The architecture exhibited in different parts of the Kremlin, in its palaces and churches, is like nothing seen in Europe. It is difficult to say from what country it has been principally derived. The architects were generally Italians; but the style is Tartarian, Indian, Chinese, and Gothic. Here a pagoda, there an arcade! In some parts richness and even elegance; in others, barbarity and decay. Taken altogether, it is a jumble of magnificence and ruin. Old buildings repaired and modern structures not completed. Half-open vaults and mouldering walls and empty caves, amidst whitewashed brick buildings and towers and churches, with glittering, gilded, or painted domes. In the midst of it some devotees are seen entering a little, mean structure, more like a stable than a church. This, they tell you, is the first place of Christian worship erected in Moscow....
The view of Moscow from the terrace in the Kremlin, near the spot where the artillery is preserved, would afford a fine subject for a panorama. The number of magnificent buildings, the domes, the towers, the spires, which fill all the prospect, make it, perhaps, the most novel and interesting sight in Europe. All the wretched hovels and miserable wooden buildings, which appear in passing through the streets, are lost in the vast assemblage of magnificent edifices, among which the Foundling Hospital is particularly conspicuous. Below the walls of the Kremlin the Moscva, already become a river of importance, is seen flowing towards the Volga. The new promenade forming on its banks, immediately below the fortress, is a superb work, and promises to rival the famous quay at Petersburg.
[ A RUSSIAN SLEIGH JOURNEY.]
FREDERICK BURNABY.
[Those who would like to obtain a lively picture of life in Russia and on the Asiatic steppes should read Captain Burnaby’s “A Ride to Khiva” (1875), which is one of the most sprightly works of travel extant. We have elsewhere made a selection illustrative of the traveller’s adventures in Asia, and present here some of his experiences in Russia. We take him up at the railroad terminus at Sizeran, whence he proposes to make his way by sleigh to Orenburg, via Samara.]
“You had better put on plenty of clothes,” was the friendly caution I received from my companion as I entered the dressing-room, “for the thermometer marks twenty degrees below zero, Reaumur, and there is a wind.”
People in this country who have never experienced a Russian winter have little idea of the difference even a slight breeze makes when the mercury stands low in the thermometer, for the wind then cuts through you, furs and all, and penetrates to the very bones. Determined to be on my guard against the frost, I dressed myself, as I thought, as warmly as possible, and so as to be utterly impervious to the elements.
First came three pairs of the thickest stockings, drawn high up above the knee, and over them a pair of fur-lined low shoes, which in their turn were inserted into leather galoches, my limbs being finally deposited in a pair of enormous cloth boots, the latter reaching up to the thigh. Previously I had put on some extra thick drawers and a pair of trousers, the astonishment of the foreman of Messrs. Kino’s establishment, “Lord love you, sir,” being his remark when I tried them on, “no cold could get through them trousers, anyhow.”
I must confess that I rather chuckled as my legs assumed herculean proportions, and I thought that I should have a good laugh at the wind, no matter how cutting it might be; but Æolus had the laugh on his side before the journey was over. A heavy flannel undershirt, and shirt covered by a thick wadded waistcoat and coat, encased my body, which was further enveloped in a huge shuba, or fur pelisse, reaching to the heels, while my head was protected by a fur cap and vashlik, a sort of cloth head-piece of a conical shape, made to cover the cap, and having two long ends which tie round the throat.