remained entirely concealed.
This first view of the capital of the Slavonians, rising brightly in the cold solitudes of the Christian East, produces an impression that cannot easily be forgotten.
Before the eye, spreads a landscape, wild and gloomy, but grand as the ocean; and to animate the dreary void, there rises a poetical city, whose architecture is without either a designating name or a known model.
To understand the peculiarity of the picture, it ii` necessary to remind the reader of the orthodox plan of every Greek church. The summit of these sacred edifices is always composed of several towers, which vary in form and height, but the number of which is five at the least — a sacramental number, that is often greatly exceeded. The middle steeple is the most lofty ; the four others respectfully surround this principal tower. Their form varies : the summits of some resemble pointed caps placed upon a head ; the great towers of certain churches, painted and gilded externally, may be severally compared to a bishop's mitre, a tiara adorned with gems, a Chinese pavilion, a minaret, and a clergyman's hat. They often consist of a simple cupola, in the shape of a bowl, and terminating in a point. All these more or less whimsical figures are crowned with large, open-worked
GREEK CHURCHES.
285
copper crosses, gilt, and the comphcated designs of which look like work of filagree. The number and disposition of the steeples have always a symbolical religious meaning: they signify the ranks in the ecclesiastical hierarchy. They image the patriarch, surrounded by his priests, his deacons, and sub-deacons, lifting between heaven and earth his radiant head. A fanciful variety characterises this more or less richly adorned roof-work; but the primitive intention, the theological idea, is always scrupulously respected.
Bright chains of gilded or plated metal unite the crosses of the inferior steeples to the principal tower: and this metallic net, spread over an entire city, produces an effect that it would be impossible to convey, even in a picture. The holy legion of steeples, without having any precise resemblance to the human form, represents a grotesque assemblage of personages gathered together on the summits of the churches and chapels, — a phalanx of phantoms hovering over the eity.
The exteriors of the mystic domes of the Russian churches are worked in a most elaborate manner. They remind the stranger of a cuirass of Damascus steel; and the sight of so many scaly, enamelled, spangled, striped, and chequered roofs, shining in the sun with various but always brilliant colours, strikes him with the most lively astonishment. The desert, with its dull sea-green tint, is, as it were, illuminated by this magical net-work of carbuncles. The play of light, in the aerial city, produces a species of phantasmagoria, in broad clay, which reminds one of the reflected brilliance of lamps in the shop of a lapidary. These changing hues impart to Moscow an aspect altogether
286CASTLE OF PETROWSKI.
different from that of the other great European cities. The sky, when viewed from the middle of such a city, is a golden glory, similar to those seen in old paintings. Schnitzlcr states, that, in 1730, Weber counted at Moscow 1500 churches. Coxe, in 1778, fixes the number at 484. As for myself, I am content with endeavouring to describe the aspect of things. I admire without counting, — I must, therefore, refer the lovers of catalogues to books made up entirely of numerals.
I have said enough, I hope, to impart to the reader a portion of the surprise which the first view of Moscow produced in me. To add to that surprise he must recollect, what he will have often read, that this city is a country within itself, and that fields, lakes, and woods, enclosed within its limits, place a considerable distance between the different edifices that adorn it. The objects being so scattered, greatly increases the effect. The whole plain is covered with a silver giuze. Three or four hundred churches, thus spread, present to the eye an immense semicircle, so that when approaching the city, towards sunset on a stormy evening, it would be easy to fancy you saw a rainbow of fire impending above the churches of Moscow : this is the halo of the holy city. But at about three quarters of a league from the gate, the illusion vanishes. Here, the very real and heavy brick palace of Petrowski arrests the attention. It was built by Catherine after an odd modern design : the ornaments with which it is profusely covered stand in white against the red walls. These decorations, which are formed, I think, of plaster, are in a style of extravagant Gothic. The building is as
ENTRANCE TO MOSCOW.287
square as a die, which by no means renders its general effect more imposing. It is here that the sovereign stops, when he means to make a solemn entrance into Moscow. A summer theatre, a ballroom, and a garden have been established, so as to form a kind of public cafe, which I shall return to see, as it is the rendezvous of the city loungers during the summer season.
After passing Petrowski, the enchantment gradually disperses, so that by the time of entering Moscow, we feel as if waking from a brilliant dream to a very dull and prosaic reality — a vast city without any real monuments of art, that is to say, without a single object worthy of a discriminative and thoughtful approbation. Before so heavy and awkward a copy of Europe, we ask, with wonder, what has become of the Asia whose apparition had struck us with admiration so shortly before ? Moscow, viewed from without and as a whole, is a creation of sylphs. a world of chimeras; when inspected close at hand and in detail, it is a vast trading city, without regularity, dusty, ill paved, ill built, thinly peopled; in short, though it unquestionably exhibits the work of a powerful hand, it betrays also the conceptions of a head whose idea of the beautiful has failed to produce one single
Without genius for architecture, without taste for sculpture, they can heap together stones, and create objects enormous in dimension ; but they can produce nothing harmonious, notliing great in the perfection
288ASPECT OF THE KREMLIN.
of its proportions. Happy privilege of art! masterpieces survive themselves, subsisting in the memory of men ages after they have been devastated by time; they share, by the inspiration which they kindle, even in their latest ruin, the immortality of the minds that created them; whereas, shapeless masses are forgotten while yet untouched by time. Art, when in its perfection, gives a soul to stone; it is a mystic power. This we learn in Greece, where each fragment of sculpture conduces to the general effect of each monument. In architecture, as in the other arts, it is from the superior execution of the smallest details, and from their skilfully interwoven connection with the genera] plan, that the sentiment of the beautiful springs. Nothing in Russia inspires this sentiment.
Nevertheless, amid the chaos of plaster, brick, and boards, that is called Moscow, two points never cease to attract the eye — the church of St. Basil, and the Kremlin, — the Kremlin, of which Napoleon himself was only able to disturb a few stones ! This prodigious fabric, with its white irregular walls, and its battlements rising above battlements, is in itself large as a city. At the close of day, when I first entered Moscow, the grotesque piles of churches and palaces embraced within the citadel rose in light against a dimly portrayed back-ground, poor in design and eold in colouring, though we are still burning with heat, suffocating with dust, and devoured by mosquitoes. It is the long continuance of the hot season which gives the colour to southern scenery; in the north we feel the effects of the summer, but we do not see it; in vain does the
