 favourite among the people of England, and her death 
 was sincerely mourned. She is declared to have inherited 
 the amiable disposition and bright, comprehensive intel- 
 lect of Albert the Good, her father. She was his favourite 
 child and chief companion, and it was she who soothed 
 his last moments with the tenderness of a daughter and a 
 fortitude far beyond her years. 
 
THE TSARITSA. 161 
 
 Through her mother and her grandfather, then, we 
 see the Empress of Eussia to be descended from a line in 
 which strength of intellect was enriched and modified by 
 generosity, gentleness, and affection. The benign life of 
 the Prince Consort, the gracious, devoted life of Princess 
 Alice, if reproduced in the Empress of Russia, bespeak a 
 character in which " mercy and truth are met together, 
 righteousness and peace have kissed each other." 
 
 The Empress is also, it should be remembered, the 
 granddaughter of Queen Victoria, whose reign is at once 
 the longest and the most brilliant in the history of the Eng- 
 lish throne; a woman who has generated wholesome in- 
 fluences, not alone in her own kingdom, but among the 
 different royalties of Europe, most of whom are more or 
 less closely connected with her. Supposing, then, that the 
 present Empress inherits the capacity for affairs of her 
 grandfather, the warm and womanly temperament of 
 Queen Victoria, and adds to these the sweet gracious- 
 ness of her own mother, and it will be instantly seen 
 that she has taken to the throne of Russia a rarer gift 
 than that throne can possibly bestow upon her the gift 
 of a pure, exalted, gentle, and loving type of woman- 
 hood. 
 
 On her father's side, too Louis IV, Grand Duke of 
 Hesse-Darmstadt she is well descended; for he was not 
 only a good husband and father, but a brave soldier, who 
 risked his life for his fatherland on many a hard-fought 
 field. 
 
 Such, then, are the two streams immediately converg- 
 ing in the present Empress. "Aliky," as she was nick- 
 named by her mother, may well be proud of an ancestry 
 which closely allies her to not only the best blood in 
 Europe, but also to individuals of exceptional brilliance 
 and beauty of nature. Add to this distinguished heredity 
 the delightfully simple and wholesome environment of 
 the girl's early years, and we have present the two con- 
 ditions upon which philosophers are accustomed to predict 
 ideal types of character. 
 
 When the Princess Alice left "Windsor for Hesse-Darm- 
 
162 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 stadt it was like a descent from palace to cottage. The 
 house she went to live in, and in which her children were 
 born, was unpretentious, and her husband's treasury dic- 
 tated thrift. Not in an atmosphere of poverty, but in one 
 of prudence and frugality then, was the young Princess 
 reared. Moreover, she was reared among a people as re- 
 ligious, simple, industrious, conscientious, and thrifty as any 
 in Europe. The Grand Duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt is an 
 integral part of the German Empire, comprises an area of 
 2,965 square miles, and has a population of about 1,000,000 
 souls, chiefly Protestants. As lately as 1866 Hesse-Darm- 
 stadt sided with Austria against Prussia, and incurred a 
 heavy indemnity in so doing; but the people are of an in- 
 dependent spirit, and value their individual national exist- 
 ence, notwithstanding their inclusion in the German Em- 
 pire. It was, then, in an environment of simplicity, fru- 
 gality, honest, earnest endeavour, unostentatious and home- 
 like individuality, that "Aliky's" childhood and young 
 girlhood were spent. Fit preparation for the future occu- 
 pant of one of the mightiest thrones in Europe! There 
 is a beautiful line in one of the New Testament epistles: 
 " It behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, that 
 he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things 
 pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for the sins of 
 the people." Surely, if closeness to the common people, 
 a constant sympathy with their wants, their cares, their 
 weaknesses, and an intimate and lifelong knowledge of 
 the conditions which create those cares and weaknesses, 
 are likely to fit one to appreciate and deal leniently with 
 his subjects, then the Empress of Russia possesses all the 
 qualities of a merciful and faithful high priestess, for 
 she has in most essentials been "made like unto her 
 brethren." 
 
 It has been my object, in thus glancing at the parentage 
 and early life of the Empress of Russia, to show that she 
 possesses all the qualifications to be derived from those 
 sources when they exist in the most wholesome and en- 
 nobling circumstances. As an individual, she went laden 
 to the throne of Russia with the precious heritage of a 
 
THE TSAKITSA. 163 
 
 noble ancestry, a clean home life, and a charming, unaf- 
 fected personality. 
 
 On the other hand, considered politically, she has 
 welded another link, and a very strong one, in the chain 
 of family relationship which already holds together as 
 with "hooks of steel" the thrones of Eussia, Germany, 
 and England. Already an English prince was married 
 to a sister of the late Tsar, while he in turn was wedded 
 to the sister of England's much-loved Princess of Wales. 
 The present Tsar is thus the nephew of the Princess of 
 Wales, and the cousin of the Duke of York, whom he so 
 closely resembles. And by his marriage with the Queen's 
 own granddaughter, he establishes a closer relationship 
 than ever between the two thrones. The present German 
 Emperor is first cousin to the Empress of Russia, and so 
 it is likely that, notwithstanding the entente cordiale estab- 
 lished between the French and Russians, there will yet 
 be a "still, small," but mightily potential voice near the 
 Tsar to maintain the prestige of Germany. 
 
 Of course, it is quite impossible to arrive at state con- 
 clusions from the outside, and I am well aware how com- 
 mon is the taunt that "the Queen has no power," or 
 "the Emperor is the mere puppet of ministers." It may 
 be, and probably is, true that statesmen and legislators 
 rule empires in fact, leaving only tinsel and bauble to 
 their nominal rulers; but I can but believe that the close 
 binding together of these mighty thrones by the mar- 
 riage and intermarriage of the royal and imperial families 
 must tend to promote peace and good fellowship among 
 the nations. The German Emperor is not likely to attack 
 a throne which is shared by his charming cousin; nor is 
 the young Tsar likely to antagonize a kingdom ruled by 
 the wise and venerable grandmother of his wife. 
 
 Now, all these considerations are, as I am aware, large- 
 ly apart from the immediate personality of the Tsaritsa; 
 but when we come to consider the effect of her character 
 and bearing upon those with whom she comes in intimate 
 contact, it seems safe to predict that, as the mother im- 
 mediately won the hearts of all the Hessians, so will the 
 
164 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 daughter achieve a similar conquest of the Eussians. It 
 would be difficult, indeed, to portray a woman of more 
 gracious, gentle, and withal dignified bearing than the 
 Empress Alexandrovna. A smile in which tenderness 
 and pathos are mingled with a serene self-possession gives 
 the beholder the impression of one strong and true, who 
 derives strength from within, and judges the objective 
 world by a standard self-created, rather than supinely 
 submitting to be carried hither and yon by every suc- 
 cessive breeze. 
 
 The Tsaritsa is a woman of great and self-determining 
 force. This force is not the less because it is masked by 
 gentleness. M. Felix Faure, speaking at Chalons after the 
 Tsar's review of the French soldiers, said, " Like a smile 
 of good omen, the charm of the presence of her Majesty 
 the Empress will remain interwoven with this visit." And 
 such has been the impression created by the young Tsaritsa 
 everywhere. 
 
 How potential and far-reaching such an influence as 
 hers may be is easily judged by an almost parallel case. It 
 is often said in England to-day that the Prince of Wales 
 is the most popular man in the country a saying which 
 is, I judge, pretty true. However that may be, the one 
 woman in England who rules all hearts by the sceptre 
 of true womanhood and unfailing beauty of life is the 
 Princess of Wales. This daughter of the sea came from 
 her Danish home many years ago to be the bride of Eng- 
 land's future king. She came a stranger, unknown; but 
 from the first her conquest of the British people has been 
 indisputable, and to-day it is scarcely extravagant to say 
 that the nation adores her. A similar case to hers is that 
 of the young Empress of Eussia. She is already creating 
 an atmosphere of domesticity and gentleness about the 
 throne whose traditions are stained with violence and with 
 blood. Her mother once wrote to Queen Victoria, " I am 
 proud of my girls, for they are warm-hearted and gifted 
 too!" And in another letter she says: "All my chil- 
 dren are great lovers of Nature, and I develop this as 
 much as I can. It makes life so rich, and they can never 
 
THE TSAKITSA. 165 
 
 feel dull anywhere, if they know how to seek and find 
 around them the thousand beauties and wonders of Nature. 
 They are very happy and contented, and always see that 
 the less people have the less they want, and that the 
 greater is the enjoyment of that which they have. I bring 
 my children up as simply and with as few wants as I can, 
 and, above all, teach them to help themselves and others, 
 so as to become independent." 
 
 Such, then, is the woman called upon to share the 
 glories of the Russian throne. A woman strong and simple 
 in nature, trained to rely upon herself, and to be quick 
 to help others. Born of a brilliant mother, educated in 
 all the best learning of the day, young and beautiful, who 
 can say how vast may be the power she may wield in an 
 Empire peculiarly susceptible to the beautiful and ready 
 to receive the truth? 
 
 In the latter part of the sixteenth and the first half 
 of the seventeenth centuries the tsaritsas of Russia were 
 practically purdah women. So great was their state that 
 they lived apart. For them to seek amusement or enjoy 
 it was alike undignified. They visited convents; and in 
 the churches, even the place where they sat was screened 
 and secluded like that of an Indian Maharanee at the 
 theatre. But all that is changed. Between then and now 
 looms the figure of Catharine, who while in the world 
 was " of the world." A woman of strength and opulent 
 opportunity she was, whose moral influence upon her 
 time and people was as much to be deplored as her self- 
 reliance and force were to be praised. This figure looms 
 between the dark past and the bright, hopeful present. 
 To-day there stands upon the shore of that limitless ocean 
 called the Future a soft and radiant figure beside the 
 autocrat of all the Russias. It is the Empress. The 
 light of mercy is in her eyes. Benignity illuminates her 
 face. Her heart is linked to England and to Germany 
 yes, to all mankind, for she comes of humanitarian stock. 
 They stand upon the threshold of a voyage, these two. 
 A little child with golden curls and laughing eyes is be- 
 tween them. It is their first pledge of love the Grand 
 
166 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Duchess Olga. Who shall say how mighty may be the 
 influence of that soft-voiced, gentle, smiling woman, and 
 that happy, crowing babe upon the young monarch who, 
 in the midst of universal acclaim, is about to dare all the 
 tempests of an untried sea? 
 
 Of this we may at least be sure, that for that simple 
 family group all hearts and lips will move in unison of 
 happiest aspiration; and if, when the reign of Nicholas II 
 is written, the name of Alexandra Feodorovna occupies a 
 noble and exalted place, it will but confirm the theory of 
 the philosopher, while it fulfils the philanthropist's dream, 
 in proving that from a noble stock a noble posterity will 
 surely spring. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BEEAD AND SALT AND DANCING. 
 
 THE ancient practice of presenting bread and salt to 
 the Tsar was observed with due form in the Palace of 
 the Kremlin on the 28th of May. From one of the sim- 
 plest and most primitive of customs, a custom born in the 
 desert, this peculiar and interesting rite has developed 
 into an elaborate and ceremonious function. The ex- 
 change of bread and salt between sovereign and subject, 
 as a sign of fealty and submission, was a very early and 
 almost universal custom of Oriental tribes. From a mouth- 
 ful of bread and a pinch of salt thus eaten in common 
 under the burning sun of the desert this usage has grown, 
 until now the presenting of bread and salt to the Tsar in 
 the Palace of the Kremlin is an event of only less signifi- 
 cance than the solemn entry and the coronation. At half- 
 past eleven the Tsar and the Tsaritsa, attended in state, 
 entered St. Andrew's Hall for the purpose of receiving 
 the different delegations from all parts of their mighty 
 Empire, which had been commissioned to present this 
 traditional tribute, accompanied by felicitations. Among 
 these were delegations from the Holy Synod, the Christian 
 clergy, the Ministers of State, the Council of the Empire, 
 the Senate, the nobility, the Secretaries of State, the Duchy 
 of Finland, the bourse, the commerce committees, and 
 various municipal and provincial authorities. In some 
 cases valuable presents were brought to the Emperor by 
 the visiting bodies, in addition to the bread plates and salt 
 cellars. From one province in Siberia was sent a huge 
 goblet which had been cut out of a single enormous ame- 
 
 12 167 
 
168 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 thyst. It had a beautifully executed Bacchanalian scene 
 chased upon its entire surface. I saw these plates and salt 
 cellars that evening at the Grand Bal de Cour. They 
 were on display in the Throne Eoom. Some of them were 
 beautiful in design and execution, and all were massive 
 and of great richness. The plates were all of pure gold, 
 and upon many the Emperor's initial was embossed. On 
 some it was written with gems, while the centre of others 
 presented beautifully etched scenes in the province whose 
 gift it was. There were in all, I should think, at least one 
 thousand of these plates, and beside each was its accom- 
 panying salt cellar. In some cases it formed an ingeniously 
 contrived part of the plate. I recall seeing in the Winter 
 Palace at St. Petersburg an enormous room whose walls 
 were entirely decorated with plates of this description, 
 which had been presented to former Tsars. Used as 
 plaques, and arranged in different designs, they produced 
 a very rich and massive effect. On some of the plates 
 which were in the Throne Eoom on the night of the 
 Courtag there were yet remaining crumbs of bread, and 
 several of the salt cellars had salt in them, showing that 
 the actual partaking of bread and salt is kept in propria 
 forma. It is considered a great honour to be selected to 
 carry these gifts to the Tsar; and the different provinces, 
 cities, institutions, trades, and professions vie with each 
 other to produce the most beautiful and costly pieces of 
 plate. 
 
 The Courtag, or Bal de Cour, was, of course, a most 
 elaborate and magnificent function. It was held in the 
 three principal halls of state of the Kremlin Palace those 
 of St. George, St. Andrew, and St. Alexander, which upon 
 this occasion offered a most brilliant aspect. There 
 were uniforms glittering with orders, varied in colour and 
 design as widely as the imagination can possibly conceive, 
 mingling with the costumes of the great ladies of the 
 court, some of whom seemed oppressed by their weight 
 of diamonds; and, to accentuate the splendour of the 
 scene, appeared here and there the bizarre costume of 
 some Oriental potentate, a Chinese dignitary, or a Siam- 
 
BREAD AND SALT AND DANCING. 169 
 
 ese prince. Such was the picture framed within the 
 three great historic rooms. I have already described 
 with some detail the Hall of St. Andrew, which is the 
 Throne Room, and will therefore only give here a brief 
 description of the halls of St. George and St. Alex- 
 ander. 
 
 Having ascended a massive granite staircase, which is 
 inclosed with walls of scagliola, we entered the state apart- 
 ments, which were illuminated by thousands and thou- 
 sands of candles. At the top of the staircase, and before 
 entering, I noticed a great picture of the victory of Di- 
 mitri of the Don over the Tartars, and just beyond an- 
 other of the present Emperor's father receiving the dele- 
 gations of rural mayors after his coronation. Behind 
 him stand together the now Dowager Empress and the 
 present Tsar. The first hall we entered was that of St. 
 George. It is decorated in white and gold, the walls and 
 the arched ceiling being ornamented with delicately de- 
 signed bas-reliefs. The enormous chandeliers which are 
 suspended down the centre are of gold. The hall is two 
 hundred feet in length and seventy feet high, while its 
 full width is fifty-eight feet. The floor, like that of the 
 Hall of St. Alexander, is of parquetry, and is composed 
 of the richest woods known in the Empire, highly polished. 
 On the columns are inscribed the names of the Knights 
 of St. George, and of the regiments which have received 
 the Order since its foundation. They are written in let- 
 ters of gold on a white background, and form the honour 
 roll of the Eussian Empire. On the capitals of the col- 
 umns are figures of Victory. Each of them bears a shield 
 with the names of the most notable Russian conquests 
 engraved thereon. From this hall we passed into the 
 Hall of St. Andrew. Here the decoration is of a differ- 
 ent character, though not a whit less brilliant. In place 
 of the simple white and gold, it has all the colours of the 
 rainbow arranged with the greatest possible taste. On 
 the walls are six superb pictures from the brush of Muller, 
 representing the principal exploits of St. Alexander 
 Nevski, to whom the hall is dedicated. These are let into 
 
170 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 panels which are edged with gold. All the columns of 
 this hall are heavily gilded, and the shields, panels, and 
 cornices of walls and ceiling are resplendent with the 
 same gleaming metal. There are both pendent and bracket 
 chandeliers, and when illuminated with nearly five thou- 
 sand candles, the apartment presents a rich and dazzling 
 scene of beauty. The chairs which are placed round the 
 walls are of gold framework with maroon plush uphol- 
 stery. Of the same colour and fabric is the covering of 
 the pyramidal shelves at each side of the immense en- 
 trances, upon which during any great fete the imperial 
 plate is displayed. Beyond this room is the Hall of St. 
 Andrew, the three being en suite. A progress through 
 them involves a distance of four hundred and sixty-three 
 feet. Each hall has its own peculiar charm, and each seems 
 to be so beautiful that the spectator is lost in wonder as 
 he turns from it to its successor. Conceive, if possible, 
 this superb setting, and add the gorgeous assembly of 
 human beings which thronged it upon that night, and you 
 will have a faint mental picture of the scene. It was, of 
 course, the night of all others for the display of regal 
 attire; and surely every person present seemed to have 
 entered into a conspiracy of splendour. The young Tsar 
 was arrayed in the striking uniform of the Red Hussars 
 of the Guard, while the Empress was in the simple white 
 which she so much affected, and which seemed to become 
 so well her noble girlish beauty. Seven times did this 
 royal pair traverse the length of the three halls I have 
 just described, each time escorting and escorted by a dif- 
 ferent personage: the Tsar leading first the Empress, then 
 the Queen of Greece, then the Crown Princess of Eou- 
 mania, and Grand Duchesses in their order of precedence. 
 The Tsaritsa was led, after the Emperor, by the Due de 
 Montebello (the French Ambassador), Grand Duke Vladi- 
 mir, the Duke of Coburg-Gotha, the English Ambassador, 
 and others. A retinue of royal guests followed in the 
 train of the Emperor and Empress. These processions 
 were made to the stately music of the polonaise, and were 
 watched by the throng of nobles and distinguished visi- 
 
BREAD AND SALT AND DANCING. 
 
 tors present, who formed a living avenue for them to pass 
 through. 
 
 I noted with no little pride that my countrywomen 
 present fully sustained their reputation for grace of man- 
 ner and elegance of appearance. Mrs. Potter Palmer, Mrs. 
 Eoebling, the wife of the famous bridge engineer, Mrs. 
 Breckinridge, Mrs. Alexander, daughter of the late Charles 
 Crocker of California, Mrs. Peirce, the wife of our Secretary 
 of Legation, the Misses Koon of Minneapolis, Miss Town- 
 send of New York, and my own dear mother, were all 
 worthy representatives of America's womanhood. 
 
 Among the many distinguished women from other 
 countries who particularly attracted my notice were 
 the Duchess of Connaught, Duchess of Montebello, Mrs. 
 Lionel Sackville West, Viscountess Coke, Mile. Deprey, 
 and Princess Eadolin and her beautiful daughters. The 
 Americans present were escorted by Mr. Pierre Botkin, 
 the former Secretary of the Eussian Legation at Wash- 
 ington, and now a Gentleman of the Chamber at the Im- 
 perial Court. His many attentions and untiring efforts 
 added greatly to the evening's enjoyment. 
 
 The other noteworthy balls during the coronation 
 festivities included one given by the Grand Duke Serge, 
 Civil Governor of Moscow, on June 1st, one by the No- 
 blesse Club on June 2d, and the grand ball of the Palace 
 of the Kremlin on June 4th. At all of these the Emperor 
 and Empress and all the high court dignitaries were pres- 
 ent. The ball given by the Grand Duke Serge, while an 
 affair of great elegance, did not sufficiently differ from 
 similar entertainments in foreign court circles to call for 
 a detailed description. It took place in the official resi- 
 dence of the Governor of Moscow, the Grand Duke and 
 Duchess receiving their guests with gracious dignity of 
 manner. 
 
 The ball given by the Noblesse Club of Moscow was an 
 entirely novel and " chic " affair. The club's home, as 
 befits its name, is one of the noblest buildings in all 
 Moscow, and its great ballroom presented a gay and beau- 
 tiful spectacle. The dancing hall was surrounded on all 
 
172 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 sides by salons which were devoted to the use of the guests. 
 At the end of this ballroom was a fountain partly con- 
 cealed by foliage plants; at the other end was the plat- 
 form upon which the Tsar watched the dancing. Around 
 the room were lavish floral decorations, in pleasing con- 
 trast to the white and gold of the walls and ceilings and the 
 great crystal chandeliers. The punch bowls upon this occa- 
 sion were ingeniously devised from blocks of ice; and 
 every dainty artifice known to the caterer or the florist 
 had been employed to beautify and enrich the scene. I 
 noticed at one end of the room a balcony filled by a group 
 of gaily dressed little ones, the children of the nobility, 
 who were thus privileged to look upon a scene which they 
 would probably never forget. Taken all in all, this ball 
 was one of the most enjoyable functions given in Mos- 
 cow during the coronation. The grand ball at the Palace 
 of the Kremlin was much more enjoyable than the formal 
 Courtag. Here every one danced, not excepting the Em- 
 peror and Empress, who joined in several royal quadrilles. 
 The dancing and all other arrangements on this occa- 
 sion were under the control of the Court Chamberlains, 
 who carried as a badge of office ivory sticks crowned with 
 the imperial arms in gold, and with a bow of blue ribbons 
 tied near the top. Among the throng were the Ameer 
 of Bokhara, clothed in scarlet robes heavy with gold em- 
 broidery and wearing an immense fur headdress, and the 
 Khan of Khiva in garments of Oriental richness. The 
 most sumptuously dressed of all were certain Georgian 
 princes, whose costumes consisted of differently coloured 
 and very rich velvets, which, were ablaze with orders, 
 shoulder capes of rare skins, and gilt knee boots. I was 
 told upon inquiry that these costumes were not uniforms 
 of any branch of the military service, but the dresses 
 peculiar to the house to which each belonged. 
 
 At 12.30 a banquet was served in St. George's Hall, 
 at which the Tsar, the Tsaritsa, and the royalties sat down 
 with all the assembled guests. 
 
 This magnificent affair practically ended the entertain- 
 ments of the coronation. Shall I say that I was tired? 
 
BREAD AND SALT AND DANCING. 173 
 
 It sounds ungracious; yet when the reader remembers 
 the constant succession of elaborate ceremonies, each 
 treading upon the heels of the other, which we had been 
 attending during the three weeks of our stay in Moscow, 
 it will not be matter of wonder to him if he thinks of me 
 as saying, " Hold, enough! " 
 
 As I look back upon these three weeks, they seem to 
 me like a dream of splendour through which I had passed; 
 as if no reality could reach up to the height of such con- 
 tinued and constantly varied effect. To the officials who 
 arranged and carried out the elaborate and well-ordered 
 pageant it is impossible to accord too high a meed of praise. 
 Of course, the splendid company which had gathered from 
 the ends of the earth to do honour to the Tsar formed a 
 picture worthy of an imperial frame. Such a frame the 
 Palace of the Kremlin provided, and so indeed did the 
 city of Moscow with its matchless beauty. Nature, too, 
 seemed to exert herself to add to the success of the coro- 
 nation. The weather was beautiful; the trees were dressed 
 in their brightest and freshest foliage; and as one looked 
 from some point of vantage upon the surrounding fields, 
 and saw their carpets of green, it was easy to understand 
 why the authorities chose the month of May for the crown- 
 ing of their Tsar. If the bright and happy scene which 
 attended the crowning of Nicholas II may be taken as 
 augury of his reign, then that reign will be fair and pros- 
 perous indeed. That it may be so was the wish, I feel con- 
 fident, of every one privileged to be present at its com- 
 mencement, and of the millions who see in the security 
 and welfare of Eussia the security and welfare of Europe 
 and Asia. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IT is not to be supposed that the enormous crowds of 
 peasants and others of the lower classes congregated in 
 Moscow during the coronation festivities were attracted 
 there solely by the promptings of patriotism. There were 
 other motives at work, though, so far as patriotism is 
 concerned, I suppose that no other peasantry in the wide 
 world can compare with the Russian moujik for thor- 
 oughgoing worship, for absolute, unreasoning, and blind 
 idolatry of his ruler. Whatever happens of an evil nature 
 in the nation is by the moujik charged up to some one else 
 probably the priests never by any means to the " Lit- 
 tle Father." In their eyes he can do no wrong. If at any 
 time he should command a certain number of them to be 
 killed, they would go to their death confident that some 
 unseen power of evil was working through the Emperor; 
 and that in his heart of hearts he was as true and merciful 
 to his children as they were loyal and faithful to him. By 
 the enormous strength of such unreasoning patriotism is 
 the throne of Russia supported. From this class the rank 
 and file of the army are recruited, an army which is the 
 consummation of discipline because every soldier in its 
 ranks is a blind idolater and has learned at his mother's 
 knees, and in the village church, that the noblest thing 
 he can do is to lay down his life for his ruler or to spend 
 it in unquestioning service. To such a peasantry the 
 crowning of a new Tsar is the event of a lifetime. It is 
 something to date back to ever after. They look forward 
 to it for months; every nerve is strained; every neces- 
 
 174 
 
THE PEOPLE'S F^TE. 175 
 
 sary of life curtailed in order to enable the father, mother, 
 and one or two of the older children to make the journey 
 to Moscow to participate in the magnificent event in which 
 every Eussian rejoices. 
 
 Without this patriotic motive, however, the peasants 
 would be attracted to Moscow during the coronation festi- 
 val by other and far less idealistic reasons. To the com- 
 mon people a coronation partakes of the nature of an 
 enormous spree. Thousands leave their homes, their daily 
 drudgery, and their colourless dreary life, to make this, 
 to them, the journey of a lifetime. And so, with pack on 
 back, they set forth, trudging long weary miles. They go 
 in droves from neighbouring villages, carrying with them 
 meagre rations of black bread; and by the roadside they 
 brew their thin decoction called tea. At night they sleep 
 beneath the stars, and wherever they happen to be. So 
 far it is a rather mild sort of spree. As they journey on, 
 the throng grows in size. Tributary streams from con- 
 vergent roads swell the multitude. The lethargic joy 
 develops. Views are interchanged Did I say views? 
 Forbid the term! They have no views only crudest senti- 
 ments. These they vary with mouthfuls of their beloved 
 kalatschs and occasional cups of the burning, dreadful 
 vodka. The one health they drink is to " the Little 
 Father." The one word upon their lips is the name of 
 Nicholas; or it may be varied now and again by the name 
 of his fair young Empress, Alexandra Feodorovna! And 
 presently, so proceeding, the " Holy City " dawns upon 
 their delighted eyes. Their mouths open in amazement, 
 if it is the first time they have gazed upon it; in joyful 
 greeting, if they have looked upon its sacred minarets be- 
 fore. 
 
