Due North or Glimpses of Scandinavia and Russia, Maturin Murray Ballou [the gingerbread man read aloud TXT] 📗

and when the sun shines upon the group, it is like the bursting of a rocket at night against a background of azure blue. It is of this singular, whimsical, and picturesque structure that the story is told how Ivan the Terrible caused the architect's eyes to be blinded forever when his work was completed and approved, in order that he might never be able to produce another temple like it. The reader need hardly credit the story however, since it has been attributed to so many other structures and individuals as greatly to impair its application in this instance. Space would not suffice us were we to attempt to describe the interior of St. Basil; but it is as peculiar as is the exterior. Each of the domes and towers forms the apex to a separate chapel, so that the cathedral is divided into a dozen and more altars dedicated to as many different saints. The interior is painted throughout in arabesque. Napoleon ordered his soldiers to destroy this cathedral; but fortunately, in the haste and confusion attending the retreat of the French army, the command was not executed. While looking upon St. Basil, with its myriad pinnacles flashing in the rays of the sun, it was natural to recall Hawthorne's quaint idea, that were edifices built to the sound of music some would appear to be constructed under the influence of grave and solemn tones, others, like this unique temple, to have danced forth to light fantastic airs and waltzes. In front of the many-domed cathedral is a circular stone from whence the Tzars of old were accustomed to proclaim their edicts; and it is also known as the Lobnoe Miesto, that is, "The Place of the Skull," because of the many executions that have taken place upon it. Ivan the Terrible rendered the spot infamous by the series of executions which he ordered to take place here, the victims being mostly innocent and patriotic persons of both sexes. Here Prince Scheviref was impaled by order of this same tyrant, and here several others of royal birth were recklessly sacrificed. In looking upon St. Basil one is almost sure to be reminded of the Alhambra, in Moorish Grenada. Notwithstanding its strangely conglomerate character, no one can say that it is not symmetrical and justly balanced in its various lines; still, so unreal is its whole as to seem like a creation in some magic Arabian tale, an unsubstantial structure of the imagination.

The Treasury of the Kremlin, erected so late as 1851, is a historical museum of crowns, thrones, state costumes, and royal regalia generally, including in the latter department the royal robes of Peter the Great; also his crown in which there are about nine hundred large diamonds, and that of his widow Catherine I., which contains about three thousand of the same precious stones, besides one grand ruby of extraordinary value. One comes away from the labyrinth of palaces, churches, arsenals, museums, and treasury of the citadel, after viewing their accumulation of riches, absolutely dazed and entirely surfeited. Properly to examine the Treasury alone would require many days. It is a marvel of accumulated riches, the proud spoils of time. Here are to be seen the crowns of many now defunct kingdoms, such as those of Kazan, Georgia, Astrakhan, and Poland,--all heavy with gold and precious stones. The crown-jewels of England and Germany combined would hardly equal in value these treasures. The most venerable of the crowns which were shown us here is that of Monomachus, brought from Byzantium more than eight hundred years ago. This emblem is covered with jewels of the choicest character, among which are steel-white diamonds and rubies of pigeon's-blood hue, such as do not find their way into jewellers' shops in our day. Think of the centuries this vast wealth has lain idle upon these royal crowns, and of the aggregate sum in current money which it represents; then calculate the annual loss of interest, say at three per cent per annum, and the result will reach a sum approximating to the amount of the National debt of Great Britain!

While viewing the varied attractions within the walls of the Kremlin one could not but recall a page from history, and remember the brave, heroic, self-sacrificing means which the people of this Asiatic city adopted to repel the invading and victorious enemy. It was an act of sublime desperation to place the torch within the sanctuary of Russia and to destroy all, sacred and profane, so that the enemy should also be destroyed. It was a deed of undaunted patriotism, and the grandest sacrifice ever made to national honor by any people. "Who would have thought that a nation would burn its own capital?" said Napoleon.

The Church of our Saviour is perhaps one of the finest as it is also the most modern cathedral in the country, its snow-white walls, capped by five golden domes, being the most prominent object to meet the eye as one looks at the city from the high terrace of the Kremlin. It stands upon a natural rise of ground, a plateau overlooking the Bridge of Moskva Rekoi, quite by itself, covering seventy-three thousand square feet, surrounded by open grounds, which are planted with flowering shrubs, blooming flowers, and thrifty young trees. Begun in 1812 to commemorate the deliverance of Moscow from the French, the edifice has but just been completed. It is in the Graeco-Byzantine style; the top of the cross upon the centre cupola is three hundred and forty feet above the ground. The foundation is of granite, but the entire building is faced with white marble. The interior is gorgeously decorated with frescos from Biblical and Russian history, and is dazzling in its vast richness of detail. The interior of St. Isaac's at St. Petersburg has been closely imitated in some important particulars. The entire floor is of marble, and the walls are lined with exquisite varieties of the same. Here on the 25th of December is annually celebrated, with great pomp and ceremony, the retreat of the French invaders from Russian soil. "God with us," is the motto sculptured over the grand entrance of this magnificent temple, the aggregate cost of which was over twelve millions of dollars.

