[Illustration: THE KREMLIN. ]

 Édition d'Élite

 Historical Tales

 The Romance of Reality

 By

 CHARLES MORRIS

 _Author of "Half-Hours with the Best American Authors, " "Tales from the Dramatists, " etc. _

 IN FIFTEEN VOLUMES

 Volume VIII

 Russian

 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

 PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON

 Copyright, 1898, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. Copyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. Copyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 

_CONTENTS. _

 PAGE

 THE ANCIENT SCYTHIANS 5

 OLEG THE VARANGIAN 14

 THE VENGEANCE OF QUEEN OLGA 21

 VLADIMIR THE GREAT 29

 THE LAWGIVER OF RUSSIA 41

 THE YOKE OF THE TARTARS 49

 THE VICTORY OF THE DON 55

 IVAN, THE FIRST OF THE CZARS 60

 THE FALL OF NOVGOROD THE GREAT 64

 IVAN THE TERRIBLE 74

 THE CONQUEST OF SIBERIA 80

 THE MACBETH OF RUSSIA 85

 THE ERA OF THE IMPOSTORS 101

 THE BOOKS OF ANCESTRY 110

 BOYHOOD OF PETER THE GREAT 114

 CARPENTER PETER OF ZAANDAM 123

 THE FALL OF THE STRELITZ 132

 THE CRUSADE AGAINST BEARDS AND CLOAKS 142

 MAZEPPA, THE COSSACK CHIEF 149

 A WINDOW OPEN TO EUROPE 155

 FROM THE HOVEL TO THE THRONE 165

 BUFFOONERIES OF THE RUSSIAN COURT 174

 HOW A WOMAN DETHRONED A MAN 184

 A STRUGGLE FOR A THRONE 195

 THE FLIGHT OF THE KALMUCKS 202

 A MAGICAL TRANSFORMATION SCENE 220

 KOSCIUSKO AND THE FALL OF POLAND 226

 SUWARROW THE UNCONQUERABLE 231

 THE RETREAT OF NAPOLEON'S GRAND ARMY 241

 THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF POLAND 248

 SCHAMYL, THE HERO OF CIRCASSIA 258

 THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE 267

 THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL 276

 AT THE GATES OF CONSTANTINOPLE 284

 THE NIHILISTS AND THEIR WORK 293

 THE ADVANCE OF RUSSIA IN ASIA 300

 THE RAILROAD IN TURKESTAN 311

 AN ESCAPE FROM THE MINES OF SIBERIA 319

 THE SEA FIGHT IN THE WATERS OF JAPAN 329

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

 RUSSIAN. 

 PAGE

 THE KREMLIN _Frontispiece. _

 CATHEDRAL AT OSTANKINO, NEAR MOSCOW 40

 GENERAL VIEW OF MOSCOW 55

 CHURCH AND TOWER OF IVAN THE GREAT 78

 KIAKHTA, SIBERIA 84

 CHURCH OF THE ASSUMPTION, MOSCOW, IN WHICH THE CZAR IS CROWNED 109

 ALEXANDER III. , CZAR OF RUSSIA 122

 DINING-ROOM IN THE PALACE OF PETER THE GREAT, MOSCOW 136

 PETER THE GREAT 142

 ST. PETERSBURG HARBOR, NEVA RIVER 156

 SLEIGHING IN RUSSIA 160

 A RUSSIAN DROSKY 189

 THE CITY OF KASAN 199

 SCENE ON A RUSSIAN FARM 223

 RUSSIAN PEASANTS 249

 MOUNT ST. PETER, CRIMEA 267

 THE WALLS OF CONSTANTINOPLE 290

 THE ARREST OF A NIHILIST 297

 DOWAGER CZARINA OF RUSSIA 300

 GROUP OF SIBERIANS 320

_THE ANCIENT SCYTHIANS. _

Far over the eastern half of Europe extends a vast and mighty plain, spreading thousands of miles to the north and south, to the east andwest, in the north a land of forests, in the south and east a region oftreeless levels. Here stretches the Black Land, whose deep dark soil isfit for endless harvests; here are the arable steppes, a vast fertileprairie land, and here again the barren steppes, fit only for wanderingherds and the tents of nomad shepherds. Across this great plain, in alldirections, flow myriads of meandering streams, many of them swellinginto noble rivers, whose waters find their outlet in great seas. Over itblow the biting winds of the Arctic zone, chaining its waters in fettersof ice for half the year. On it in summer shine warm suns, in whoseenlivening rays life flows full again. 