 Once within the city, this village Ivan, his tributary 
 "souls" and his patient, plodding wife, stalk about its 
 streets as the Huns must have done in ancient Eome, 
 only far less haughtily. Still they trudge and trudge, and 
 still wonder. They seldom speak. Language is but a 
 poor and feeble instrument to express such amazement 
 as they experience. If the stern gorodovoy bids them 
 
176 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 clear the path, they move like dumb cattle aside, and look 
 upon him as upon some lesser god. If he beats or kicks 
 them, like the patient ox they move on but a shade faster, 
 and almost think themselves raised in dignity that they 
 have lived to be kicked in Moscow. And so they gaze 
 upon the city. They stand rapt in holy ecstasy before 
 her sacred shrines. " With, divinest self -surrender " they 
 bow before the tombs of the saints. The earth is not low 
 enough for the prostrations with which they worship the 
 Sacred Mother of Iberia. As they do reverence before the 
 Holy Gate, they look upon the Palace of the Kremlin, and 
 whisper to each other with bated breath, " J Tis the home 
 of the Great White Tsar! " There is not a shrine in Mos- 
 cow that is not dear to them dear though in their hope- 
 less ignorance they know nothing of its history; though 
 the saint to whom it is sacred means nothing more to 
 them than the merest name; though all the splendour of 
 its architecture, the wealth of its possessions, the awe of 
 its tradition, is to them now and forever a sealed, yea, a 
 thrice-sealed book. Still those dumb, oxlike eyes look 
 upon the celestial scene, and as they look, the wealth of 
 all these associations, the beauty of the imperial kaleido- 
 scope of gorgeous colour, sweeps through their quiet souls, 
 and, though they know it not, they are from that moment 
 richer they become then more truly " souls," and life 
 never again can become quite so dumb, so hopeless, or so 
 gray! 
 
 And then they eat and drink! Ah! Heaven itself would 
 be a poor abiding place to Ivan without the fact of food. 
 But here he eats en prince. He has brought a few roubles 
 with him. With these he buys food galore, chiefly black 
 bread and a villainous compound of fat, garlic, and scraps 
 of meat rolled together, and called by courtesy a " sausage." 
 Between the huge mouthfuls he swallows boiling tea; and, 
 to complete his happiness, finally becomes serenely and 
 completely drunk on vodka. Ah! This is indeed the 
 " spree of a lifetime! " Then he sleeps the sleep of the 
 virtuous and the drunken, and it matters not to him 
 where he may find that sleep. I have seen him drop down 
 
THE PEOPLE'S F^ITE. 177 
 
 in the middle of the public highway and compose him- 
 self as serenely as if he were in a private room in the best 
 hotel in Moscow. And the careful isvoschik will pick 
 his way in and out among these drunken or weary sleepers, 
 and leave them unharmed; for if they are drunk he re- 
 spects the cause of their drunkenness, while he envies 
 them their drink; and if they are simply asleep with weari- 
 ness, he still more respects the devout impulse which has 
 brought them so far and made them so tired. 
 
 For those who have no food, the Tsar provides during 
 each day of his stay in Moscow dinners to the number of 
 five thousand. This is a usual thing. At the coronation 
 of one of the Tsars I think it was Nicholas I there 
 were tables spread every day that reached for miles, and 
 about these tables gathered the hungry mob, to eat and 
 drink, and glut themselves as they probably had never 
 done before, and in all likelihood never would do again. 
 Here is a relic of feudalism, in which the serf always 
 looked to his lord for food and raiment, and always re- 
 ceived it. 
 
 Day after day the streets of Moscow were filled with 
 crowds of just such peasants and pilgrims. They were like 
 sheep without a shepherd. In the churches they kissed 
 anything and everything pertaining to a saint; they bowed 
 willing knees at every shrine, gaped in wonder at every 
 gaudy equipage; and when, perchance, the word was 
 passed along that the Emperor was coming, their dull 
 eyes would light up almost flash and as he swept by, 
 they would gaze like lost souls upon a saviour god, and, 
 having seen that imperial face, straightway fall upon their 
 knees, in the midst of all the throng, and begin to offer 
 thanks to their Maker that they had seen the Tsar! 
 Match that if you can outside of Eussia. I know not 
 of its equal. It stands unique for blind political and re- 
 ligious devotion to the person of a monarch. 
 
 Now, of all this wondering, gaping, sleepy throng, the 
 Tsar has been duly mindful. He has made provision for 
 all his guests, peasant as well as prince, moujik as well 
 as grand duke. For them is the daily dinner I have men- 
 
178 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 tioned; for them are the medals, if perchance they may 
 happily prevail against the mighty crowd and gain one; 
 and for them, above all else, is that great day of the 
 " people's fete." Ah! that was a day to be remembered. 
 It will rest forever beneath the shadow of a great catas- 
 trophe, for on that day nearly three thousand human 
 beings paid the penalty of their enthusiasm, of their pa- 
 triotism. But of that later on. 
 
 Saturday, the 30th of May, was set apart for this popu- 
 lar celebration on the mighty Khodynskoe plain. It is 
 a vast level of sand and grass, which lies opposite the 
 Petrovski Palace and stretches away beyond the line of 
 vision, for it is on the border of the city, where it merges 
 into the great flat surrounding country. This is the 
 people's fete, but it is also the fete of their Emperor. An 
 imperial pavilion had been erected from which the Tsar 
 and Tsaritsa, surrounded by the members of their court, 
 watched the spectacle which they had provided. Behind 
 them and on the floor below, the pavilion was crowded 
 with the nobility of Eussia. And such a fete! Only a 
 Barnum could have designed it. Everything in the way 
 of outdoor shows was there, from classical concert to alle- 
 gorical drama, from resplendent ballet to jolly clown. 
 Some one compared the great crowd to Donny brook Fair! 
 Yes, multiply Donnybrook Fair by fifty, and then double 
 that, and you would about reach the proportions of this 
 mighty throng, and of the heterogeneous show. Stand- 
 ing nearly opposite the Petrovski Palace, with its back 
 to the road, was the imperial pavilion, surrounded with 
 immense foliage plants and various other adornments, and 
 draped with flags and gaily-coloured bunting. It was a 
 matchless day. The sun illuminated everything. And the 
 sight from that pavilion was brilliant indeed. Flanking 
 the structure on either hand stood two large tribunes 
 erected for the use of the Diplomatic Corps. These also 
 were filled with a brilliant assembly of notables. Standing 
 in front, and slightly to the left of these structures, was 
 an enormous stand for the united singing societies which 
 furnished the choral music; behind this were the booths 
 
THE PEOPLE'S F^TE. 179 
 
 before which the terrible disaster had occurred earlier in 
 the day. As I glanced upon the scene, it seemed scarcely 
 credible that not twelve hours before so many lives had 
 been sacrificed upon this very spot. 
 
 On this mighty plain, and stretching as far as the eye 
 could reach, was a great mass of human beings, face to 
 face with the Tsar they had come so far to see; for, not- 
 withstanding the disaster of the early morning, the young 
 monarch had wisely come to the festival of the common 
 people wisely, for it is not best to let the unthinking 
 brood too deeply over the irretrievable, nor was it well to 
 cheat the mighty multitude of the show which was essen- 
 tially its own. 
 
 I can not attempt to give a detailed description of the 
 feast in all its well-nigh infinite variety; but cast an eye 
 with me over the bewildering, ever-changing scene. Stand 
 in the centre of the Tsar's pavilion and look outward. 
 Everywhere people, everywhere laughter, shouts of joy, 
 and faces beaming with interest. On the plain different 
 stages have been erected, and different sets of performers 
 are engaged in amusing the people. Here every taste may 
 be satisfied. Projecting the proverbial grain of salt into 
 the quotation, we may say with Polonius: 
 
 The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, 
 pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragi- 
 cal-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited : 
 Seneca can not be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. 
 
 But, indeed, the pastoral-comical seemed to prevail 
 both as to number and popularity. Among the different 
 scenes I had a chance to witness were some allegorical 
 representations. One, in which the fortunes of Eussia, 
 after doing battle with all manner of contending evil, 
 were gloriously triumphant, awakened considerable in- 
 terest among the more thoughtful; but this was not to be 
 compared with that created by the entertainment given 
 by a clever juggler, or by the clown who interspersed his 
 own weak jokes with the marvellous antics of a troupe 
 of trained hedgehogs. 
 
180 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 I was interested to observe that the comedy scene was 
 the most attractive, even to the sober-minded Russian 
 peasants. Of course they were greatly pleased with the 
 historical representations whenever the Russian was vic- 
 torious and, by the way, he always was victorious, by 
 some special providence; but it was always the clown, 
 the conjuror, or the comedian who succeeded in attract- 
 ing the largest throngs. Russian peasants are after all 
 like so many overgrown children, " pleased with a straw, 
 and tickled with a feather " ; they enjoyed with all the 
 zest of little children at a Christmas pantomime the vari- 
 ous scenes provided for them. Look yonder, and you 
 will see that great bearded Muscovite, who looks as though 
 he could fell an ox with his naked fist, almost go into hys- 
 terics as the conjuror extracts a pretty little white rabbit 
 from his wife's ear, which, in all truth, is almost big 
 enough for a rabbit hutch. Observe the strained expres- 
 sion of deathless interest with which they watch the scene 
 from village life, in which all the rust and dirt are re- 
 moved, and it is shown as it might be, clean and glad and 
 frolicsome. This must be heaven indeed to these peasant 
 people. The glittering ballet is almost too much for 
 Ivan, who does not, however, look upon its bewildering 
 charms with a lustful eye. The dancers are to him all 
 personifications of grace and beauty and innocence. He 
 does not look behind the rouge and the tinsel, nor stop 
 to analyze the morality of the troupe. Happy Ivan! This 
 day all to him is fair. He takes the scene for its face value; 
 and from his point of view the face value is very great 
 indeed. 
 
 Among other joys provided for him were a troupe of 
 trained bears bears that rode bicycles, and that sat up in 
 a grave family circle, and looked almost, if not quite, as 
 grave as Ivan himself. Here was the circus, with its 
 trained horses and bespangled riders, its chariot races and 
 its other wonders. There a lot of ambitious peasants, intent 
 upon trying to reach the top of three well-greased poles, 
 sweat, swear, and toil but the grease is too much even for a 
 moujik a moujik, who is never anything else than greasy. 
 
THE PEOPLE'S FfiTE. 181 
 
 Athletes of all varieties performed their marvellous feats 
 for Ivan. On one side, the awkward movements of a 
 sack race; on the other, the still more ungainly move- 
 ments of a man on stilts; here a tight-rope walker; there 
 a juggler, balancing half a dozen spinning plates and, to 
 crown all, a lighted lamp, amazed and held him spell- 
 bound. 
 
 But the joy of joys for Ivan was when his turn ar- 
 rived to sit astride one of the painted wooden horses in 
 the " merry-go-round." This was almost too much for the 
 simple peasant. Ah, ride on, Ivan! Shout for joy. This 
 is to you the most joyful moment of existence, and the 
 memory of it shall serve to brighten the hunger-stricken, 
 half -frozen hours of the coming winter. Ride on! For 
 who shall say, my Ivan, that your joy is not as great as 
 that of the mighty lords yonder who, covered with glit- 
 tering orders, bestride their prancing steeds, but perhaps 
 are weighed down with how great a load of misery and self- 
 reproach? Yes, ride on, Ivan! Shout and shout yet again 
 for the Great White Tsar, who knows full well the dreari- 
 ness of your daily life, and, as he hears your joyful voice, 
 smiles happily, for you yes, even you, Ivan are one of 
 his children. 
 
 I apprehend that there is nowhere else to be seen any- 
 thing like this great fete for the people which occurs at 
 the coronation of a Tsar. It was like the gathering of a 
 family of half a million simple children and setting them 
 loose among all they loved best in the way of fun and 
 hilarity. The Khodynskoe plain was fairly alive with these 
 big, hairy, unwashed, simple creatures, and all of them 
 were as happy as they ever would be on earth. All, did 
 I say? Scarcely; for here and there one saw a face of 
 gloom, which brought to mind the early morning tragedy. 
 
 It is bad policy to reserve the gloom and shadow for 
 the closing lines of such a narrative as this; and did I not 
 think that the disaster of the Khodynskoe plain had served 
 to bring into prominence one of the brightest facts of the 
 entire fete, I should have passed it by altogether or made 
 mention of it earlier. I have not yet seen the entire truth 
 
182 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 told about the terrible accident which marred the early 
 hours of that day. 
 
 It had become rumoured among the moujiks that the 
 supply of souvenir cups to be given out was out of all pro- 
 portion to the number there to receive them. Ugly 
 rumours were circulated that this was the result of jobbery 
 on the part of foreign contractors. Ivan's mind immedi- 
 ately became tense. His Tsar had meant to honour him, 
 but some rogue would thwart the imperial will. Not if 
 he (Ivan) knew it. Not if he (Ivan) had to sit up all night 
 to be in place; not even if he had to fight for it would he 
 miss one of the longed-for mementos of his Emperor's 
 thought of him. And so he did sit up all night; or, rather, he 
 lay out upon the broad Khodynskoe plain beneath the 
 stars. 
 
 Here, then, was a mighty throng of several hun- 
 dred thousand people all intent upon not being cheated 
 out of this souvenir of their Emperor's love. Consider 
 this seething mass! Think of the mighty blind force 
 within it and behind it! Let it sleep; for if it once 
 awaken and find out its own power, there will be death 
 and doom for many. And so indeed there were! Two thou- 
 sand eight hundred and thirty-six were gathered in the 
 early morning from the scene of this terrible awakening 
 and carried to the morgue, the churches, and the build- 
 ings of the fire department. It is dangerous to play with 
 Ivan too long. He stretches out his arms and tears those 
 before him. He tramples on them, he destroys them. I 
 was told, and truthfully, that in an attempt to separate 
 the crowd at the point where the greatest havoc was being 
 wrought, fifty Cossacks, headed by a young lieutenant, 
 were told to ride among the people, but not to use their 
 weapons. They did so. And though history will not tell 
 the story in phrase so eloquent, they matched the achieve- 
 ment of the six hundred at Balaklava. Not one of them 
 returned. They were torn apart. Ivan was awake. Some 
 one he cared not who stood between the Little Father 
 and himself. Some one suffered. Yes, Ivan was, indeed, 
 awake! 
 
THE PEOPLE'S FfiTE. 183 
 
 The story of how it happened is simple. The officials, 
 having heard of the discontent and suspicion among the 
 people, determined to distribute the cups and bread and 
 meat before the crowd grew either greater or angrier. 
 So they opened the booths, and then, like the waves of the 
 sea, up rolled the mighty throng. That is all. The rest 
 is just what would have happened with any crowd of 
 maddened human beings. It is a fearful thing to fall into 
 the hands of an excited crowd. Sea and tempest and fire 
 are terrible when aroused; they are as lambs beside wolves 
 when compared with the raging of a human tempest or 
 the burning of a human fire. 
 
 And the "Little Father," the "Great White Tsar," 
 what does he say? 
 
 It is often said that there is no catastrophe so 
 great but that it carries with it some accompanying 
 blessing. "Well, the tragedy on the Khodynskoe plain 
 served to show the entire Eussian people that their new 
 ruler has a kind, a brave, a manly heart. As soon as he 
 was informed of the accident the Emperor called for his 
 horse, and, accompanied by an aide-de-camp, rode to the 
 scene of the carnage. Here he showed the greatest grief 
 over what had happened, and at once gave orders that 
 all the resources of the Government should be employed 
 for the relief of the injured and for the removal of the 
 dead. Out of his own private purse he ordered that five 
 hundred roubles should be given to each family a member 
 of which had been killed; and, better than all else, he and 
 the Empress went in person to the different hospitals, and 
 expressed their personal sympathy for the sufferers. So the 
 death of the unfortunate victims of the Khodynskoe plain 
 laid the foundations of a sympathy between the great 
 under class of the Eussian people and the throne. It 
 showed the Tsar how much Ivan loved him; it revealed 
 to Ivan how much he was loved by his Tsar. 
 
 13 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HOW WE WASHED IN KUSSIA. 
 
 THE Russians as a nation and to a man bathe so pecul- 
 iarly, so uniquely, that the casual observer associates hot 
 vapour baths with fur-clad Slavs and scarcely thinks of 
 the former without automatically thinking of the latter. 
 By a study of the Russian's bathing habits does the man 
 of learning trace the Russian's descent; or, at least, he 
 cites those habits as strong corroborative evidence of the 
 descent of the Slavs from the Scythians of old. Herodotus, 
 the truth teller, says of the Scythians that they used hot 
 vapour baths, and never washed their bodies in water. 
 And scholars have quoted this statement ever since in sup- 
 port of the theory that the Russians are largely of Scythian 
 stock. But, however that may be, and leaving so nice a 
 question as the remote origin of the Slavic peoples to men 
 of wide and deep erudition, the Russian baths are distinct- 
 ively Russian far more so than were the sumptuous baths 
 of old Rome Roman. And I thought them interesting 
 interesting in themselves and interesting in the similarity 
 of essentials and dissimilarity of detail that exist between 
 the baths of the Russian rich and the baths of the Russian 
 poor. 
 
 My tin bath-tub was not an unqualified success. It 
 was a very nice tub, too. But they still persisted in heat- 
 ing the water a samovarful at a time. Perhaps they had 
 no choice but to do so. At all events, I became a fre- 
 quent patron of the Moscow vapour baths. 
 
 I think the story of the Moscow baths is worth the 
 telling. As I have already said, the ordinary bath-tub 
 
 184 
 
HOW WE WASHED IN RUSSIA. 185 
 
 without which no well-ordered house in America is con- 
 sidered complete is altogether a stranger to Eussian 
 domiciles. This is perhaps owing to imperfect water sup- 
 ply; or it may be due to the fact that the Kussian when he 
 bathes goes in for something very elaborate and luxurious. 
 The Turkish bath of America or England is not to be 
 compared with the fine new bath-house which has been 
 recently completed in Moscow at a cost of two millions 
 of dollars. From the top to the bottom of society, which 
 is a far greater stretch in Russia than with us, all classes 
 are provided for in these great bathing caravansaries. Hav- 
 ing once found my way to them, after facing the almost 
 insuperable difficulties which bathing at home involved, 
 I became a frequent visitor. After one gets used to the 
 novelties involved in the Eussian bath they are as decidedly 
 agreeable as they are splendidly luxurious. There is in 
 every Eussian village a bath-house in which the peasants 
 steam themselves at least once a week, but I shall speak 
 of these later on. I mention them here merely to em- 
 phasize the fact that the practice of taking a weekly steam 
 is a national practice, and embraces all classes. Perhaps 
 in the case of the vodka-drinking peasant it is this weekly 
 parboil which saves his life and postpones the dreadful 
 day when the constant imbibing of unlimited quantities of 
 the deadly liquor must be paid for. 
 
 The principal bath in Moscow occupies an entire square. 
 It is divided through the centre each way, and thus forms 
 four equal departments. These departments are used 
 separately for the different kinds of baths I should say 
 for the different classes; for as with the stars, so in Eus- 
 sia one bath differeth from another bath in glory. They 
 also differ very widely indeed in price. The highest 
 priced bath is twelve roubles practically about six dollars 
 and a half while the lowest is, I believe, twenty-five 
 kopecks, or about thirteen cents. The distance here ex- 
 pressed in values is about the distance which separates 
 the most opulent from the poorest class in Eussian life. 
 For the lowest price the bather gets a good fierce steam- 
 ing, soap and water to give himself a good scrubbing, and 
 
186 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 a coarse towel with which to dry himself. That, together 
 with the exceptional luxury of clean surroundings, is all 
 he does get for his twenty-five kopecks. It was at the 
 other end of the line that I experimented with the Eussian 
 baths, and very enjoyable and Oriental I found them to be. 
 
 The building is a fine one. It is of brick covered with 
 adamantine plaster in imitation of stone, which prevents 
 its being affected by frost. The entrances to the more ex- 
 pensive baths are very fine and imposing indeed; and the 
 entrances for the lower-priced baths are also very inviting. 
 Within the outer door of the bath which I frequented, 
 and facing the door, was a fountain with foliage plants, 
 and adjoining these a buffet for drinks, " soft " and other- 
 wise. At the entrance stood a porter, dressed in white, 
 to whom we handed our outer wraps, and also our cards. 
 This, I suppose, for identification in case of any accident 
 occurring while one is within the bath. The long hall 
 which leads to the baths is floored and ceiled with marble; 
 the windows are of rich stained glass, and at the end there 
 is a flight of marble steps, at the head of which is an iron 
 gateway richly decorated with gilt, which leads into the 
 inner apartments. This hall is in the form of a cloister, 
 and creates an impression of ecclesiasticism. Behind these 
 gates is a long, narrow hallway, and on each side of this 
 hall are the doors leading into the private suites of apart- 
 ments which are set apart for the more expensive baths. 
 Each bather has a separate suite of apartments, which 
 may be used by a small party, if two or three friends wish 
 to bathe together. 
 
 I will attempt to give the reader a description of the 
 suite which I used while in Moscow. The first apart- 
 ment is a boudoir. This is richly furnished with Turkish 
 hangings and rugs. On the walls are splendid mirrors 
 and oil paintings, mostly of bathing scenes, peopled by 
 large-limbed females; arranged about the room are dress- 
 ing tables and luxurious chairs and couches. In this 
 boudoir the bather disrobes. 
 
 The second room is much larger in size and is lined 
 with tiles throughout. In the centre of this chamber is 
 
HOW WE WASHED IN RUSSIA. 187' 
 
 a fountain of water, clear as crystal, surrounded by a marble 
 basin. On one side of the room are two marble slabs for 
 the bather to recline upon while being shampooed; and 
 on the opposite side is a small plunge., octagonal in shape, 
 and surrounded by a brass rail. This plunge is five feet 
 deep and about ten feet in diameter. In one corner of 
 the room are a shower and needle spray. Of course, every- 
 thing is scrupulously clean. The bather passes through 
 this apartment to the third, which is the hot room; and 
 here the serious business of the bath begins. This room is 
 in size about fourteen by ten feet. It is lined throughout 
 with wood, and around the wall is a balcony so close to 
 the ceiling that when an ordinary man stands erect his 
 head is within a few inches of it. On the balcony are 
 benches to lie upon, and in the corner is a sink from which 
 the attendant constantly brings supplies of cold water to 
 refresh the bather. 
 
 Lying on this bench, the novice discovers just how 
 serious a business a Russian bath is. In one corner is a 
 large oven in which large blocks of wood are placed, and 
 when they have become sufficiently heated the attendant 
 throws over them quantities of cold water sufficient to 
 make as much steam as if a boiler had burst. At first the 
 feeling is one of suffocation. It is almost impossible to 
 bear the steam, and would be quite so but for the douch- 
 ing with cold water which the attendant never neglects. 
 In order to enhance the steam, bunches of birch twigs are 
 first dipped in water and then thrust into the oven. Dur- 
 ing the steaming process the attendant takes one of these 
 bunches of birch rods and proceeds to beat the bather, 
 with the idea of driving the steam into the pores of the 
 skin. This part of the bath was quite reminiscent of one's 
 school days. All this time, however, there is the cold water 
 as a refuge. When one has endured this torture till he is 
 of the colour of a well-boiled lobster, and his skin suffi- 
 ciently tender and sore, he leaves the hot room for the 
 second room. Here takes place the ordinary shampooing 
 process which is a part of every Turkish bath with us. 
 There is any quantity of clean, fresh excelsior, which is 
 
188 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 never used twice, warm water, and a thoroughly accom- 
 plished shampooer. After this come the plunge and the 
 douche, or both or neither, as one's tastes dictate. 
 
 I have never had a more luxurious bath, so far as this 
 section of it was concerned, though I must confess that 
 the vigorous treatment of the hot room was at first a trifle 
 too much for me. I grew accustomed to it, however, and 
 the feeling of invigoration which followed quite recon- 
 ciled me to its momentary rigours. 
 
 From the shampooing room you return to the boudoir, 
 and there sleep, or smoke, or drink, as the mood suits. 
 The surroundings are Oriental in their magnificence, and 
 one feels quite like a Maharajah as he, having finished his 
 bath, makes his exit into the glare of the sun. I should 
 say, to be accurate in my account, that extra charges are 
 made for sheets, towels, soap, birch brushes, and attend- 
 ant. And it here occurs to me that this is the only in- 
 stance in my life where I ever bought a rod for my own 
 flogging. The baths are expensive, but very satisfying and 
 comfortable. The time allowed for each bather to retain 
 a suite of rooms is one hour. If he exceeds that time, he 
 is charged for each additional quarter of an hour that he 
 remains. Of course, the more expensive baths are patron- 
 ized only by the wealthy among the Eussians, or by visit- 
 ors who are anxious to explore all there is in the way of 
 novelty in the ancient capital. But, as I have said, baths 
 of a sufficiently pleasant and delightful character within 
 the means of the very poorest may always be had. 
 
 Herodotus may have been entirely right about the 
 Scythians, and no doubt he was, for there are innumer- 
 able proofs that he was the most truthful and exact man 
 that has ever written. I have not been quite so in saying 
 that the Eussians never wash their bodies in water. In 
 the summer the young villager is very fond of river or 
 lake bathing; and if the village is near a pool or stream, 
 half the boys of the community may be found on the 
 banks or in the water. The chances are that the stream 
 is shallow, and not perfectly clean, but it suffices for all 
 the village purposes. The boys bathe here, leaving each 
 
HOW WE WASHED IN RUSSIA. 189 
 
 his one garment on the bank, plunging into the water, 
 or wading as far in as its depth renders feasible. The one 
 garment is a simple affair a shirt of red very neglige as 
 to the extremities, but very proper at the belt, being se- 
 curely kept in place by a drawstring of dirty tape or greasy 
 twine. And in all seasons this pool or stream is the com- 
 mon laundry of the village. The Russian moujik women 
 do not wash clothes over-often; but they do sometimes. 
 On that rare occasion, a family wash-day, the women of 
 the house gather together everything in the way of wash- 
 able clothing they consider sufficiently dirty, and carry it 
 to the water side. Sometimes the laundress tucks her 
 skirts, etc., well up above her knees (for she and the 
 clothes are going into the water together), hangs her big, 
 bulging bundle of things over her shoulder, and trudges 
 off on her bare, brown legs, singing to herself, and sing- 
 ing sweetly, as she goes. A Russian woman always sings 
 while washing. In fact, all the Russians have a remarkable 
 faculty for catching up and improving upon the differ- 
 ent parts of any tune they hear; and they are eminently 
 a nation of fine voices. When a dozen or more Russian 
 peasant women are washing together and singing, the 
 ensemble is as pleasing to the musical ear as it is picturesque 
 to the eye. In the winter holes are broken or hacked in 
 the ice, and on the ice at the edges of these holes the 
 women kneel and wash their clothes, plunging their hands 
 and arms into the icy water. It must be excruciatingly 
 cold work, yet still as they wash they sing. 
 
