A lady

The carnival—Amusements at the fair—Curious procession—Palm fair—Whitsuntide—The Resurrection on Easter-night—Easter-day—Easter privilege—Anecdote of the Emperor—Bell-ringing—Kindness of heart among the Russians—Household gods—Christmas—Midsummer-eve—Heathen custom—New-year’s eve—A Russian election—Unfortunate orator—Russian maypole—Characteristic dance by a soldier, its beautiful execution—Military picnics—Disagreeable traits of character—Shopkeepers’ balls—Splendid festivals—The Kremlin illuminated.

The Carnival in Russia, although not so gay and animated as in Italy, has its pleasures nevertheless. There are continual parties, visits, and feasting, almost in as great a degree as during the Easter week. There is a grand fair held for the amusement of the people, in the great place opposite the Admiralty, in which whirligigs of all fashions, swings, ice-hills, and theatres À la Richardson, form the delight of their hearts. The Russians of the lower class are just like overgrown children: they are as much pleased with a ride on a wooden horse, or in one of the boats of a whirligig, in a swing, or down an ice-hill, as a party of school-children would be. In the grand theatre this last Carnival they have been intensely gratified with the “glorious battle of Sinope,” fought over for their amusement about twelve times every day, in which not a single Russian got wounded, although the heads of the poor Turks were rolling by scores in all directions. It was, as they said, really a special Providence that nobody was hurt at all, and only shows how just their cause is. Of course the pleasant sight of the destruction of so many unbelieving dogs of Mahometans gave immense satisfaction to everybody, and tended much to their self-glorification, and the conviction of the Emperor’s might, and so on.

The “ice-hill” is an amusement peculiarly Russian. A framework, with steps up one side, is erected, and on the upper part is a small stage, covered with an ornamental roof supported by four pillars, and a rapidly inclined plane on the other side, which terminates in a long run, both of which are paved with blocks of ice, and rendered perfectly smooth by pouring water down, which quickly becomes frozen. The pastime consists in going up the steps and then sliding down the descent on small sledges. At the other end are a similar inclined plane and a similar flight of steps, which enable the slider to return to the first, and so on to and fro. The Russians are extremely fond of this amusement, and often have these ice-hills erected at some village at a little distance from the town, whither they repair in picnic parties to enjoy the game for a few hours.

During the Carnival week everybody feasts on blinnies, a kind of pancake, something like our crumpets, which are eaten with sour cream or melted butter. There are blinnies at lunch and blinnies at dinner, whilst the lower classes do nothing but regale on them all the day long.

“Well, Grushia,” I once said to the servant, “and how many have you had to-day?”

“Thirty-four, Madame; but I am going to have some more.”

The custom of going about masked from one friend’s house to another’s at the new year and in Carnival time is no longer bon genre. It was some time since very fashionable to go thus disguised, and dance a polka or quadrille in one place, and then proceed to another, and so on until they were weary of the amusement. I believe the various articles missing have contributed to render the custom obsolete.

During the week of the Carnival there is the grand promenade round and round the place where the fair is held. Everybody that keeps a carriage or a sledge joins in the procession, which consists in a long line or single file of vehicles following each other at a foot’s pace, marshalled by mounted gensdarmes. I could never, for the life of me, imagine what pleasure could be discovered in it, excepting that of staring at one’s acquaintances and envying their new bonnets. But it pleases the Russians, et cela suffit.

I remember when in Archangel seeing a curious kind of procession at this festival. A large sledge, made to imitate a ship, having many stuffed animals on board, with skins and other objects, and accompanied by men in various disguises, was drawn round the town, in the same manner as our chimney-sweeps have their public show and Jack-in-the-green, raising contributions on the spectators, which they spend, À la Russe, at the whisky-shop. In no other part of the country did we ever see such; and I think somebody told us that it was not a national custom, but one introduced by settlers many years ago.

