"'FROM THEIR RACE CAME PETER THE GREAT.'
"An occurrence of comparatively recent times is associated with this church. Alexander Griboyedoff, born at Moscow about 1795, was a celebrated poet and dramatist, whose merits were acknowledged by his appointment as Minister to Persia in 1828. In February of the following year he and all the Russians who accompanied him were murdered in Teheran, in consequence of a riotous outbreak of the populace. The Russian Government demanded satisfaction, which was given in the shape of a long train of beasts of burden loaded with presents, and accompanied by a prince of the Shah's household. There were also many fine horses for saddle purposes, and a collection of wild animals peculiar to Asia. The train was months on its way, and reached St. Petersburg in the winter. A procession was made to this church, and certainly it was the most remarkable that this northern city had ever seen.
PERSIAN HORSES PRESENTED BY THE SHAH.
"Pearls, embroideries in gold and silver, shawls, and other costly fabrics, were carried on silver dishes in the hands of gorgeously dressed Persians; elephants bearing towers filled with Persian warriors, or laden with the gifts of the Persian court, were protected from the cold by boots and wrappings of leather; and the cages of the lions, tigers, and leopards were shielded by double coverings of the skins of Arctic bears. The Persian prince rode in an Imperial carriage drawn by six horses, and was escorted by a regiment of Russian grenadiers. A portion of the presents was bestowed upon this church, and the remainder went to the families of Griboyedoff and his companions.
"The Emperor comes in person to attend the service of mass in this church at least once a year. The choir is one of the best in the city, and the church is largely attended by the fashionable inhabitants of the capital. A service was going on as we entered the building, and we remained near the door until it ended. It was an impressive ceremonial, made doubly so by the historic interest of the surroundings."
RUSSIAN PEASANT GIRL.
A drive to the Summer Gardens followed the visit to the Church of Saint Alexander Nevski. Several theatres and other public buildings were passed on the way, but they concluded not to stop to examine them. "One building is very much like another in St. Petersburg," said the Doctor; "and unless there is some special interest connected with it, or a peculiar feature of architecture, it is not worth while mixing it up with your recollections of the Winter Palace and the Hermitage."
RUSSIAN NURSE-MAID AND CHILDREN.
It was a pleasant afternoon, and the Summer Gardens were filled with people enjoying the open air. There were nurse-maids with children, peasants alone or in couples, or groups, well-to-do persons of the middle classes, officers and soldiers—in fact a fair representation of the whole population. The Emperor sometimes comes here for a walk, but of late years his visits have been less frequent than formerly, on account of the fear of assassination. It is forbidden to speak to the Emperor while he is on the promenade, and any one violating the rule will be arrested immediately.
It is said that one day while the Emperor was walking in the Summer Gardens he met and recognized a French actor with whose performance he was greatly pleased. He spoke pleasantly to the actor, and the latter replied, expressing his satisfaction at this mark of the Imperial favor. The Emperor then went on his way. The police immediately pounced upon the performer, and carried him away to prison for violating the rule!
"But the Emperor spoke to me first," the man protested over and over again to no purpose.
"You spoke to the Emperor, which is contrary to the law," was all the explanation he could obtain.
Nicholas went that night to the theatre to hear his favorite, but the latter did not appear. No one could tell where he was, and his Majesty returned disappointed to the palace.
In the morning the unfortunate actor was released, and the story somehow reached the Imperial ears. Nicholas sent for the victim of the arrest, apologized for the action of the police, and asked what reparation he could make for the actor's night in prison.
"Never speak to me again in the public garden," was the reply. The Emperor laughed, and made the required promise. Next day he sent the equivalent of a month's salary to the actor, together with a diamond ring of no small value.
In one corner of the garden is a monument to the memory of Kriloff, the Russian fabulist. The youths asked the Doctor to tell them about Kriloff, which he did as follows:
"Kriloff was the most famous writer in Russia in the first half of the present century," said the Doctor, "and he is probably better known to-day among all classes of the population than any other man of letters. Forty thousand copies of his works were sold between 1830 and 1840, in editions of various kinds, and went to all parts of the Empire. There was hardly a child of the educated classes who was not familiar with his stories, and they were circulated 'by word of mouth' among the peasantry, to whom reading was an unknown accomplishment; and before they were issued in books, his fables were published in newspapers and magazines, so that the aggregate circulation was very large."
