Russia in 1839 -Empire of the Czar: A Journey Through Eternal Russia

by Astolphe De Custine

  One day at Petersburg, in speaking to me of these works, the monarch said that they would beautify Moscow. I doubt it, was the answer of my thoughts : you talk as if you could ornament history. I know that the architecture of the old fortress does not conform to any rules of art: but it is the expression of the manners, acts, and ideas of a people and of an age that the world will never see again; it is, therefore, sacred as the irrevocable past. The seal of a power superior to man is there impressed — the power of time. But in Russia, authority spares nothing. The Emperor, who, I believe, saw in my face an expression of regret, left me, assuring me that his new palace would be much larger and better adapted to the wants of his court than the old one. Such a reason would suffice to answer any objection in a country like this in which I travel.

  In order that the court may be better lodged, they are going to include within the new palace, the little

  22ERROR OF THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS.

  church of the Saviour in the Garden. That venerable sanctuary, the most ancient, I believe, in the Kremlin and in Moscow, is then to disappear among the fine white walls, with which they will surround it, to the great regret of all lovers of antiquity and of the picturesque.

  What more provokes me is the mockery of respect with which the profanation is to be committed. They boast that the old monument will still be preserved ; in other words, it will not be destroyed, but only buried alive in a palace. Such is the way in which they here conciliate the official veneration for the past with the passion for "comfort," newly imported' from England. This manner of beautifying the national city of the Russians is altogether worthy of Peter the Great. TV^as it not sufficient that the founder of the new city should abandon the old one ? No ! —his successors must also demolish it, under the pretext of adorning it.

  The Emperor Nicholas might have acquired a glory of his own, instead of crawling аклш the road laid out by another. He had only to leave the Petersburg winter-palace when it had been burnt for him, and to return and fix the imperial residence in the Kremlin * as it stands ; building for the wants of his household and for the great fetes of the court, as many palaces, beyond the sacred walls, as he might think fit. By this return he would have repaired the fault of Peter the Great; who, instead of dragging his boyards into the theatre which he built for them on the Baltic, ought to have been able to civilise them in their own homes, by availing himself of the admirable elements which nature had placed within their reach and at his

  RESTORATION OF THE CAPITAL.23

  disposal — elements which he slighted with a contempt and with a su])erficiality of mind unworthy of a superior man, as, in certain respects, he was. At each step that the stranger takes on the road from Petersburg to Moscow, Russia, with its illimitable territory, its immense agricultural resources, expands and enlarges on the mind in a measure equal to that in which Peter the Great diminished and contracted it. Monomaclms, in the eleventh century, was a truly Russian prince; Peter I., in the eighteenth, was, in his false method of improving, nothing more than a tributary of foreigners, an imitator of the Dutch, a mimicker of civilisation, which he copied with the minuteness of a savage.

  If I were ever to see the throne of Russia majestically replaced upon its true basis, in the centre of the empire, at Moscow ; if St. Petersburg, its stuccoes and gilt work, left to crumble in the marsh whereon it is reared, were to become only what it should have always been, a simple naval port, built of granite, a magnificent entrepot of commerce between Russia and the West, as, on the other side, Kazan and Nijni serve as steps between Russia and the East; I should say that the Slavonian nation, triumphing by a just pride over the vanity of its leaders, sees at length its proper course, and deserves to attain the object of its ambition. Constantinople waits for it; there arts and riches will naturally flow, in recompense of the efforts of a people, called to be so much the more great and glorious as they have been long obscure and resigned. Let the mind picture to itself the grandeur of a capital seated in the centre of a plain many thousands of leagues in extent — a plain which stretches

  24RESTOKATIOX OF THE CAPITAL.

  from Persia to Lapland, from Astraehan and the Caspian to the Uralian Mountains and the White Sea with its port of Archangel ; from thence, bordering the Baltic, where stand Petersburg and Kron-stadt, the two arsenals of Moscow, it sweeps to the Vistula in the west, and from thence again to the Bosphorus, where concpicst awaits the coming of the Russians, where Constantinople will serve as another portal of communication between Moscow, the holy city of the Muscovites, and the world.