Such is the land with which we have to deal, Russia, the seeding-placeof nations, the home of restless tribes. Here the vast level of NorthernAsia spreads like a sea over half of Europe, following the lowlandsbetween the Urals and the Caspian Sea. Over these broad plains thefierce horsemen of the East long found an easy pathway to the rich anddoomed cities of the West. Russia was playing its part in the granddrama of the nations in far-off days when such a land was hardly knownto exist. 

Have any of my readers ever from a hill-top looked out over a broad, low-lying meadow-land filled with morning mist, a dense white shroudunder which everything lay hidden, all life and movement lost to view?In such a scene, as the mist thins under the rays of the rising sun, vague forms at first dimly appear, magnified and monstrous in theiroutlines, the shadows of a buried wonderland. Then, as the mist slowlylifts, like a great white curtain, living and moving objects appearbelow, still of strange outlines and unnatural dimensions. Finally, asif by the sweep of an enchanter's wand, the mists vanish, the land liesclear under the solar rays, and we perceive that these seeming monstersand giants are but the familiar forms which we know so well, those ofhouses and trees, men and their herds, actively stirring beneath us, clearly revealed as the things of every day. 

It is thus that the land of Russia appears to us when the mists ofprehistoric time first begin to lift. Half-formed figures appear, rising, vanishing, showing large through the vapor; stirring, interwoven, endlessly coming and going; a phantasmagoria which it isimpossible more than half to understand. At that early date the greatRussian plain seems to have been the home of unnumbered tribes of variedrace and origin, made up of men doubtless full of hopes and aspirationslike ourselves, yet whose story we fail to read on the blurred page ofhistory, and concerning whom we must rest content with knowing a few ofthe names. 

Yet progressive civilizations had long existed in the countries to thesouth, Egypt and Assyria, Greece and Persia. History was actively beingmade there, but it had not penetrated the mist-laden North. The Greeksfounded colonies on the northern shores of the Black Sea, but theytroubled themselves little about the seething tribes with whom they camethere into contact. The land they called Scythia, and its peopleScythians, but the latter were scarcely known until about 500 B. C. , whenDarius, the great Persian king, crossed the Danube and invaded theircountry. He found life there in abundance, and more warlike activitythan he relished, for the fierce nomads drove him and his army in terrorfrom their soil, and only fortune and a bridge of boats saved them fromperishing. 

It was this event that first gave the people of old Russia a place onthe page of history. Herodotus, the charming old historian andstory-teller, wrote down for us all he could learn about them, thoughwhat he says has probably as much fancy in it as fact. 

We are told that these broad levels were formerly inhabited by a peoplecalled the Cimmerians, who were driven out by the Scythians and went--itis hard to tell whither. A shadow of their name survives in the Crimea, and some believe that they were the ancestors of the Cymri, the Celts ofthe West. 

The Scythians, who thus came into history like a cloud of war, made thegod of war their chief deity. The temples which they built to this deitywere of the simplest, being great heaps of fagots, which were added toevery year as they rotted away under the rains. Into the top of theheap was thrust an ancient iron sword as the emblem of the god. To thisgrim symbol more victims were sacrificed than to all the other deities;not only cattle and horses, but prisoners taken in battle, of whom oneout of every hundred died to honor the god, their blood being caught invessels and poured on the sword. 

A people with a worship like this must have been savage in grain. Toprove their prowess in war they cut off the heads of the slain andcarried them to the king. Like the Indians of the West, they scalpedtheir enemies. These scalps, softened by treatment, they used as napkinsat their meals, and even sewed them together to make cloaks. Here was arefinement in barbarity undreamed of by the Indians. 