 But the gilded youth of the village do not seem to 
 relish ice-water plunges. In winter the long, cold win- 
 ter they patronize the steam baths exclusively. The 
 steam bath-house is the Russian's only temple of ablutions, 
 bar the earthen kettle on the porch of his hut. At this 
 seething shrine does the moujik pray for cleanliness and 
 perform his cleansing rites. 
 
 Let us stroll through some Russian village and glance 
 into the bath-house. Ah! you are looking askance at that 
 completely naked man who has come out of the nearest 
 hut, and is passing complacently along. " Is he mad ? " 
 
190 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 you ask. No, reader, he is not mad. He is altogether in 
 his right mind, if not altogether clothed in his accus- 
 tomed red shirt. It is you, if you will pardon me for 
 saying so, who are ignorant, or, to express myself more 
 courteously, largely unacquainted with the modus vivendi 
 of the Russian moujik. Yon nude, shock-headed fellow 
 is Ivan our dear old friend Ivan Ivan Ivanovitch. He 
 is going to the village bath-house. Put your mock mod- 
 esty into your pocket, and we will follow Ivan, and I will 
 gossip to you as we go. 
 
 Every Eussian peasant, as I have told you, takes regu- 
 larly periodical vapour baths. He does it as a matter of 
 health and cleanliness. He does it as a luxurious, sensu- 
 ous self-indulgence. And he does it as a religious ob- 
 servance. As an almost universal rule, he has his bath 
 once a week, and usually on Saturday; that makes him 
 nice and clean and purified for Sunday. To the ortho- 
 dox moujik the bath has a real religious significance, and 
 he believes that it has powers of moral as well as of physi- 
 cal purification. After certain pollutions not unfrequent 
 in his mode of life, no orthodox peasant would think of 
 entering any church or ikon shrine without first steaming 
 himself thoroughly. During the period which begins 
 with Saturday afternoon's bath and ends with Sunday 
 morning's church service he is careful to keep himself 
 strictly unpolluted. Most villages have a communal bath- 
 house where all bathe. We are at the door now the 
 men's door; let us look in. 
 
 We need not look long. It is the crudest, roughest, 
 barest place imaginable. There are three rooms, each 
 hotter than the other. Ivan goes from room to room, and 
 couches himself upon a succession of hot and hotter 
 shelves. The principle is identical with that of the 
 princely baths I have described. But the surroundings 
 are different! However, the essentials are all there, and 
 Ivan is not a stickler for frippery. He wishes to roast, 
 and boil, and simmer, and steam; and he is enabled to do 
 it to profusion at the village bath-house. He does it, going 
 quite as far as he can go and continue to live. Then he 
 
HOW WE WASHED IN RUSSIA. 191 
 
 goes into the coolest of the seething rooms,, dries himself, 
 and walks home. At least he dries himself after a fash- 
 ion in summer. In winter he rushes out naked as at 
 his birth and rolls and rolls in the snow, and bellows 
 with delight. The Scandinavians who, like the Russians, 
 are devoted to steam baths, also love to roll and toss in 
 the snow after the bath, but they do it more soberly. Ivan 
 is in an animal ecstasy when he plunges his great sweating 
 self into the cold and glittering snow, and he roars aloud 
 in his delirium of pleasurable pain as the snow bites and 
 stings him. 
 
 There are parts of Russia where the people do not bathe 
 en masse. Each " soul " or woman takes his or her vapour 
 bath at home, where there is neither bath-room nor tub 
 or vessel for the bath. What do you suppose they use? 
 You give it up? That's wise, for you would never guess. 
 They use the oven the family oven the oven in which 
 their daily bread is baked! On my word, they do. They 
 get into it, roast in it, sweat in it but need I go more 
 into detail? I think not. 
 
 I have said that the moujik boys never break the ice 
 in their anxiety for out-of-door baths, nor do they bathe 
 outdoors in winter. But, strangely enough, there are some 
 people who do a certain class of penitents. 
 
 In many Russian villages it is customary for the peas- 
 ants at certain seasons, and upon certain gala days, to 
 array themselves in strange and fantastic disguises, very 
 much as Roman merry-makers do at carnival times. In 
 both instances it is, of course, a survival of an old pagan 
 custom. Rome, the wise, the liberal, the broad-minded 
 for Rome is all these sanctions, or at least does not cen- 
 sure, the paganlike masquerade of the rollicking, carni- 
 val-keeping Italians. But the Russian Church is a jealous 
 church, and says to her children, " Ye shall have no 
 other customs than mine." The Russian peasant who 
 makes holiday in some sort of a heathenish guise feels 
 that he has pandered somewhat to Satan, and given that 
 evil one a mortgage on his future life. To rectify this, 
 the orthodox moujik does penance, and in a way that can 
 
192 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 but remind us of the penitential performances of a devout 
 Hindoo who has broken his caste. In Russia you are re- 
 minded hourly of the Orient. Above all, you are re- 
 minded of China. But to our penitent Ivan who has worn 
 sinful raiment: how does Ivan cleanse himself, how re- 
 gain his orthodox caste? Listen. 
 
 There is a peculiarly interesting and picturesque Rus- 
 sian religious ceremonial called " The Blessing of the 
 Waters." It takes place in winter. A hole is made in the 
 ice, and to the accompaniment of prayer and sacred song 
 a cross is plunged into the water. As soon as the religious 
 rite is concluded, Ivan plunges in, and as nearly as possible 
 where the cross was submerged. Incredible as it may 
 seem, I never heard of this icy penance killing Ivan; and 
 he has the happy assurance that his faithful mind and 
 his devout body are purged from the uncleanness they had 
 absorbed from his indiscreet wearing of heathenlike gar- 
 ments. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE GALA PERFORMANCE AND THE RUSSIAN" STAGE. 
 
 THE theatre, among other public institutions, was also 
 honoured during the coronation of the Tsar. I did not 
 suppose that with all the other enormous functions on 
 their hands, with all the infinite weariness of reiterated 
 ceremonial to which the Tsar and his courtiers were sub- 
 jected, he would have chosen this occasion for going to the 
 theatre solely for amusement or recreation. No. In Rus- 
 sia the stage is greatly honoured and warmly supported 
 by the nobility and by the throne; and an occasion such 
 as the crowning of a Tsar could not be allowed to pass 
 without setting the imperial seal of approval upon an in- 
 stitution that in every country does so much to alleviate 
 the cares and dissipate the anxieties of mankind. I was 
 glad to find that Russia delights to honour her artists of 
 merit, and that the theatre was not forgotten upon this 
 great occasion of national rejoicing. 
 
 When we drove up to the entrance of the opera house 
 on the evening set apart for the great gala performance, 
 it was a blaze of light and beauty. Over the great porch, 
 which is surmounted by a magnificent group of statuary, was 
 an enormous illumination which threw the mythological 
 figures out in bold relief, and made them assume even 
 greater proportions than they usually bear. All round 
 the cornice a perfect embroidery of lights brought into 
 delicate and exquisitely beautiful contrast the architec- 
 tural features of the imposing building. Over the main 
 entrance a canopy of gold and scarlet, mingled with the 
 national colours, made a passage worthy of an Emperor. 
 
194: IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Of course, all the paths leading into the various entrances 
 were covered with the colour of royalty; and there were 
 hosts of soldiers in brilliant uniforms, and attaches of the 
 opera house, wearing the imperial household livery, wait- 
 ing to receive the resplendent company which was pres- 
 ently to fill the theatre and make it seem something more 
 than a scene from this commonplace world of ours. I 
 thought I had seen as much in the way of magnificent 
 spectacle during the different ceremonies as even Eussia 
 could display; but I am forced to confess that, consid- 
 ered as a gorgeous display of wealth and beauty, of variety 
 in design, of wild revelry in colour, of jewels of untold 
 value, the gala performance was simply beyond any ordi- 
 nary creation of an intoxicated imagination. 
 
 Of course, such gatherings always are more effective in a 
 brilliantly-lighted theatre than they are when viewed by the 
 cold and severe light of day. Then, too, the opera house 
 itself was no mean part of the spectacle. Its interior was 
 gorgeous in gold and scarlet. Beautiful designs enriched 
 the walls, and the boxes were draped in brocades and vel- 
 vets, every line of which was accentuated by threads of 
 gold. The great chandelier which hung from the centre 
 of the ceiling, and the innumerable lights which were held 
 aloft by dainty golden figures standing out from the side 
 walls, illuminated the scene so that not a single feature 
 was obscured. As deep answereth to deep, so upon that 
 night from every part of the large theatre did jewel answer 
 to jewel, and the face of flashing beauty respond from one 
 box to beauty quite as great in another. I enjoyed the very 
 great privilege of occupying a box near the proscenium, 
 from which I was enabled to look down upon the scene 
 in the parquet or orchestra stalls, and also to every corner 
 of the immense house. It is no exaggeration to say that 
 when the audience had gathered and the seats were filled, 
 the scene was one of such splendour that it is hopeless to at- 
 tempt to describe it adequately. The imperial box was in 
 the centre of the first tier. It was a very large affair; be- 
 sides the Emperor and Empress, there were seated and 
 standing in this box a number of royal guests. The Tsar, 
 
I 
 
GALA PERFORMANCE AND RUSSIAN STAGE. 195 
 
 accompanied by the Tsaritsa, arrived at half-past eight. 
 And such a welcome as they received! Perhaps the theatre, 
 with its resounding walls, echoing and re-echoing the 
 great shouts which went up, served to augment the en- 
 thusiasm and make it seem even greater than it was. 
 But be that as it may, the welcome which the imperial 
 couple received was as warm as one could wish, and they 
 seemed to be deeply moved and to appreciate greatly the 
 wonderful greeting. They stood and bowed for several 
 seconds; and as they bowed, the shouts gathered re- 
 newed force. The Tsaritsa, looking as beautiful as ever, 
 was dressed in white, and wore her wonderful pearls and 
 a coronet of diamonds. She was evidently the object of 
 the most loyal and hearty interest on the part of all present. 
 
 And now the audience was seated. The lower floor 
 upon which I looked down was a mass of colour and sparkle 
 and gold, for it was filled with officers men of the highest 
 rank, distinction, and achievement in their various serv- 
 ices; and every one of them was clad in his most sumptuous 
 uniform, glistening with orders, the gorgeous variety of 
 colours brightened by the ever-recurring gold. It was 
 a scene I shall never forget, and the like of which I had 
 never seen before, and probably shall not look upon again. 
 And in the boxes the beauty of the fair wearers of royal 
 and imperial raiment must have been great indeed to 
 stand the wonderful frame in which it was set; but it did 
 stand it, and triumphed over it, for here were gathered 
 women as beautiful as any in Europe. 
 
 Back of the Emperor's box was an immense drawing- 
 room for the imperial party. At both sides of the imperial 
 box were boxes filled with princes and grand dukes in all 
 their gala dress, making a rich setting for the main figures 
 in the centre; for of the eminent persons there, only 
 those highest in rank were furnished with seats in the 
 immediate vicinity of the Tsar. 
 
 As the imperial party entered and left the theatre, 
 every one present rose, and remained standing, in the first 
 case until they had taken their seats, and in the other 
 until they were out of the theatre. 
 
196 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 The stage performance would have to be wonderful 
 indeed to outshine the spectacle before the footlights. 
 And it was so. Indeed, it was difficult at the close of the 
 evening to say which provided the most glorious sight, 
 the theatrical spectacle behind the footlights, with all 
 its wealth of tinsel and its vari-coloured lights, bringing 
 out each feature and enriching it a hundredfold, or the 
 company of royalties gathered from all parts of the world 
 as an audience. I could but think of the boast which 
 Napoleon made to one of his favourite actors, when en- 
 couraging him to do his best at a gala performance which 
 he gave at Dresden: "I will fill the parquet for you with 
 an audience of kings! " But the stage was true to its 
 richest if not its highest traditions upon this occasion. 
 Of course, one would scarcely have looked for anything 
 heavy for a performance of this description, and if he had, 
 he would have been disappointed. It was not a play of 
 Shakespeare, nor a problem play of the modern school, 
 which we were invited to attend upon this memorable 
 night. Indeed, I think anything of that sort would have 
 been wearying to the audience present, for every one there 
 was seething with excitement, and it was no occasion upon 
 which to regret the woes of Hamlet or sigh over the mis- 
 fortunes of a second Mrs. Tanqueray. It was joyful Rus- 
 sia which was present; and therefore the performance 
 was very properly of a kind fitted to merrymaking and 
 revelry. 
 
 First came the national opera, A Life for the Tsar. 
 The music was, of course, of a highly patriotic character; 
 and the scenes such as were calculated to harmonize with 
 the feelings of those present who had been assisting in one 
 way and another at a veritable coronation. The stage 
 pictures presented in this work were delightfully true 
 to the Eussia which I had been so sedulously studying 
 for several weeks. Groups of Russians of all degrees, in the 
 costumes of peasant, and merchant, and prince, were seen 
 gathered in some familiar street, thanking Heaven with 
 devout mien for their new Tsar, and presently throwing their 
 caps aloft, and breaking into cheers which seemed too 
 
GALA PERFORMANCE AND RUSSIAN STAGE. 197 
 
 real to be of the stage, stagey. Another group was seen 
 outside the Cathedral of St. Basil, which was represented 
 in all its Oriental and bewildering confusion of architecture 
 and colour. No one who has not seen the rich and varied 
 use of colour employed by all classes in Eussia can imagine 
 to just what extremes the arrangement of colours in 
 this picture was carried. Yellow and scarlet, green and 
 blue and gold and purple, white and maroon and pink, 
 and silver and gold were mingled in a maze of inex- 
 tricable but always admirable confusion. And then the 
 lights! Everything that could be done with lime light 
 and calcium and electric light to enrich and ennoble a 
 stage spectacle was done. The effect can be imagined. 
 It was a show worthy of the audience which was gathered 
 to witness it. From a spectacular point of view I could 
 not possibly give it higher praise. 
 
 And after this the ballet. This was, of course, in many 
 respects similar to all other ballets; but I have never 
 seen, even at the Empire in London, or at any of our best 
 houses in America, anything which equalled that which 
 had upon this occasion been prepared for the Tsar and his 
 guests. The theme was the Birth of Light. Light was 
 represented as buried in ocean depths in the person of the 
 pearl, to be rescued and brought to earth by the forces 
 of Good, and to be restrained and kept in darkness, if pos- 
 sible, by the powers of Evil. 
 
 The reader can easily imagine what a successful stage 
 manager could make of such a theme in the way of brilliant 
 stage pictures. Knights clad in gleaming armour of coral 
 and richly coloured shells and anemone fought for mer- 
 maids whose fairy forms were resplendent with the soft 
 light of opals and shimmering pearls. Mammoth green 
 sea monsters, with naming eyes of scarlet, crept about 
 and in and out of gigantic shells, and the scene went on 
 from struggle to struggle, Light and the Truth always com- 
 ing nearer to the surface, and the powers of Evil receding 
 into their native darkness. And through it all the best 
 dancers in the world, who had been specially brought to 
 Moscow for the occasion, threaded their sinuous and gra- 
 
198 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 cious way to music as soft and sensuous as ever wooed a 
 maiden or told the love of a suffering swain. 
 
 The scene was altogether too costly to make it possible 
 for an ordinary management to give anything like it as 
 part of a regular performance. I thpught the combina- 
 tion of performance and ballet most happy. The crown- 
 ing of the Tsar gave expression to what every one present 
 was feeling: enthusiasm over and happy wishes for the 
 young couple who sat together in the midst of the brilliant 
 throng; the Triumph of Light over Darkness provided 
 a theme for happy augury for the reign just commencing; 
 for who would not say,, as he witnessed the final triumph 
 of Light in the mimic show of the stage, " So may Light 
 triumph, now and always, through the reign of the new 
 Tsar! " 
 
 Between the acts there was a sumptuous collation served 
 in the corridors of the opera house, including the omni- 
 present champagne for champagne is omnipresent in 
 Kussia to all of which the guests of the evening were 
 royally welcome; and every one was a guest, for this entire 
 performance was provided by the Ceremonies Committee. 
 
 In many ways I was even more interested in the sev- 
 eral minor and altogether ordinary theatrical performances 
 that I witnessed while in Eussia than I was in the great 
 gala performance of the coronation celebration. It was 
 sumptuous beyond words. It o'ertopped all the perform- 
 ances of my most excited and most inspired imaginings. 
 But for all that, and for all its intense loyalty, it was a 
 cosmopolitan show it was Eussian in its splendour, it was 
 Eussian in its daring, it was Eussian in its contemptuous 
 disregard of expense or trouble; but, in spite of all that, 
 it was on cosmopolitan lines. The stage markets, the 
 scene ateliers of the world, had been ransacked for the 
 elaboration and the perfection of its ensemble. The per- 
 formance was cosmopolitan and the audience was cosmo- 
 politan. The former, not because premieres of many 
 nations danced out its brief but maddeningly beautiful 
 life, but because it was the concentration of all that many 
 nations have achieved in theatrical and spectacular art. 
 
GALA PERFORMANCE AND RUSSIAN STAGE. 199 
 
 The audience was cosmopolitan, not because of the in- 
 cidental presence of guests from many nations, but because 
 the rich and the travelled are cosmopolitan at the core, 
 citizens of the world the earth over. The men of some 
 nations are far slower to come out of their national shell 
 than are the men of others, but they do come out all of 
 them, if they are rich and if they travel. 
 
 The coronation ceremonies interested me and delighted 
 me immensely; but Eussia interested me far more in- 
 tensely; and so it was that the peep shows and the side 
 shows, the ridiculous melodramas, the garish plays, and 
 the indescribable ballets of gape-a-mouth Ivan Ivanovitch 
 (shows and performances that I paid my honest kopecks 
 to witness, and watched sitting beside Ivan upon a bench 
 of paintless wood) interested me more, and gave me far 
 more to remember and ponder over than did the supreme, 
 sublime gala performance of the newly crowned Tsar of 
 all the Russias, Nicholas Alexandrovitch. 
 
 Tell you about those Russian people's plays about 
 the truly Slavic drama and about the Russian actors? 
 "No, I can not; the theme is too big, and I am too con- 
 vinced of its greatness even to attempt to deal with it in 
 the meagre space at my disposal. 
 
 14 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE CITY OF THE FIRST MODERN TSAR. 
 
 I LEFT Moscow finally on the evening of June 7th. 
 To say that I was surfeited with my stay in the most 
 sacred of Russian cities would be untrue. I was, how- 
 ever, quite satisfied. Like one who has sat long at a 
 sumptuous banquet, and has eaten and drunk all that he 
 requires, and is then glad to go out into the fresh air, so 
 was I glad to get away from the atmosphere of ceremony 
 and festival back into the ordinary affairs of everyday 
 life, and to reflect upon all the wonders I had seen and 
 all the rejoicings in which I had participated. The ride 
 to St. Petersburg is one of slightly over thirteen hours. 
 We left Moscow at 10.30 P. M. on Sunday night and arrived 
 in the capital of Peter the Great at 12 A. M. the next 
 day. There is nothing to be added to my impressions 
 already recorded of Russian railway travel. It is slow 
 but comfortable; and after one has so far become Oriental- 
 ized as to be largely indifferent to the passage of time, 
 the slowness is regarded with indifference. 
 
 St. Petersburg is the exact antithesis of Moscow. The 
 latter is ancient, picturesque, and irregular; the former 
 is modern, commonplace, and regular. It is like Chicago 
 built on a plain; its streets are laid out on the rectangular 
 plan so familiar to the cities of a new country, and it bears 
 marks on every hand of being what it is a city made to 
 order. It is built along the Neva, has many splendid build- 
 ings, and presents some delightful spots for parks and 
 drives; but the quaintness, the antiquity, and the ecclesi- 
 
 200 
 
THE CITY OF THE FIRST MODERN TSAR. 201 
 
 asticism of the Holy City are all absent from the Capital 
 of the North. 
 
 We staid while in St. Petersburg at the Hotel de France, 
 a thoroughly modern and comfortable hotel, and one con- 
 veniently situated to all those points of interest which the 
 traveller usually visits. We spent eight days in this hotel, 
 and have only the pleasantest recollections of its comfort 
 and cleanliness. St. Petersburg is like a city built upon 
 an enormous float. It is perfectly flat, and occupies several 
 islands formed by the delta of the Neva, together with the 
 mainland lying several miles along the left bank of that 
 river. The nature of the ground upon which the city is 
 built necessitated the erection of many of the buildings 
 on foundations of piles, and the difficulties which must 
 have been encountered in conquering the sea in order to 
 lay these foundations presented a task to the founder of 
 the city which only such a daring and restless tempera- 
 ment and determination of will as his would have sought 
 to accomplish. The best view of St. Petersburg is obtained 
 from the dome of the Cathedral of St. Isaac. From this 
 point the city is spread out in simple and panoramic dis- 
 play before the eye. By a half-hour's study of it, the 
 stranger is able to master its main divisions and locate its 
 principal objects of interest. The Neva in summer pre- 
 sents a very bright and lively appearance. It is alive with 
 passenger steamers very similar to those in use on the 
 Seine pleasure boats, yachts, and other craft. On a clear 
 day its waters reflect the palatial buildings which line its 
 banks. Peter built his capital upon the water for the ex- 
 press purpose of cultivating a fondness for that water in 
 his people. 
 
 The great Tsar's relations to the sea are among the 
 most interesting of his highly diversified life. He had 
 been frightened when a child of five years by the unex- 
 pected sound of a cascade, and for years afterward the 
 sight of water sent him into the cataleptic fits from 
 which, like several of his ancestors, he suffered. He not 
 only overcame this fear of the water by constantly accus- 
 toming himself to it, but developed such a fondness for 
 
202 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 the sea that he built St. Petersburg literally upon it, and 
 " without bridges, that our people may be constantly on 
 the waters of the Neva crossing and recrossing." The one 
 predominating personality in St. Petersburg is that of its 
 founder. It attacks one on every side. Just as in Paris 
 to-day one can not escape the omnipresence of Napoleon,, 
 so in St. Petersburg one can not escape from the mighty 
 personality of Peter. Speaking of the semi-barbaric and 
 Oriental atmosphere in which Peter was born and reared, 
 Dean Stanley says, in a passage of great strength: " What 
 must the man have been who, born and bred in this at- 
 mosphere, conceived and by one tremendous wrench, 
 almost by his own manual labour and his own sole gigantic 
 strength, executed the prodigious idea of dragging the 
 nation, against its will, into the light of Europe, and 
 erecting a new capital and a new empire among the cities 
 and the kingdoms of the world. St. Petersburg is, in- 
 deed, his most enduring monument. A spot up to that 
 time without a single association, selected instead of the 
 Holy City to which even now every Eussian turns as to his 
 mother; a site which but a few years before had belonged 
 to his most inveterate enemies, won from morass and 
 forest, with difficulty defended, and perhaps even yet 
 doomed to fall before the inundations of its own river; 
 and now, though still Asiatic beyond any city of the West, 
 yet in grandeur and magnificence, in the total subjugation 
 of nature to art, entirely European." 
 