Lying on the east side of the Kremlin and adjoining its walls is a section of the city also enclosed within high walls, known as the Chinese City. It is a queer division of the metropolis, with towers and buttresses like a fortification, called by the Russians "Kitai Gorod." Herein assemble the thieves, pickpockets, and rogues generally, who are to be seen throughout the day crowded together in one of the largest squares, holding a sort of rag fair to exchange their ill-gotten goods with one another. To the stranger they present the aspect of a reckless mob, composed of the very dregs of the population, and ready to engage in any overt act. Unmolested by the police they busy themselves exchanging old boots and shoes, half-worn clothing, stolen trifles, and various articles of domestic use, all amid a deafening hubbub. The entire district is not however given up to this "racket," but contains some fine shops, comfortable dwellings, and two excellent hotels, as Russian hotels are rated. One passes through this section in approaching the Redeemer's Gate from the east side, but will wisely avoid all personal contact with the doubtful denizens of Rag Fair.

It was a source of surprise to the author to find Moscow so great a manufacturing centre, more than fifty thousand of the population being regularly employed in manufacturing establishments. There are over a hundred cotton mills within the limits of the city, and between fifty and sixty woollen mills; also thirty-three silk mills, and a score of kindred establishments in the manufacturing line. It appeared, however, that enterprise in this direction was confined almost entirely to textile fabrics. The city is fast becoming the centre of a grand railroad system, affording the means of rapid and easy distribution for the several products of these mills, and there is reason to anticipate their steady increase.


CHAPTER XVI.


Domestic Life in Moscow. -- Oriental Seclusion of Women. -- The Foundling Hospital. -- A Christian Charity. -- A Metropolitan Centre. -- City Museum. -- The University. -- Tea-Drinking. -- Pleasure Gardens. -- Drosky Drivers. -- Riding-School. -- Theatres. -- Universal Bribery. -- Love of Country. -- Russians as Linguists. -- Sparrow Hill. -- Petrofski Park. -- Muscovite Gypsies. -- Fast Life. -- Intemperance. -- A Famous Monastery. -- City Highways. -- Sacred Pigeons. -- Beggars.


The domestic life of the people of Moscow (we speak of the acknowledged upper class) is quite Oriental in its character. The stranger, no matter how well he comes accredited, when he visits a dwelling-house is hospitably entertained, as hospitality is interpreted here; but it is by the master only. The ladies of the household are very rarely presented to him, and are seldom seen under any circumstances, even the opera being tolerated at Moscow half under protest, on account of its bringing ladies into a more intimate relation with the world at large. To the domestic caller scalding tea is served in tumblers, with slices of lemon floating on the top; but no other refreshments are offered. The host is courteous, he invites you to drive with him, and seems glad to show you the monuments and famous localities, and to give any desired information; but his family, harem-like, are kept out of sight. Even a courteous inquiry as to their health is received with a degree of surprise. The ladies of Cairo and Constantinople are scarcely more secluded. This, however, may be termed old Russian style; young Russia is improving upon Eastern customs, and is becoming slowly more Europeanized. These remarks apply less to St. Petersburg than to Moscow. As the Asiatic comes more closely in contact with Europeans he assimilates with their manners and customs, and women assume a different domestic relationship. Thus ladies and their partially grown-up children, accompanied by husband and friends, are not infrequently seen driving in public at the capital; but scarcely ever is this the case at Moscow. Indeed, we saw no instance of it here. Men were seen at the public places of amusement, parks, tea-gardens, and the like, accompanied by women; but they were not ladies, nor were they their wives or daughters.

One of the most interesting and important institutions of the city is its remarkable Foundling Hospital, which is conducted by the Government at an annual expense of five millions of dollars. The royal treasury appropriates a large portion of this sum each year to its support, besides which it is most liberally endowed by private bequests. The building which is occupied by the hospital, or rather the series of buildings, forms a large quadrangular group on the north bank of the Moskva, half a mile east of the Kremlin. The length of the frontage is fully a thousand feet, enclosing finely-kept, spacious gardens which cover several acres of ground, divided between pleasant paths, greensward, and shady groves. Here, on a sunny afternoon at the close of July, the author saw between fifteen and sixteen hundred infants paraded under the branches of the trees, sleeping in their tiny cradles or in the sturdy arms of the country-bred nurses, of whom there were over five hundred. These were all wet-nurses, each hearty, well-fed peasant woman being expected to nurse two infants. These women were all clad in snow-white cotton gowns and muslin caps, appearing scrupulously neat and clean, the muslin about head and face contrasting strongly with their nut-brown complexions. Some of the little ones who seemed to thrive best by such treatment are fed with the bottle, while careful and scientific care is afforded to each and all alike. Besides three or four regular