  The Emperor Nicholas, notwithstanding his practical sense and his profound sagacity, has not discerned the best means of accomplishing such an end. He comes now and then to promenade in the Kremlin; but this is not sufficient. He ought to have recog-nised the necessity of permanently fixing himself there : if he has recognised it, he has not had the energy to make such a sacrifice, — this is his error. Under Alexander, the Russians burnt Moscow to save the Empire : under Nicholas, God burnt the palace of Petersburg to advance the destinies of Russia; but Nicholas docs not answer to the call of Providence. Russia still waits !—Instead of rooting himself like a cedar in the only fitting soil, he disturbs and upturns that soil to build stables and a palace, in which he may be more conveniently lodged during his journeys ; and with this contemptible object in view, he forgets that every stone of the national fortress is, or ought to be, an object of veneration for all true Muscovites. It is not wise in him — a sovereign whose authority depends upon the superstitious sentiments of his people — to shake, by a sacrilege, the respect of the Muscovites for the only truly

  TASTE OF CATHERINE II.25

  national monument which they possess. The Kremlin is the work of the Russian genius;. but that irregular, picturesque marvel is at length condemned to pass under the yoke of modern art : it is the taste of Catherine II., which still reigns in Russia.

  That woman, who, notwithstanding the grasp of her mind, knew nothing of the arts or of poetry, not content with having covered the empire with shapeless monuments copied from the models of antiquity, left behind her a plan for rendering the facade of the Kremlin more regular ; and here behold her grandson, in part executing the monstrous project : flat white surfaces, stiff lines, and right angles replace the recesses and projections, the slopes and terraces, where lights and shadows formerly played; where the eye was agreeably bewildered, and the imagination excited by external staircases, walls encrusted with coloured arabesques, and palaees of painted Delft ware. Let them be demolished, let them be concealed; —are they not going to be replaced by smooth white walls, well-squared windows, and ceremonious portals? Xo ! Peter the Great is not dead: the Asiatics whom he enrolled and drilled, travellers and imitators, like him, of the Europe which, while continuing to copy, they affect to disdain, pursue their work of barbarism, miscalled civilisation, deceived by the maxims of a master who adopted uniformity for his motto, and the uniform for his standard.

  There are, then, neither artists nor architects in Russia: all who preserve any sentiment of the beautiful 0u<2;ht to throw themselves at the feet of the emperor, and implore him to spare his Kremlin.

  VOL, III.С

  26DESECRATION OF THE KREMLIN.

  What the enemy could not do, the emperor is accomplishing. He is destroying the holy ramparts of which the miners of Buonaparte could scarcely disturb a stone.

  And I, who am come to the Kremlin to see this historical wonder thus spoiled, dare not raise one cry against the perpetration of the impious work — dare not make one appeal, in the name of history, the arts, and good taste, in favour of these old monuments condemned to make room for the abortive conceptions of modern architecture. I protest, but it is very secretly, against this wrong inflicted upon a nation, upon history and good taste ; and if a few of the most intelligent and informed of the men I meet here dare to listen to me, all the answer that they venture to give is, that " the emperor wishes his new residence to be more suitable than th
e old one : of what, then, do you complain ? " (suitable* is the sacramental word of Russian despotism.) " He has commanded that it should be rebuilt on the very spot, even, where stood the palace of his ancestors: he will have changed nothing;."

  I am, being a stranger, prudent, and answer nothing to such reasoning: but were I a Russian, I would defend, stone by stone, the ancient Avails and enchanted towers of the fortress of the Ivans; I would almost prefer the dungeon under the Xeva, or exile, to the shame of remaining a mute accomplice in this imperial vandalism. The martyr of good taste might yet obtain an honourable place below the martyr of faith: the arts are a religion,—a religion which, in

  * convenable.

  VIEW FROM THE KREMLIN.27

  our days, is not the least powerful, nor the least revered.

  The view obtained from the height of the terrace of the Kremlin is magnificent, more especially at evening. I shall often return to view the setting sun from the foot of the steeple of John the Great, the loftiest, I believe, in Moscow.

  The plantations with which for some years past the fortress has been nearly surrounded, form an ornament characterised by much good taste. They beautify the modern merchant-city, and at the same time form a fringe for the Alcazar of the old Russians. The trees also add to the picturesque effect of the ancient ramparts. There are vast spaces in the thickness of the walls of this castle of romance, where are seen staircases, the boldness and height of which make one dizzy. The eye of fancy may discern there an entire population of the dead, descending with gentle steps, wandering over the platforms, or leaning on the balustrades of the old towers ; from whence they cast upon the world the cold, disdainful eye of death. The more I contemplate these irregular masses, infinite in the variety of their forms, the more I admire the Biblical architecture and the poetical inhabitants.

  In the midst of the promenade which surrounds the ramparts, there is an archway which I have already noticed, but wliich continues to astonish me each time I see it. You leave a city, the surface of whose soil is very uneven, a city all studded with towers rising to the clouds, and plunge into a dark covered way, in which you ascend a long steep hill; on arriving at its summit, you again find yourself under the open heaven, where you look down upon С 2

  2K

  RECOLLECTIONS OF THE

  another part of the city, hitherto unseen, which stretches to the border of a river, half dried up by the summer heats: this river is the Moskowa. When the last rays of the sun are about to withdraw, the water in its bed may be seen coloured with the tint of fire. This natural mirror, embosomed amid graceful hills, is very striking. Many of the distant buildings on those hills, especially the Hospital for Foundlings, are large as a city : they consist of benevolent institutions, schools, and religious foundations* The Moskowa, with its stone bridge, the convents, with their innumerable metal domes, which represent above the holy city the colossal images of priests unceasingly at prayer, the softened peal of the bells, whose sound is peculiarly harmonious in this land, the gentle murmur and motion of a calm, yet numerous crowd, continually animated, but never agitated by the silent and rapid transit of horses and carriages, the number of which is as great at Moscow as at Pctersburgh, — all these things will give an idea of the effect of a setting sun in this old capital. Every snmmer evening they make Moscow unlike any other city in the world: it is neither Europe noi Asia; it is Russia — and it is Russia's heart. Beyond the undulations of the city, above its illumined roofs and gilded dust, may be seen the Bird Mountain. It was from the summit of that hill that our soldiers first beheld Moscow. What a recollection for a Frenchman !

  In surveying with the eye all the quarters of this large city, I sought in vain for some traces of the fire which awoke Europe and dethroned Buonaparte. Concµieror and commander when he entered Mos-

  FRENCH ARMY.

  2 Ü

  cow, he left the holy city of the Russians a fugitive, thenceforward condemned to mistrust Fortune, whose inconstancy he once imagined he had vanquished.

  The words cited by the Abbe de Pradt fill up, it appears to me, the measure of cruelty that may enter into the inordinate ambition of a soldier. " There is but one step between the sublime and the ridiculous," cried the hero, when at Warsaw, and without an army. And why did he say this ? In that solemn moment he thought only of the figure that he was going to make in the article of a newspaper ! The corpses of the men who perished for him were surely anything but ridiculous! The colossal vanity of the Emperor Napoleon could only be struck by the jeers with which some might hail a disaster, that will nevertheless make the nations tremble for ages, and the simple recollection of which has, for thirty years, made war impossible to Europe. To be occupied with self in so solemn a moment was to make vanity criminal. The sentence quoted by the Archbishop of Malines is the heart-cry of an egotist, who for one hour was master of the world, but could never be master of himself. That trait of inhumanity, displayed at such a moment, will be noted by history when it shall have had time to become equitable.

