THE mediÆval pilgrim to Moscow, getting his first glimpse of the Holy City from Salutation Hill, saw before him much the same sight as the tourist of to-day may look upon from the same spot. Three miles away a hill crowned with white-walled buildings, many towers, gilded domes and spires topped with Cross-and-Crescent; outside the wall that encircles this hill, groups of buildings, large and small; open fields, trees—singly, in rows, clumps and thickets—separate group from group; ever and anon above the many hued roofs reach belfries, spires, steeples, domes and minarets innumerable. Beyond, to right and left, the scene repeats itself until the bright coloured buildings become indistinguishable from the masses of verdure and all merge in the haze of the plains east and west, or the faint outline of forest to the north.

Long ago the tremendous extent of this town, apparently without limit, amazed strangers no less than the richness and multitude of its buildings filled pilgrims with awe and reverence. To the tourist to-day it is as a vision of magnificent splendour and brilliance, for seen in the clear sunlight of a summer day Moscow has beauty and brightness no other city possesses. Long lines of ivory whiteness capped with vivid green or flushed with carmine and ruby; great globes of deepest blue, patches of purple and dashes of aquamarine; many gleaming domes of gold, glowing halos of burnished copper, dazzling points of glistening silver—such make Moscow at sunset like part of a rainbow streaked with lightning and thickly bedizened with great gems.

Intense colours, sharp contrasts characterise Moscow. The extravagances of design and colouring, unconcealable even in the general prospect, are obvious on closer inspection. The stranger arriving by railway gets no bird’s-eye view of the town; but on his way from the station in the suburbs towards the central town sees the painted roofs, coloured walls, pretentious pillars, cupolas with golden stars, strange towers, fantastic gates, immense buildings, tiny cottages, magnificent spaces, narrow winding streets; irregularities and incongruities so many that Moscow first, and most lastingly, impresses by its bizarrerie.

With fuller acquaintance the diversity of style appears in keeping with the spirit of the place, and seeming incongruities are softened, or redeemed, by originality of design or execution. The buildings of Moscow are multiform, but there is dissimilarity rather than contrariety; the usual elsewhere is the unconventional here, and conformity is attained by each being unlike all others. An early traveller wrote: “One might imagine all the states of Europe and Asia had sent a building by way of representation to Moscow,” and in a certain sense this is still true. But it would be incorrect to assume, therefore, that cosmopolitanism is a dominant trait. The very reverse is the fact. Moscow is essentially Russian, and though there is abundant evidence of borrowing from Greece, Italy and Byzantium; from Moor, Goth and Mongol; of appropriation of classic, mediÆval and renaissance methods, the prevalent style seems to be not exactly the combination of any so much as the outcome of all. Not that indigenous forms are wanting, but their elemental quality is obscured by the wondrous versatility and adaptability of the artists. The result is as confusing as though an author in writing out his original ideas made constant random use of different alphabets in each word.

This method, so characteristic of Russia, is perplexing rather than intricate, but he would be very learned or foolhardy who, acting on the rule that to see the house is to know the inmates, if shown Moscow should at once predicate the character of its inhabitants.

Yet more than most towns Moscow reflects the life history of its people; whatever there is of beauty, of strength, of individuality, is the result of human intelligence, experience and effort. No town of like importance owes so little to nature, so much to man. And the dominant tone is religious; religious feeling has inspired the noblest efforts, ecclesiastical influence has conserved such oneness of purpose as Moscow manifests. Withal there is strong individualism, both clerical and secular.

Paradoxical as Moscow is, it is in the highest degree interesting. If no one object can be pointed to as typical of race or period, no public work shown as the result of persistent policy or genius of peculiar citizenship, Moscow in its entirety demonstrates the development of a people. Even the opposing principles of diffusion and cohesion, and the parts they have served in the history of this race, are so unmistakably expressed that the sight-seer, even, feels that in Moscow, most surely, must be found the key not only to the history of Russia, but also to the character of men who have conquered and hold the largest part of two continents.

Moscow, the town that has cradled and nursed a mighty nation, does not lack story; but its story comprises much of the early history of the empire subsequently evolved, and consequently much that may be considered foreign to the city itself must be stated if the tale is to be complete, or even comprehensible by those to whom the ancient history of Russia is unknown.

To begin at the beginning. European Russia is an immense plain, its centre elevated scarcely three hundred feet above sea-level; the hills, few, low and unimportant. Lakes are plentiful, and great rivers with many ramifications flow slowly by tortuous channels—mostly towards the north-west or the south-east. Large tracts of forest and marsh in the centre terminate with frozen wastes to the north, and merge with rough, sandy pastures on the south.