The day before Palm Sunday another fair is held in the Nevsky Perspective, close to the Gostinoi Dwor—indeed, a part of it is under the piazza—where are to be seen immense quantities of toys, including little figures of John the Baptist lying asleep in a mossy cradle, with a cross by the side; the queerest-looking dolls that it is possible to imagine,—some of them swathed up like mummies, and forming close imitations of Russian babies, for the nurses in the country confine the infant’s arms down to its side, and wrap it up so that nothing but the face is visible, giving it the appearance of the papouse of the savages. Added to these are endless varieties of military toys for juvenile warriors, and palm-branches for the morrow’s festival. These branches are variously ornamented, but the most common have the figure of a cherub with its wings spread, stuck on a small branch of artificial leaves, roses and lilies, &c. Small boughs of the downy buds which our boys call catkins are also very generally used for this purpose. In the evening the priest comes to bless the palm-branches, when he presents one to each of the family, which he or she is expected to carry to church on the next day, in commemoration of the entry of Christ into Jerusalem.

At Whitsuntide the servants always place a large bough of the linden at the head of every bed, and also in the corner of the rooms, men carrying them about in carts to sell, in the same manner as they do the holly-branches at Christmas with us.

Easter is the greatest of the Russian Church festivals, and is a season of universal rejoicing, for the long fast of Lent is now over, or will be so when midnight strikes on Easter-eve. Everybody is dressed in his or her finest clothes: rich and poor, great and small, the Czar and the humblest serf in his dominions, men, women, and children, are all joyfully preparing to celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord. Service is performed at midnight in all the cathedrals. The sacred corpse that was supposed to have been buried on Good Friday will rise again at that hour, amid the songs of the choristers and the joyful thanksgiving of the people. At midnight the mass begins. The archbishop is in the Holy of Holies, praying for the pardon and absolution of the multitude that are waiting in silence in the body of the cathedral. Every one is standing, for there are no pews or seats in the Russian churches. The splendid silver doors are thrown open; the devotions of the archbishop are concluded. He appears standing on the highest step of the altar; he raises his hands towards heaven, and bestows his benediction upon the people. Descending from the altar, he advances towards the bier, and, raising the cover of the coffin, he discovers that the body of Christ is no longer reposing therein; he announces it to the congregation, and then leaves the sacred edifice, at the head of the procession of the clergy. The people wait in silence, for he is gone to seek the body, which is no more “where it was laid.” The sound of solemn voices is heard at intervals from without, whilst the procession makes the circuit of the cathedral three times in the search. Amid the breathless silence of the expectant multitude the procession re-enters. The archbishop then, remounting the steps of the altar, and standing upon the highest, in front of the Holy of Holies, pronounces, in a voice whose tones reverberate to the remotest corner of the edifice, and thrill like an electric shock through the hearts of his congregation, the words “Christos vos chris” (Christ is risen). In an instant the singers burst out into a joyful chorus; every one lights the taper in his hand; universal delight pervades the people, who turn and congratulate each other upon the happy event, and return thanksgivings to Heaven. The archbishop, bearing incense, followed by the priests, goes among the congregation, still proclaiming the welcome tidings; and, amid the cheerful voices of the choir, the fumes of incense, and the brilliancy of a thousand lights, moving with each inclination of the people, the gratitude of the Russians for their salvation ascends doubtlessly to the throne of the Creator, who, we are taught to believe, will not reject those that worship Him. The form of celebrating the resurrection of the Saviour is not according to our Protestant sentiments; but we must not condemn the Russians, who have been taught from their youth to reverence such ceremonies. The hour for a Sclavonic Luther is not yet come.

The service is concluded by reading a portion of the Scriptures in twelve different tongues; and then the benediction is given by the archbishop.

No organ or instrument of any kind is used in the Greek Church; the whole of the music is vocal; it is not joined in by the multitude, but is entirely performed by the clergy and the choristers. The celebration of the mass is really splendid: the innumerable lights, the magnificent robes of the clergy, the brilliant uniforms and costumes of the congregation, and the beauty of the psalms and choruses, make a tout ensemble that easily accounts for its taking so strong a hold on the minds of an illiterate and semi-barbarous people.