 It was with such thoughts as these teeming in my 
 mind that I started for my first drive in St. Petersburg 
 with my friend Soustchevsky. I soon found that Peter's 
 idea of a bridgeless Neva had been abandoned. The river 
 is now spanned by four bridges, three of which are floating 
 bridges, removed in winter to avoid the ice, and one, 
 the Nicholas Bridge, on massive granite piers, which, of 
 course, stands permanently. We crossed the river by the 
 Troitski floating bridge, which spans it near the fortress 
 of Saints Peter and Paul, between that fortress and the 
 Champ de Mars. I had first noticed the fortress from 
 the balcony of the English Club on the other side of the 
 
THE CITY OF THE FIRST MODERN TSAR. 203 
 
 river, and was glad of an opportunity to take a nearer 
 view of a building so full of suggestions of the Great 
 Tsar. The fortress itself is far from imposing viewed 
 from a distance. It is a long, low, red-brick building, 
 somewhat mellowed in appearance by age, and presenting 
 as its most notable feature the tall spire of the Cathe- 
 dral of St. Peter and St. Paul within. The garrison in 
 the fort is maintained for guard purposes; but the military 
 strength of the fortress would be absolutely nil against 
 a few rounds from a modern warship. I shall not go 
 into a weary description of the churches of St. Petersburg; 
 but it is perhaps worth remarking that this cathedral spire 
 rises to a height of three hundred and two feet. To me 
 the objects of real and vital interest were the cottage in 
 which Peter lived while he was supervising the building of 
 the city, and the boat in which he first learned to sail. It 
 is called the " Grandsire," as from his fondness for sail- 
 ing engendered by his aquatic amusements in this boat 
 Peter's enthusiasm for the sea was begotten, and so his 
 determination to create a navy for Eussia, and to intro- 
 duce her to the circle of European nations. The boat 
 is kept in exactly the condition in which he used it, and so 
 is the cottage in which he lived, which stands a short 
 distance to the right of the fortress. One of the rooms 
 his bedroom is now used for a dining-room. In front 
 of the cottage stands his bust, and the grounds about the 
 cottage are prettily arranged, though somewhat contracted. 
 This was the first house built in St. Petersburg, its foun- 
 dations being laid in 1703. Our drive continued along 
 a road which passes through a district of comparatively 
 poorer residences, leaves the barracks on the right, and 
 finally reaches the fine suburban locality so much affected 
 by the elite of the city for their evening drives and walks. 
 " The islands of the Neva," of which there are half a dozen 
 larger and several smaller ones, are all beautifully situated. 
 The breeze from the Gulf of Finland sweeps across them 
 and thus keeps them cool upon the hottest day of sum- 
 mer. The pretty summer homes of the better class of 
 citizens, surrounded by trees and flowers, with their gar- 
 
204 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 dens running down to the banks of the river, which is here 
 clear and peaceful, form a picture of arcadian beauty. 
 Late in the afternoon the fashion and wealth of the city 
 may be seen driving or walking among these islands, and 
 one of them, which projects far out into the gulf, cor- 
 responds very closely to the promenade in Hyde Park 
 the people leaving their carriages here to enjoy a stroll 
 and a chat. I should say that the different islands which 
 make up this eligible group are connected by bridges, and 
 one can either walk or drive freely from one to the other. 
 Having made the round of the islands, we drove back to 
 the English Club, where we dined. This is called the 
 English Club because Peter the Great founded it upon 
 his return from his sojourn in England, and incorporated 
 in it the ideas he had gathered during his residence in 
 London. For aught I know, there is not a single member 
 of English nationality in the club, unless it be an honor- 
 ary one. The club is in the best quarter of the city, and 
 stands on the bank of the Neva, near the Winter Palace, 
 the Admiralty, etc. It is a very delightful and sumptuous 
 lounging place for the better class of Eussians. Sitting 
 on its balcony after dinner, and looking across at the 
 fortress, and to the left where Basil Island presents many 
 of the finest public buildings in the city, the scene is a 
 very fine and imposing one. The club itself contains 
 every comfort. Its reading-room has the latest and best 
 of European literature on file. Its billiard-rooms are well 
 arranged and lighted, the tables being the large ones used 
 in the English game, which to an American player at first 
 are so difficult. There are no accommodations in this or 
 other Eussian clubs for the residence of members. The 
 dinner to which we sat down was on the table d'hote plan. 
 It was excellent, too, and the Zakuska which preceded 
 it was served in a different room. We dined at large 
 tables, two or three, I forget which, about which the mem- 
 bers sat quite en famille. I liked this feature. It pro- 
 moted sociability in the club and turned the dinner from a 
 solemn function into an occasion of mirth and jollity. 
 It was after dinner, while enjoying a cup of coffee 
 
THE CITY OF THE FIRST MODERN TSAR. 205 
 
 and a cigarette upon the balcony of the club, that I had 
 a very good opportunity to see the beauties which the Neva 
 presents. As one looks down the river, the scene pre- 
 sented by the Exchange, the University buildings, the 
 Academy of Arts, the Corps de Cadets, and the Academy 
 of Sciences, surrounded as they are by well-kept sward 
 and beautiful flower beds, is peculiarly pleasing. The 
 stately Exchange building stands on the point of the island 
 nearest the club. It is of white marble, and great flights 
 of steps lead down from it to the water's edge. On each side 
 of it, and in front, are two immense columns surmounted 
 by figures of Atalanta bearing urns in which fires are 
 sometimes lighted. Beyond this and farther down the 
 river is the St. Petersburg Yacht Club, which is an excel- 
 lently equipped and very popular organization. It sup- 
 plies its members with rowboats, sailing craft of nearly 
 every description devoted to pleasure, and has several fine 
 steam yachts, which are at the disposal of members for 
 trips on the Gulf. On a summer's evening, as one sits on 
 the balcony of the English Club, or strolls upon the quay, 
 or listens to the band in the garden of the Summer Palace, 
 the pleasure craft, prettily decorated launches from the 
 Admiralty, and the swift-moving passenger boats, backed 
 by the splendid buildings and gilded spires of the churches, 
 form a most beautiful picture indeed, and one which is 
 turned to again and again with pleasure. St. Petersburg has 
 its trams, electric lights, and busy thoroughfares. 
 
 The Nevsky Prospect, which runs in a straight line from 
 the river to the Moscow Railway Station several miles away, 
 is one of the most attractive streets to be found in any 
 city. I shall not dwell, however, upon the various " show " 
 sights of St. Petersburg, for not only would this carry 
 me too far, but my primary object, which was to convey 
 a fair impression of the coronation of the Tsar, is accom- 
 plished. I can not, however, close my brief record of my 
 stay in St. Petersburg without mentioning a most de-' 
 lightful trip which we made to Cronstadt in company 
 with Mr. Greger, the former Charge d? Affaires of the 
 Russian Government in America, and his beautiful wife. 
 
206 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 The party consisted of our hosts, Madame Schege, Paul 
 Schege, my mother, the Misses Koon, Mr. Nobokoff, a gen- 
 tleman of the Chamber of the Imperial Court, G., and myself. 
 Mr. Greger had secured a most comfortable steam yacht 
 from the St. Petersburg Yacht Club, and in this we made 
 the journey, in a very independent and charming manner, 
 to the great naval station of the northern capital. The 
 distance to Cronstadt is about seven miles, but the navi- 
 gation is difficult, and our run down took long enough 
 for us to do full justice to a most excellent lunch which 
 had been provided by our hospitable hosts. We drank 
 the health of Tsar, Tsaritsa, and of dear old far-away 
 America in some excellent champagne; and presently 
 descried in the offing a boat from the Minneapolis, 
 which was then at Cronstadt in dry dock undergoing re- 
 pairs. The young officer in charge hailed us and we 
 found that he had been sent out to welcome us back to 
 United States territory, aboard the warship. It did not 
 take us long to transfer ourselves to the ship's boat, and 
 once aboard, we soon made our way through one of the 
 tunnel-shaped canals which led from the roadway to the 
 interior of the docks. As I have said, the ship was in 
 dock; but aboard she was as " right as rain," and we were 
 welcomed to her deck with musical honours, the band 
 playing " Yankee Doodle " as we came over the ship's 
 side. Never, perhaps, does a patriotic strain sound more 
 welcome than in a foreign land, when one has for a long 
 time been absent from home. It is then that one's sup- 
 posed indifference is put to flight; the old familiar air 
 brings back memories of faces, of hard-fought battles, of 
 many a hero's self-sacrifice, and all of a sudden there is 
 a mist across the eyes and a lump in one's throat that tells 
 him that after all he is a pretty enthusiastic American. 
 So it was with us as we heard the old tune from the band 
 of the Minneapolis. 
 
 We were welcomed to that bit of "home" most cor- 
 dially by Captain Wadley, Commodore Gheen, and the 
 other officers of the ship; and after a good look round 
 the cruiser we adjourned to the wardroom and pledged 
 
THE CITY OF THE FIRST MODERN TSAR. 207 
 
 the health of the dear old land so far away. The admiral 
 was absent visiting his sister at the time, so we left our 
 cards for him. After quitting the ship we went in com- 
 pany with our hosts for a stroll through the docks. Lieu- 
 tenant Bodiskoe, of the Eussian Navy, who was the officer 
 deputed to attend the Minneapolis while she was in 
 port, was very anxious that we should go aboard his ship, 
 which was not far away; but, as we intended to return by 
 the way of Peterhof, we were obliged to decline. The 
 fortress of Cronstadt is well worth a visit. It was built 
 by Peter the Great in 1703. It contains a garrison of 
 twenty-five thousand men, and is thoroughly calculated 
 to protect the neighbouring city from any foreign ap- 
 proach. This is the chief station for the Baltic fleet of 
 the Eussian Navy, which is sheltered in the harbour be- 
 hind the fortifications. The forts of Cronstadt, begun by 
 Peter, have been strengthened in successive reigns. There 
 is at Cronstadt, besides the garrison, a population of about 
 twenty thousand civilians; and its port has a shipping 
 business of its own quite independent of that of St. Peters- 
 burg, which passes through the great canal constructed 
 to overcome the bar at the harbour's mouth. The dry 
 docks at Cronstadt are thoroughly modern, built of solid 
 masonry, and have accommodations for the largest ves- 
 sels afloat. 
 
 We visited Peterhof on our return, as we had planned, 
 and found it a delightfully situated and very beautiful 
 imperial residence. It was built by Peter the Great, but 
 has been greatly added to by successive sovereigns. From 
 there we steamed back to St. Petersburg, and to a sumptu- 
 ous dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Greger at Donon's, the 
 famous Delmonico's of St. Petersburg, which served to 
 close most delightfully as cheerful and pleasant a day's 
 picnicking as one could well imagine. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 EUSSIAN HOUSES. 
 
 A CHKONICLE, however brief, of a visit to Russia would 
 be incomplete without a mention of her world-famous 
 horses. Whenever and wherever Russian horses are men- 
 tioned, a name is instantly called to mind, one that is well- 
 nigh inseparable from them that of " Orloff." Many of 
 my readers will perhaps think that this refers to a breed, 
 or a district, the home of a breed, and associate it with the 
 Russian horse as we do the word " Kentucky " with Ameri- 
 can horses, or "Yorkshire" with English; but this is 
 not so. It is the name of one of the most rugged and 
 striking characters in Russian history, Count Alexis Orloff 
 Tchestmensky, to whom is due the credit of first improv- 
 ing the native horses of Russia and establishing the first 
 records of pedigree, many of them, written with his own 
 hand, being still preserved. Count Orion*, born in the 
 early part of the last century, of a poor but noble family, 
 was exceedingly handsome, and of powerful, athletic 
 physique. He had great mental gifts, and was most ener- 
 getic, becoming famous as a successful general, and after- 
 ward adding to his honour and reputation as one of the 
 greatest statesmen of his country and time. He devoted 
 much of his leisure to experimenting with horses and dogs 
 for the purpose of improving the various breeds, and in- 
 troduced many reforms for the benefit of the agricultural 
 and stock-raising classes. His industry in this line bore 
 fruit in the permanent establishment of the breed that 
 was ever afterward to bear his name the Orloff trotter. 
 It is a happy though un-Shakespearian truth that "the 
 
RUSSIAN HORSES. 209 
 
 good that men do lives after them/' and yet how curiously 
 mankind fixes upon those qualities by which it perpetuates 
 the memory of its fellows! When Orloff is spoken of it 
 is not in connection with his great victories, nor his re- 
 markable achievements in statecraft, but with the horses 
 he loved so well. This is, perhaps, as he would have 
 wished it. His great rugged nature, his modest disposition, 
 his strong mind, and his loyal heart, gave of their best to 
 them, their welfare and improvement. He loved domestic 
 animals, he loved his country, and he did more than any 
 other single man for the domestic animals of his country 
 at a time when they needed it most. He laid the founda- 
 tion so strongly, and planned the structure so well, that 
 to-day, nearly a hundred years after the sod closed over 
 his head, the horses of Eussia are the equals of those of 
 any country in the world; and the Orloff trotter stands 
 not only pre-eminently first, but as the accepted national 
 horse. This being the case, I propose to commence my 
 description of Eussian horses with the Orloff trotter. 
 
 It is no gigantic task for the breeder of to-day to pro- 
 duce a horse of good form and blood to suit the require- 
 ments of any particular locality. With sufficient funds 
 and fair intelligence at his command, he can quickly col- 
 lect from the different parts of the world the material 
 for his foundation, and in a very few years, with the proper 
 crosses, he will arrive at the desired result. How dif- 
 ferent the task which lay before this noble Slav! He 
 recognised in the native animal a poor, inferior, inefficient 
 beast, in no way suited to the country or the requirements 
 of the people. The time and necessities demanded a more 
 fitting substitute, and he set to work to supply this de- 
 ficiency. Travel in those days was a matter of moment; 
 it meant an expenditure of much time and money. Coun- 
 tries from which he must gather his materials were far 
 distant and difficult of access. The task of transporting 
 home that material when gathered was a stupendous under- 
 taking. While serving in some of his early campaigns he 
 had seen several specimens of the pure Arab, and, recog- 
 nising in it great beauty of form, nobleness, force, and 
 
210 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 energy, he decided to use this blood as his foundation. 
 But for the purposes for which he intended his new breed, 
 the Arab was too small of stature and too fine of coat. 
 The rigours of the Russian winter would soon make 
 an end of so tender-skinned an animal. To remedy this, 
 the Count procured some large, big-boned, heavy-coated 
 Dutch mares. His first experiments were confined to the 
 crossing of these two breeds; and he obtained results evi- 
 dently altogether satisfactory to himself, as we find him 
 having constant recourse to these infusions. He next pro- 
 ceeded to collect other breeds, and to use them in his ex- 
 periments. He seems to have been greatly pleased with 
 the English thoroughbreds, as he bought and used a great 
 many. He added to his stud constantly until, in 1772, we 
 find that he had gathered together forty-six stallions and 
 seventy-four mares, as follows: 
 
 Stallions. Mares. 
 
 Arabian 12 10 
 
 Persian 3 2 
 
 Turkish 1 2 
 
 Armenian 1 2 
 
 Bulgarian 1 2 
 
 Caucasian 1 3 
 
 English 20 32 
 
 Dutch 1 8 
 
 Mecklenburg .... 1 5 
 
 Spanish 1 1 
 
 Neapolitan 1 1 
 
 Polish 1 3 
 
 Ukraine 1 1 
 
 Crimean 1 2 
 
 The Count served as commander-in-chief of the Rus- 
 sian fleets in the war with Turkey in 1770-'74, and ob- 
 tained at its close from Hassan Bey, to whom he had been 
 very kind while holding him a captive, four Arab stallions: 
 Smetanka (colour not given); Sultan, a chestnut; Caesar 
 Bey, a gray; and Arab 1st, also a bay. All of these were 
 
RUSSIAN HORSES. 211 
 
 supposed to be of the purest Arabian breed, and arrived 
 at Moscow, the Count's home, in 1775. Smetanka was 
 bred to Dutch mares, and from this source in 1778 was pro- 
 duced a horse called Polkan 1st. This horse was again 
 crossed upon the Dutch mares, and in 1784 produced 
 Barss 1st, "a horse with powerful muscles, and an elegant 
 trotter, from which the whole breed originated." Barss 
 1st was crossed upon mares that combined the following 
 crosses: Arab, English thoroughbred, Dutch and Mecklen- 
 burg; and from this mating begat the three stallions, Dobry, 
 Lubezny, and Lebed, from which have descended all the Or- 
 loff trotters. Thus it will be seen that from a foundation 
 well grounded on Arab and Dutch blood, and by an infusion 
 of two other strains, the Count succeeded in establishing 
 a breed that for size and beauty of form, together with 
 extreme speed and endurance, has no equal. 
 
 The process followed by Count Orloff in perfecting and 
 fixing permanently this breed after he had once estab- 
 lished it, can be best shown by quoting from the work on 
 Eussian horses by Colonel Theo. Ismailoff, director of the 
 stud of the Grand Duke Dimitry, who was commissioner 
 in charge of the Eussian Horse Exhibit at the World's 
 Columbian Exposition. 
 
 " After having thus established the form of the horse," 
 he says, "most suitable for the needs and conditions of 
 Eussian life, since it had to draw the large and heavy car- 
 riages which were then in vogue, and at that time con- 
 sidered a necessary adjunct of civilized comfort, the Count 
 knew that these fine forms must be fixed and improved 
 or they would degenerate if left to chance. For this pur- 
 pose he kept up systematic trotting exercises of different 
 distances, carefully noting the speeds by a stop watch, and 
 insisting on strictly regular motion. Short brushes, four 
 times over a course of fourteen hundred feet, the turning 
 about being done at a walk, served to keep up and develop 
 the regularity and speed. To develop power and endur- 
 ance in his horses, the Count often made trips to the vil- 
 lage of Ostrov, twelve miles from Moscow, accompanied 
 by his pupils and admirers." 
 
212 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Stachoff and Jichareff, two Eussian writers of the 
 Count's time, say that they have been eyewitnesses to 
 exercises such as that described above; but their descrip- 
 tion of what Colonel Ismailoff calls a stop watch is rather 
 amusing to those familiar with the " split second fly 
 backs" now in vogue. "A servant stood on the course 
 with a large timepiece of the size of a soup plate, over 
 the dial of which ran a big second hand, and he reported 
 the time to the Count after the race; this time seldom 
 exceeded thirty seconds." When we realize that fourteen 
 hundred feet is over a quarter of a mile, and that the 
 Count's horse must have trotted at a speed greater than 
 a mile in two minutes, to say nothing of the weight of the 
 vehicle then probably used, or the condition of the courses 
 of that day, I think that the " soup-plate " timer must 
 have been a trifle fast. It was probably the one the Count 
 used when he had a sale on, or our ancient chroniclers 
 must have been mistaken. In connection with the ac- 
 count just quoted there are two interesting facts viz., 
 that this is the earliest record I have ever been able to find 
 of a watch being used to time the speed of horses, and that 
 probably Count Orloff was the originator of this practice, 
 although his instrument was evidently a crude affair. 
 Again, the method he employed to develop the speed in 
 his animals, and to fix it when developed, is exactly the 
 one adopted at the present day by the best and most suc- 
 cessful trainers of trotters in America. The Orloff trotter 
 is one of the purest gaited animals in existence. Even in 
 races you see none of the boots and rigging so commonly 
 used upon our own trotters. They travel with their legs 
 well under them, never sprawling behind, and with more 
 action than we are accustomed to see upon our tracks. That 
 the Russians have succeeded in developing extreme speed, 
 while retaining form and size in their animals, is evidenced 
 by the records they make, which equal, or nearly so, those 
 of American trotters. I was very fortunate during my 
 visit to Moscow in witnessing trotting races in which both 
 Russian and American horses participated, and which I 
 shall describe in another chapter. The colour of the " Or- 
 
RUSSIAN HORSES. 213 
 
 loff " varies, being black, bay, chestnut, brown, and gray; 
 but I believe many of the purest breed are of the last 
 colour. This was, however, naturally very unpopular, and 
 the use of many of the best animals and strains of blood 
 came near being discontinued several years ago on account 
 of it, when, the matter being brought to the attention of 
 the Emperor, he ordered that all the horses purchased 
 for use in the imperial stables should be white. Many of 
 the aristocracy quickly imitated the Emperor, and thus 
 the very best of the Orloff blood was saved from being 
 irretrievably lost. 
 
 The Orloff trotter is not only the light harness race 
 horse of Eussia, but almost the only carriage animal used 
 there. During the mild weather the Eussians use a light 
 victoria, drawn by a pair of Orloffs, and drive at a furious 
 pace. It is common to see these vehicles flying through 
 the city streets at a much faster than a three-minute gait. 
 What iron limbs these animals must necessarily have 
 to stand this use, when we remember that all Eussian 
 cities are paved almost exclusively with cobble stones! 
 In the winter the one-, two-, and three-horse sleighs 
 are seen everywhere dashing along at a tremendous 
 speed. Then every street, boulevard, and road presents 
 a scene similar to that viewed in our country upon 
 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland, Jerome Avenue, New York, 
 and like special thoroughfares frequented by the "tal- 
 ent." 
 
 While developing the trotter, Count Orloff produced 
 many animals not up to his standard for size or form or 
 gait in perfecting and perpetuating this breed. They 
 were withal beautiful animals, and with his keen percep- 
 tion he at once saw that, with the proper infusions of new 
 blood, he could from these evolve an excellent type of sad- 
 dle horse. This he immediately proceeded to do. With 
 the assistance of Count Yorontzoff, then Eussian Minister 
 at the Court of St. James, he purchased the following thor- 
 oughbred celebrities of that day: Tartar by Florizel, win- 
 ner of the St. Leger of 1792; Dardalus by Justice, winner 
 of the Derby of 1794; also stallions and mares by Eclipse, 
 
IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 Harehound, Gunpowder, and Potatoes, altogether some 
 twenty-three stallions and fifty-three mares. These he 
 crossed freely with the animals he had already selected 
 from those of his own breeding, and used Arab stallions 
 for an out cross. By judicious selection and mating he 
 eventually produced a magnificent type of large saddle 
 horse, a breed that is maintained and kept pure in the 
 Government studs to-day. These horses are used almost 
 exclusively for mounting the Russian regular cavalry regi- 
 ments, and are wonderfully uniform in their size and ap- 
 pearance. Count Orloff gives great credit for the per- 
 fecting of this breed to the English trainers whom he em- 
 ployed, and who accompanied the thoroughbreds to Eus- 
 sia. These three trainers were named Roman, Smith, and 
 Banks. 
 
 The two breeds just described are the ones to which 
 Count Orloff chiefly devoted his attention, and they are 
 the ones that bear his name. There are, however, other 
 breeds of horses in Russia, quite peculiar to that country, 
 and among them that of greatest importance and most 
 widely used is the Bitiug, a small draught-horse, very strong 
 and quick, in almost universal use in the cities and on 
 the farms of Russia. One sees them at every turn, trotting 
 along, drawing the heavy, clumsy wagons, weighing three 
 or four times as much as, and of about one quarter the 
 capacity of, an ordinary American wagon, with an im- 
 mense gaily-painted wooden arch over their heads. They 
 are most symmetrically formed, with hard, flat legs, and 
 beautifully developed muscle power. Their heads strong- 
 ly resemble that of the Arab, being neat and fine, with 
 small ears and large, full eye. They are of different colours, 
 but blacks seem to be in the. majority. They are active 
 fellows and can get over the ground at a very smart gait, 
 bending their knees and hocks like a hackney. In fact, 
 they very much resemble a Norfolk hackney, but are much 
 larger and thicker. They are bred along the river Bitiug, 
 whence their name, and form the chief industry of the 
 provinces of Tambov and Vorenej. Here they have been 
 produced and reared for over a hundred and fifty years 
 
RUSSIAN HORSES. 215 
 
 some claim since the reign of Peter the Great, who is 
 credited with being the first to perfect this animal. Others 
 maintain that the close proximity of the celebrated Khreno- 
 voy estate of Count Orloff exercised its good influence 
 upon this breed. Be that as it may, the Bitiug is cer- 
 tainly a most excellent horse, and of great value to the 
 country. 
 
 It will be seen that in Russia, as well as in all other 
 European countries and in America, the Arab has played 
 no small part in the foundation of their different races 
 of horses. As has been shown, the horses of this great 
 Empire in almost every case trace back to the Arabs im- 
 ported by Count Orloff. So, also, we find the English thor- 
 oughbreds and hackneys claiming Godolphin Arabian, 
 Darley Arabian, and Byaly Turk as their common ances- 
 tors. The first Arabian horse was taken to England in 
 1121 during the reign of Henry I. Even the great Nor- 
 man Percheron of France displays the name of the Godol- 
 phin Arabian in its pedigree. American pedigrees are full 
 of Arab blood, as also are those of Austria, Spain, Italy, 
 and other continental countries. It is getting very diffi- 
 cult to procure Arab horses of pure blood, even in the 
 Orient. But Russia, with more care and forethought than 
 her continental sisters, has preserved this strain pure, and 
 has within her borders immense numbers of these beauti- 
 ful and now hardy animals a hardiness which they have 
 gained through residence for generations in her rigor- 
 ous climate. These are greatly affected for saddle horses 
 by the gentry, and upon them are mounted the Cos- 
 sacks of the Guard and some of the light cavalry regi- 
 ments. 
 
 I have given a brief account of the more important 
 breeds of horseflesh which prevail in Russia. There are 
 several others, but they are scarcely of peculiar interest. 
 The horse of the steppes of Siberia resembles closely our 
 own Western broncho. There are other similar families 
 of trotters and draught horses. Russia also produces many 
 thoroughbreds, but they differ in few points from those 
 of England or America. I could fill a good-sized volume 
 15 
 
216 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 with, this to me fascinating subject; but I fear that the 
 general reader would find but slight interest in it,, and can 
 scarcely hope for an audience of horse breeders or students 
 of equineology for a book bearing the title of the present 
 one. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 RUSSIAN EACES. 
 
 ONE delightful afternoon during the period of the 
 coronation ceremonies, at the invitation of my friend Colo- 
 nel Ismailoff, I drove out to the trotting track and wit- 
 nessed some excellent races. The trotting track is situated 
 upon the Boulevard Tverskaya, about a mile from Moscow, 
 and next to the running course. It is very similar in plan 
 and construction to like places in America. But the 
 track itself, instead of being made of clay, is of brick dust 
 pounded very fine and packed and rolled very hard. The 
 space within the track is a beautiful green lawn, occu- 
 pied in the centre by the band stand. The entrance to 
 the grounds, the stands for reserved seats and boxes, and 
 the betting ring, are all quite like those at the French 
 race courses. The club house stands in the centre at one 
 side of the track. It is a very pretty two-storied structure. 
 The front of the first floor is occupied by a private stand 
 for members and their families. The interior is divided 
 off into dining, smoking, and retiring rooms for their use. 
 The second floor has upon its front a balcony that ex- 
 tends out over the roof of the stand below. This is for 
 the use of the judges, governing committee, and officers. 
 The interior of this floor is similar in arrangement to the 
 one below. In the centre of this upper stand or porch 
 is a space reserved for the presiding judge and timekeepers. 
 Upon the rail, about three feet from the floor, is fixed a 
 marble slab upon which is a keyboard connected by elec- 
 tric wires with different parts of the track and stables, 
 and last, but not least in importance, with an immense 
 
 217 
 
218 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 electrical timing clock. By means of this keyboard the 
 presiding judge summons the horses to the post, starts 
 them, and records the time made in each heat, or rather 
 in each race, for in Russia each heat is a race. In this and 
 in the distance trotted lies the greatest difference between 
 American and Eussian trotting races. Upon the day of 
 which I speak the stands and lawns were well filled. The 
 bright uniforms of the officers mingled with the gay toi- 
 lettes of the women folk, and were neutralized by the 
 sombre costumes of the civilian male members of Mos- 
 cow's elite. The racing commenced at four o'clock and 
 lasted till after seven, a rather late hour to American 
 minds; but when we left the course the day was as light 
 and bright as when we arrived. I had anticipated seeing 
 some curious sights upon the track, as I had heard and 
 read so much of the peculiar vehicles used for racing 
 among the Russians. In this I was not disappointed. A 
 few of the trotting men of Russia still cling to their 
 national appliances and costumes, and I fortunately saw 
 three or four of those queer little wagons to which the 
 horses were attached in the Russian style, and driven by 
 native drivers. I luckily succeeded in getting a very good 
 picture of one of these. For the most part, however, 
 American pneumatic sulkies obtained, and American track 
 harness was used. I was also surprised to find many fa- 
 miliar faces " riding the ring " as of yore in my own dis- 
 tant land. Frank and Sam Caton and the latter's son piloted 
 frequent winners that day. The Brothers Raymer and 
 old " Red Murphy," the hero of many a hard-fought turf 
 battle on Yankee soil, seem to have lost none of their skill 
 or cunning by being transferred to another clime. They 
 all, however, have apparently forgotten how to make use 
 of the usual "kick" that follows every contest of this 
 character in our country; or the racing rules of Russia 
 have effectually done away with this annoying feature; 
 for I stood at the elbow of the judge all the afternoon 
 and failed to see or hear anything that could in the least 
 be mistaken for a complaint or protest. There are sev- 
 eral points at which Russian harness races differ greatly 
 
RUSSIAN RACES. 219 
 
 from ours. Some of these differences are decided improve- 
 ments, some of them are not. The first that attracted my 
 attention was the absence of all class distinction. No 
 horse was barred from any race on account of its speed. 
 One naturally supposes that under such conditions one 
 horse would win all or nearly all of the races. This is 
 avoided by a system of handicapping which is most excel- 
 lent if justly applied. Their handicapping is one of weight 
 and distance. For example, when a horse shows itself 
 superior by reason of speed, it has to pull a few more 
 pounds' weight and start a few yards farther back, there- 
 by travelling a greater distance. This tends to increase 
 the stamina and endurance of the animals, and I consider 
 it a good practice. In Russian races, therefore, the horses 
 do not start abreast, but at different points beliind the 
 post; nor is a flying start made, but the animals are stationed 
 at their designated places, and at a given signal upon the 
 electric gong all start, thus doing away with jostling and 
 jockeying for position and an advantageous " send-off." 
 Of necessity, the judge has a greater stretch of the track 
 to observe, but from his elevated position this is not dif- 
 ficult. Another wide difference is in the length of races 
 trotted. They are from one to two and a half miles, but 
 these, being dashes, are not so taxing, on the whole, as a 
 number of heats of lesser distance. 
 