These were not their only savage customs. They drank the blood of thefirst enemy killed by them in battle, and at their high feasts useddrinking-cups made from the skulls of their foes. When a chief diedcruelty was given free vent. The slaves and horses of the dead chiefwere slain at his grave, and placed upright like a circle of horsemenaround the royal tomb, being impaled on sharp timbers to keep them in anupright position. 

Tribes with habits like these have no history. There is nothing in theircareers worth the telling, and no one to tell it if there were. Theirorigin, manners, and customs may be of interest, but not theirintertribal quarrels. 

Herodotus tells us of others besides the Scythians. There were theMelanchlainai, who dressed only in black; the Neuri, who once a yearchanged into wolves; the Agathyrei, who took pleasure in trinkets ofgold; the Sauromati, children of the Amazons, or women warriors; theArgippei, bald-headed and snub-nosed from their birth; the Issedones, who feasted on the dead bodies of their parents; the Arimaspians, aone-eyed race; the Gryphons, guardians of great hoards of gold; theHyperboreans, in whose land white feathers (snow-flakes?) fell all theyear round from the skies. 

Such is the mixture of fact and fable which Herodotus learned from thetraders and travellers of Greece. We know nothing of these tribes butthe names. Their ancestors may have dwelt for thousands of years on theRussian plains; their descendants may still make up part of the greatRussian people and retain some of their old-time habits and customs; butof their doings history takes no account. 

The Scythians, who occupied the south of Russia, came into contact withthe Greek trading colonies north of the Black Sea, and gained from themsome little veneer of civilization. They aided the Greeks in theircommerce, took part in their caravans to the north and east, and spentsome portion of the profits of their peaceful labor in objects of artmade for them by Greek artists. 

This we know, for some of these objects still exist. Jewels owned by theancient Scythians may be seen to-day in Russian museums. Chief inimportance among these relics are two vases of wonderful interest keptin the museum of the Hermitage, at St. Petersburg. These are the silvervase of Nicopol and the golden vase of Kertch, both probably as old asthe days of Herodotus. These vases speak with history. On the silvervase we may see the faces and forms of the ancient Scythians, men withlong hair and beards and large features. They resemble in dress andaspect the people who now dwell in the same country, and they are shownin the act of breaking in and bridling their horses, just as theirdescendants do to-day. Progress has had no place on these broad plains. There life stands still. 

On the golden vase appear figures who wear pointed caps and dressesornamented in the Asiatic fashion, while in their hands are bows ofstrange shape. But their features are those of men of Aryan descent, andin them we seem to see the far-off progenitors of the modern Russians. 

Herodotus, in his chatty fashion, tells us various problematical storiesof the Scythians, premising that he does not believe them all himself. Atradition with them was that they were the youngest of all nations, being descended from Targitaus, one of the numerous sons of Jove. Thethree children of Targitaus for a time ruled the land, but their jointrule was changed by a prodigy. There fell from the skies four implementsof gold, --a plough, a yoke, a battle-axe, and a drinking-cup. The oldestbrother hastened eagerly to seize this treasure, but it burst into flameat his approach. The second then made the attempt, but was in his turndriven back by the scorching flames. But on the approach of the youngestthe flames vanished, the gold grew cool, and he was enabled to takepossession of the heaven-given implements. His elders then withdrew fromthe throne, warned by this sign from the gods, and left him sole ruler. The story proceeds that the royal gold was guarded with the greatestcare, yearly sacrifices being made in its honor. If its guardian fellasleep in the open air during the sacrifices he was doomed to die withinthe year. But as reward for the faithful keeping of his trust hereceived as much land as he could ride round on horseback in a day. 

The old historian further tells us that the Scythian warriors invadedthe kingdom of Media, which they conquered and held for twenty-eightyears. During this long absence strange events were taking place athome. They had held many slaves, whom it was their custom to blind, asthey used them only to stir the milk in the great pot in which koumiss, their favorite beverage, was made. 