On returning from the church a magnificent supper is always laid out. Each family, like the Jews, holds a kind of Passover feast, at which twirock (a sort of white cheese), ham, hard eggs, and butter made in the form of a sheep with gilt horns, form necessary dishes. The ham, the Russians say, is a sine qu non at Easter, because the eating of it is a proof that they are neither Jews[12] nor Mahometans; the butter represents the paschal lamb, and the eggs are in remembrance of the persecutions of the early Christians, who recognised each other by the presentation of one as a symbol of the Resurrection.

It is quite an amusement for the ladies and children to prepare these eggs, by staining them of different colours, by boiling them in pieces of silk several days previous to the festival. Very beautiful ones, made of china, sugar, chocolate, and various other materials, are sold at the shops, for Easter presents, and they frequently contain some valuable article of jewelry, such as a pair of diamond ear-rings, a broach, &c. &c.

If a Russian die during Easter, his soul is supposed to ascend immediately into heaven with Christ; and it is always rather a source of rejoicing than of sorrow when the decease of a friend takes place at this season, as a sojourn in the intermediate state is thereby avoided.

The lower class in Russia have a curious privilege during the whole of Easter week, that of becoming intoxicated with perfect impunity; it may therefore be easily imagined how many drunken men are to be seen at that season reeling about the streets.

On Easter-day everybody congratulates everybody: the ministers and nobility go to pay their respects to the Imperial family, the employÉs to their chiefs, the servants to their masters, and acquaintances to each other.

We were told that His Majesty the Emperor kisses one man out of every regiment on this day.

One morning, as he was leaving the palace, he accosted, as is his custom, the first man he met, which happened to be a private soldier, with the usual phrase, “Christos vos chris.” The latter turned instantly, and denied the fact, saying that Christ was not risen. “How!” exclaimed the Czar, in great astonishment; “who and what then are you?” “I am a Jew, your Majesty.”

The manner of offering congratulations at Easter is to present an egg, saying, “Christos vos chris.” The party accepting it answers, “Christ is risen indeed.” Both then embrace, kiss each other thrice on the cheeks, bow, and retire.

The bells of the churches play a prominent part in all these grand festivals; and, as each place of worship prides itself on the size, number, and loudness of its peal, it may well be imagined what an awful din they make; added to which, the boys and men think it quite a treat to pull them, and are privileged to do so on every particular occasion, such as Easter, the Ascension, &c. In Moscow we were nearly stunned with the noise, for there are about three hundred and sixty churches, and some of their bells are enormous; so, when they were all ringing at once, the tintamarre was terrific.

On all these occasions of public rejoicing, the stranger may remark how kind and hospitable, how friendly and sociable, the Russian people are. Their hospitality is unbounded; from the highest to the lowest they will give what they can afford. They display their good will by making presents to those about them, to their relations and acquaintances, and their charity by freely giving alms to the poor. The clergy receive gifts from the members of their congregations: it is a period of pleasure and of profit to them; and they are frequently so extremely poor that it ought not to be grudged. They go about from house to house to sing hymns and consecrate anew the saints’ pictures with which almost every room is furnished. From all the opportunities that I had of judging, I am convinced that there are many estimable and conscientious men among the superior grades of the Greek clergy, who religiously believe the creed they teach, and endeavour to set a good example to their flocks. In regard to the attachment of the people to their crosses and saints’ pictures, although it may seem strange in a Protestant to say so, yet it appears to me a very natural feeling, and we ought not to be surprised at so great a reverence paid to objects which from their birth they have been taught to regard as holy. “I would not have a post removed which I had been accustomed to see,” was the remark of a French philosopher: how much greater then must be the affection that these poor people have for these sacred things! besides which, they may feel that they have a friend always near at hand whom they can address in their grief and trouble, and who will not betray them.

I never saw a peasant carrying his picture of the Virgin and Child from one isba to another, holding it as carefully in his arms as if it were some treasure of incalculable price, without being reminded of the household gods of antiquity,—the Lares and Penates of nations that now exist no more. We have heard many turn these superstitions into ridicule, because to them a clearer faith has rendered such unnecessary; but let him that does so consult his own heart, and ask if he also have not some object that he regards with love and reverence, and prizes almost as highly as the Russian does his saint’s picture.