 Another form of race quite popular in Russia, and one 
 tending to test the endurance of the horses to the utmost, 
 is to drive them from twenty-five to fifty miles, and then 
 finish the last mile or two at the limit of their speed. The 
 animal completing this task in the best condition and show- 
 ing the greatest speed at the finish is adjudged the win- 
 ner. Some of the courses in Russia are divided into a series 
 of little tracks about ten feet wide and separated from 
 each other by a strip of sod a couple of feet in width. 
 By this means each horse contending has a track of its own, 
 and the difference in their lengths makes the required 
 handicapping distance for horses of various speeds. This 
 does away with all struggle to obtain the "pole." An- 
 other feature to which I alluded in the last chapter, and 
 
220 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 which impressed me most favourably, was the almost uni- 
 versal absence on the native animals of " boots " and 
 "gaiting" appliances. This distinction enabled one to 
 pick out easily the Eussian horses from the imported ones, 
 even when they were both " hitched " to American sulkies. 
 Upon this particular afternoon the contests were in the 
 main close, and some of the finishes exciting, while the 
 time made was good in nearly every case. Here another 
 feature of their system produced a good impression. No 
 sooner was a race finished than two men, carrying aloft 
 on poles a couple of blackboards, upon which were marked 
 the name and number of the winner, with the distance 
 of the race and the time made, proceeded to every point 
 of the grand stand, lawn, and grounds, so that all could 
 read for themselves the result, thus making annoying 
 questions unnecessary. I enjoyed this afternoon among 
 the horses and their stanch friends immensely. It was 
 as great a relief as it was a change from the court functions 
 and ceremonials through which we were passing and had 
 yet to pass. 
 
 I met at the club house many delightful people, both 
 men and women, among them Count Alexander Merod, 
 Equerry to his Imperial Majesty and Director of the 
 Government thoroughbred stud, located at Warschan 
 Teraspal, near Bela. He told me that he had in his 
 keeping Lavish, Sally L, and Uarda, three thorough- 
 breds that I had bred and sold to the Russian Govern- 
 ment several years ago. I was delighted to hear good ac- 
 counts of them from him, and naturally felt a pride that 
 my humble efforts at breeding had found an appreciative 
 person in such a distant land. We talked long regarding 
 these former members of my little equine family, and the 
 Count courteously invited me to make him a visit at the 
 stud. I was, however, unable to do this owing to the dis- 
 tance and the press of other engagements which would 
 quite fill my time in the country. What with good races 
 and pleasant people, this delightful afternoon passed all 
 too quickly, and the time for our home-going was scarcely 
 welcomed. I afterward stole away several times from the 
 
RUSSIAN RACES. 221 
 
 atmosphere of glitter and gilt to pass a few hours with 
 my new-foimd four-footed friends of the trotting track 
 and race course opposite, and spent the early mornings 
 watching them at their exercise and inspecting them in 
 their stables. I remember one glorious morning, about 
 four o'clock, driving through sleeping Moscow in an old 
 tumble-down drosky to join Ismailoff at the race course. 
 And what a superb morning it was too; how refreshing 
 the smell of the new grass upon the plain of the great 
 inclosure; how bracing the fresh air not yet heated by 
 the just-rising sun! How pleasing the colours of the great 
 city, softened by the distance and the haze of the early 
 dawn! I drank deep breaths of the glorious air and 
 watched the horses at their morning work. Here long 
 lines of them were walking in ceaseless rounds; there 
 two or three were just starting off on their warming gallop. 
 Along the rails one had just swept in his finishing brush. 
 Near where we stood several were being cooled off, 
 wrapped in their vari-coloured blankets. Time, distance, 
 everything real vanished! I was once more in my native 
 land. I stood in the centre of the infield at dear old 
 Sheepshead. Surely, that flying steed is the mighty 
 Salvator! This restless little beast, just coming upon 
 the track with the superb shape of his head disfigured by 
 hood and blinkers, is the game little sway-backed Ten- 
 ny. That blanketed figure slowly moving under the shed 
 yonder is the queen of them all. No other horse ever 
 walked with that dainty tread but Firenzi. That care- 
 less boy, stripping the long bay, is pulling my own cherry 
 and green sheet from his back. Yonder gilt dome sur- 
 mounts Gilmore's stand at Manhattan. This man com- 
 ing across the field we all know well, and know his clam- 
 bakes better. What race course would be complete with- 
 out dear " old Bab " ? The reverie is on me, and I stand 
 and dream and dream; but the awakening is rude, as all 
 such awakenings are. " Come, let us have some break- 
 fast," remarks my friend, and together with some half 
 dozen sport-loving Russian officers we make our way across 
 the great field to the club house, and there, while doing 
 
222 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 justice to a very welcome meal, discuss speed, stride, wind, 
 form, blemishes, and things that are discussed in every 
 club house on every race track in every country in the 
 world. Time flies! I must be off; so, bidding my pleasant 
 hosts adieu, I hastily enter my decrepit vehicle and am 
 rapidly jerked back into another world and to scenes of 
 a different nature. 
 
 During my sojourn in St. Petersburg I had two ex- 
 periences that I remember with particular pleasure. One 
 was a forenoon spent with that superb soldier and polished 
 gentleman, General Moerder; and the other was a day 
 at the races at Tsarskoeseloe. When I left Moscow, 
 Colonel Ismailoff said to me, " I want you to know Gen- 
 eral Moerder, and have written to him to call upon you 
 at your hotel." A day or two after my arrival in St. Peters- 
 burg the general called. I was out; but he left his card 
 and a polite note inviting me to come to see him the 
 next day. I gladly availed myself of this opportunity. 
 General Moerder occupies the important position of Direc- 
 tor in Chief of the Department of Horse Breeding of the 
 Eussian Government, and as such has an enormous number 
 of men and horses under his direction. His official resi- 
 dence and offices occupy a large building in the capital 
 city, and it was there I saw him. In response to my 
 card a servant in livery showed me into a drawing-room in 
 the residential portion. Here I was soon joined by the 
 general, a tall, straight, soldierly man, with a handsome 
 face, adorned by a snow-white mustache. His hair is 
 white, and slightly thin on top; he is extremely courtly 
 and has a charm and elegance of manner that not only 
 put you at once at your ease, but attract you to him. Our 
 conversation naturally turned upon horses, which we dis- 
 cussed at some length, dwelling more particularly on those 
 of Eussia and America. I found the general thoroughly 
 well posted, and was surprised at his familiarity with 
 American blood lines and noted individuals that had 
 borne their influence upon our different breeds. He has 
 a large collection of valuable pictures and interesting 
 curiosities, which he showed me with much pride, and 
 
RUSSIAN RACES. 223 
 
 which I thoroughly enjoyed. After some time spent in 
 this portion of the house we went into that devoted to offi- 
 cial business. Here many rooms were occupied by clerks, 
 and shelves filled with books, papers, and records. Here 
 also was his own private office, with its attendant ante- 
 room. The walls of both were hung with oil portraits of 
 former directors, and such celebrities as Orloff and others 
 who had done much for horse-breeding in Bussia. After 
 introducing several officers who are detailed for work in 
 his bureau, and explaining the methods employed in the 
 conduct of this great department, he led the way to his 
 private apartments, where tea was served. 
 
 After presenting me with a copy of his work, Apergu 
 Historique sur les Institutions Hippiques et les Races 
 Chevalines de la Russie, he kindly asked me to repeat my 
 visit if the length of my stay in St. Petersburg would per- 
 mit. This visit, although too brief from my point of 
 view, enabled me to gather a rich store of valuable in- 
 formation. 
 
 The Russian Government has established and maintains 
 this department or bureau, devoted solely to the industry 
 of horse-breeding a department as large and better 
 equipped than our entire Agricultural Department. It 
 is controlled and managed in all its ramifications by a 
 head and a corps of officers thoroughly learned and ex- 
 perienced in this great industry. All books of pedigree 
 and register are not only kept and compiled under Govern- 
 ment supervision, but by the Government itself, and under 
 such regulations as make falsification out of the question. 
 Certificates are given upon paper of such character and 
 under such seals that alteration or counterfeiting is made 
 impossible. The Government has established and main- 
 tains under this department large studs, where not only 
 the best strains of each breed are kept pure, and in their 
 most perfect form, but where all experiments of crossing 
 are tried at Government expense, for the benefit of all 
 Russian breeders. The results of such experiments are 
 accurately kept and full reports published and distributed. 
 The Government offers liberal prizes and money purses 
 
224 IN JOYFUL KUSSIA. 
 
 under fixed conditions at all shows and race meetings, 
 and has a certain supervision over all of them. It places 
 at different points in the Empire the best obtainable 
 sires of breeds suited to the various localities, for the 
 use of the breeders under specified conditions. The im- 
 mense number of animals produced at these Government 
 studs and experiment stations are used for the army and 
 other Government necessities. By this system disease 
 is stamped out, unsoundness not permitted to be trans- 
 mitted, and animals produced of uniform goodness. The 
 people are spared all expense of experiments, and the best 
 and most suitable blood is placed at their disposal, no mat- 
 ter what remote localities they inhabit. The saving to the 
 Government of the increased expense of purchasing ani- 
 mals for its own use nearly " pays the bill." 
 
 A few days after my visit to General Moerder I at- 
 tended a race meeting at Tsarskoeseloe, near the beau- 
 tiful palace located in that pretty little village. Ac- 
 companied by three friends I boarded the train, and after 
 a ride of about twenty minutes our journey terminated 
 back of the grand stand at the course, exactly as it would 
 have done at home had we been going down to Graves- 
 end. Leaving the train with the crowd, we were greeted 
 on' every hand by programme boys and loud-voiced tip- 
 sters. We knew them of old, albeit in a different language; 
 and pushing our way along over the rough board walk 
 to the gates, we quickly obtained badges, which were in 
 every respect similar to those in use in America. Passing 
 under the long covered walks, we found ourselves in the 
 betting ring, which was located in the generous space 
 under the grand stand. The buildings and general air of 
 this course reminded me forcibly of old Monmouth Park 
 in its palmy days. I have seen races and race-courses in 
 America, England, France, Germany, Austria, and Russia, 
 and they are wonderfully similar in all things except their 
 methods of betting. The result of that is always the same! 
 
 Making our way through the multitude of pool buyers 
 and on past the beer stands and lunch counters, we 
 emerged from a tunnel-like opening on to the lawn in 
 
2s 
 
 rfij 
 
RUSSIAN RACES. 225 
 
 front of the boxes and reserved seats. Here everything 
 was even more familiar than the scenes we had just wit- 
 nessed. Men and women of all kinds and nearly every 
 class bankers, lawyers, merchants, soldiers, sports, 
 " touts," ladies, pretty young misses, actresses, music-hall 
 singers, and women of scarlet every scale in the social 
 ladder was represented. All was one heterogeneous mass 
 of life, colour, and evident enjoyment. Over the heads 
 of this crowd I could see the jockeys in their jackets of all 
 hues and combinations flash past on their way to the post, 
 though the horses they bestrode were obscured from view. 
 Reader, are you a racing man? Or have you attended 
 many races? If so, you will know the feeling of being 
 packed in a crowd, and to have that crowd rise on tip- 
 toe, and with a great roar rush forward, carrying you with 
 it; hold you packed there so that you can not even raise 
 your arms. Your hat falls over one side of your face; 
 the case of the field-glass of the man behind you digs into 
 your back; the man in front has his heel planted upon your 
 instep; one two minutes of mortal agony pass; a cloud 
 of dust is blown into your eyes; the crowd breaks into 
 cheers and then separates some on the run for the open- 
 ings under the grand stand and you gaze about you in 
 a dazed way. Down the track you see a horse leisurely 
 walking toward the judges' stand with a boy in blue and 
 white on its back. Surely, it is coming from the wrong 
 direction and altogether too slowly. When it arrives near 
 the stand another shout goes up; some one rushes out and 
 catches the bridle, the jockey jumps down, and you realize 
 that the race is over, that thousands have been lost and 
 won, that you have seen absolutely nothing, and experi- 
 enced, in the place of that thrill that a race engenders in 
 the breast of every true, sport-loving being, nothing but 
 pain, anguish, and discomfort. Your first impulse is to 
 go home. Reader, if you have ever had any such experi- 
 ence you will realize how much I enjoyed the first actual 
 running race I ever saw no, that is not correct; the first 
 running race that ever took place in my presence in Russia. 
 I was soon again among my friends, and after a council 
 
226 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 of war we decided to make our way to as high a point as 
 possible in the grand stand, and to try to get comfortably 
 located. This we eventually succeeded in doing. Finding 
 four vacant seats, we were soon comfortably ensconced, 
 and from this coign of vantage witnessed the next three 
 races. I discovered that running races in Russia are ex- 
 cellently managed, though very similarly to the way they 
 are in America. The starting is the same as in nearly 
 all countries, by the use of a flag. The judges' stand is, 
 however, placed upon the inside edge of the course, and 
 is very much more elevated than those to which I was 
 accustomed. After seeing several races, we got familiar 
 with the names and faces of some of the leading jockeys 
 and other details. And here was a novel feature to me: 
 I noticed that many of the riders were young officers, who 
 waged a sporting and friendly war with the professionals 
 upon an apparently equal footing. I attributed this to 
 the comparative newness of this sport in Russia, and the 
 fact that most of the professionals were foreigners, mainly 
 English lads. It certainly demonstrated that most of 
 these amateurs must be very high class, as they frequently 
 rode the winners. 
 
 While watching the horses being warmed up for the 
 last race, a particularly fine chestnut attracted my eye. 
 The race was to be a steeplechase, and his superb build and 
 strength, together with a long sweeping stride, seemed to 
 pronounce his superiority so loudly that our little party 
 decided to buy a pool upon his chances. We quickly made 
 up a purse, intrusting it to G., who volunteered to pur- 
 chase the ticket. After being thoroughly instructed as 
 to which horse to back, he descended in the direction of 
 the pool room. " The big chestnut with the near hind 
 foot white, remember! " was our parting shot as he dis- 
 appeared in the crowd. Presently he returned in great 
 exuberance of spirits and profuse in perspiration. Mop- 
 pingly he explained to us that he had met a very accom- 
 modating man on the lawn, who was intimately acquainted 
 with our horse, and knew he was sure to win. After 
 pointing to the particular name upon G.'s card, he related 
 
RUSSIAN RACES. 227 
 
 with, an expression of disappointment and grief how he 
 had come out on purpose to back this very nag, but, being 
 tempted during the long wait for the last race to make 
 just one bet, he had lost all his coin but three roubles, 
 and if G. would kindly lend him two to put with it he 
 could get a ticket; and as he was nearly always exception- 
 ally lucky, and well posted the truthfulness of this was 
 scarcely borne out by the early part of his statement, 
 though I refrained from pointing this out to G. he was 
 sure to win, and it would be of great advantage to us to 
 have him " on " the same horse. He also knew where 
 G. was sitting he could see at once he was a perfect gen- 
 tleman, and not a " regular." G. insisted upon his accept- 
 ing the two roubles, and his friend felt so grateful that he 
 volunteered to purchase Gt.'s ticket, thus saving him the 
 trouble of going through the crowd. This he was allowed 
 to do, and he returned so promptly, and gave G. the little 
 blue card, covered with Eussian hieroglyphics and num- 
 bers, in such a gentlemanly way, that G. really felt small 
 and ashamed at having loaned him such a small amount. 
 This was all very interesting, still further showing to me 
 the similarity of race courses the world over. While G. 
 was relating this piece of good luck of his, I noticed that 
 the horses were gathering at the post. Our chestnut came 
 by at a grand stride, and I remarked that he was backed 
 by an officer, which did not reassure me to the extent I 
 wish it had; but he had a good seat and his red cap covered 
 a bullet-shaped head that showed determination. Two or 
 three others now passed, but they were rather an indiffer- 
 ent lot; then came a cracking fine big bay at a rattling 
 hand-gallop, topped by a young English lad whose every 
 move showed that he knew his business. As he swept by, 
 his lavender jacket whipping in the breeze, my heart sank, 
 and I would have sold my share in that pool ticket for a 
 very few kopecks. They were soon gathered at the post 
 eight in all. The little red flag fluttered in the breeze 
 and suddenly fell. " They are off! " Every one is on 
 his feet. A shout goes up, and then dead silence reigns. 
 They are nearing the first jump. An over-anxious young 
 
228 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 officer riding well to the left rushes his mount. There is 
 a momentary glimpse of green and yellow as he rises, then 
 horse and rider disappear on the far side of the wall all in 
 a heap. The next three have barely time to swerve and 
 take the jump together. The bay is right behind. He 
 can not swerve, or he will collide with them. He can not 
 pull up! He will crush the fellow on the ground. There is 
 a flash of lavender in the air. Thousands of hearts stand 
 still. A whip pops like a pistol, and the bay lands with a 
 few feet to spare. He has cleared fence, horse, rider, and 
 all, and goes spinning away up the hill. The shout that 
 arose from that grand stand shook the very ground. The 
 others got over safely, and the fallen man and horse 
 struggled to their feet. The next three jumps were passed 
 in safety by all. Then a stiff hillside facer reduced the 
 field two more, one bolting and the other going down. 
 "Now the long stretch of level opposite the stand is reached, 
 and the bay and chestnut draw away from the field. The 
 boy on the former sits perfectly cool and eases his mount 
 when two thirds of the way across. I fancy I detect a 
 nervousness about our man on the big chestnut. He 
 appears to grow too anxious. His horse has his full head. 
 He passes the bay by a length, but does not his rider see 
 that wall just ahead? Apparently not. On he goes at the 
 limit of his speed. He rises to the wall. A cloud of dust 
 is thrown up from the top. The red cap plunges forward 
 on the horse's neck. The chestnut staggers and lands on 
 his knees. The rider struggles back into his seat and re- 
 covers his horse, just as the bay takes the wall gallantly. 
 I see the lad in lavender turn his head as he lands. They 
 are off almost together for the far track fence. This they 
 take abreast. Now they sit down and ride, for there is 
 but one more jump and then the stretch home. But that 
 last obstacle that terror to backers, that breaker of 
 stanchest hearts it is the big "wall and water jump." 
 See them rise to it horse and horse, man and man! See 
 that look of quiet confidence upon the face of the lad. He 
 has his mount well in hand. How nicely he calculates the 
 distance! How surely his bay rises! See him his knees 
 
RUSSIAN RACES. 229 
 
 well pressed into the horse's foam-flecked flanks. See 
 him strike him at the proper moment with his heels. See 
 him drop his hands. How truly that gallant-hearted ani- 
 mal does his part! See him land with a good two feet to 
 spare! Watch him take his stride, and make for the gap that 
 leads to the open track, home, and victory. Watch those 
 intent faces all around us their mouths half open already 
 forming his name to break forth in wildest shouts. The 
 chestnut lands a trifle short. His hind feet slip upon the 
 brink of the pool. He recovers, and is off like a shot; but 
 this trifle, this momentary hesitation, has cost him dearly. 
 He is already a good half length behind and the goal is 
 so near, so awfully near. Watch! see that bullet head bent 
 forward look at the determination in that face. Pop! 
 pop! Two awful cuts fall upon those throbbing wet sides; 
 then the whip flies through the air from his hand a little 
 puff of dust arises from the track where it falls. Has that 
 young amateur lost his head? Watch the freed hand grasp 
 the reins beside its brother. See that rowing motion of 
 the arms. His knees are glued to the chestnut's shoulders; 
 but not his heels. See them strike, and strike again. 
 Can a horse be lifted and borne along on the dead level? 
 Look! See yon chestnut. Inch by inch he gains. He 
 is now at the bay's saddle skirt. Now steadily and surely 
 he creeps up until his hot breath is upon the shoulder of 
 his worthy foe. My brave lad of lavender is riding too with 
 all the skill and science he has learned from his cradle in 
 dear old England, where they breed horsemen. But his 
 strength is not so great as that of his adversary. No mat- 
 ter; they are home. But two more strides and the wire 
 is reached. One mighty effort, one mighty plunge, and 
 the red cap flashes by the post, a winner by a nose! Pan- 
 demonium broken loose would scarcely describe the scene 
 that followed. But why weary the reader with useless 
 descriptions? You have all seen similar scenes. 
 
 When we had shouted ourselves hoarse we hurried to the 
 train by way of the betting room to cash our valuable ticket. 
 G. got in line near the window, and when his turn came 
 presented it. The man looked at it a moment, frowned, 
 
230 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 and waved him aside. He attempted to say something, 
 but was pushed on by the eager winners crowding to re- 
 ceive their gains. He tried two or three other places, but 
 met with similar treatment. Fearing to lose our train we 
 hurried to the cars, and secured places in a general com- 
 partment. Among the other passengers happened to be 
 a gentleman whom we heard say something in English. 
 G. stepped up to him, and asked him to tell him what was 
 on his little blue ticket for which he had paid five roubles. 
 " Certainly, sir," was the courteous reply; " this is to cer- 
 tify that the bearer weighs one hundred and sixty-nine 
 pounds, and was weighed by one of the 'International 
 Automatic Weighing Machines.' " 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE RUSSIAN" CHURCH. 
 
 WHEN Moses struck the rock in the wilderness, a stream 
 of pure and crystal water gushed forth to assuage the thirsty 
 multitude. When Jesus of Nazareth struck the decayed 
 Judaism of his time with the force of his noble, lofty 
 life, a scheme of ethics, a vast religious impulse, was set 
 afoot, whose mighty progress and extension through the 
 earth have been the measure of their strength and beauty. 
 
 Just how closely any existing system of religion assimi- 
 lates the sublimely simple standard then set up, or just how 
 remote all existing systems are from that standard, it is 
 not for me to say. It appears to be true that all religions 
 have increased in the complexity of their theology and 
 in the differentiation of their ritual as they have increased 
 in age. If Christ came to the earth again in disguise and 
 visited successively the various branches of the great 
 Church that bears his name, which of them would impress 
 him as most closely akin to the simple brotherhood of 
 faith, love, and charity, whose foundations he laid during 
 his wanderings in Judaea, is a problem more easy to pro- 
 pound than to solve. 
 
 I am persuaded that a mistake is often made, on the 
 part of those who adhere to the more simple forms of re- 
 ligious observance, in the estimate they place upon the 
 ceremonial and ritualistic types of worship. It is difficult 
 for those who are impatient of ritual to remember that 
 back of every form, behind every sacred image or picture, 
 within every sacred shrine, to the devout and earnest soul 
 there sits enthroned a vivifying and spiritual significance 
 16 231 
 
232 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 concealed from alien eyes. Nowhere does one need to call 
 to his aid such broadening reflections more than at the 
 altar of the Russian Church. Its ceremonial is as much 
 more elaborate and various than that of the Roman Catho- 
 lic Church as the latter is more complex and mysterious 
 than the service of the Anglican establishment. 
 
 It is, par excellence, the Church of extreme, diverse, 
 perplexing, and very often most beautiful ritualism. 
 Springing as it did from the loins of the great Byzantine 
 Church, cradled in an Oriental atmosphere of metaphor 
 and symbol, it stands pre-eminent among all the creeds 
 of Europe for the sanctified symbolism with which it 
 speaks to its children. The Christian religion was adopted 
 by the Muscovites in a very wholesale and national man- 
 ner near the close of the tenth century. There was noth- 
 ing half-hearted in the Russian acceptance of the Byzan- 
 tine ecclesiasticism. It accepted the faith and the service 
 of Constantinople en Hoc. Hence, from its very incipience 
 on the banks of the Dnieper, down to the present day, the 
 Russian Church has been one of perfected ritual. It ac- 
 cepted a completed system. 
 
 An interesting and significant tale is related by Bunsen 
 of the manner in which the half-barbaric envoys of the 
 Norman Grand Duke Vladimir were impressed by the mag- 
 nificent ceremonial they witnessed in the Church of St. 
 Sophia. Vladimir, a prince of decision and power, had 
 been approached by the propagandists of the various great 
 faiths of Europe and Asia. He listened to all. He was 
 looking for a national religion. Having listened to, he 
 also answered all; until at last there came a subtle sophist 
 from the great Eastern Church, whose acknowledged chief 
 was the Patriarch of Constantinople. So impressed was the 
 rugged Prince by the skilful rhetoric of the scholastic 
 orator, that he sent forthwith an embassy to examine and 
 report upon that religion whose most sacred shrine was 
 laved by the waters of the Bosphorus. 
 
 It is probable that to no other embassy was there ever 
 intrusted a mission so vast and so far-reaching in its effect. 
 Imagine these untutored Russian envoys, fresh from the 
 
V 
 
 f 
 
 Chapel at PetrovsM palace. 
 
THE RUSSIAN CHURCH. 233 
 
 crude, barbaric environment of the Slavonic court, stand- 
 ing on the threshold of that splendid temple which even 
 yet challenges defiantly the cathedrals of the world! They 
 enter its sacred portals. Its walls throw into their dazzled 
 eyes the reflections of gold and crystal and mosaic. Its 
 priests are burdened with bejewelled and glistening vest- 
 ments. The chanting of the soft-voiced Grecians fills the 
 air. The cloud of incense rises before the altar. The 
 venerable Patriarch like some prophet of the distant 
 past sweeps through the awe-struck throng; and behind 
 him follow the lesser clergy, clothed in purest white, 
 with wings of filmy gossamer attached to their shoulders, 
 in imitation of the angels of Heaven. The splendour of 
 the moment was too much for the children of the steppes. 
 They fell upon their knees and cried, " This is the gate of 
 Heaven itself! " And so they returned to Vladimir. " We 
 can not describe to you all that we have seen," they said 
 to the expectant prince. " We can only believe that there, 
 in all likelihood, one is in the presence of God, and that 
 the worship of other countries is there entirely eclipsed. 
 We shall never forget so much grandeur. Whosoever has 
 seen so sweet a spectacle will be pleased with nothing 
 elsewhere. It is impossible for us to remain where we 
 are." 
 