The wives of the absent warriors, after years of waiting, gave up allhopes of their return and married the blind slaves; and while themasters tarried in Media the children of their slaves grew to manhood. 

The time at length came when the warriors, filled with home-sickness, left the subject realm to seek their native plains. As they marchedonward they found themselves stopped by a great dike, dug from theTauric Mountains to Lake Mćotis, behind which stood a host of youthfulwarriors. They were the children of the slaves, who were determined tokeep the land for themselves. Many battles were fought, but the youngmen held their own bravely, and the warriors were in despair. 

Then one of them cried to his fellows, --

"What foolish thing are we doing, Scythians? These men are our slaves, and every one of them that falls is a loss to us; while each of us thatfalls reduces our number. Take my advice, lay aside spear and bow, andlet each man take his horsewhip and go boldly up to them. So long asthey see us with arms in our hands they fancy that they are our equalsand fight us bravely. But let them see us with only whips, and they willremember that they are slaves and flee like dogs from before our faces. "

It happened as he said. As the Scythians approached with their whips theyouths were so astounded that they forgot to fight, and ran away intrembling terror. And so the warriors came home, and the slaves were putto making koumiss again. 

These fabulous stories of the early people of Russia may be followed byan account of their funeral customs, left for us by an Arabian writerwho visited their land in the ninth century. He tells us that for tendays after the death of one of their great men his friends bewailed him, showing the depth of their grief by getting drunk on koumiss over hiscorpse. 

Then the men-servants were asked which of them would be buried with hismaster. The one that consented was instantly seized and strangled. Thesame question was put to the women, one of whom was sure to accept. There may have been some rare future reward offered for death in such acause. The willing victim was bathed, adorned, and treated like aprincess, and did nothing but drink and sing while the obsequies lasted. 

On the day fixed for the end of the ceremonies, the dead man was laid ina boat, with part of his arms and garments. His favorite horse was slainand laid in the boat, and with it the corpse of the man-servant. Thenthe young girl was led up. She took off her jewels, a glass of kvass wasput in her hand, and she sang a farewell song. 

"All at once, " says the writer, "the old woman who accompanied her, andwhom they called the angel of death, bade her to drink quickly, and toenter into the cabin of the boat, where lay the dead body of her master. At these words she changed color, and as she made some difficulty aboutentering, the old woman seized her by the hair, dragged her in, andentered with her. The men immediately began to beat their shields withclubs to prevent the other girls from hearing the cries of theircompanion, which might prevent them one day dying for their master. "

The boat was then set on fire, and served as a funeral pile, in whichliving and dead alike were consumed. 

_OLEG THE VARANGIAN. _

For ages and ages, none can say how many, the great plain of Russiaexisted as a nursery of tribes, some wandering with their herds, somedwelling in villages and tilling their fields, but all warlike and allbarbarians. And over this plain at intervals swept conquering hordesfrom Asia, the terrible Huns, the devastating Avars, and others ofvaried names. But as yet the Russia we know did not exist, and its veryname had never been heard. 

As time went on, the people in the centre and north of the countrybecame peaceful and prosperous, since the invaders did not cross theirborders, and a great and wealthy city arose, whose commerce in timeextended on the east as far as Persia and India, on the south toConstantinople, and on the west far through the Baltic Sea. Thoughseated in Russia, still largely a land of barbarous tribes, Novgorodbecame one of the powerful cities of the earth, making its strength feltfar and wide, placing the tribes as far as the Ural Mountains undertribute, and growing so strong and warlike that it became a commonsaying among the people, "Who can oppose God and Novgorod the Great?"

But trouble arose for Novgorod. Its chief trade lay through the BalticSea, and here its ships met those terrible Scandinavian pirates who werethen the ocean's lords. Among these bold rovers were the Danes whodescended on England, the Normans who won a new home in France, thedaring voyagers who discovered Iceland and Greenland, and those whosailed up the Mediterranean as far as Constantinople, conqueringkingdoms as they went. 