Fred asked what was the nature of the stories told by the famous man whose statue they were regarding.
SOME OF KRILOFF'S FRIENDS.
"They were fables," the Doctor answered, "after the manner of Æsop's and La Fontaine's. He had written editorials and literary essays for various publications, but never made a 'hit' until about his fortieth year, when he took some fables from La Fontaine and adapted them to the conditions of life in Russia. He showed them to a friend, who printed them in The Moscow Spectator, where they attracted much attention. Kriloff was encouraged to continue this style of writing. For the rest of his life his literary labors were almost wholly devoted to fables. He died in November, 1844, at the good old age of seventy-six.
KRILOFF'S CHARACTERS IN CONVENTION.
"At his funeral the streets were crowded, and the Church of St. Isaac could not hold all who came to take part in the services. Soon after his death a popular subscription was started, and the children of all classes contributed to it. The money was expended for the erection of the statue before us. You observe that the space around it is the favorite play-ground of the children, and no more appropriate spot could have been chosen."
The statue represents Kriloff in a dressing-gown, seated in an arm-chair, with his head slightly inclined forward, and looking pleasantly downward. The pedestal of the monument is adorned with reliefs of the animals that figured in his fables—oxen, horses, cows, sheep, donkeys, foxes, wolves, hens, lions, etc., and thereby hangs a story:
The Emperor Nicholas was fond of choosing as his ministers and advisers men who were not likely to oppose any of his measures. The incompetency of his ministry was notorious both in Russia and other countries. When his successor, Alexander II., ascended the throne, he was asked why he did not retain the ministry of Nicholas instead of choosing a new one. He replied, "My father was a man of such transcendent ability that he could afford to surround himself with incompetent men; I feel my weakness, and must have the best talent in the Empire to assist me."
When the equestrian monument to the memory of Nicholas was under consideration, it was proposed to adorn its pedestal with the portraits of his ministers, but the proposal was vetoed, when some one suggested that if the monument were so adorned it might be mistaken for that of Kriloff.
"Kriloff's fables," the Doctor continued, "were aimed at official and social abuses and absurdities. Many that he wrote were never produced, as all had to receive the approval of the censor before they could be issued. I told you that in ten years forty thousand copies of his works were sold, and it is probable that the present sale amounts to several thousand annually. Kriloff is read not only by Russian children but by people of all ages, and the fables have been translated into all the languages of Europe."
On the way back to the hotel our friends stopped at a book-store and bought a copy, in English, of the book in which their interest had been aroused. Some of the fables were incomprehensible to them, on account of their ignorance of Russian manners and customs, and of the system of government; but this was not the case with the greater number. They had a hearty laugh over several of the anecdotes, and voted the book to be well worth preserving.
Here are some of the fables with which they were amused. We will condense them, as they are sometimes rather long drawn out in the original.
A donkey meets a nightingale in the woods, and asks her to favor him with a song. She complies, and sings her sweetest. The other birds come and listen, but the donkey shakes his head and says, "Your voice is very fair, but you should take lessons of the village cock." The moral may be thus rendered in English:
"What most the poet fears,
Is the critic with long ears."
Another fable tells how the swan, the crab, and the pike agreed to draw a load; but when the time came for the effort the pike dived into the water, the swan flew into the air, while the crab went backward after the manner of his kind. At the end Kriloff says,
"Which was right and which was wrong,
I really can't pretend to say;
But this I know, they labored long,
And the load stands still to the present day."
The fable of "The Two Boys" tells how two youths are trying to get at some nuts in a tree, but the limbs are beyond their reach. One suggests that he will climb up on the back of the other, and then can gather nuts for both; but as soon as he is seated among the limbs he falls to eating the nuts at his leisure, and throws only the shells to his companion. The moral is obvious, and Kriloff adds that he has known men thus raised to profitable positions who had not the grace to throw even the shells to those who had assisted them.
THE FOX AS A LAW GIVER.
In the fable of "The Pike," that voracious fish has been killing his inoffensive neighbors in the pond. He is taken in a tub of water and carried before the court for judgment. The court is composed of two donkeys and two goats, who grazed on the banks of the pond; and in order to make their decision an intelligent one, a skilful lawyer, the fox, is added to the court. People said that the fox was always plentifully supplied with fish, the pike giving him all he wanted.