 This decided the Grand Duke. He forthwith destroyed 
 his idols, married the Byzantine Princess Anne, sister of 
 the reigning Emperor, and was at once baptized at Kher- 
 son, which he had but newly subjugated. Having thus 
 accepted the Christian faith for himself, he commanded 
 that the entire population of Kief where he then was 
 should accept the Christian yoke and submit to the rite 
 of baptism. In a single day all the population was bap- 
 tized in the waters of the Dnieper; and thus was the 
 Greek Church transplanted to Eussian soil, where it has 
 become acclimated as a more rugged ecclesiastical organism 
 than the parent stock, while it has lost little of its sensuous 
 splendour. 
 
 The Church which presents at once the most striking 
 contrast and the strongest similarity to the Eussian is, 
 
234: IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 of course, the great Roman Catholic organization. Both 
 alike depend upon an elaborate and to the uninitiated mind 
 often incomprehensible ritual; both use the accessory of 
 sensuous appeal; both attach to their priesthood plenary 
 powers of absolution and indulgence; both repose a more 
 than symbolic faith in the sacraments; and both hold in 
 common many of the fundamental doctrines of the Chris- 
 tian religion. And there the similarity ends. The con- 
 trast is very wide. The Russian Church denies the su- 
 premacy of the Eoman Pontiff. She never has sought, 
 and probably never will seek, for the political power and 
 influence which to the See of Rome have been so precious 
 a prerogative through all the ages. Emperors, kings, princes 
 of alien faith, have never bowed to the Patriarchs and 
 Metropolitans of Russia as they often have to the slightest 
 wish of the Vatican. For herself, as an organization, the 
 Russian Church has no political ambition; the Roman 
 Church has never been without it. In psychological pe- 
 culiarity, too, the two organizations differ widely. The 
 Latin Church is essentially a church of discipline; the 
 Russian is one of almost transcendental mysticism. The 
 former is devisive, propagandist, and like a great mili- 
 tary organization in the supervision of the conduct and 
 the lives of its devotees. The latter is careless of discipline, 
 and relies upon the splendour of its appeal to the senses, 
 the subtlety, the almost Oriental intricacy and mysticism 
 of its philosophy. The antagonism on the part of the 
 Russian Church is greater toward the Roman Catholic 
 than it is toward any other religious organization. Not 
 only their divergencies, but their convergencies have bred 
 discussion. And yet, as I have said, both depend upon an 
 elaborate ritualistic service in their approach to the people. 
 In the case of Russia, at least, this is wise. Extreme ritual- 
 ism attracts to its embrace intelligences the most diverse. 
 To the cultivated it appeals through their assthetic sen- 
 sibilities, while it enchains and subdues the ignorant 
 through their love of the mysterious and the theatric. 
 In Russia the chief appeal of the Church numerically, 
 at least is to the latter class; while it affords at the same 
 
A metropolitan of the Crreek Church, 
 
THE RUSSIAN CHURCH. 235 
 
 time to the educated and refined a purely formal religion 
 which does not too seriously impinge upon the sphere of 
 individualism. 
 
 I have spoken of the absence of political aspiration from 
 the Eussian Church. Let me amplify. The Russian 
 Church has no separated political ambition. It does not 
 present the antithesis of a Vatican whose shadow lies 
 crossed by the shadow of a Quirinal. All its ambitions 
 are to support the state, to aggrandize the throne, to glorify 
 the Tsar. No Metropolitan or Patriarch has ever thrown 
 down the gauntlet of defiance to a Tsar, as popes of Rome 
 have often done to emperors and kings. It is true, the 
 Patriarch Nicon quarrelled with the Tsar Alexis; but he 
 was reduced to the lowest rank of priesthood and banished 
 to the Siberian desert. The relation of the Russian Church 
 to the Russian State is now, and always has been, one 
 of cordial support, and of sincere, if somewhat selfish, 
 reverence. It acknowledges the Tsar as its spiritual chief, 
 it upholds both his hands, either in prayer or battle, as 
 Aaron and Hur sustained the hands of Moses. In every 
 extremity of the Muscovite throne the Church has up- 
 held it by its wealth, its eloquence, by the might of super- 
 natural suggestion, and by the awful power of threatened 
 excommunication. There is therefore in Russia no ques- 
 tion of Church and State. The two are one. The State 
 finds in the Metropolitans, Archbishops, Bishops, and lower 
 clergy, an army of stanch and unflinching supporters. 
 In every war they have carried the holy standards and 
 sacred ikons in the vanguard of the armies; and in stress 
 of State they have reversed the career of Cardinal Riche- 
 lieu and laid aside the cross to wield the sword. The 
 Church, on the other hand, is fostered by the State. And 
 nowhere is there an instance of a great national Church 
 which is more loyally supported than is the case in Russia; 
 nowhere a Church more absolutely free from all trammel- 
 lings of State dictation. The Greek Church is thus 
 stronger, and its future more assured, in Russia to-day than 
 in any other country where it exists; and with the pos- 
 sible exception of the English Church, it has the promise, 
 
236 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 through, its amiable relations with the State, of a more 
 steady expansion than any other Christian organization. 
 The opportunity offered to the Church of Rome in the 
 Western hemisphere is afforded to the Greek Church in 
 the Russian Empire. 
 
 The first impression made upon the mind of a stranger 
 by the services of the Russian Church is that of extreme 
 reliance upon ceremonial. Everything about the Church 
 and its priesthood is symbolical. Ecclesiastical casuistry 
 could go no farther than it has gone in the defence of 
 minute forms and customs in the Russian Church. Vol- 
 umes have been filled with grave disputes over the shape 
 of an ecclesiast's cap, or the colour of a vestment. But 
 to the devout disciple of the Russian Church all this is 
 significant. Every shred of symbol is illustrative of a 
 truth, and eloquent with memories of that golden vision 
 upon which the Russian envoys gazed with wonder-stricken 
 eyes beneath St. Sophia's sacred dome. 
 
 The Russian priest claims for his Church as does 
 every other churchman and sectary in the world that it 
 is more closely allied to primitive Christianity, that it more 
 loyally perpetuates the teachings of Jesus and the wor- 
 ship of the Apostles, than any other Church in existence. 
 He points with pride to the fact that no music except that 
 of the human voice is heard within his temples; that the 
 early habit of standing while in the act of prayer still ob- 
 tains there; that immersion is still practised in baptism 
 as it was by Jesus and his great forerunner. His Church 
 still clings to the Greek calendar in the face of a diverse 
 practice by all the other nations of Europe. His Church 
 anoints the sick with oil, but it is for their healing and not 
 as a rite of extreme unction. Confession is enjoined, but 
 it is neither so frequent in practice nor so searching in 
 character as it is in the Latin Church. The holy kiss of 
 brotherhood a heritage of the Orient is given by the 
 priests at the altar to each other, and by the people to their 
 priests. To all these practices the Russian points as 
 proofs that his Church is still clinging to the simplicity 
 and devotion of its peasant chief. 
 
THE RUSSIAN CHURCH. 37 
 
 The Russian Church has no sacred images, but it has 
 sacred pictures without number. Its devotion to saintly 
 relics is extreme. Its tradition of miracle is opulent. It 
 prays for the dead. Its fasts and festivals exceed those of 
 Rome. Its posturings and genuflexions are more numerous, 
 its spectacular displays more rich and varied than those 
 of any other church in Europe. It is the legitimate de- 
 scendant of the Byzantine Church, and it preserves the 
 heritage it has received with unabating zeal. It has many 
 distinguishing features. It administers the Eucharist to 
 infants. Its parish priests are married. The general par- 
 ticipation in the elements of the Eucharistic sacrifice re- 
 minds one of the Reformed churches, and not at all of 
 the Latin. And it stands forth as a mighty testimony to 
 the power of symbolism among the ignorant. The Rus- 
 sian peasants love their Church and their Tsar with the 
 same unreasoning and complete devotion. To them the 
 Tsar and the Church are one and inseparable. The Tsar 
 they adore; in and through the Church they worship 
 God, whose earthly representative is the Emperor. Take 
 it all in all, the Russian Church is a strange commingling 
 of apostolic simplicity and the extremest ritualism. It 
 is Catholic and tolerant to all other creeds; and, above all, 
 its past is free from the stain of blood. 
 
 The priesthood in Russia is separated into two great 
 classes the monastic and the parochial commonly called 
 the black and white clergy. To the former belongs all 
 ecclesiastical administration; they are separated from the 
 parish priests as widely as the aristocracy is from the great 
 body of the peasants. They are usually men of intelli- 
 gence superior to that of the Batushkas or pastors. There 
 are in Russia at least five hundred monasteries, and though 
 they are shorn of many of the privileges which they en- 
 joyed prior to the reign of Peter the Great, still many of 
 them possess enormous wealth, and receive princely reve- 
 nues. It was no uncommon thing, early in the eighteenth 
 century, for the monks to engage in commerce, and travel- 
 lers of that time speak of them as the sharpest and most 
 intelligent merchants in all Russia. It is doubtless true 
 
238 E* JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 that this participation in commercial enterprises did much 
 to justify the accusation often brought against them of 
 worldliness and greed. Acquisitiveness and abnegation are 
 antithetical qualities. Yet the latter was by Jesus declared 
 to be the greatest of graces. Mackenzie Wallace, whose 
 pen is never tinged with prejudice, in speaking of Rus- 
 sian monasteries, says: " During casual visits to some of 
 them, I have always been disagreeably impressed by the 
 vulgar, commercial spirit which seemed to reign in the 
 place. Some of them have appeared to me as little better 
 than houses of refuge for the indolent, and I have had on 
 more than one occasion good ground for concluding that 
 among monks, as among ordinary mortals, indolence leads 
 to drunkenness and other vices." 
 
 The village priests or Batushkas have, on the other 
 hand, small opportunity for the self-indulgence which 
 proceeds from indolence. They are altogether dependent 
 for their living upon the benefactions of their followers 
 and the fees which they derive from the exercise of their 
 offices. Outside of these Jees, which vary according to the 
 means of the penitent, their position is one of absolute 
 mendicancy. They all from necessity are married men. 
 No priest can receive a cure until he has first become a 
 husband. They usually intermarry with the daughters 
 of priests, but marry they must. Often at the last moment 
 a young priest who has received notice that he has had a 
 parish bestowed upon him, will rush to the nearest bishop, 
 or to the superior of a neighbouring convent, to find a 
 wife. The former will tell him of some fair damsel the 
 daughter of one of his clergy who is waiting to be wooed; 
 the latter will produce such matrimonial wares as are in 
 her keeping for his selection. It need not take a priest 
 long to marry in Russia. And then the trouble begins. 
 It is a daily struggle with poverty poverty, that prolific 
 mother of selfishness and greed. It breeds its offspring 
 in priests as in laymen; and so the Russian priests are 
 put before their people as avaricious and grasping, when 
 they are simply intent upon providing bread for the mouths 
 dependent upon them. An unpaid priesthood, or an ill- 
 
One of Muscoivs sixteen hundred churches. 
 
THE RUSSIAN CHURCH. 239 
 
 paid priesthood, is a shame and a blight upon any nation. 
 It has proved a detriment to Russia. The clergy sell their 
 prayers and haggle over the price of a priestly office, while 
 the sick and the dying gasp in superstitious fear. 
 
 The Eussian parochial clergy are withal very often an 
 intelligent and kindly class of men. They are almost uni- 
 versally good to their wives, and for the excellent reasons 
 that they can not marry a second time, and that when they 
 become widowers they lose their cures and must become 
 monks. The intelligence of the parish priests need not be 
 great. In the past, indeed, they were often arbitrarily 
 selected by their masters from the untutored peasants. 
 Now they are selected usually from the families of the 
 priests, educated and ordained under the direction of one 
 or other of the principal sees. They seldom preach. The 
 functions of the altar they discharge with fidelity. They 
 pray for the dead, they anoint the sick and the dying with 
 holy oil, collect alms and fees with eager zeal, toil upon 
 their bit of land, and give themselves otherwise to the 
 pains and pleasures of connubial partnership. It is not 
 a merry life. It is scarcely a life calculated to evoke and 
 strengthen ideal qualities; but when one considers the 
 environment, the product is not surprising. In their flocks 
 the priests encounter, on the one hand, easy and implicit 
 credulity; on the other, indifferent conformity. The 
 peasants are as ignorant of theology as they are of other 
 forms of learning. A peasant was once asked if he could 
 name the three persons of the Trinity. " Batushka! " 
 he replied; " who would not know that? It is the Saviour, 
 the Mother of God, and Saint Nicholas, the worker of 
 miracles! " It is not likely that such intelligences would 
 investigate keenly the sources of inspiration or the grounds 
 of faith. 
 
 The educated and cultivated Russians are devoted to 
 the Church as one of the chief supports of the State; to its 
 ritual as a heritage of the past, rich alike in sacred tradi- 
 tion and divine significance; but they do not concern 
 themselves with philosophical speculations or theological 
 argument. To them the superb, manifold, glowing cere- 
 
240 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 monies of the Greek Church are welcome as a gift of the 
 Orient which they love, and as enabling them to dis- 
 charge a troublesome business in a perfunctory and con- 
 scientious way. Still, they are all devout disciples of 
 Mother Church, and do not fail to " tithe the mint, anise, 
 and cumin " of their ecclesiastical home. 
 
 In this rapid sketch of the Russian Church I have 
 endeavoured to dwell upon those features of salient in- 
 terest which it presents in common with all other religions, 
 as well as those distinguishing characteristics which sepa- 
 rate it from all others. As a Church it long maintained 
 its corporate connection with the Mother Church of Greece; 
 but as it grew in importance, it gradually assumed ecclesi- 
 astical independence, which was consummated during the 
 reign of Peter the Great. 
 
 The Eussian Church is, in my judgment, suited to the 
 Eussian people. It is useless, hopeless, and often imperti- 
 nent, to attempt to thrust an Occidental religion upon an 
 Oriental people. Eussia is at least one half Oriental in 
 mind, habit, and inclination. The Greek Church mingles 
 the mysticism and form so welcome to the Oriental mind 
 with the classicism and casuistry of the Occident. It is, 
 therefore, exactly suited to the mind of Eussia. As the 
 religion of a great, prosperous, and increasing Empire, it 
 is worthy of respect and careful study. Its past is rich 
 in the story of saints and heroes. It has not made its 
 progress through the blood and storm of religious persecu- 
 tion, but by a gradual accretion and constant devotion. 
 If with the inrush of modern light if with the spread 
 of learning and science in the Eussian Empire a spirit of 
 religious zeal go hand in hand, then the spiritual signifi- 
 cance of its glorious churches, its sacred shrines, its hal- 
 lowed ikons, its elaborate ceremonial of the altar, shall 
 become instinct with a new and beautiful force which 
 shall lead both prince and peasant nearer to the standard 
 of that ideal humanity which is the brightest dream of the 
 present and the most golden promise of the future. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 VILLAGE LIFE. 
 
 WHEN* on the way to Moscow, we noticed in every Bus- 
 sian village, even the smallest, one building conspicuous 
 because of its location and its height. It is always there, 
 always two-storied, always exactly in the centre of the 
 village, and almost always in a slightly better state of re- 
 pair than the low little houses that squat pertly about it. 
 I say pertly because of their sharp-pointed roofs. 
 
 The one two-storied house belongs to the village koop- 
 yets. It is his residence and his shop. The koopyets, or 
 village trader, is a person of the utmost importance from 
 the village point of view. He is a thrifty Ivan. The 
 chances are not against his being the one truly thrifty soul 
 within the village limits. He is a man of substance of 
 considerable substance sometimes. Often he is the holder 
 of half or even more of the village land. Every other 
 soul in the place is in the debt of this " soul " of much 
 importance. When this debt grows so large that the 
 koopyets demurs about letting it grow larger, the debtor- 
 soul is only glad to exchange part or even all of his allot- 
 ment of land for continued credit; for credit on the 
 koopyets's books means red shirts and black bread, tea 
 and prianniki, herrings and calico. Above all, it means 
 vodka! 
 
 It would be difficult to overestimate the koopyets's 
 power in the village. The moujiks are at his mercy. 
 Literally they are dependent upon him for everything. 
 They are dependent upon him for the clothes they wear, 
 the red shirts of summer, the sheepskin coats of winter, 
 
 241 
 
242 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 the embroidered scarfs, and the gay kerchiefs of festival 
 days. They are dependent upon him for the food they 
 eat, the relishy herring and the delightful buckwheat. 
 Each moujik grows his own supply of rye. But he is not 
 a lavish provider, while he is, on the other hand, a most 
 lavish consumer. So the home-grown and home-baked 
 supply of black rye bread soon comes to an end, and Ivan 
 Ivanovitch and all his household would starve were it not 
 for the food-supplying, credit-giving koopyets. It needs 
 no demonstration that the man who is at one and the same 
 time the village banker and its general provider has a 
 mighty voice in all the village counsels, and wields in all 
 its affairs a power that it is difficult to exaggerate. Often 
 he holds the village politics in the hollow of his hand, 
 and the welfare of its people is dependent upon his good 
 will. 
 
 The koopyets is seldom a native of the village in which 
 he has his tracktir (shop). He is a capitalist who has 
 come there to increase his capital. In an inner room, ad- 
 joining that in which he displays and sells his stock, he 
 holds a daily reception and gives a perpetual tea-party. A 
 good-natured fellow enough, for all his wide-open eye to 
 the main chance, is Michael Michaelovitch. In the centre 
 of his reception-room stands a table surrounded by chairs 
 or benches. The seats are generally well occupied. On 
 the table stand a samovar, a bowl of lemon bits, a saucer 
 of cut sugar, and sundry glasses. When Michael Michaelo- 
 vitch is not in the outer room selling or bartering (though, 
 to do him justice, he, unlike the city shopkeepers, usu- 
 ally has a fixed price for all his wares), he is very apt to 
 be seated beside this table, drinking and dispensing what 
 he fondly believes to be tea. And it was tea once. But 
 the teapot has been replenished and replenished so often, 
 and with warm water only, that the once present tea is no 
 longer perceptible to sight, taste, or smell. But there is 
 an abundance of lump sugar, a genteel sufficiency of sliced 
 lemon, and an absolute plethora of boiling water. Michael 
 Michaelovitch welcomes all his friends and his more im- 
 portant customers to his tea-table. He deluges them with 
 
VILLAGE LIFE.' 243 
 
 scalding water (more or less tea-tainted, according to the 
 hour); nor does he stint them in sugar. One slice of lemon 
 is supposed to do duty for each tea-drinker, no matter 
 how often his glass is replenished. I myself have seen a 
 party of moujiks take twenty rounds out of one poor, long- 
 suffering teapot, and I have been told, and doubt it not, 
 that a tea-drinking peasant can do far more than that if 
 he only gets his chance. The good-natured koopyets goes 
 on filling Ivan's glass until Ivan can no more. At that 
 point Ivan turns down his empty tumbler in token that 
 he has really had enough. He rises, as do all the others, 
 shakes hands with Michael Michaelovitch, and thanks him 
 for his hospitality. Then Ivan shakes hands with each 
 of his fellow guests, and thanks them individually and 
 collectively for their company. Then all turn to the ikon 
 hanging in the corner, cross themselves, and mutter a brief 
 prayer. Ivan slouches out; the others reseat themselves, 
 and recommence their drinking. 
 
 Outside the koopyets's house are two troughs, one al- 
 ways full of water, the other sometimes half full of grain. 
 If the village is near St. Petersburg, as was the one I saw 
 most thoroughly, the troughs never lead an idle life. The 
 industrious Finnish peasants travel from village to village, 
 from town to town, from some Finnish farm or fishery, 
 to the metropolis itself. They carry e'ggs and grain, butter 
 and fish; and, returning to Finland, they pack their little 
 two-wheeled telyegis with all manner of Eussian commodi- 
 ties such as find a ready sale in Finland. To each 
 telyegis is harnessed a sturdy, faithful, sagacious little 
 Finn pony. These steeds are very like their masters 
 cheerful, frugal, industrious, slow, tireless, and contented. 
 It is for them that Michael Michaelovitch keeps a trough 
 full of water and leaves the other ready for the serving 
 out of the pony's daily dole of grain. 
 
 There is one other person in the village of almost as 
 much importance as the koopyets. The starvst, or village 
 head-man, is its aristocrat; but the koopyets is the pluto- 
 crat, and alas! even in Holy Eussia, a bank account is apt to 
 outrank rank itself. The office of a Eussian village starvst 
 
244 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 reminded me in many ways of the office of a United States 
 consul. Neither office is a sinecure. Both officials are 
 hard-worked, plagued to death, and draw a salary the 
 minuteness of which really seems adding insult to injury. 
 In a Russian village there is an election every few years. 
 The heads of the family gather together and select their 
 own starvst, or presiding officer. It is the starvst who 
 calls together the Mir or village commune, which is com- 
 posed of the heads of all the households. The Mir, pre- 
 sided over hy the starvst, is the village governing body, 
 for in village affairs the outside Government interferes 
 scarcely at all so long as the yearly tax is paid. And it 
 is part of the starvst's duty to see that it is paid. The 
 Mir gives out all the contracts for village work, repairs, 
 building, etc., and lets out any shooting or fishing there may 
 be over the village lands or in the village waters. The 
 Mir elects all the village officials. The chief officials are 
 the starvst, the peesar or scribe, the tax gatherer, the 
 pastuch or cowherd, and the voriadnik. The peesar is 
 an underling the veriest underling; but often after the 
 koopyets he is the most powerful, for the sole reason that, 
 in making out official reports, receipts, etc., he can partially 
 write what he likes, since the chances are that no one 
 else in the village can either read or write. This makes 
 him very much the master of the situation. The tax 
 gatherer is a " soul " who collects from each moujik his 
 stipulated contribution toward the tax. The combined 
 taxes are handed by the gatherer to the starvst, who in 
 turn passes them to the Government tax collector when 
 he comes upon his yearly round. The pastuch or cow- 
 herd is a useful, necessary person in the village's social 
 economy. He calls at each door every summer morning and 
 takes the family cow and escorts it, in company with many 
 other family cows, to the outlying pasture. He guards and 
 watches over the bovines all day, and at dusk returns each 
 to its home. The voriadnik is the village policeman. He 
 wears no uniform. 
 
 The division of the communal village land and the allot- 
 ment to each moujik of the portion which he may culti- 
 
A Russian coachman. 
 
VILLAGE LIFE. 245 
 
 vate, and upon which he must pay taxes, fall entirely 
 upon the Mir. This is the most difficult and the most 
 important of that assembly's many duties. Fortunately 
 for the cause of peace, the decision of the Mir is never 
 disputed, but is accepted as final by all. The Government 
 assesses the village according to the number of its souls. 
 But the Mir divides the land upon a very different and, 
 to all concerned, a far more satisfactory plan. The moujik 
 with three small sons gets a much smaller piece of land to 
 cultivate, and need but pay a much smaller tax, than the 
 moujik who has one infant son and four strong grown 
 daughters. To be sure, the household of the first moujik 
 comprises four souls, while the household of the second mou- 
 jik comprises only two souls. But the practical Mir reasons 
 thus: One man and five able-bodied women and one child 
 need more food than do one man, one woman, and three 
 children therefore they must have more land. More- 
 over, they can cultivate it. And because they have and 
 can cultivate more land, they must pay a larger tax than 
 the moujik who has the smaller allotment and can only 
 cultivate a smaller amount, although this second moujik's 
 household counts as five souls and theirs only counts as two. 
 In every case the Mir adjusts the size of the allotted land 
 and the amount of the enforced tax according to the needs 
 and abilities of each family. The comparative richness 
 and poorness of the soil is also always taken into consid- 
 eration. Of course, the most coveted plots are those 
 lying nearest the houses. Where each moujik's allotment 
 shall lie is determined by the drawing of lots. The re- 
 sult is always accepted and abided by with entire good 
 nature. 
 
 The fire department of a Russian village is unique 
 and amazingly admirable. I commend its careful study 
 to our home fire departments. On every house, or on a 
 board in front of each house, is painted a wonderful pic- 
 torial sign: " One is something which might represent 
 a round tower, or may be meant for a tub of water; an- 
 other a ladder; here, something remotely suggestive of 
 a hatchet; there, two more tubs, and beyond is another 
 
246 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 ladder. The presentments are meant to indicate the particu- 
 lar article each household is expected to provide and use in 
 the event of an alarm of fire in the village. As the peasants 
 have a system of mutual insurance against fire,, each moujik 
 will assuredly do his best and quickest to bring the article 
 for which he is responsible, and put it into immediate 
 operation the moment he is summoned." 
 
 The village well usually stands near the house of the 
 starvst. It is, indeed, a rare specimen! The bucket is 
 fastened to a very long rope that dangles from one end 
 of an enormous lever. The unweighted end of the lever 
 is many feet above the reach of the very tallest citizen, 
 and would be even though the tallest citizen held on his 
 shoulders the shortest citizen. A very long cord, how- 
 ever, hangs from the lever's light end, and enables the 
 water-seeking villager to draw up the bucketful with very 
 great muscular exertion. 
 
 Near each moujik's house you see a disorderly pile of 
 roots. These are the staple village fuel, and are gathered 
 by the women and children at odd times. In every Eus- 
 sian village on any sunny day you may hear the soft cooing 
 and gentle swirring sounds of hundreds of pigeons. They 
 are sacred in Eussia, and not the roughest moujik would 
 harm the gentle pretty things. The village pigeons 
 are not only always unmolested, but they are always 
 fat and well fed. Even in cruel times of famine, the 
 rough, untutored moujik will spare the pigeons many 
 a generous crumb from his last loaf of black rye 
 bread. 
 