In Russia, Christmas is not so great a feast as that of Easter, nor are there any national dishes set apart for that season, but the New-Year’s Day is a very high festival. Similar congratulations between inferiors and superiors, friends and acquaintances, take place as at Easter, whilst hospitality, generosity, and charity are shown in an equal degree. On Midsummer Eve a custom still exists in Russia among the lower classes that could only be derived from a very remote antiquity, and is perhaps a remnant of the worship of Baal. A party of peasant-women and girls assemble in some retired, unfrequented spot, and light a large fire, over which they leap in succession. If by chance any one of the other sex should be found near the place, or should have seen them in the act of performing the heathenish rite, it is at the imminent hazard of his life, for the women would not scruple to sacrifice him for his temerity: I was assured that such instances had often been known. Numberless charms and acts of sorcery are supposed to succeed on this eve, among which may be mentioned the sitting alone for about an hour before midnight with the eyes fixed on a looking-glass, in order to see the reflection of the future husband’s face thereon when the clock strikes.

On New-Year’s Eve the Russians “try their luck” in a great many ways. They pour melted wax or lead into water, and exercise their imaginations regarding the varied forms that it assumes; they fill two bowls with water, one of which is for the men and the other for the women, and stick slips of paper round them, on each of which is a name, either male or female as the case may be: a wax taper is then set afloat on the surface, and those whose names have the good fortune to be burned will be married ere the next year. The ladies send out their servants and the gentlemen their valets to watch at midnight for the passers by; the first one that is perceived is asked his or her name, which, of course, will be that of the future spouse, &c. &c.

Numerous superstitions of this kind are practised, and too often believed in, by the upper as well as the lower classes.

Among the festivals ought to be mentioned the elections, which, even in despotic Russia as well as in Britain, are attended with speeches, votes, and opposition.

I was present once at one of these public ceremonies; it was the election of the MarÉchal de Noblesse, a kind of officer chosen in each province from among the landed proprietors. His duties are various, but the most important one is his guardianship of orphans whose fathers have died intestate: he is a kind of provincial lord-chancellor, and, next to the governor, is the most important personage in the county.

The election is perfectly free, and supposed to be entirely unbiassed by the government authorities: even the governor himself is not allowed to be present or to have the least voice in the matter.

The ceremony takes place once in three years, and is looked forward to with as much interest and anxiety as the choice of a member of parliament could be with us, and perhaps even more so, for it is the only opportunity the people here have of making a free election of anything.

On the morning of the election the carriages of the pamestchicks or landowners rolled into the town from all parts of the province. Innumerable gentlemen descended therefrom and entered the assembly-rooms, in which the extraordinary event was to take place, with all the maniÈre affairÉe, the bustle, the importance, the seriousness, and the chattering of the members of a “Constitution RÉpublique” or a Congress. Two or three were gravely consulting upon somebody’s pretensions to the honour; two or three in another place were laughing him and his pretensions to scorn. The noise was so great that I could only catch a word or two here and there, which, rising above the din, reached the ladies up in the gallery. “We won’t have him, he’s a rogue”—“A most amiable man”—“Don’t let S——ff speak”—“Hold your tongue, S——ff is the man”—“Hush! N——toff is going to make a speech”—“Speak more loudly, we can’t hear”—“What does he say?” and so on.

Amid all this noise and confusion, a gentleman placed his chair on a table and mounted thereon, intent on addressing, not the people, for there were none, but the free and independent electors. Scarcely a word of what he said reached us; whether he proposed himself or anybody else it was impossible to make out, but, apparently, his speech did not meet with general approbation. He however became more and more excited, made frantic gestures with his arms, tossing them above his head as if he were mad. His speech was suddenly cut short by his rapid disappearance from the table, chair and all; whether intentionally or accidentally there was no evidence to show, but he got up again as well as he could, and, amid shouts of laughter from the audience, he was glad to hide his diminished head among the crowd. The next speaker was a little, round, bald-headed old gentleman, who made a long and energetic discourse upon the moral excellences of one of the candidates. The audience listened to it with attention, so probably there was truth in it. The third was an orator who, by all appearance, was “unaccustomed to public speaking,” &c. &c., for he quickly got into a labyrinth, and did not know for the life of him how to get out of it: he soon descended amid intense and general disapprobation. Several others “trespassed upon the time and attention of the assembled electors,” and put their patience to a sore trial, some with greater and others with very indifferent success, after which the meeting was adjourned until the following morning. The second and third days offered but a repetition of the scenes of the first: at last the election was referred to the ballot, and the candidate who had the majority of votes was declared duly elected.