At various periods, Europe has been invaded and peopled by different races from the east, and the last of these migrants, the Slavs, for the most part took the direction of the great water-ways of Russia, that is, from the south-east towards the north-west. In addition to their nomadic habit, various causes, amongst which must be counted internecine warfare, led to the dispersion of the Slavs, whilst effective occupation by earlier migrants and the determined resistance of aboriginal races checked their progress in some directions. The Scythian branch of the Slav race settled on the Don about 400 B.C. but was gradually driven from the shores of the Black Sea by the Greek colonists of Miletus. These colonies were taken by the Romans later, and about 300 A.D. the Slavs again asserted their dominion there for a period. Other branches of the Slav race and wilder races from Asia pressed westward, laying the country waste. Huns, Turks, Goths, Bolgars, Magyars, Polovtsi, Pechenegians and others, at different times, drove Slavs of pastoral habit aside from their path. In the fifth century Slavs established themselves on the Dnieper at Kief and at Novgorod on the Ilmen, where they progressed and became civilised. In the seventh century they were once more on the shores of the Black Sea in the south, and in the north Novgorod was a thriving commercial centre.

The Slav republics suffered at the hands of Asiatics on the south, and from the depredations of vikings on the north; moreover there were internal dissensions. In A.D. 864, Rurik, a Varoeger prince—the same who, it is believed, laid waste the maritime provinces of France in 850 and in 851 entered the Thames with 300 sail and pillaged Canterbury—made himself master of the northern republic, took up his residence at Novgorod and founded a dynasty which lasted 700 years. There is a legend to the effect that his coming was at the invitation of the Slavs, who sought his aid and sovereignty, but there can be no doubt it was as a conqueror that Rurik came and established his race in Russia. Some of his followers, led by Askold and Dyr, sought fortune and conquest further south. These became masters of Kief, pressed on to Constantinople in 200 ships, embraced Christianity and returned to Kief, intending there to found a separate kingdom and dynasty. After the death of Rurik, his son Igor, a minor, succeeded; his uncle, Oleg, as regent, went to Kief; there he treacherously killed the two usurping leaders, took possession of the city and, appointing Igor to the throne, determined that Kief should be the “mother of Russian towns.” The people were then pagans, and the Northmen kept to the practices of their ancestors until about 955, when Olga was regent; she visited Constantinople and was there baptised into the Christian faith. Some thirty years later, Vladimir, the seventh in descent from Rurik, ascended the throne, and during his reign the Christian religion was generally adopted throughout his realm. Kief then became closely associated with Constantinople, its connection with the Byzantine empire being both ecclesiastical and commercial. Novgorod, on the other hand, remained in closer touch with the west, supplying the Northmen with the wares of Araby and Ind that reached Russia by way of the Volga. Otther, the Scandinavian founder of Tver, where the Tmak joins the Volga north of Moscow, was a great trader and traveller; at one time going as far east as Perm on the Kama (Biarmaland), at another to England—where he gave King Alfred particulars of the fairs in the east, and the methods of trading with Asian merchants.

In the Historical Museum of Moscow is a well arranged collection of prehistoric antiquities found in the empire. There is nothing among the stone implements to show that the earliest races in Russia in any way differed in habit from those of the same era occupying western Europe and the British Isles. The most ancient of the relics (Rooms I., II.) were found with bones of the mammoth in the district of Murom in Vladimir, and at Kostenki near Voronesh. Some ear-rings and a bracelet of twisted silver were found in the Kremlin, and a few other early remains when excavating for the foundations of the new cathedral, but these trifles are not evidence of early occupation, since they may have been left by travellers along the waterways.

The frescoes are fanciful representations of supposed incidents in the life of the early inhabitants, and the models of tumuli, tombs, dolmens, cromlechs and the like, enable one to picture some part of the rude life of the people. Particularly deserving notice are the models of the dwellings of different races found in Russia: in many the living room is raised well above the ground. It was on the first-floor that the mediÆval Muscovites lived; it is still the bel-Étage, and preferred by all.

The picture by Semiradski representing the funeral rites of the Bolgars has the warrant of history. On the death of a chief of this tribe, the remains were placed in a boat on a pile of wood; horses, cattle, slaves, were slain and added; the wife, or a maid offering herself a sacrifice, was fÊted for a time, then placed in the boat, and as soon as her attendants bade her farewell the pyre was fired, and subsequently a mound raised over the ashes.