 It is a primitive life that the Eussian village moujik 
 lives, but it has been my observation that it is neither 
 an unhappy nor an unwholesome one. True, I was not 
 in Eussia long. And some one may add that I was greatly 
 prejudiced in favour of things Eussian by the time I came 
 to study Eussian village life. Certainly, my views on Eus- 
 sia and things Eussian changed greatly during my stay in 
 Tsarland; but I was, I think, no more blind to Eussian 
 faults when I left Finland than when I entered Alexan- 
 drovno. But be that as it may, I am not alone in my esti- 
 
VILLAGE LIFE. 247 
 
 mate of many things Russian. Here is testimony corrobo- 
 rative of the view I take of Slavic village life. It was writ- 
 ten by a cool, clear-headed Englishman a few years ago. 
 Mr. Whishaw says: 
 
 " The Russian moujik appears to have no ambition for 
 a higher state of civilization; he prefers to live in the 
 primitive and simple way in which his forefathers for hun- 
 dreds of years have been content to exist before him. As 
 the result of some knowledge of the villages of northern 
 Russia, the conclusion at which I have arrived with regard 
 to the position and prospects of the moujik of to-day is, 
 that the latter, if only he could keep clear of the wine 
 shops, should be one of the happiest of men. His allot- 
 ment will support him if he works it diligently and with- 
 out being too scrupulous as to the question of labour on 
 holidays. If he lives near a large town there are a hun- 
 dred ways in which he may acquire wealth: by plying 
 with horse and tarantass as isvoschik, or trading in milk, 
 or cutting and selling firewood, etc. The main obstacle to 
 his prosperity is the kabak or drinking shop. If he could 
 only keep himself away from its seductive portals Ivano- 
 vitch should have, barring famines and the unforeseen gen- 
 erally, as good a chance of happiness as any class of men 
 on the face of the earth. But his share of the communal 
 land will not keep him in vodka and idleness. As for the 
 house he lives in, it is not much of a place; but then he 
 would not thank you for a better. Ivan Ivanovitch is deep- 
 ly religious, though his religion is largely tainted with su- 
 perstition; and he cherishes a filial love for the reigning 
 Tsar, leaving politics to his betters, or to those members 
 of his family who are absent serving their time in the 
 army, or making money as labourers in factory and work- 
 shop in large towns, where the agitators can get hold of 
 them to poison their minds. At home in his village he 
 is quite content to live the humdrum life of his forefathers, 
 serving in patient docility his God and his Tsar, and hav- 
 ing little thought for anything beyond the daily routine 
 of work and sleep, with as much vodka thrown in as he can 
 get hold of, for Ivan is rarely an abstainer. Far better is 
 VI 
 
248 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 it for him when he clings thus to his ancestral Mir tilling 
 the soil like his forefathers before him, leading the life 
 to which alone by nature and descent he is adapted, and 
 keeping himself far away from the dangers of town and 
 politics, which mar his simplicity and will lead him in- 
 evitably to ruin/ 5 
 
CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 SLAVIC LITEKATUKE. 
 
 THE little I knew of her literature before I went to 
 Eussia had served to whet my appetite, to make me keen 
 to know more. I had, as it were, nibhled at a slight 
 zakuska. I had read War and Peace, Dead Souls, The 
 Kreutzer Sonata, and the Journal of Marie Bashkirtseff. 
 In Eussia I made rather more of a meal, not by any means 
 a square meal, but still something far more generous than 
 a thimbleful of Chartreuse and a mouthful of pickled 
 pretzel. And I brought away with me, when I left Eus- 
 sia, a sharp desire and a firm intention to go on reading 
 her books until I had gained a less fragmentary acquaintance 
 with the Eus literature and with Eussian men of letters. 
 
 There are, I know, thousands of my countrymen and 
 women who stand where I stood less than a year ago, quite 
 on the outer threshold of Eussian literature. There are 
 thousands more of otherwise well-read Americans who 
 have dipped not at all into Eussian literature. To the 
 former some simple outline of the history of Eussian letters 
 may be of interest, and not without value. To the latter 
 it may not be uninteresting to go with me a few steps into 
 Eussian book-land; and perhaps they will not be alto- 
 gether bored I earnestly hope not to hear a little of 
 what I, who, though in no sense a litterateur, am yet a 
 devout devourer of books, have thought as I turned the 
 pages of that wonderfully interesting and wonderfully 
 peculiar volume, the Book of Slavic Literature. 
 
 Let me say emphatically let me insist that this chap- 
 ter contains merely the notes, the very primary notes, of a 
 
250 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 beginner in Russian literature, jotted down in no little diffi- 
 dence and solely for other beginners. Should these pages 
 fall into the hands of any Eussia-versed scholar, or 
 scholarly person, I entreat him to skip them. If in a wil- 
 ful mood he persists and reads them, I charge him to re- 
 member that they were not written for him nor for such 
 as he. If the accomplished member of the senior class, 
 who is studying the literature of the pre-Elizabethan 
 period, pushes his way into the kindergarten, where they 
 are lisping the alphabet, on his own head be it if he finds 
 it dull! 
 
 No literature owes more to other contemporaneous and 
 nearly contemporaneous literatures, has borrowed more 
 from them, than Russian literature. None is more in- 
 dividual, more characteristic, more distinct, more distinc- 
 tively national, more sharply, radically, diametrically, and 
 unmistakably different from all other literatures, past and 
 present. The men of letters of no other nation have been 
 so swayed by French, German, and Byronic thought as 
 have the writers of Russia. The litterateurs of no other 
 nationality have been so formed, so influenced, and led by 
 the forms and modes of expression of the French, the Ger- 
 man, and the Byronic schools as have and are they. No 
 school of writers is so distinct, so essentially and funda- 
 mentally and apparently national, and so utterly unlike 
 the writers of all other countries, as are the high-priests of 
 Slavic letters yes, and the priestlings too! 
 
 While in Russia, I was often struck forcibly and most 
 fantastically by the fact that the Russian cuisine and the 
 Russian literature have one very salient quality in com- 
 mon. Both are pungently Russian; both have adopted 
 much from the foreigner, but with a difference. The 
 Russians have adopted French cooking en Hoc, and then 
 have Russianized it, giving it a Russian flavour by the 
 cautious introduction of a Russian dish or two, the use of 
 a soupQon more cayenne than the French ever use. 
 They do not adapt the French dinner they adopt it and 
 naturalize it, stamp it with the imperial double-headed 
 eagle, by the die of the prefatory zakuska of vodka and 
 
SLAVIC LITERATURE. 251 
 
 caviare. But it is a French dinner for all that, as surely 
 as the United States citizen who exclaims, " Begorra, it's 
 agin the Government I am, every time, sor! " is an Irish- 
 man. But Eussian literature is far less wholesale than is 
 the Eussian cook in the adoption of French recipes and 
 German or English ingredients. The Eussian author 
 adapts rather than adopts. He absorbs. He is inoculated 
 with French feeling, German thought, and Byronic man- 
 ner, but he is the veriest Eussian at the core and on the 
 surface, and so are his books. Though it be bound in 
 French vellum, yet scratch a Eussian book, and you will find 
 a Tartar. A Eussian writer may and often does employ 
 French methods of expression, German methods of con- 
 struction and analysis; but he only does it when and be- 
 cause those methods are beautifully fit for the clothing of 
 Eussian thought, the describing of Eussian life and feel- 
 ing. The book is a Eussian book, emphatically, uncom- 
 promisingly, arrogantly, I might almost add, were it not 
 both impertinent and ridiculous to call a patriotism arro- 
 gant that never seeks to draw outside attention upon it- 
 self. Eussian literature is for the Eussians, and if we 
 invite ourselves to its perusal, we have no call to use even 
 slightly critical adjectives when we dwell upon its enor- 
 mous, insistent, and exclusive nationalism. Eussian litera- 
 ture, for all its sometimes wearing of French cut, of Ger- 
 man-dyed or Byronic-trimmed garb, is no more enslaved 
 than is the European beauty who wears a kimono made in 
 Yeddo for a robe de chambre, a Mongolian, or the Eussian 
 Grand Duchess who orders her ball dresses from Paris, 
 French! 
 
 The Chinese element in all things Eussian impressed 
 me daily and sharply. A friend, who has for some years 
 studied Chinese literature and loves it, tells me that there 
 is a distinct resemblance between the literature of the 
 nation of the Son of Heaven and the literature of the 
 nation of the Great White Tsar. Both are straightforward, 
 strong, and simple. One is young, the other is very ancient. 
 But both are vigorous, rugged at times, yet soft and sweet 
 with sentiment. Both are often " naked and unashamed " ; 
 
252 IN JOYFUL EUSSIA. 
 
 both are often imperially sumptuous. " So far as rich- 
 ness in expression of love is concerned/' writes Brandes, 
 " it may be regarded as scientifically proved that, of all liv- 
 ing and dead languages, there is none so rich in expression as 
 the Eussian in both of its dialects." Again a parallel, for the 
 Chinese language, both the Mandarin or classic Chinese, 
 and the tongues of the people, are peculiarly rich in 
 tender words, pet names, amatory nouns, verbs, adjectives, 
 adverbs, and phrases. 
 
 But to return to my theme, and to sum up this intro- 
 duction, whatever the nationality of the chef, we must, 
 when we dine in Russia, wash down his dinner with sweet 
 champagne, and preface it with vodka and caviare; what- 
 ever the semblance of any Russian book to the volumes of 
 France or of Germany, it is in the world of books a Russian 
 the veriest of Russians. 
 
 The authors of ancient Greece and Rome made them- 
 selves busy over the customs, the characteristics, and the 
 doings of the countries and the peoples north of the Black 
 % Sea. Interesting, intensely interesting as the written re- 
 sults of that business are (most especially those of 
 Herodotus), they form no part or parcel of Slavic litera- 
 ture; they were written by Greek and Roman writers, who 
 were in no way the forerunners of the Russian literati. 
 They were written about peoples who have never been 
 proved to be, and probably were not (with the exception of 
 the Scythians), in any large degree ancestors of the Rus- 
 sians. What the scholarly adventurers of Athens and Rome 
 wrote about the countries north of the Black Sea was less 
 absorbingly interesting than what they wrote about those 
 countries' inhabitants, but more apropos to my theme; for 
 it serves at least to show how much the men that have, 
 from remote times until now, written of and in the coun- 
 tries now called Russia, have been affected by and inspired 
 to reflect the natural characteristics, phenomena, topog- 
 raphy, climate, atmosphere, and flora of those countries. 
 They all dwelt upon the cold, the ice and the snow, the 
 dark and the frost the ancient writers who had journeyed 
 into what is now Russia; and the writings of the modern 
 
Count Tolstoi. 
 
SLAVIC LITERATURE. 253 
 
 Kussian authors are all held in check, kept rigidly in 
 shape, clarified, purified by the clear, cold, uncompromis- 
 ing atmosphere of the Eussian winter the long Kussian 
 winter. There is something calm, clean, self-controlled 
 even ahout the turgid and turbid pens of the men who 
 wrote The Kreutzer Sonata, The Gipsies, Who is to 
 Blame? Senilia, and Crime and Punishment. They have 
 all been men of turbulent passions, unchecked, exotic, and 
 pampered sensuality. Yes; even Tolstoi the reformed, the 
 white-haired, the gesthetic Tolstoi, whose wue youth (I 
 might almost say adolescence) we forget, ought to forget, 
 but which was characteristic of the man, of the man's 
 nature, and proves how in his case, as in the case of 
 myriads of Russians, art and the morality of art have 
 triumphed over the potent naturalism of the man. And 
 yet upon the relentless exposes of Derzhavin, the licen- 
 tious-mouthed; of Pushkin, the rake, the voluptuary, of the 
 Byron-like imagination; of Lermontoff the passionate, the 
 demonized; Gogol the fearless; and of Tchernuishevski 
 the soul-searching ever beats the cold, white light, the in- 
 different snow-reflected sunshine of arctic truth, the keen, 
 unaccusing, but unpalliating search-light of arctic fatal- 
 ism, a philosophy whose theorem is: " Let be. Condemn 
 nothing. Nothing is to blame, nothing can be helped. 
 All is foreordained, and foreordained for evil." Ah, the 
 Slavonic Calvinism of Russian literature! 
 
 It is this startling contrast in the Russians, and in all 
 things Russian, that makes them all their country and 
 their literature so hard of analysis, so baffling of just, 
 even-handed criticism, so unlike all others, and so fascinat- 
 ing withal. The fires and the snows of Russia! Her pieties 
 and her sensualities! Her blood-red rose of lust! Her 
 " languorous, snow-born lilies of soulless sin " and of mys- 
 ticism! What if the thorns of the red roses prick us and 
 the cold breath of those white snow lilies chills and sickens 
 us? We must learn to grasp and tolerate the jagged thorns 
 and to inhale and face the blinding, choking, snow-re- 
 flected sunshine, if we would know anything, and know it 
 at all adequately, of Russia's literature, or if we would 
 
254: IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 at all pierce (as only sympathy, neither maudlin nor nig- 
 gardly, can ever pierce) through the mask, sometimes 
 stolid, sometimes fantastic, which Eussia the mocking, 
 modern sphinx ever wears upon her lovely, laughing, pa- 
 thetic face. To reiterate: through the almost lurid heat 
 of modern Russian literature we may still feel the keen, 
 clean sting of the snow, and it was the cold the intense 
 cold of Russia (I mean, of course, of that part of the 
 earth's surface that we now call Russia) that was always 
 and most intentively noticed by the old Latin and Greek 
 writers. And through the lustiest, frankest pages of mod- 
 ern Russian letters we can but see the clear, clean, cold, 
 crisp, sparkling sheen of glittering ice and gleaming snow. 
 Gracious, dignified old Herodotus dwelt and dwelt again 
 upon the cruel eight months' winters and the cold and 
 stormy summers. And wanton, amorous Ovid wrote: 
 " They protect themselves against the cold by skins and 
 sewed trousers, and of the whole form only the face is to be 
 seen. The hair often rattles from the ice which hangs 
 upon it, and the beard shines with the frost which covers 
 it. The wine keeps the shape of the bottle when the 
 bottle is broken in pieces, and they do not pour it out, 
 but divide it up. Why should I say that all the brooks are 
 stiffened by the cold and that they dig water out of the 
 sea that they can break in pieces? Even the Ister (Danube), 
 which is not less broad than the Nile, and which, through 
 its many mouths, mingles its waters with the sea, freezes 
 when the sea hardens its waves, and steals out into the 
 sea under a covering of ice. Where the ships went be- 
 fore, people go on foot. The horse's hoof stamps on the 
 frozen plain, and over these new bridges, above the flowing 
 waves, the Sarmatian oxen drag the barbaric vehicles. You 
 may hardly believe me, but, since I shall gain nothing 
 by telling a falsehood, I ought to be believed, I have seen 
 the immense Black Sea hardened into ice, which like a 
 smooth shell lay upon the immovable waters. And I have 
 not only seen it, but I have trodden upon the hard ocean 
 plain, and walked with dry feet over the sea." 
 
 And in the seething, fleshly pages of Shevtcheuko we 
 
SLAVIC LITERATURE. 255 
 
 may hear the jingle of the sleigh bells and smell the un- 
 soiled breath of the virgin snow. 
 
 When and where was Russian literature born? Ah! it 
 was not. It is like Topsy it grew. The old Scythian 
 myths of which good, trustworthy Herodotus speaks at 
 length were its remote ancestors. They were Slavic, very 
 Slavic, those marvellous mystic tales that the old Scythians 
 and Sarmatians and Getians told each to his fellow as 
 they threw their big, tired bodies down upon the broad 
 couch of the steppes, or among the jungle-like wild-flower 
 tangle of the sumptuous south Siberian summer. 
 
 Near the beginning of the twelfth century died the 
 monk historian Nestor, whom Brandes aptly styles the 
 Saxo-Grammaticus of Eussia. He was born in 1050 and 
 died in 1116. Scholars give conflicting dates. I give those 
 given by Dean Stanley, and believe them to be authentic. 
 He lived in a cave-cloister of Kieff. He wrote the first 
 chronicles of Russia (I still anticipate in my use of this 
 word), and his work still stands not only the first of Slavic 
 classics, but a storehouse of wealth to the student of Slavic 
 history, and a book admittedly authentic. The Slavic 
 peoples had come into and spread over broad Russia. Posi- 
 tive forms of government had been established, kingdoms 
 formed, and cities built. Nestor observed and wrote down 
 not only the myths and legends that passed from genera- 
 tion to generation and from lip to lip, but he recorded 
 with great exactness and careful detail all he saw. He 
 also wrote with no mean authority of the periods preced- 
 ing that in which he lived, for he had access to, and in- 
 deed possessed, documents, treaties, and contracts of un- 
 doubted genuineness and real value. When it came to the 
 describing of battles and of warriors, he wrote somewhat 
 erringly. He scripturalized everything. He made fire- 
 eating, barbaric soldiers coo like sucking doves, when there 
 is no question but that in reality they bellowed like savage 
 bulls. Seukovski points out how ridiculous it was of the 
 Christian monk to attribute his own holy horror of martial 
 murder and of bloodshed to the Varing Russian soldiery 
 of those days. And Brandes writes: "It was only cow- 
 
256 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 ardice that was despicable in their sight. For the perfidi- 
 ous wrong-doer they had a respect which was not denied 
 to him even when they were in arms against him." 
 
 Through the earlier Eussian literature we learn a great 
 deal of the religion and methods of the old Slavs. They 
 believed in God, they deified Nature, and they worshipped 
 both. They worshipped the Heavens and called them 
 Svarog. They worshipped Dazhbog and Ogon, sons of 
 Heaven. They worshipped Vesna and Morana, Stribog 
 and Perun. They worshipped the damp Mother Earth, 
 and they called the souls of the dead Eusalki, and held 
 them in almost Chinese veneration. Dazhbog was the god 
 of the sun; Ogon was the god of fire, and corresponds 
 with, or is perhaps identical with, the Indian god Agni. 
 Vesna was the sweet-scented spring. Morana was the 
 dread deity of death and of winter. Stribog was the god 
 of wind, and Perun the god of thunder. 
 
 There are many songs of distinctly mythical origin 
 which are still sung in every part of Eussia on certain 
 feast days at certain anniversary seasons. 
 
 It was not until the beginning of this present century 
 that the unique and interesting bilini were published or even 
 collected. From the bilini we learn very much our best 
 knowledge, perhaps, of what the old Slavs thought of the 
 quality and quantity of their intellectual life is derived 
 from them. The bilini are the old Slavic epic poems, epic 
 songs. They are a splendid kind of folk-song just the 
 kind one might expect to find in the big, vast, splendid, 
 mighty Eussia. The history of the collection of these 
 bilini is so deeply interesting that I venture to dwell upon 
 it, feeling sure that they are unknown to thousands of 
 English and American readers who are fairly familiar with 
 modern Eussian fiction. And I shall venture to quote again 
 from the pen of George Brandes a pen as charming as it 
 is authoritative. I use Dr. Brandes's words here (and may 
 perhaps again) because he says what I wish to say, and 
 incomparably better than I could say it, and because the 
 fact that the words I use are his, not mine, gives them a 
 greatly added force. If I chance to turn the attention 
 
SLAVIC LITERATURE. 357 
 
 of any reader to Dr. Brandes's pages, that reader will owe 
 me a debt of gratitude somewhat commensurate perhaps 
 with that which I owe, and long have owed, to Dr. Brandes: 
 " The first collection of these " (i. e., these bilini), he 
 writes, " appeared in 1804, consisting of songs which had 
 been collected among the iron workmen in the department 
 of Perm. In 1818 a new edition of the collection was 
 published, with sixty numbers in the place of twenty-five. 
 It was then discovered that there were a large number of 
 epic songs in circulation among the peasants in northern 
 Russia. From 1852 to 1856, Sreznevski published bilini 
 which were recited in these northern departments; yet it 
 was only in 1859 that the investigations of Rybnikof, in 
 the regions about the Onega Lake, made it plain that Rus- 
 sia had an enormously large unknown national literature 
 in the form of popular poems which it was simply necessary 
 to collect from the lips of the people. The isolation caused 
 by the severe climate about the Onega Lake, the simple 
 manner of life and naive mode of thought of the inhabi- 
 tants, the superstition and ignorance, the inability to read 
 and write, have made these regions a sort of oral Ice- 
 land for old Slavic poetry. Rybnikof was followed by 
 Hilferding, who, in the same wild provinces, collected 
 more than three hundred new songs or variations. Next 
 comes a garland of poems published by Kirievski, collected 
 from almost all parts of Great Russia and Siberia. And 
 in all these songs the same persons appear, the same ad- 
 ventures happen, and the same poetical expressions are 
 found. The best of these poems, and most of them, turn 
 upon the oldest memories of the Slavic countries, and range 
 themselves into two principal circles, the Kieff circle and 
 the Novgorod circle. Sometimes they point straight back 
 to heathen Russia and the oldest Aryan mythology, which 
 lies back of the Slavic religions. Thus they also present 
 points. of comparison with the holy books of India, and 
 for a Scandinavian reader even more interesting ones 
 with the Edda and the Norse myths." And elsewhere 
 Brandes writes: "Regular geological layers can be found 
 in all the epic poems of Russia; we can see, more or less 
 
258 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 plainly, how certain conceptions of Nature which are com- 
 mon to all Aryan peoples about the eleventh century began 
 to assume a constantly more decided Slavic stamp. The 
 mythical heroes, who were at first like those of other 
 countries, like those of the old North, for instance, become 
 decidedly Eussian and decidedly Greek-orthodox. They 
 are born in a definite Eussian village; they are slain on a 
 definite Eussian field. The celestial mountains, streams, 
 and seas which, in the oldest mythological language, in- 
 dicated clouds, rain, and air, become Eussian mountains 
 like the Ural, Eussian rivers like the Dnieper, and Eussian 
 seas like the Caspian Sea." 
 
 I may, for convenience and brevity, divide Eussian 
 literature into three periods: the ancient, the mediaeval, 
 and the modern. I use the three terms simply and solely 
 as compared with each other. Eussian medieval litera- 
 ture is young indeed compared with the other literatures 
 of Europe. 
 
 The ancient Slavic literature I have dealt with briefly. 
 It flourished before the Tartar invasion. It comprised the 
 bilini and the quaint historical and contemporaneous 
 chronicles, which latter were of course written in the old 
 ecclesiastical Slavic or church tongue. 
 
 The modern Slavic literature was founded by Somousof 
 in the eighteenth century, and is still being written by 
 Tolstoi and his confreres. This modern literature is the 
 real national literature of Eussia of the Eussia that we 
 know. Eussian book life may almost be said to be less than 
 two hundred years old. 
 
 Following the ancient, and preceding the modern, was 
 the mediaeval period of Slavic literature. This was a period 
 of brief lyrical poems and popular ballads. They are in- 
 finitely sweet and tender, infinitely sad and often surpris- 
 ingly graceful. They were written in both the national 
 tongues: Great Eussian and the now tabooed Little Eus- 
 sian. The Little Eussian ballads tell of the lives and the 
 deeds of the Cossack people and of nothing else. Bold 
 adventure, wild nature, and wildest warfare are the ever- 
 recurring themes. 
 
SLAVIC LITERATURE. 259 
 
 The Great Russian ballads may be divided, or rather 
 sorted, into three groups, distinct as to themes, identical 
 in treatment and form. The first and far the largest group 
 comprises the love songs and the songs descriptive of love 
 and of lovers. The second and archseologically the most 
 interesting group comprises the verses sung at weddings, 
 at Christmas, and at other festal times; verses often largely 
 descriptive of the customs peculiar to those occasions. 
 The third group deals exclusively with, and rather deifies, 
 the Slavic highwaymen, the Russian Robin Hoods. These 
 ballads of the third group are always humble, and, as a 
 rule, mingle pathos and humour in truly Russian con- 
 trast. 
 
 It is the first of these Great Russian ballads, the songs 
 of loves and of lovers, that are most vividly Russian, that 
 are most enshrined in the Russian heart, most often on the 
 lips of the Russian singer. 
 
 The Russians are wholesale lovers. They are intensely 
 and keenly interested in love. They like to suffer it. They 
 like to study, investigate, and analyze it. Above all and 
 beyond all, they dearly love to gossip and sing about it. 
 
 Brandes says: " The Little Russian and the Great 
 Russian popular ballads agree in two principal features: 
 in the comparison between a display of Nature and a men- 
 tal condition which is continually evoked by companion- 
 ship with Nature and a poetic view thereof, and in the 
 richness of expression for the most varied moods and 
 shades of a love upon whose multifarious sorrows they 
 dwell with ineffable sadness." And somewhere else, 
 following the line of Carl Abel, he writes: " The 
 study of languages shows that while love among the 
 Romans in particular was love for the family, for kins- 
 men, and regarded as a duty, that among the Hebrews love 
 for the whole tribe, and, at the highest point, love for 
 the whole of mankind, was regarded as a religion, the 
 Russian sentiment, according to the derivation of the words, 
 is caressing and full of charm, exclusively a natural in- 
 stinct, far less conscious, circumspect, and trustworthy, 
 always wholly involuntary. The domain of Russian love 
 
260 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 is the tender flattery which expresses itself in numerous 
 ingratiating diminutives. Of Liubov (love), as a woman's 
 name, the common people make use of the names Liuba, 
 Liubka, Liubkascha, Liubaschenka, Liubashetchka, Liu- 
 botchka, Liubutchka, Liubushenka, Liubushetchka, Liu- 
 benka, and even many others, each with its different shade 
 of tenderness and caressing. And, however numerous the 
 linguistic expressions for the sentiments and moods of love 
 are, naturally just as numerous are the sentiments and 
 moods themselves." 
 
 With the century and the literary leadership of So- 
 monosof came a great break in Russian literature, a com- 
 plete change in the style of Slavic letters. Somonosof 
 was very much of a philosopher. He was not much of a 
 poet. He remodelled Russian as a language of letters. His 
 verse has a rush and a swing in it not to be heard in any 
 Russian verse previous to his. He gave Russian poetry its 
 metre and Russian prose its style. He had a wonderful 
 mind and a wonderful life. Born a peasant, he conquered 
 circumstances and gained an education. He travelled. 
 He was a scientist and a scholar. He was a chemist and 
 an astronomer. He discovered laws of Nature. He in- 
 vented apparatus and machinery of no mean importance. 
 He discovered the atmosphere of Venus. He discovered 
 that amber was of vegetable origin, and that peaty soil, 
 under certain gaseous influences, produced coal. He out- 
 stripped Franklin in many ways in Franklin's own special 
 line; and yet physics was only one of the many important 
 sciences and philosophies in which this mighty-minded 
 Russian was greatly accomplished. He was a linguist and 
 a linguistic essayist. He was a critic, a grammarian and 
 stylist, a rhetorician, a poet, and an orator. He was an 
 artist (artist, mark you, not amateur!) in mosaic work. 
 
 " He is the man of genius who, for the first time since 
 the introduction into Russia of the intellectual and in 
 some directions material foreign ascendancy by the Tsar 
 Peter, gave an organ to the old Russian national feeling, 
 while he at the same time made himself its poetical ex- 
 ponent and its practical champion the latter being car- 
 
SLAVIC LITERATURE. 261 
 
 ried out to the most infatuated chauvinism. His great 
 reputation in this generation, when his poetry is no longer 
 read, depends on the fact that it was he who gave the first 
 impulse toward the liberation of the Eussian intellectual 
 life and of Russian science, then just dawning from the 
 foreign, and especially from the German yoke." 
 