The whole affair terminated in a grand dinner and ball, whereat the opposition and the marÉchal side seemed equally to enjoy themselves. The next day the landowners and their carriages left the town: they had all had their say, they had strutted in “brief authority,” and were now going home to bury themselves in their woods and forests for the next three years, until another such opportunity of exercising the freedom of election should occur.

Among other ancient customs of Oriental origin is a species of maypole dancing, but it has little or no resemblance to what was once the delight of the merry lads and lasses of Old England. The peasant-women and girls fix upon a small fir-tree or bush; they then attach streamers to it of as many gay colours as they can obtain; the ends are held in their hands, and they continue to walk round and round the maypole, singing a monotonous chant one after the other until they are tired.

The different provinces in Russia have dances peculiar to each as well as different costumes. I remember at a picnic we were all greatly delighted with the picturesque dances of some soldiers from Malo Russia. One dance in particular, executed by a private soldier to the singing of his comrades, was descriptive of the love and occupations of a peasant-girl. It began by a song, during the performance of which the supposed maiden was seated on the ground, imitating the making of thread so well that we could almost fancy we saw it between her fingers and the distaff in her hand. Presently she pretends to be listening to the chorus, the subject of which is her absent lover. Her fingers move faster and faster as she becomes agitated. At last she throws away the distaff in despair and weeps bitterly. The chorus goes on to describe the warlike exploits of the loved one, the thoughts of her and his far-off village that occupy his mind. Hope begins to spring up; joy reanimates her features; the spinning is resumed; she makes responses to the singers, who tell her that a horseman is in sight, that he comes nearer; they perceive it is the absent warrior. She can no longer contain her emotions: she springs up, dances a beautifully descriptive pas-seul, and then rushes among the chorus as if for the purpose of welcoming the supposed lover to her cottage.

It is perfectly impossible to convey an idea of the charming manner in which the story was told by the very expressive and graceful movements of the dancer, or the wild and beautiful air to which the whole was executed.

In speaking of this picnic I may mention, just to show how everything in Russia is À la militaire, and how the love of the wild life of their nomadic ancestors is not yet banished from the hearts of their descendants, the way in which these amusements were conducted, at least all that I witnessed.

On some place being fixed upon, little tents of boughs were erected, and a number of watch-fires lighted, round which the company were seated in groups: there was always a military band and a great number of soldiers hired to sing the national airs, to dance, and to amuse the guests. They stood in parties at a distance, one composed of the musicians, and the others of the dancers and singers. As soon as one party had finished their performance another commenced, and so on during the whole time. Whilst we were at supper the band marched round the wood and played the soldiers’ war-song, and the others stood as sentinels and videttes. It was really a great treat for foreigners to go to one of these military picnics, and they seemed never to lose their novelty. One of the principal amusements at them was firing pistols at a mark, and, from the display of skill on these occasions, I should say that the Russian ladies are much cleverer at it than the gentlemen. There were generally several officers of rank present, yet the ladies hit the target certainly four times as frequently as they did. Parties of the peasantry always formed the spectators of these scenes, and they came in for the remains of the good things that happened to be left. On the national festivals, such as the coronation-day, the Emperor’s birthday, &c., as well as at Easter and the new year, the governor of a province holds a levÉe, as the representative of his majesty, and receives the congratulations of the military and government employÉs. It is at such times that the Russian character shows to the greatest disadvantage: respect sinks into slavishness, politeness into fawning, civility into adulation, and the conversation throughout is a mass of hypocrisy and deceit. Heaven only knows how many centuries it will take to teach the Russians to speak the truth. The wives and grown-up daughters of the employÉs congratulate the governor’s lady just as the husbands do his excellency, when it is customary to invite them to a ball and supper in the evening. The government allows three hundred silver roubles per month to pay for their entertainment. The same ceremony takes place on the anniversary of the governor’s birthday as on that of the Czar.