The proof was overwhelming, and the judges decided that the pike must be hanged. "Oh, hanging's too good for him," said the fox, "give him something more severe; let the wretch be drowned."
"Certainly," exclaimed the judges; and thereupon the pike was thrown into the pond again.
ONE OF KRILOFF'S CHARACTERS.
In "The Fox and the Marmot," the fox complains to the marmot that he has been driven out of a poultry-yard which he had undertaken to protect. "It was a wretched place," says the fox; "I was awake all night; and even in the daytime I had hardly time to eat a mouthful. My health was suffering from my constant occupation, and, after all my trouble and fidelity, I am accused of stealing. What an infamous outrage! You know what I had to do there, and I ask if you could suspect me of the slightest act of dishonesty."
"Of course not," the marmot answers; "but I'm sorry to say that I've frequently seen feathers sticking in your mouth."
"Many an official," says Kriloff, "complains that his place is a hard one, and he is barely able to live upon his pay. Nevertheless in time he buys an estate and builds a house. You might have difficulty in proving that he accepted bribes or robbed the Government, but every one must admit that the feathers are quite visible around the gentleman's mouth."
Frank read this fable aloud, and then asked the Doctor if the moral would be understood by any office-holders in the United States. Doctor Bronson smiled as he answered that the fable was designed for Russia alone, but its circulation in New York and Washington could do no harm.
In the evening our friends went to one of the theatres to hear an opera that is a great favorite with the Russians. It is by Glinka, a Russian composer, and is entitled "Jizn za Tsarya" ("A Life for the Czar"). From "The Russians at Home" Fred learned that the opera was first produced in Moscow in 1843. The subject is the devotion of a Russian peasant to the Czar Michael, the first ruler of the Romanoff family. A band of Polish invaders are seeking the Czar with the intention of killing him; they meet a peasant, whom they question as to the Czar's place of concealment. Suspecting their design, he offers to lead them to the spot; they follow, and he leads them to the centre of a forest from which they cannot find a way of escape. After getting them there, he announces that he has saved the life of the Czar at the sacrifice of his own. The invaders kill him on the spot, but the life of the Czar is saved. The story is a true one, and to this day the people of the village where the loyal peasant, Ivan Soussanin, lived, are exempt from taxes, and a monument has been erected to the memory of the man. The opera which chronicles his devotion is given in three acts, and its melodies are all strictly national. Our friends were delighted with the performance, and both Frank and Fred declared that for days afterwards several of the airs in "Jizn za Tsarya" were literally "running through their heads."
Another evening they went to one of the cheaper theatres, where Russian comedies and farces were given. Of course they could not understand the dialogue, but were quite interested in the action of the piece, which was decidedly vigorous. Fred said he was reminded of certain local dramas in New York, where the actors receive a great deal of pounding and rough handling, and Frank thought a good actor in Russia ought to have the flexibility and agility of a circus performer.
As a type of the plays that amuse the lower order of Russians, the following is a fair representation:
A mujik makes love to his master's maid-servant, much against the old gentleman's will. One day the master enters the kitchen and finds the mujik there. The whole family is called, the bull-dog is let loose upon the lover and seizes him by the coat, while all the members of the household proceed to pound him with saucepans, broomsticks, tongs, and other utensils that can be used for hostile purposes.
CLOSING SCENE IN A RUSSIAN PLAY.
Round and round goes the frightened mujik. The dog clings to the mujik's coat, the master seizes the dog by the tail, the mistress clutches the master by the coat, and so the whole trio is dragged by the victim. The rest of the party continue their pounding, which they alternate by throwing missiles in the shape of plates, potatoes, and anything else the kitchen affords.
The audience is wild with delight, especially as the blows fall quite as often on the other characters as on the mujik. Finally the maid-servant comes to her lover's relief by throwing a bunch of fire-crackers among his enemies and blowing them up; thereupon the lover dashes through the door, carrying with him the adhering bull-dog, and the curtain falls amid rounds of applause.
KRILOFF'S STATUE IN THE SUMMER GARDEN, ST. PETERSBURG.