  I could have wished to summon before me the imagery and decoration of this epic scene, this most astonishing event of modern times; but all here strive to bury great and stirring deeds in oblivion. A nation of slaves dreads its own heroism; the people, naturally and necessarily discreet, seek only for the shelter of insignificance. I have not met one с 3

  30

  ROSTOPCHIN.

  person who was willing to answer my questions on the trait of patriotic devotion that is most glorious in the history of Russia.

  In speaking to strangers of that event, I do not feel ray national pride humiliated. When I think of the cost at which this people recovered its independence, I am proud, even though seated on the ashes of our soldiers. The defence proves the daring of the attack: history will say that the one was equally great with the other; but, as her truth is incorruptible, she will add, that the defence was the most just. It is for Napoleon to answer to this. France was at that time in the hands of a single man: she acted, but she no longer thought; she was drunk with glory, as the Russians are with obedience: it is those who think for an entire people who are responsible for events.

  llostopchin, after having passed years at Paris, where he had even established his family, took a fancy to return to his own country. But dreading the patriotic glory which, rightly or wrongly, attached to his name, he caused his appearance before the Emperor Alexander to be preceded by a pamphlet, published purely with the view of proving that the fire of Moscow was accidental, and not the result of a concerted plan. Thus, Rostopchin used every endeavour to clear himself in Russia from the heroism of which he was accused by Егггоре, — astonished at the greatness, and, after his pamphlet, at the wretchedness of this man, born to serve a better government. Concealing and denying his glorious deed, he bitterly complained of the new species of calumny by which they endeavoured to make of an

  ROSTOPCIIIN.

  51

  obscure general, a liberator of his country! The Emperor Alexander, on his part, never eeased to repeat, that he had not given any order for the burning of his capital.

  This contest of mediocrity is characteristic. AVe can never cease to wonder at the sublimity of the drama, when Ave think of the actors by whom it was played. Never have performers given themselves greater trouble to persuade the spectators that they knew nothing of their parts.

  In reading Rostopchin, I took him at his word; for I said to myself—a man who is so afraid of seeming great, cannot be great. In a case like this, Ave must believe people literally: false modesty is sincere in spite of itself; it is a brevet of littleness; for men really superior affect nothing; they do justice to themselves in their OAvn minds; and when forced to speak of themselves openly, they do so, without pride, but also without pretended humility. It is long since I read this singular pamphlet, but I have never forgotten it, for it impressed me at the time with the spirit of the Russian government and people.

  It Avas already night before I left the Krem
lin. The colours of the enormous edifices of Moscoav, and of the distant hills, Avere softly sobered; the silence of night descended upon the city. The winding's of the MoskoAva were no longer traced in brilliant lines, the flames of western day were extinguished; but the grandeur of the spot, and all the memories which it awoke, still stirred within my heart. I fancied I saAv the shade of Ivan IV.— Ivan the Terrible — standing upon the loftiest tower of his С 4

  32

  REVIEW OF THE

  deserted palace, and, aided by his sister and his friend, Elizabeth of England, endeavouring to overwhelm Napoleon in a sea of blood! These phantoms seemed to glory in the fall of the giant, who, by an award of fate, was destined, in falling, to leave his two enemies more powerful than he had found them.

  Eno·bnd and Russia have cause to return thanks to Buonaparte — nor do they refuse to do so. Such was not for France the result of the reign of Louis XIV. The hatred of Europe has survived, during the period of a century and a half, the death of the Great King, whilst the Great Captain has been deified since his fall: and even his gaolers do not fear to unite their discordant voices with the concert of praises which resounds from all parts of Europe, — an historical phenomenon, which I think stands alone in the annals of the world, and which can only be explained by the sph`it of opposition that now reio`ns anions; all the civilised nations. The reign, however, of that spirit is drawing to its close. We may, therefore, hope soon to read works in which Buonaparte shall be estimated by his own intrinsic merits or demerits, and without malignant allusions to the reigning power in France or elsewhere.