Balls in Russia are much the same as in other civilized countries, but it is a disagreeable fact that it is absolutely necessary to burn scent in the rooms. “I will really speak to the police-master’s daughters,” said the lady of a governor after one of these general balls; “and I will advise them to put on clean linen, otherwise I will not invite them to the ball!” There is also another disagreeable custom, that of leaving the lady in the middle of a room after the dance is over, instead of escorting her to a seat.

I went several times to balls given by merchants, generally on the occasion of a daughter’s marriage; they were all in the same style. It seemed to me that the grand object in view with the shopkeepers’ wives and daughters was not to dance, but to show off their finery. They sat in a straight line all round the room, dressed in a most splendid manner, with magnificent diamonds, rubies, and pearls, their hands folded over each other, loaded with valuable rings; just as if they were so many portraits or waxen figures, placed there for exhibition. They scarcely moved, excepting when they partook of some refreshment handed round. A very few of the younger portion danced, but the sole amusement of the remainder seemed to consist in criticising and admiring the costume and jewelry of each other. A room was always on these occasions set aside for the governor’s family. As soon as we entered, the host and hostess stepped forward, and respectfully indicated with many bows and inclinations the apartment prepared for our reception; it was sure to contain several tables completely loaded with refreshments of all kinds, immense cakes, trays of fruit, preserves, bonbons, &c., twenty times as much as it was possible to require. Nothing would ever induce the host and hostess to sit down; they came in occasionally to entreat us to do honour to the feast and to show their hospitable wishes for our sakes; they appeared never so pleased as when they saw us eating; indeed, they seemed to expect us never to leave off for a single instant from the time of our entrance to that of our departure.

The most splendid fÊtes at which I was present during my stay in Russia were two given by the Emperor: the first was on the occasion of the Archduchess Olga’s marriage, and the second on the twenty-fifth anniversary of his own accession. The former took place at Peterhoff, the marine palace, not many versts distant from Cronstadt. The banqueting, illuminations, and rejoicings lasted three whole days, and cost, as the Russians said, “des millions de roubles.” The bride was one blaze of diamonds, but she looked anything but happy. All the riches and magnificence of the court and nobility were displayed on the occasion: the variety of national costumes, Georgian, Circassian, and others; the glitter of the innumerable military uniforms, belonging to every regiment and race in the Czar’s dominions; the foreign ministers and visitors—all formed a coup-d’oeil of extreme splendour: not the least conspicuous among the throng were the negroes belonging to the court in their rich and picturesque oriental costume.

The court-ladies wear an uniform taken from the national dress; the married ladies of honour wear a train of green velvet embroidered with gold over a white robe, and the maids of honour a train of crimson velvet; the head-dress is in the shape of a crescent, similar to that of the peasants, only much enriched with diamonds and other precious stones; on the shoulder is a bow of blue ribbon, in which are the Empress’s initials in brilliants. A long blonde veil is thrown over the head and descends in folds behind. Notwithstanding the richness of the costume, there is a stiffness about it, and there are not many faces to which it is becoming, as it can be so only to classic features. There were very few handsome or pretty women in the whole assembly; indeed, generally speaking, beauty is rare among the Russians. It is very uncommon in every rank, yet, perhaps, no people value exterior appearance so much as they do, or are so vain of their persons. One proof of the latter failing may be seen at every step, for there is not a single shop in St. Petersburg in which a looking-glass is not placed for the benefit of the customers. Mirrors hold the same position in Russia as clocks do in England; with us time is valuable, with them appearance.