To some of these Scandinavians the merchants of Novgorod turned for aidagainst the others. Bands of them had made their way into Russia andsettled on the eastern shores of the Baltic. To these the Novgorodiansappealed in their trouble, and in the year 862 asked three Varangianbrothers, Rurik, Sinaf, and Truvor, to come to their aid. The warlikebrothers did so, seated themselves on the frontier of the republic ofNovgorod, drove off its foes--and became its foes themselves. The peopleof Novgorod, finding their trade at the mercy of their allies, submittedto their power, and in 864 invited Rurik to become their king. His twobrothers had meantime died. 

Thus it was that the Russian empire began, for the Varangians came froma country called Ross, from which their new realm gained the name ofRussia. 

Rurik took the title of Grand Prince, made his principal followers lordsof the cities of his new realm, and the republic of Novgorod came to anend in form, though not in spirit. It is interesting to note at thispoint that Russia, which began as a republic, has ended as one of themost absolute of monarchies. The first step in its subjection was takenwhen Novgorod invited Rurik the Varangian to be its prince; the othersteps came later, one by one. 

For fifteen years Rurik remained lord of Novgorod, and then died andleft his four-year-old son Igor as his heir, with Oleg, his kinsman, asregent of the realm. It is the story of Oleg, as told by Nestor, thegossipy old Russian chronicler, that we propose here to tell, but itseemed useful to precede it by an account of how the Russian empire cameinto existence. 

Oleg was a man of his period, a barbarian and a soldier born; brave, crafty, adventurous, faithful to Igor, his ward, cruel and treacherousto others. Under his rule the Russian dominions rapidly and widelyincreased. 

At an earlier date two Varangians, Askhold and Dir by name, had madetheir way far to the south, where they became masters of the city ofKief. They even dared to attack Constantinople, but were driven backfrom that great stronghold of the South. 

It by no means pleased Oleg to find this powerful kingdom founded in theland which he had set out to subdue. He determined that Kief should behis, and in 882 made his way to its vicinity. But it was easier to reachthan to take. Its rulers were brave, their Varangian followers werecourageous, the city was strong. Oleg, doubting his power to win it byforce of arms, determined to try what could be done by stratagem andtreachery. 

Leaving his army, and taking Igor with him, he floated down the Dnieperwith a few boats, in which a number of armed men were hidden, and atlength landed near the ancient city of Kief, which stood on high groundnear the river. Placing his warriors in ambush, he sent a messenger toAskhold and Dir, with the statement that a party of Varangian merchants, whom the prince of Novgorod had sent to Greece, had just landed, anddesired to see them as friends and men of their own race. 

Those were simple times, in which even the rulers of cities did not puton any show of state. On the contrary, the two princes at once left thecity and went alone to meet the false merchants. They had no soonerarrived than Oleg threw off his mask. His followers sprang from theirambush, arms in hand. 

"You are neither princes nor of princely birth, " he cried; "but I am aprince, and this is the son of Rurik. "

And at a sign from his hand Askhold and Dir were laid dead at his feet. 

By this act of base treachery Oleg became the master of Kief. No one inthe city ventured to resist the strong army which he quickly brought up, and the metropolis of the south opened its gates to the man who hadwrought murder under the guise of war. It is not likely, though, thatOleg sought to justify his act on any grounds. In those barbarous days, when might made right, murder was too much an every-day matter to bedeeply considered by any one. 

Oleg was filled with admiration of the city he had won. "Let Kief be themother of all the Russian cities!" he exclaimed. And such it became, forhe made it his capital, and for three centuries it remained the capitalcity of the Russian realm. 

What he principally admired it for was its nearness to Constantinople, the capital of the great empire of the East, on which, like the formerlords of Kief, he looked with greedy and envious eyes. 

For long centuries past Greece and the other countries of the South hadpaid little heed to the dwellers on the Russian plains, of whosescattered tribes they had no fear. But with the coming of theVarangians, the conquest of the tribes, and the founding of awide-spread empire, a different state of affairs began, and from thatday to this Constantinople has found the people of the steppes its mostdangerous and persistent foes. 