 True, all true, and much more than this is true; but 
 he was bombastic in style. He tore the literature of Rus- 
 sia away from its old roots. He inaugurated a school of 
 letters as far as possible away from the simple ballads of 
 the people. To him the dress of the poem was everything, 
 the heart but little. Language and manner outweighed 
 thought and feeling. 
 
 The reading of his life is interesting even beyond the 
 point where interest becomes fascination. He must al- 
 ways be remembered as one of the world's really great men, 
 and as the father of modern Russian literature. He was 
 the forerunner of Turgenef, of Dostoyevski, and of Tol- 
 stoi. 
 
 Of the literature that Somonosof gathered into in- 
 dividual shape, and to which he gave form, new and mod- 
 ern, and into which he inoculated much of his own 
 strange, splendid, and kinless personality, there is an al- 
 most unlimited quantity to be said. Modern Russian lit- 
 erature is largely at the disposal of those who read only 
 French, German, and English. A part of it an interest- 
 ing and not inconsiderable part- is within the reading 
 of those who know only English. And the masterpieces 
 of Russia's recent writers are being translated more and 
 more every day. To those who know none of them I can 
 only say (but I say it emphatically), " Read one and you will 
 read all." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 SLAVIC AET. 
 
 No other two arts are so near to each other in source, 
 so different from each other in course, so distant from each 
 other in ultimate achievement, as are the arts of Russia 
 and Japan. Russian art, like that of Japan, is the acme 
 of imitation. Japanese art is superlatively and gracefully 
 triumphant because it improves even more than it imi- 
 tates. Russian art is supremely and regnantly triumphant 
 in that it defies far more than it imitates. The art of 
 Russia and the art of Japan are twin in their chief natal 
 and lifelong characteristic, eternally divorced in their 
 grown or half-grown course of life, and in their indelible 
 hall-marks of national individuality. No two could be more 
 different of development or of every-day life. They are 
 one in principle; they are as different as they can be 
 in technical method, though at heart they are alike in aim- 
 ing first at national aggrandizement and only secondly at 
 art admirability. The artists of Japan have sat very 
 lovingly, though perhaps not quite openly at the feet 
 of the artists of China, of Korea, of Persia, and of many 
 other peoples. The artists of Russia have roughly seized 
 upon the ideas and methods of the artists of almost every 
 other nation, have bound those ideas and dragged them 
 chained captive to the chariot wheels of their own auda- 
 cious Slavic art. What Russia has taken from others she has 
 seized openly, disdainfully. She takes a tower from Rome, 
 an arch from Delhi, a minaret from Constantinople, a 
 wall from Pekin, a bell from Mandalay, a belfry from 
 Copenhagen, splashes them thickly with her own barbaric 
 
SLAVIC ART. 263 
 
 colors, throws them together roughly, scornfully; adds 
 here and there some touch of her own; and lo! we have 
 the rankest conglomeration of an edifice a building break- 
 ing, and apparently defying, almost every architectural 
 law, and sinning wantonly against every accepted canon 
 of good taste and of art composition. And yet it is a 
 building at sight of which we catch our astonished and 
 delighted breath, and to whose unrivalled loveliness all 
 civilization takes off its hat. I frankly believe that the 
 daring and the bad taste of the Eussians have made their 
 art successful. They will put a Gothic arch in a Byzan- 
 tine wall, and a Hindu dome over both, and lo! the effect 
 which ought to disgust is charming. I say " bad taste " 
 advisedly. It is bad taste to make an architectural patch- 
 work not only widely divergent, but essentially and elo- 
 quently irreconcilable as to detail. It is bad taste, the 
 worst of bad form, and nothing would or could justify it, 
 except unqualified success. And it is in Eussian hands 
 successful, splendidly, supremely successful! 
 
 Let me enumerate from memory, and quite without 
 any attempt at completeness or arrangement, some of the 
 arts and architectures which, in part or in whole, Eussian 
 art has appropriated and incorporated into her own Ara- 
 bian, Byzantine, Indian, Gothic, Eenaissance, Indo-Tartar, 
 Tartar, Persian, those of Asia Minor, Eoman, Italian, Chi- 
 nese, Thibetan, Greco-Byzantine, Armenian. These are 
 some (and some only) of the arts that Eussia has incorpo- 
 rated into her own, at the same time welding them thickly 
 together with a local Scythian element. Eussian art is 
 not original, but it is very individual. Japanese art is not 
 original, but it is very individual. Eussian art commands 
 our respect. Japanese art wins our admiration. Japan 
 borrows an idea and improves upon it, treats it with such 
 exquisite taste, such beautiful delicacy of touch, such per- 
 fection of detail and execution, and, above all, with such 
 admirable self-control, that only the learned, the thought- 
 ful, and the calmly observant recognise it; and even they 
 lose sight of the source of the inspiration in admiration 
 for the genius of the execution. In this great delicacy 
 18 
 
264: IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 of touch, (the chief characteristic of the Japanese and of 
 all things Japanese), this acme of good taste, lies the 
 strongly marked individuality. The Japanese take the art 
 of Korea, the art of China, and the art of Persia (these 
 three countries have been the principal sources), treat them 
 with their own peculiar grace- nay, more imbue those arts 
 with that grace, stamp them with the chrysanthemum 
 flower, hall-mark of Japan, and what wa's the art of China, 
 the art of Korea, or the art of Persia, is the art of Japan: 
 an art as graceful, as pleasing, and as unmistakably in- 
 dividual withal as any in the world. The Eussians take the 
 arts of every nation and throw them together scornfully, 
 shake them into Eussian shape, flood them with Eussian 
 colour, stamp them proudly with the double-headed eagle, 
 and what were members of half the known nations is Eus- 
 sian art an art as striking as eye-delighting, and as splen- 
 didly, as proudly, and as unchallengeably individual as 
 any national art in the world. 
 
 I have said that in its great delicacy of touch, its 
 quintessence of good taste, lies the strongly marked individ- 
 uality of Japanese art. In its rough masterfulness of 
 touch, its defiance and scorn of law, of order, and of the 
 accepted canons of good taste of other nations lies the 
 strongly marked individuality of Slavic art. 
 
 Japan triumphs with one brushful of paint. She paints 
 a swallow's wing, drawing as she washes in, as never yet a 
 swallow's wing was painted. Because of her wonderful 
 gift of touch and her almost equal genius of implying, we 
 see not only the wing but the bird, not only the bird but 
 a whole flight of swallows, the blue of the summer sky 
 across which they fly, the glory of the warm, scent-thick 
 June day, and the white and purple blossoms of the wistaria 
 vines on which the birds perch as they halt to rest and 
 prune their soft gray breasts. 
 
 Eussia triumphs with the contents of all the tubes of 
 her paint-box squeezed upon her huge palette, wrenches 
 members from every art system that pleases her, combines 
 them with a ruthless method of her own, and the result, 
 the crowning result of all her architecture, of all her art, 
 
SLAVIC ART. 265 
 
 is St. Basil, a temple as unique as the Sikh's Golden 
 Temple at Amritzir, or the most famous temple in Pekin, 
 and second in heauty only to the Taj Mahal. 
 
 I would class Russian art under three heads: I. Mod- 
 ern Secular Art. 2. Architecture. 3. Religious Art. 
 
 I have put Secular Art (meaning chiefly the art of 
 painting) first, and will deal with it first, not because it 
 is the most interesting of the three divisions (as a matter 
 of fact, I think it the least interesting), but because it is 
 the least known. 
 
 Russian painting is quite the most modern of all modern 
 art. I am not speaking of ikon painting, nor of other 
 church painting, but of secular painting, the painting of 
 pictures. Fifty years ago there was no school of Russian 
 painting of this class; but now it thrives. And the wealthy 
 Slav who wishes to hang pictures of merit upon the walls 
 of his home is not forced to go to Paris, Dresden, or Vienna 
 to make his purchases. 
 
 There is much in common between the modern French 
 and the modern Russian schools of painting. There is a 
 close analogy and intimate relationship between modern 
 Russian art and modern Russian literature. Russian art 
 has been evolved as Russian literature has been evolved, 
 born of the same influences, influenced by the same cir- 
 cumstances, almost step for step. And both art and litera- 
 ture are deeply in sympathy with, and are greatly indebted 
 to, the art and literature of France. 
 
 "Within the last thirty years the painters of Russia 
 " have become the portraitists, the satirists, the prophets, 
 the amusers, the consolers, and the educators of the masses; 
 and, thanks to the Ambulant Exhibition, the influence of 
 the genre painters in modern Russia is increasing every 
 year." 
 
 Within the last half, almost within the last quarter 
 of a century, the first exhibition of Russian paintings was 
 held at St. Petersburg. For years it was the only exhibition 
 of its kind in all the Empire. Then annual exhibitions 
 were held in three of the chief cities. A few years later 
 regular Ambulant Exhibitions were inaugurated. And 
 
266 !N JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 now the masterpieces of Russian art travel from province 
 to province, giving the hungry-eyed dwellers in out-of-the- 
 way places glimpses of art and beauty, as the teachers 
 of the ambulatory schools of Norway travel from coast- 
 line to boundary, carrying education and refinement to the 
 eager-minded dwellers on isolated mountain farms. 
 
 Far the greatest of Russia's painters is Elias Ef unovitch 
 Repine. He is unrivalled in his colour schemes and in his 
 management of lights. No artist has ever had a more 
 complete gift of telling a story with brush and pencil 
 telling it with thought, with lucidity, and in detail. There 
 is no chord of human sentiment that he does not touch 
 in his genre pictures, and he strikes chords the most diverse 
 with the same masterly skill. The mortal anguish of Ivan 
 the Terrible as he sits, a heap of raging, impotent misery 
 and repentance, nursing the bleeding corpse of the son 
 he has just murdered; the tempest of laughter depicted 
 on the faces, the shoulders, the necks, of the dozen or more 
 of mirth-convulsed spectators in his canvas At the Theatre; 
 the anxiety and the expectancy on the faces of the man 
 and the woman in his Return of the Exile from Siberia 
 are all as perfect and as eloquent, each in its own way, 
 as those ways are widely and strikingly different. He is 
 a peasant and paints with peasant-like unction. "He is 
 the historiographer of the ceremonies that most deeply 
 touch the Russian heart, such as the Communion of the 
 Tsar with his people, and the processions of the sacred 
 images." 
 
 There are many essential qualities common to all the 
 secular painters of Russia. They are keen observers, they 
 are shrewd and brilliant reproducers of real life and of 
 Nature. They are vivid, and often masterly painters of 
 what they have seen. But they lack imagination and 
 originality; they often lack ingenuity of composition. 
 They delight in doing figures; their figure drawing is 
 always strong, often correct. 
 
 There is very much I should like to jot down about 
 Russian architecture, but space forbids. And there is 
 much to be written about the fascinating subject of Rus- 
 
SLAVIC AKT. 267 
 
 sia's religious art, but I refrain with, a self-control and a 
 fortitude that are positively Japanese, and will only speak in 
 the briefest way of the Russian school of ikon-painting. 
 
 In the seventeenth century the state of general educa- 
 tion in Russia was deplorably low. Yet the painters of 
 ikons and the manuscript illuminators, who were called 
 " Good Masters/' were compelled to attain a certain amount 
 of learning. They were especially obliged to know some- 
 thing of the Scriptures, the Fathers, and the Lives of the 
 Saints. Each of these " Good Masters " had his own 
 special branch: one did the drawing, another painted the 
 faces, the figures, or the arms. Each taught his pupils 
 his own speciality, and his own speciality only. How Chi- 
 nese! From a quaint seventeenth-century account of 
 what principles were instilled, and how, into the minds 
 of the ikon-makers, and indeed of all who were engaged 
 in the painting or adorning of religious pictures, I extract 
 the following most quotable passage: 
 
 " A painter is to be godly, steady, not given to laugh- 
 ing, not a thief, or a murderer; pure in body and soul. 
 He must frequently visit the Fathers (the clergy), fast and 
 pray. He may then paint the pictures of Our Lord from 
 the model of the old painters. If he so live, the Tsar will 
 take him and have him instructed. He will send him 
 to the Fathers and see that he lives in purity, and if God 
 give him the grace to be clever in his work, and if he live 
 purely, then he shall become equal to his master. And if 
 a disciple paint badly, then the master shall be repri- 
 manded as a warning to others, and the pupil shall be told 
 not to meddle any more with painting. And if any teacher 
 shall hide his art from his disciple, he shall be tortured in 
 hell-fire, as was done to him who hid the talent. And 
 whoever shall paint badly, or not according to the given 
 model, or shall live impurely, shall be expelled, there being 
 other trades besides ikon-painting." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A GLIMPSE AT FINNISH KUSSIA. 
 
 IT would be easy for me to detain the reader's atten- 
 tion in and about St. Petersburg, for that city contains 
 so many magnificent buildings, so many objects of his- 
 torical and national significance, and is in itself so fascinat- 
 ing a study on account of its phenomenal creation the work 
 of a stupendous will and a well-nigh supernatural activity 
 and on account of its value to the future of Eussia, that 
 it would not be difficult to fill a sizable volume with notes 
 on what I saw and learned while in the capital of the 
 north, the " window which looks out on Europe." I might 
 drag the reader through the wonders of the Hermitage, 
 the beauties of the Winter Palace; I might discuss with 
 him the splendour of the Cathedral of St. Isaac; the dif- 
 ferent public buildings would form the subject of an en- 
 tire chapter, and still leave much unsaid that is well worth 
 the saying. A discussion of the wide difference existing 
 between this modern capital and the capital of the south, 
 of the divergence in view of the two populations, would 
 serve for pleasant reading to the student of the Rus; and 
 the almost miraculous manner in which St. Petersburg was 
 built and is maintained in the face of the constant on- 
 slaughts of the Gulf of Finland all these themes are of 
 interest, and supply data for extended writing. But I 
 must cry halt to my pen and turn toward home. 
 
 We left St. Petersburg on a beautiful summer evening 
 by sea. The journey through Finland may be made by 
 rail, but it is infinitely more interesting by water; and, as 
 we were all good sailors, and had had by this time a 
 
 268 
 
I 
 
A GLIMPSE AT FINNISH RUSSIA. 
 
 good deal of Russian railway travel, we determined to take 
 ship. 
 
 Our vessel, the steamship Dobeln, commanded by Cap- 
 tain Ernst Hedman, was in every way a stanch, comfortable, 
 and satisfactory boat. The captain was a splendid big 
 fellow of commanding appearance and most agreeable man- 
 ners. He did everything for the comfort of his passengers, 
 and the journey was one to be pleasantly remembered in 
 every way. We were getting more and more into the land 
 of continued daylight, and I recall as an incident that im- 
 pressed me at the time that my mother wrote a letter with- 
 out artificial light of any kind, on the deck of the Dobeln, 
 at the hour of midnight. Our first port of call was at the 
 capital of the Grand Duchy of Finland, which the procla- 
 mation of the coronation, it will be remembered, declares 
 to be one and inseparable from the Russian Empire. Hel- 
 singfors is situated most picturesquely on the northern 
 shore of the Gulf of Finland, and is protected from ap- 
 proach by the sea in both an artificial and natural manner 
 that is simply impregnable. The fortress which guards 
 the entrance to the harbour is so strongly placed that it 
 is known as the Gibraltar of the North. It is called 
 Sveaborg, and commands from both sides a channel that 
 is not more than two hundred feet wide. In 1855 it was 
 attacked by the combined fleets of France and England, 
 but, though sorely tried, it was never taken. The entrance 
 through this channel is very beautiful. The heights on 
 either hand are covered with attractive foliage, and the 
 grim face of the fortress is softened by a mantle of age 
 that adds to its picturesqueness. In the distance the first 
 object that strikes and holds the eye is the remarkable 
 Greek Church, which has a large central gilt dome sur- 
 rounded by thirteen smaller ones. Wherever the roof of 
 this building is likely to be covered with snow in winter, 
 the zinc has been painted a dazzling white; and the effect 
 is that of a building continually topped with snow. Stand- 
 ing out from the background of other buildings and the 
 dim outline of verdure beyond, this roof serves as a land- 
 mark which one can not miss. The buildings of Hel- 
 
270 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 singfors are of plaster, painted yellow; its university is 
 a fine group of buildings, and contains a library which is 
 both extensive and well chosen. The whole place wears 
 an aspect of thrift and prosperity. Swedish is chiefly 
 spoken; the Duchy has its own mint and its own coinage, 
 which is different from that of other parts of Eussia. The 
 atmosphere here is divided between loyalty to Eussia and 
 fondness for the ancient Swedish lineage, though Helsing- 
 fors was made the capital to the detriment of Abo, the 
 former seat of Government, on account of the greater at- 
 tachment to the Eussian throne of the inhabitants of 
 Helsingfors. 
 
 All along the quay at which we landed I noticed hun- 
 dreds of fishwives dealing in their finny wares. The fish 
 were as various in size and kind as the women who sold 
 them were in appearance and manner. Most of these 
 humble fish-dealers were of uncertain age, and of very 
 uncertain appearance and cleanliness; but I recall several 
 that were extremely pretty in a wild rustic way that was 
 set off charmingly by their picturesque dresses. I secured 
 a picture of one the Queen of the Quay who had dark, 
 laughing eyes, a smile that would have made her fortune 
 on the stage, and a manner full of chic and bonhomie. 
 She wore over her head a handkerchief of soft white ma- 
 terial picked out with scarlet spots, and loosely knotted 
 under her chin; beneath a tiny shawl of rich brown, deco- 
 rated with spangles of gilt, she wore a tight-fitting bodice 
 of tender pink; her skirt was a bright green, trimmed 
 down the side with gold braid and at the bottom encir- 
 cled with rows of black braid. On her bare feet were 
 wooden clogs, and her bare arms and hands vcre evidently 
 subjects of personal vanity, as she kept them constantly 
 on the move. She made a pretty contrast to some of her 
 neighbours, and was more constantly surrounded by cus- 
 tomers than any of the rest, the members of the sterner 
 sex predominating. 
 
 As we had an entire day, and perhaps more, to spend 
 in Helsingfors, we determined to make it a day of picnick- 
 ing. We engaged two carriages for our party from the 
 
A GLIMPSE AT FINNISH RUSSIA. 271 
 
 principal hotel in the place, had several baskets gener- 
 ously filled, and capturing a waiter to attend to the 
 spreading of the lunch, drove merrily off to explore the 
 rural environs of the capital of Finland. Our objective 
 point lay several miles out; and to reach it we drove 
 along a well-made road bordered on both sides by beau- 
 tiful scenery, and passed several attractive villas, evidently 
 the residences of the wealthier class. The great park in 
 which we dined is the frequent resort of pleasure parties 
 from the city; and, spreading our cloth upon the grass, 
 we had as jolly a time as if we had been camping out in 
 the Adirondacks or spending a holiday upon one of the 
 Thousand Islands. After lunch G. and I determined that 
 the lakes in this region were altogether too provocative 
 of sailing to be left without an attempt on our part at 
 amateur seamanship, so we started off in quest of a boat. 
 
 G. assured me that he was an excellent yachtsman, and 
 had noticed a place where we could no doubt secure a 
 boat. Both averments were subsequently modified by what 
 occurred. We went from one point to another, crossing 
 innumerable bridges in quest of the boat which G. had 
 seen. Like the Will-o'-the-wisp, the owner of the boat 
 seemed to recede from us the more we hunted him. At 
 length, however, we discovered him. He was most polite 
 and obliging and said that of course we could have it. 
 He could see that we were sailor men, and it would be a 
 pleasure to him to accommodate us. So in we jumped, 
 and started back for the rest of our party. At first all 
 went swimmingly, and I thought we were in for a charm- 
 ing sail. G. seemed to be verifying his boasted yachts- 
 manship, at least so far as good-natured sang froid could 
 justify it; and it seemed likely that in a few moments 
 we should reach our party, and spend a pleasant afternoon 
 upon the water. But man proposes and Boreas disposes 
 where sail-boats are concerned. A dead calm flattened our 
 sail and left us under the lee of one of the smaller islands, 
 quite a distance from and out of view of our party. The 
 situation was unattractive. A fierce sun was beating down; 
 where we were the little breeze was quite shut off from us, 
 
272 IN JOYFUL RUSSIA. 
 
 the boat was too heavy for either of us to row, as we quickly 
 decided, and we simply had to sit and take it. We lay 
 
 there for four mortal hours, roasting and . At length 
 
 G., who has a swift and ready eye for the "beautiful, dis- 
 covered a young girl on the island opposite to us. He 
 signalled to her and she answered. Here was our Grace 
 Darling. She quickly rowed round to where we were, and 
 revealed to us what a truly simple art oarsmanship is when 
 one understands it. We abandoned our sloop and she 
 rowed us back to where we wanted to go, and G., who is 
 usually so gallant, absolutely declined my suggestion that 
 such devotion called for the display of some gallantry on 
 his part, objecting that the maiden had dissipated his 
 hopes by appearing short of an eye, and otherwise not up 
 to his standard of female beauty. 
 
 The afternoon was now far spent, and we returned to 
 the town. Our party had been much alarmed by our long 
 absence and imagined that all kinds of evil had befallen 
 us. We dined that night in the public gardens, which 
 were prettily illuminated and in which a very good band 
 was playing during the evening, and at 1 A. M. we left 
 for Abo, the former capital of Finland. The approach 
 to this delightful town is beautiful beyond all exaggera- 
 tion. It is the great summer resort for wealthy Eussians, 
 the numerous islands through which we passed being dotted 
 here and there with beautiful residences. The approach 
 to Abo by sea has been compared to a journey through 
 the Thousand Islands on the St. Lawrence River. To me 
 it was even more beautiful than that famous resort; the 
 scenery is more varied and grander. 
 
 Our boat threaded its way skilfully between the 
 different islands, which presented constant delightful 
 surprises. The navigation is difficult at times and 
 requires experienced sailors. Abo itself is a quaint old 
 town, situated about three miles from the sea, at a 
 point where the waters of the Gulf of Bothnia are lost 
 in the Baltic. Early in the present century Abo was 
 wrested from Sweden by overwhelming Russian force, 
 and has ever since been a Russian town. The popu- 
 
A Finnish fisherwoman. 
 
A GLIMPSE AT FINNISH RUSSIA. 273 
 
 lation is, however, treated with considerable latitude, as they 
 make their own laws and, as in Helsingfors, coin their own 
 money. 
 
 The leaning of the people of Abo is distinctly Swedish, 
 and the Russian Government recognised this fact in remov- 
 ing the capital to Helsingfors. Abo carries on quite vigorous- 
 ly the trade of shipbuilding, and has besides her fisheries 
 several large sugar refineries and cotton factories. The 
 population is very prosperous, and has those simple, pleas- 
 ing ^manners so common among the Swedes. The sights 
 of Abo are limited, consisting, as in most European towns, 
 of one fine cathedral, which, by the way, is said to have 
 been the very first Christian temple raised in this north- 
 ern land. It is the seat of an archbishopric. Besides 
 this there are several smaller churches and the customary 
 public buildings. 
 
 And this was our farewell to Russia. We left the land 
 of the Great White Tsar with regret. Never have I been 
 more royally treated; never have I more thoroughly en- 
 joyed myself than I did during my stay in Russia. It has 
 been the custom of writers from the West to convey only 
 a gloomy picture of the Russian Empire. I am only able 
 to draw a picture full of delight and of constantly varying 
 pleasure. I am writing these closing lines with the glories 
 of the Alps spread out before me. I look up from my desk, 
 and before me is Pilatus, with a sprinkling of snow upon 
 its august brow; beyond and in the distance is the mighty 
 Jungfrau, white and ominous, yet grand withal; on my 
 extreme left is the Rigi; and between these giants are the 
 lesser hills spread out before the vision like a panorama 
 of the celestial city toward which the thought of every 
 Church Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Anglican, Buddhist, 
 Tauist, and all others bids the sojourner on earth look 
 forward for his final victory, rest, and joy. In the valleys 
 before me lie the beautiful Swiss villages; on the hillsides, 
 and hanging over the lake in picturesque carelessness, are 
 innumerable pretty chalets; the fields are bright and bear 
 a heavy harvest, and the population all about is as 
 happy and as free as the population of any land upon the 
 
274: IN JOYFUL KUSSIA. 
 
 earth, for Switzerland boasts herself an ideal republic. 
 So be it! 
 
 And yet as I look back from this distance, and alto- 
 gether removed from the influence of the immediate Eus- 
 sian environment, in the interest of truth I am compelled 
 to say that in all that relates to personal freedom I mean 
 by that, untrammelled individualism and peaceful pos- 
 sibility of life I found the Russian people quite as happy 
 and quite as free to live their own lives in their own way; 
 indeed, in many respects a latitude of conduct is permitted 
 in Eussia which would not be for one moment tolerated 
 here. It is so easy to find fault with what we only half 
 understand. It is so difficult to read aright the inner 
 life of peoples that are strangers to our modes of thought, 
 and of whom we may have formed violent misconceptions. 
 I have tried in what I have said in these unpretentious 
 pages to speak of Eussia as I found it. If any complain 
 that they have found it otherwise, I can merely reply that I 
 could only look upon Eussia with my own eyes; and as I saw 
 it, so have I written down my impressions of it: A mighty 
 nation, with a promise of a still greater future; a simple 
 happy people, looking with love and reverence upon their 
 Tsar, whom they delight to affectionately call "Little 
 Father; " a land of unbounded hospitality of cordial 
 welcome to every stranger who comes to enjoy; a proud 
 people withal intellectually and nationally proud con- 
 fident of their own strength, jealous of patronage, but 
 open to friendly suggestion. No one who has gone among 
 the Eussians in a spirit of amity can ever say that he was 
 received with coldness. I shall carry with me always 
 memories happy memories of the glad time I spent in 
 Eussia. 
 
 Faces of friends and acquaintances I made there arise be- 
 fore me now. I hear again their hearty welcomes, their 
 cheery greetings. I sit once more at their heavy-laden 
 tables; on every side there is cheer and pleasure and wel- 
 come. I raise my glass and drink to the Great White 
 Tsar, to the lovely, queenly wife beside him, and I drink 
 as well to all the good friends I left behind in Eussia, and I 
 
A GLIMPSE AT FINNISH RUSSIA. 275 
 
 drink to the entire Eussian people. May the future of 
 Eussia be bright with the light of truth, strong with the 
 strength of science, and happy with the benign control 
 of a government in which liberty is not prostituted 
 into license, and which shall never abuse its mighty 
 power. 
 
 THE END. 
 
YC 76784 
 
 >f 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY