contrary to that which other women take, a profound mental capacity under a graceful lightness of conversation, she saw men as they were, and yet viewed every thing on the bright side. Those who knew her, remember as well as I, the philosophy, the courage, and the promptitude with which she submitted to circumstances, and the penetration, yet generosity and charity, with which she
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judged the character of others. Enlightened as regards the objects of her affections, she loved them in spite of their faults, which she only sought to conceal from the eyes of the world ; she loved them in their successes and reverses, for she was devoid of envy, although jealous ; and even jealousy, which is hated in others, was pardoned in her, for she was never jealous of advantages, but only of affections. This inquietude, exempt from all vanity, and from every thing that was exacting, disarmed and attached the proudest hearts: envy inspires contempt, jealousy deserves compassion.
Such was the woman to whom I wrote this letter just before entering Moscow. Had I been then told that before publishing it I should have to attach so melancholy a note, I should have had little heart for the remainder of my journey.
She was so beloved, so full of life, that it is difficult to believe in her death, even while weeping it. She survives in all our recollections, all our pleasures, all our griefs. It is not of myself alone that I speak ; I speak for all those who have loved her, that is, for all who have well known her, and for her family, especially her mother, who resembles her; and I am sure, notwithstanding the distance that divides us, they will recognise their own sentiments in this expression of mine.*
Once again, a delay on the road, and always from the same cause!—we break down regularly every twenty leagues. Of a truth the Russian officer at Pomerania was a
There are moments when, notwithstanding my protestations, and the reiterated word
* Madame 0`Donnell was daughter of Madame Sophie Gay, and sister of Madame Delphine de Girardin.
254BOY COACHMEN.
Neapolitans and the Russians are the first coachmen in the world; the best among them are old men and children : the children especially surprise me. The first time that I saw my carriage and my life about to be entrusted to the care of an infant of ten years old, I protested against such imprudence; but my feldjager assured me it was the custom, and as his person was exposed as much as mine, I believed him. Our four horses, whose fiery eagerness and wild appearance were by no means adapted to re-assure me, set off at a gallop. The experienced child knew better than to endeavour to stop them; on the contrary, he urged them to their utmost speed, and the carriage followed as it best might. This pace, which accorded better with the temperament of the animals than the qualities of the caleche, was kept up throughout the stage, although at the end of the first verst the breathless horses began to tire, and the coachman to become the most impatient. Each time they relaxed their pace he applied the whip until they resumed their former speed. The emulation which easily establishes itself between four spirited animals, harnessed abreast, soon brought us to the end of the stage. These horses would rather die than give in. After observing their character, and that of the men who drive them, I soon perceived that the word
MODE OF DRIVING.255
of getting over the ground would greatly divert me if my carriage were of more solid construction, but at each turn of the wheels I expect it to fall to pieces; and we break down so often that my apprehensions are only too well justified. 'Without my Italian valet, who officiates also as wheelwright and smith, we should already have come to a stand-still. I cannot cease from admiring the air of nonchalance with which the coachmen take their seats: there is a grace about it far preferable to the studied elegance of civilised drivers. In descending the hills, they rise on their feet, and drive standing, the body slightly bent, the arms stretched forward, and the eight reins drawn well up. In this attitude, which may be seen in ancient bas-reliefs, they might be taken for charioteers of the circus. When thus driving, we rush through the air amid clouds of dust, and seem scarcely to touch the earth. The English springs cause the body of the coach to sway like a vessel in a heavy gale, and there appears then to be established between the will of man and the instinct of the animals, a relation which I cannot understand. It is not by a mechanical impulse that the equipage is guided ! — there seems to be an interchange of thoughts and sentiments, an animal magic, a real magnetic influence. The coachman is miraculously obeyed: he guides his four steeds abreast as if they were but one horse. Sometimes he draws them together into scarcely more space than is commonly occupied by two wheelers; sometimes he so spreads them out that they cover the half of the high road. In point of civilisation, every thing is incomplete in Russia, because every thing is modern. On the finest road
256GOOD TASTE OF THE PEOPLE.
in the world, there are still frequent interruptions; repairs going on, or temporary bridges in place of broken ones, which oblige us to turn off the road ; this the driver does without for a moment slackening the pace. The road is also much obstructed by the little carts and waggons of carriers, ten of which arc often guided by one man, who cannot possibly keep them all in line. Without great dexterity on the part of the Russian coachmen it would be difficult to find a passage through such moving labyrinths. The bodies of these carriers' carts resemble large casks cut in half lengthways, and open at the top; they are each drawn by one small horse, who, without much capacity as a draught horse, is full of courage and spirit, and will pull until he falls on the road : his life is, therefore, as short as it is devoted : in Russia, a horse twelve years old is a phenomenon.
Nothing can be more original, more different to what is seen elsewhere, than the various vehicles, the men, and the horses that are met on the highways of this country. Every thing that the people touch, wear, or carry, takes, unknown to themselves, a picturesque appearance: condemn a race of men, less naturally elegant, to make use of the houses, dress, and utensils of the Russians, and all these things would appear hideous; but here I find them, though foreign and unusual, striking and deserving of being painted. Oblige the Russians to wear the costume of the Paris workmen, and they would make something out of it agreeable to the eye, though never would a Russian have imagined an attire so devoid of taste. The life of this people is amusing, if not for
POLITICAL ASI>ECT.257
themselves, at least for a spectator; the ingenious turn of their minds has found means to triumph over the climate, and every other obstacle that nature has opposed to social existence in a desert without poetic imagery. The contrast of the blind political submission of a people attached to the soil, wTith the energetic and continual struggle of that same people against the tyranny of a climate hostile to life, their conquests over nature showing itself every moment under the yoke of despotism, present an inexhaustible store for lively pictures and serious meditations. To make a journey through Russia with full advantage, it woiud be necessary to be accompanied by a Montesquieu and a Horace Vernet.
In none of my travels have I so much regretted my little talent for sketching. Russia is less кполтп than