Oleg was not long in making the Greek empire feel his heavy hand. Filling the minds of his followers and subjects with his own thirst forblood and plunder, he set out with an army of eighty thousand men, intwo thousand barks, passed the cataracts of the Borysthenes, crossed theBlack Sea, murdered the subjects of the empire in hosts, and, as thechronicles say, sailed overland with all sails set to the port ofConstantinople itself. What he probably did was to have his vesselstaken over a neck of land on wheels or rollers. 

Here he threw the imperial city into mortal terror, fixed his shield onthe very gate of Constantinople, and forced the emperor to buy him offat the price of an enormous ransom. To the treaty made the Varangianwarriors swore by their gods Perune and Voloss, by their rings, and bytheir swords, --gold and steel, the things they honored most and mostdesired. 

Then back in triumph they sailed to Kief, rich with booty, and everafter hailing their leader as the Wise Man, or Magician. Eight yearsafterwards Oleg made a treaty of alliance and commerce withConstantinople, in which Greeks and Russians stood on equal footing. Russia had made a remarkable stride forward as a nation since Rurik wasinvited to Novgorod a quarter-century before. 

For thirty-three years Oleg held the throne. His was too strong a handto yield its power to his ward. Igor must wait for Oleg's death. He hadfound a province; he left an empire. In his hands Russia grew intogreatness, and from Novgorod to Kief and far and wide to the right andleft stretched the lands won by his conquering sword. 

He was too great a man to die an ordinary death. According to thetradition, miracle had to do with his passing away. Nestor, the princeof Russian chroniclers, tells us the following story:

Oleg had a favorite horse, which he rode alike in battle and in thehunt, until at length a prediction came from the soothsayers that deathwould overtake him through his cherished charger. Warrior as he was, hehad the superstition of the pagan, and to avoid the predicted fate hesent his horse far away, and for years avoided even speaking of it. 

Then, moved by curiosity, he asked what had become of the banishedanimal. 

"It died years ago, " was the reply; "only its bones remain. "

"So much for your soothsayers, " he cried, with a contempt that was notunmixed with relief. "That, then, is all this prediction is worth! Butwhere are the bones of my good old horse? I should like to see whatlittle is left of him. "

He was taken to the spot where lay the skeleton of his old favorite, andgazed with some show of feeling on the bleaching bones of what had oncebeen his famous war-horse. Then, setting his foot on the skull, hesaid, --

"So this is the creature that is destined to be my death. "

At that moment a deadly serpent that lay coiled up within the skulldarted out and fixed its poisonous fangs in the conqueror's foot. Andthus ignobly he who had slain men by thousands and conquered an empirecame to his death. 

_THE VENGEANCE OF QUEEN OLGA. _

The death of Oleg brought Igor his ward, then nearly forty years of age, to the throne of Rurik his father. And the same old story of bloodshedand barbarity went on. In those days a king was king in name only. Hewas really but the chief of a band of plunderers, who dug wealth fromthe world with the sword instead of the spade, threw it away in wildorgies, and then hounded him into leading them to new wars. 

The story of the Northmen is everywhere the same. While in the West theywere harrying England, France, and the Mediterranean countries with fireand sword, in the East their Varangian kinsmen were spreadingdevastation through Russia and the empire of the Greeks. 

Like his predecessor, Igor invaded this empire with a great army, landing in Asia Minor and treating the people with such brutal ferocitythat no earthquake or volcano could have shown itself more merciless. His prisoners were slaughtered in the most barbarous manner, fire sweptaway all that havoc had left, and then the Russian prince sailed intriumph against Constantinople, with his ten thousand barks manned bymurderers and laden with plunder. 

But the Greeks were now ready for their foes. Pouring on them theterrible Greek fire, they drove them back in dismay to Asia Minor, wherethey were met and routed by the land forces of the empire. In the endIgor hurried home with hardly a third of his great army. 