Every night during the festival the gardens of the palace were illuminated; Russians said that there were ten millions of lamps. Perhaps there were two or three millions at the most; but they always multiply every number, like the Orientals, who slay tens of thousands, when probably a few hundreds only are meant. Twenty thousand soldiers were engaged in relighting the wicks as they became extinguished by the wind. Walls of light were on each side of the walks and avenues, pyramids and obelisks from fifty to seventy feet in height, resplendent stars seemingly suspended in mid air were everywhere to be seen, but the most beautiful sight of all were the fountains. The palace is built on an elevation, and the water falls in artificial cascades from this height, forming a pretty stream. Below, in the hollows of the overhanging rocks, rows of lamps were placed, over which the fluid rushed from the cascade like a shower of diamonds, whilst the flashing lights beneath had an indescribably brilliant effect; the fine bronze figures untarnished glittered like statues of gold in the rays of thousands of beaming stars; the long avenues of splendid pines that border each side of the artificial stream below were also illuminated; and the view was terminated by an enormous sun, sixty feet in diameter, that appeared to be hovering over the sea in the distance, invisibly suspended in the air. There were not many coloured lamps, and those were placed among the flowers in the gardens, which had an extremely pleasing effect. The others did not resemble those used in England, but were merely little earthenware saucers, filled with grease, and furnished with a wick; these were placed on a framework of wood, painted black, and made into various designs. Soldiers stood at intervals on it, or were mounted on ladders behind, in readiness to relight the lamps that might accidentally become extinguished. One little fact connected with this magnificent festival deserves to be recorded, if it be only to show that enthusiastic cheers and delighted shouts can be made to order, and according to the regulations of the police, by which everything in fact is conducted in Russia. A general assured us that there was a number of men stationed among the crowd whose duty it was to shout in extasy whenever the signal was given them on the appearance of any person of rank on the balcony whose position demanded notice. This was the key-note for as many as liked to join in the chorus, otherwise they did not dare to make any exclamations of pleasure or satisfaction. Disapprobation was of course entirely out of the question, as the least sign of it would subject the delinquent to disagreeable consequences. There were also a great many spies doing duty among the crowd, who were placed there in order to hear what might be said of the whole affair.

The second festival, that on the anniversary of the Emperor’s coronation, took place in Moscow. A description of it would be merely a repetition of what has just been stated. There was one sight, however, that could be seen nowhere else but in that city, and that was the Kremlin illuminated. Its numerous churches and towers decorated with what appeared from below to be a vast number of brilliant little stars,—the gilded crosses glittering in the dark azure sky,—the high and massive walls covered with one immense design resembling embroidery in light,—the Alexander gardens below, illuminated with thousands of lamps,—the showy costumes of the Circassian guards,—the gay dresses of the people,—the bright uniforms of the military, as they passed in crowds to and fro,—formed altogether a splendid sight, well worth the trouble of a journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow to behold. The illumination was at the expense of the city merchants and shopkeepers, who subscribed an enormous sum for the purpose. Magnificent though it was, yet for the large sum subscribed it ought to have been more so; but as it was necessarily under the direction of the police authorities, they doubtless took a good percentage for their trouble.

Illuminations in St. Petersburg are paid for by a kind of tax which the police demand of each house; and as the Russians illuminate for everything, they must form a good source of profit to these “honourable men.” Not a single baby belonging in the fiftieth degree to the imperial family can either be born or christened without a round of five hundred cannon and an illumination; not a score of Turks can be killed, or half a dozen guns taken, without a similar demonstration of public rejoicing. The latter may be a “make-believe,” very convenient in the time of defeats and retreats to blind the nation’s eyes to the truth, especially as no authentic accounts are ever published for the people. The manner of illuminating in Russia is different from ours. Little grease-pots are placed at intervals along the kerbstone of the pavement, at about the same distance apart as are our lamp-posts in London. The effect is not at all imposing; besides which, they are at the mercy of the wind and rain, which generally cause an ugly hiatus here and there.

Whilst speaking of illuminations I must not omit to mention one that we saw in Archangel; it was certainly not to be compared to the two already described, but it had a very beautiful effect from the lamps being placed in holes made in the snow. The weather was very cold, and the damp had frozen in crystals on the trees, so that it looked like a scene in northern fairy-land, or as if some silver grotto of the gnomes had been suddenly thrown up on the surface of the earth.

The night on which the news reached St. Petersburg that the Russian army had crossed the Danube, there was a great illumination by order of the authorities. The weather was fearful; the high wind and beating storm soon effaced all traces of the lights, and the streets shortly became as dark and as desolate as before—an evil augury of the misfortunes so soon to follow.