The stone idols, remarkable in their likeness to each other, are from all parts of Russia; a similar one is to be seen at Kuntsevo, near Moscow, but both the “babas,” as they are called, and pre-christian crosses, are more common in the south and east of Russia than in Muscovy.

To the little that this Historical Collection tells of the early Slavs may be added such facts as ancient chroniclers have recorded. The Russians lived together in communities governed by elected or hereditary elders; reared cattle and farmed bees; they were nomadic, idolatrous, hospitable and fond of fermented liquors.

Some writers dispute, disregard, or belittle the Varangian dominion in Russia; contending that the Varoegers themselves were Slavs, were closely akin to them, or were quickly absorbed by them. To the contrary it is urged that Rurik and his followers possessed qualities peculiar to the Northmen; that his kingdom in Russia resembled other Scandinavian colonies, and that certain customs he introduced were foreign to Slav habits. Vladimir, a direct descendant of Rurik, conquered Poland; his son, Yaroslaf, both on account of his warlike achievements and the splendour in which he lived, was respected throughout Europe. His daughters married into the reigning houses of France, Hungary and Norway; a daughter of Vsevolod married Henry IV. of Germany; Vladimir, the grandson of Yaroslaf, married Gyda, the daughter of Harold II. King of England; their son, Mstislaf, married Christina, daughter of the King of Sweden. Such a close connection between the Scandinavian and Russian courts is not likely to have obtained if the members belonged to different races. Scandinavian conquerors to some extent mixed with the peoples whose territory they occupied; usually they married their own race. They fought with each other on matters of precedence and succession; they thought much of personal valour and honour, and lived in the present with little regard to dynasty. They, as little as the Slavs to-day, would pay tribute to suzerains.

Doubtless the Varangian leaders and their military companions, subsequently known as the drujni of the Russian princes, gave to the Slav character love of enterprise and power to initiate—traits which have always distinguished Russian nobles from the peasantry. Again, the “Russkaia Pravda” of the tenth century is contemporary with and akin to “Knut’s Code,” which the English usually, but wrongly, attribute to King Alfred. One other point tells in favour of Scandinavian dominion: the freedom accorded to women and the high position some of them took in the state. But their privileges and influence declined with the ascendency of the Slav, and the seclusion of women in the Asiatic manner subsequently obtained in Moscow and lasted there until the days of Peter the Great.

The Northmen introduced into Russia their system of succession, the odelsret that still prevails in Norway. The descendants of Rurik, with their military comrades, fought against each other for the throne of Kief, or the inheritance of other possessions. As with each succeeding generation the princely family multiplied, the country was rent with dissensions. Now the ruler of Kief, then he of Novgorod became paramount; in 1158 the reigning prince of Vladimir succeeded, and, for the time, Kief became of second importance. The history of Russia during the tenth and succeeding centuries is a story of strife and disaster. Wars, with varying success, against Poles, Swedes, Lithuanians, and the predatory tribes on the south and east; fires, famine, pestilence, succeeded each other and re-occurred. In 1124 Kief, the opulent and sacred city, was destroyed by fire; some years later Novgorod was depopulated by famine; robbers exacted blackmail from voyagers on the great waterways; trade decayed. In 1224 the Russians made common cause with their enemy the Polovtsi to repel an invasion of Tartars; they were beaten and Kief fell—50,000 of its inhabitants being put to the sword. Thirteen years later a second invasion of the Tartars resulted in the fall of Vladimir and the subjection of southern and eastern Russia to Mongol rule. Livonians, Swedes and Danes attacked Novgorod, but were repulsed. Pressed on these sides the Russians could extend only towards the inhospitable north. In these times and with this environment Moscow was founded, and nursed; became a rallying point for the Slav race; grew strong and rich; and, by the genius of its rulers, dominated Russia.

Slowly but surely the Scandinavian element was absorbed; with Ivan I. (1328-1341) the time of transition practically ended. A new policy of aggrandisement was adopted and the Muscovite was evolved from the Slav race. Round Moscow, subject to the Tartar yoke, the people became patient and resigned; born to endure bad fortune, they could profit by good. The princes of Moscow gained their ends by intrigue, by corruption, by the purchase of consciences, by servility to the Tartar Khans, by perfidy to their equals, by murder and treachery. “Politic and persevering, prudent and pitiless, it is their honour to have created the living germ which became great Russia.”