Three years afterward he again led an army in boats againstConstantinople, but this time he was bought off by a tribute of gold, silver, and precious stuffs, as Oleg had been before him. 

Igor was now more than seventy years old, and naturally desired to spendthe remainder of his days in peace, but his followers would not let himrest. The spoils and tribute of the Greeks had quickly disappeared fromtheir open hands, and the warlike profligates demanded new plunder. 

"We are naked, " they bitterly complained, "while the companions ofSveneld have beautiful arms and fine clothing. Come with us and levycontributions, that we and you may dwell in plenty together. "

Igor obeyed--he could not well help himself--and led them against theDrevlians, a neighboring nation already under tribute. Marching intotheir country, he forced them to pay still heavier tribute, and allowedhis soldiers to plunder to their hearts' content. 

Then the warriors of Kief marched back, laden with spoils. But thewolfish instincts of Igor were aroused. More, he thought, might besqueezed out of the Drevlians, but he wanted this extra plunder forhimself. So he sent his army on to Kief, and went back with a smallforce to the country of the Drevlians, where he held out his hand--withthe sword in it--for more. 

He got more than he bargained for. The Drevlians, driven to extremity, came with arms instead of gold, attacked the king and his few followers, and killed the whole of them upon the spot. And thus in blood ended thecareer of this white-haired tribute-seeker. 

The fallen prince left behind him a widow named Olga and a son namedSviatoslaf, who was still a child, as Igor had been at the death of hisfather. So Olga became regent of the kingdom, and Sveneld was madeleader of the army. 

How deeply Olga loved Igor we are not prepared to say, but we are toldsome strange tales of what she did to avenge him. These tales we maybelieve or not, as we please. They are legends only, like those of earlyRome, but they are all the history we have, and so we repeat the storymuch as old Nestor has told it. 

The death of Igor filled the hearts of the Drevlians with hope. Theirgreat enemy was gone; the new prince was a child: might they not gainpower as well as liberty? Their prince Male should marry Olga the widow, and all would be well with them. 

So twenty of their leading men were sent to Kief, where they presentedthemselves to the queenly regent. Their offer of an alliance was made interms suited to the manners of the times. 

"We have killed your husband, " they said, "because he plundered anddevoured like a wolf. But we would be at peace with you and yours. Wehave good princes, under whom our country thrives. Come and marry ourprince Male and be our queen. "

Olga listened like one who weighed the offer deeply. 

"After all, " she said, "my husband is dead, and I cannot bring him tolife again. Your proposal seems good to me. Leave me now, and come againto-morrow, when I will entertain you before my people as you deserve. Return to your barks, and when my people come to you to-morrow, say tothem, 'We will not go on horseback or on foot; you must carry us in ourbarks. ' Thus you will be honored as I desire you to be. "

Back went the Drevlians, glad at heart, for the queen had seemed to themvery gracious indeed. But Olga had a deep and wide pit dug before ahouse outside the city, and next day she went to that house and sent forthe ambassadors. 

"We will not go on foot or on horseback, " they said to the messengers;"carry us in our barks. "

"We are your slaves, " answered the men of Kief. "Our ruler is slain, andour princess is willing to marry your prince. "

So they took up on their shoulders the barks, in which the Drevliansproudly sat like kings on their thrones, and carried them to the frontof the house in which Olga awaited them with smiling lips but ruthlessheart. 

There, at a sign from her hand, the ambassadors and the barks in whichthey sat were flung headlong into the yawning pit. 

"How do you like your entertainment?" asked the cruel queen. 

"Oh!" they cried, in terror, "pity us! Forgive us the death of Igor!"

But they begged in vain, for at her command the pit was filled up andthe Drevlians were buried alive. 

Then Olga sent messengers to the land of the Drevlians, with thismessage to their prince:

"If you really wish for me, send me men of the highest consideration inyour country, that my people may be induced to let me go, and that I maycome to you with honor and dignity. "

This message had its effect. The chief men of the country were now sentas ambassadors. They entered Kief over the grave of their murderedcountrymen without knowing where they trod, and came to the palaceexpecting to be hospitably entertained. 

