disunite them.
Yesterday I recommenced my travels, by a me
thodical and minute inspection of the Kremlin, under
the conduct of M., to whom I had an introduc
tion. Still the Kremlin ! that building is for me all
Moscow — all Russia; a world within itself! My
footman went in the morning to apprize the keeper,
who waited for us. I expected to find an ordinary
official, instead of which we were received by a mili
tary officer, a polite and intelligent man.
The treasury of the Kremlin is deservedly the pride of Russia. It might serve as a substitute for the chronicles of the country ; it is a history in precious stones.
The golden vases, the pieces of armour, the ancient furniture, are not merely to be admired in themselves ; every object is associated with some glorious or singular event worthy of commemoration. But before describing, or rather rapidly noticing, the wonders of an arsenal that has not, I believe, its second in Europe, the reader must follow me, step by step, along the way by which I was led to this sanctuary, revered by the Russians, and justly admired by strangers.
After proceeding through several straight but small streets, I arrived in sight of the fortress, when I passed under an archwa}r, before which my footman caused the coach to stop, without deeming it necessary to consult me, so well known is the interest which attaches to the place ! The vault forms the в 2
4ARCHITECTURE OF MOSCOW.
under part of a tower, singular in shape, like all the (>thers in the old quarter of Moscow.
Г have not seen Constantinople, but I believe that, next to that city, Moscow is the most striking in appearance of all the capitals in Europe. It is the inland Byzantium. Fortunately, the squares of the old caj>ital are not so immense as those of Petersburg, in which even St. Peter's of Rome would be lost. At Moscow the sites are more confined, and therefore the edifices produce greater effect. The despotism of straight lines and symmetrical plans is opposed here both by nature and history : Moscow is everywhere picturesque. The sky, without being clear, has a silvery brightness: the models, of every species of architecture, are heaped together without order or plan; no >†ructures are perfect, nevertheless the whole strikes, not with admiration, but with astonishment. The inequalities of the surfaee multiply the points of view. The magic glories of multitudes of cupolas ~parkle in the air. Innumerable gilded steeples, in form like minarets, Oriental pavilions, and Indian domes, transport you to Delhi; donjon-keeps and turrets bring you back to Europe in the times of the iTiisades ; the sentinel, mounted on the top of his watch-tower, reminds you of the muezzin inviting the faithful to prayer ; while, to complete the confusion iif ideas, the cross, which glitters in every direction, commanding the people to prostrate themselves before the Word, seems as though fallen from heaven amid an assembly of Asiatic nations, to point out to them all the narrow way of salvation. It was doubtless before this poetical picture that Madame de Stael ¦ xclaimed—
ADVANTAGE OF OBSCURE TRAVELLERS. O
The expression wants justice ; for, in no respect can a parallel be drawn between these two cities It is of Nineveh, Palmyra, or Babylon that we think, when we enter Moscow, and not of the
I place no confidence except in the recitals of unknown travellers. It will be said I am sounding my own trumpet: I do not deny it; for I at least profit by my obscurity, in seeking and endeavouring to discover the truth. The pleasure of rectifying the mistakes and prejudices of some of my friends, and of the few whose minds resemble theirs, will snfiice for ray glory. My ambition is modest,—for nothing is more easy than to correct the errors of superior characters. It appears to me that if there are any who do not hate despotism as much as I hate it, they will do so, notwithstanding its pomps, after the veracious picture of its works which I offer to their meditation.
The massive tower, at the foot of which my footman made me alight, was picturesquely pierced by в 3
THE KITAIGOROD.
two arches ; it separates the Avails of the Kremlin, properly so called, from their continuation, which serves as a girdle to Kitaigorod, the city of the merchants, another quarter of old Moscow, founded by the mother of the Czar, John Vassilieviteh, in 1534. This date appears to us recent, but it is ancient for Russia, the youngest of the European realms.
The Kitaigorod, a species of suburb to the Kremlin, is an immense bazaar, a town intersected with dark and vaulted alleys, which resemble so many sub-terranes. These catacombs of the merchants foi`m no cenietries, but a permanent fair. They are a labyrinth of galleries, that rather resemble the arcades of Paris, although less elegant, less light, and more solid. This mode of building is essential to the wants of commerce under the climate: in the north, covered street* remedy, as far as it is possible, the inconveniences and severity of the open air. Sellers and buyers are there sheltered from the storm, the snow, and the frost; whereas light colonnades, open to the day, and airy porticoes have an aspect that is ridiculous. Russian architects ought to take the moles and the ants for their models.
At every step that you take in Moscow you find some chapel highly venerated by the people, and saluted by each passenger. These chapels, or niches, generally contain some image of the Virgin kept under glass, and honoured with a lamp that burns unceasingly. Such shrines arc guarded by some old soldier. These veterans are to be met with in the antechambers of the rich, and in the churches, which they keep in order. The life of an old Russian soldier, if he could not obtain an asylum among the
THE MADONNA OF VIVIELSKI.7
rich, or among the priests, would be one of extreme wretchedness. A charity void of display is unknown to this government: when it wishes to perform an act of benevolence, it builds palaces for the sick, or for children; and the facades of these pious monuments attract all eyes.
In the pillar which separates the double arcade of the tower, is enshrined the Virgin of Vivielski, an ancient image, painted in the Greek style, and highly venerated at Moscow. I observed that every body who passed this chapel — lords, peasants, tradespeople, ladies, and military men,—all bowed and made numerous signs of the cross; many, not satisfied with so humble a homage, stopped, and well-dressed women prostrated themselves to the very earth before the miraculous Virgin, touching even the pavement with their brows; men also, above the rank of peasants, knelt and repeated signs of the cross innumerable. These religious acts in the open street were practised with a careless rapidity which denoted more habit than fervour. My footman is an Italian. Nothing could be
