In conversing with these men, various in rank and condition, he never appears to be courting popularity or to be ingeniously fencing with subjects of which he is ignorant. On the contrary, he makes it manifest that he is talking on a subject because it interests him and because he is thoroughly acquainted with it. And any man who is an expert at any trade or profession cannot converse with him for a few moments without realizing that he knows what he is talking about and that his knowledge is the result of practical experience. He has a hatred of baseless theory, a contempt for convention, and an insatiable passion for fact and reality. He has no respect for inherited rank or for the glory of lineage; merit is to him the only rank. He will at a moment’s notice, should he think it necessary, degrade a nobleman into a peasant or make a pastry-cook into a Minister. Indeed he has done this in the case of Prince Menzikoff.
It is useless to pretend that he is as popular with the Russian people as he is with foreigners. Many of the ignorant peasantry regard him as the Antichrist, and they worship his utterly worthless son, the Czarevitch, because they consider that he respects and embodies their ancient customs. In spite of this there is no danger that what the Czar has accomplished will be overturned in the immediate future. He has done something which cannot be undone, like putting salt into a pudding. Moreover, his genius and his versatility, his extraordinarily varied talents, are based on a soundness of judgement, a level-headedness and a sanity of instinct which, while they lead him to do things which are seemingly impossible, justify him, in that success is achieved, and prevent him from undertaking what, owing either to the backwardness of the population or the temper of popular feeling, would in reality and of necessity end in failure. He knows exactly where to draw the line. In a speech he made to the Senate some time ago he said that the ancient seat of all sciences was Greece, whence they were expelled and dispersed over Europe and hindered from penetrating further than into Poland. The transmigration of sciences was like the circulation of the blood, and he prognosticated that they would some time or other quit their abode in Western Europe and settle for some centuries in Russia, and afterwards perhaps return to their original home in Greece. In the meantime he recommended to their practice the Latin saying ora et labora.
Now what the Czar has already achieved is that he has made such a circulation possible. He has broken down the barrier which was between Russia and Western Europe, and let in to the great veins of his country a new drop of blood which nothing can either expel or destroy.
“HAMLET” AND DR. DODD
Letter from a Frenchman, translated from the French
London, June 28, 1777.
Sir,
It is now three days since I arrived in London. I am still bewildered by the noise of the carriages and overwhelmed by an admiration which any foreigner must feel when for the first time he beholds the streets, the lanterns, and the pavements of London. Nothing could be better than these three things. The streets are wide; the manner in which they are lit up at night, and the commodity of the ways made for foot-passengers so that they may be safe from vehicles in the most dangerous thoroughfares are astonishing. There is nothing to compare with it in Europe. It is only in London that such thoroughfares and such superb nightly illumination are to be found, and where so careful an attention is paid to the safety of the public. And all this decoration, and indeed half of the city, are not more than twenty years old!
I have already become an adopted Englishman. I drink my tea twice a day, I eat my “tostes” well buttered. I read my Gazette scrupulously every morning and every evening. I have been waiting with impatience for one of those plays to be performed which have obtained universal applause, such as those, for instance, of the “divine” Shakespeare. I have at last been rewarded. Yesterday I read on the playbill (affiche), “Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.” So I said to my sister, who is with me, “We must go and see ‘Hamlet.’” We set out, therefore, for Covent Garden.
We had intended to take tickets for the boxes, but there were none left. We tried to get into the first gallery (our premières loges), but there were no seats to be had there. I proposed then that we should try the upper gallery, but we were advised not to. There remained the pit. This was also full. I remained standing, and my sister obtained half a seat at the end of a crowded bench. It was all most brilliant. The house, which is square and partly gray and partly gilded, without harmony of ornament or design, is not imposing in itself. But the crowd of spectators, the quantity of lights, the rapt attention of the coloured crowd, make a striking ensemble.