John Browne - The Land of Thor

In addition to the villages which are scattered at frequent intervals along the route, the gilded dome of a church is occasionally seen in the distance, indicating the existence of a town; but one seldom catches more than a glimpse of the green-covered roofs of the houses, over the interminable patches of scrubby pine. It is not a country that presents such attractive features as to induce the mere tourist to get out and spend a few days rambling through it. In these dreary solitudes of marshes and pines, the inhabitants speak no other language than their own, and that not very well; but well or ill, it is all Greek – or rather Russian – to the majority of people from other countries.

But, as I said before, this habit of digression will be the death of me. Like a rocket, I start off splendidly, but explode and fall to pieces in every direction before I get half way on my journey. If the scintillations are varied and gayly colored, to be sure, the powder is not utterly lost; but the trouble of it is, if one keeps going off like rockets all the time, he will never get any where, and in the end will leave nothing but smoke and darkness to the gaping multitude.

If my memory serves me, I was talking of the Emperor Alexander’s convoy of private railway carriages – the most magnificent affair of the kind, perhaps, in existence. It was made purposely for his use, at a cost of more than a hundred thousand dollars, and presented to him by the American company, Winans and Company. Nothing so magnificent in decoration, and so admirably adapted to the convenience, comfort, and enjoyment of a royal party has ever been seen in Europe. The main carriage – for there are several in the suite – called, par excellence , the emperor’s own, is eighty-five feet long, and something over the usual width. It rests upon two undivided sleepers of such elastic and well-grained wood that they would bear the entire weight of the carriage, without the necessity of a support in the middle, forming a single stretch or arch, from axle to axle, of about seventy feet. The springs, wheels, brakes, and various kinds of iron-work, are of the finest and most select material, and highly finished in every detail, combining strength and durability with artistic beauty. The interior of the main or imperial carriage is a masterpiece of sumptuous ornamentation. Here are the richest of carvings; the most gorgeous hangings of embroidered velvet; mirrors and pictures in profusion; carpets and rugs that seem coaxing the feet to linger upon them; tables, cushioned sofas, and luxurious arm-chairs; divans and lounges of rare designs, covered with the richest damask; exquisite Pompeian vases and brilliant chandeliers – all, in short, that ingenuity could devise and wealth procure to charm the senses, and render this a traveling palace worthy the imperial presence. Connected with the main saloon is the royal bedchamber, with adjoining bathing and dressing rooms, equally sumptuous in all their appointments. Besides which, there are smoking-rooms, private offices, magnificent chambers for the camarilla, the secretaries, and body-guard of the emperor. The whole is admirably arranged for convenience and comfort; and it is said that the motion, when the convoy is under way, is so soft and dreamy that it is scarcely possible to feel a vibration, the effect being as if the cars were floating through the air, or drawn over tracks of down. Fully equal to this, yet more subdued and delicate in the drapery and coloring, are the apartments of the empress. Here it may truly be said is “the poetry of motion” realized – saloons fit for the angels that flit through them, of whom the chiefest ornament is the empress herself – the beautiful and beloved Maria Alexandrina, the charm of whose presence is felt like a pleasant glow of sunshine wherever she goes. Here are drawing-rooms, boudoirs, apartments for the beautiful maids of honor, reading-rooms, and even a dancing-saloon, from which it may well be inferred that the royal party enjoy themselves. If the emperor fails to make himself agreeable in this branch of his establishment, he deserves to be put out at the very first station. But he has the ladies at a disadvantage, which probably compels them to be very tolerant of his behavior; that is to say, he can detach their branch of the establishment from his own, and leave them on the road at any time he pleases by pulling a string; but I believe there is no instance yet on record of his having availed himself of this autocratic privilege. It is usually understood at the start whether the excursion is to be in partnership or alone. When the emperor goes out on a hunting expedition, he is accompanied by a select company of gentlemen, and of course is compelled to deprive himself of the pleasure of the more attractive and intoxicating society of ladies, which would be calculated to unsteady his nerves, and render him unfit for those terrific encounters with the bears of the forest upon which his fame as a hunter is chiefly founded.

What the great Napoleon thought when he gazed for the first time across the broad valley that lay at his feet, and caught the first dazzling light that flashed from the walls and golden cupolas of the Kremlin – whether some shadowy sense of the wondrous beauties of the scene did not enter his soul – is more than I can say with certainty; but this much I know, that neither he nor his legions could have enjoyed the view from Sparrow Hill more than I did the first glimpse of the grand old city of the Czars as I stepped from the railroad dépôt, with my knapsack on my back, and stood, a solitary and bewildered waif, uncertain if it could all be real; for never yet had I, in the experience of many years’ travel, seen such a magnificent sight, so wildly Tartaric, so strange, glowing, and incomprehensible. This was Moscow at last – the Moscow I had read of when a child – the Moscow I had so often seen burnt up in panoramas by an excited and patriotic populace – the Moscow ever flashing through memory in fitful gleams, half buried in smoke, and flames, and toppling ruins, now absolutely before me, a gorgeous reality in the bright noonday sun, with its countless churches, its domes and cupolas, and mighty Kremlin.

Stand with me, reader, on the first eminence, and let us take a bird’s-eye view of the city, always keeping in mind that the Kremlin is the great nucleus from which it all radiates. What a vast, wavy ocean of golden cupolas and fancy-colored domes, green-roofed houses and tortuous streets circle around this magic pile! what a combination of wild, barbaric splendors! nothing within the sweep of vision that is not glowing and Oriental. Never was a city so fashioned for scenic effects. From the banks of the Moskwa the Kremlin rears its glittering crest, surrounded by green-capped towers and frowning embattlements, its umbrageous gardens and massive white walls conspicuous over the vast sea of green-roofed houses, while high above all, grand and stern, like some grim old Czar of the North, rises the magnificent tower of Ivan Veliki. Within these walls stand the chief glories of Moscow – the palaces of the Emperor, the Cathedral of the Assumption, the House of the Holy Synod, the Treasury, the Arsenal, and the Czar Kolokol, the great king of bells. All these gorgeous edifices, and many more, crown the eminence which forms the sacred grounds, clustering in a magic maze of beauty around the tower of Ivan the Terrible. Beyond the walls are numerous open spaces occupied by booths and markets; then come the principal streets and buildings of the city, encircled by the inner boulevards; then the suburbs, around which wind the outer boulevards; then a vast tract of beautiful and undulating country, dotted with villas, lakes, convents, and public buildings, inclosed in the far distance by the great outer wall, which forms a circuit of twenty miles around the city. The Moskwa River enters near the Presnerski Lake, and, taking a circuitous route, washes the base of the Kremlin, and passes out near the convent of St. Daniel. If you undertake, however, to trace out any plan of the city from the confused maze of streets that lie outspread before you, it will be infinitely worse than an attempt to solve the mysteries of a woman’s heart; for there is no apparent plan about it; the whole thing is an unintelligible web of accidents. There is no accounting for its irregularity, unless upon the principle that it became distorted in a perpetual struggle to keep within reach of the Kremlin.