Olga had a bath made ready for them, and sent them word, --

"First take a bath, that you may refresh yourselves after the fatigue ofyour journey, then come into my presence. "

The bath was heated, and the Drevlians entered it. But, to their dismay, smoke soon began to circle round them, and flames flashed on theirfrightened eyes. They ran to the doors, but they were immovable. Olgahad ordered them to be made fast and the house to be set on fire, andthe miserable bathers were all burned alive. 

But even this terrible revenge was not enough for the implacable widow. Those were days when news crept slowly, and the Drevlians did not dreamof Olga's treachery. Once more she sent them a deceitful message: "I amabout to repair to you, and beg you to get ready a large quantity ofhydromel in the place where my husband was killed, that I may weep overhis tomb and honor him with the trizna [funeral banquet]. "

The Drevlians, full of joy at this message, gathered honey in quantitiesand brewed it into hydromel. Then Olga sought the tomb, followed by asmall guard who were only lightly armed. For a while she wept over thetomb. Then she ordered a great mound of honor to be heaped over it. Whenthis was done she directed the trizna to be set out. 

The Drevlians drank freely, while the men of Kief served them with theintoxicating beverage. 

"Where are the friends whom we sent to you?" they asked. 

"They are coming with the friends of my husband, " she replied. 

And so the feast went on until the unsuspecting Drevlians were stupidwith drink. Then Olga bade her guards draw their weapons and slay herfoes, and a great slaughter began. When it ended, five thousandDrevlians lay dead at her feet. 

Olga's revenge was far from being complete: her thirst for blood grew asit was fed. She returned to Kief, collected her army, took her young sonwith her that he might early learn the art of war, and returned inspiredby the rage of vengeance to the land of the Drevlians. 

Here she laid waste the country and destroyed the towns. In the end shecame to the capital, Korosten, and laid siege to it. Its name meant"wall of bark, " so that it was, no doubt, a town of wood, as probablyall the Russian towns at that time were. 

The siege went on, but the inhabitants defended themselves obstinately, for they knew now the spirit of the woman with whom they had to contend. So a long time passed and Korosten still held out. 

Finding that force would not serve, Olga tried stratagem, in which shewas such an adept. 

"Why do you hold out so foolishly?" she said. "You know that all yourother towns are in my power, and your countrypeople are peacefullytilling their fields while you are uselessly dying of hunger. You wouldbe wise to yield; you have no more to fear from me; I have taken fullrevenge for my slain husband. "

The Drevlians, to conciliate her, offered a tribute of honey and furs. This she refused, with a show of generosity, and said that she would askno more from them than a tribute of a pigeon and three sparrows fromeach house. 

Gladdened by the lightness of this request, the Drevlians quicklygathered the birds asked for, and sent them out to the invading army. They did not dream what treachery lay in Olga's cruel heart. Thatevening she let all the birds loose with lighted matches tied to theirtails. Back to their nests in the town they flew, and soon Korosten wasin flames in a thousand places. 

In terror the inhabitants fled through their gates, but the soldiers ofthe bloodthirsty queen awaited them outside, sword in hand, with ordersto cut them down without mercy as they appeared. The prince and all theleading men of the state perished, and only the lowest of the populacewere left alive, while the whole land thereafter was laid under a loadof tribute so heavy that it devastated the country like an invading armyand caused the people to groan bitterly beneath the burden. 

And thus it was that Olga the widow took revenge upon the murderers ofher fallen lord. 

_VLADIMIR THE GREAT. _

Vladimir, Grand Prince of Russia before and after the year 1000, won thename not only of Vladimir the Great but of St. Vladimir, though he wasas great a reprobate as he was a soldier and monarch, and asunregenerate a sinner as ever sat on a throne. But it was he who madeRussia a Christian country, and in reward the Russian Church still looksupon him as "coequal with the Apostles. " What he did to deserve thishigh honor we shall see. 

Sviatoslaf, the son of Olga, had proved a hardy soldier. He disdainedthe palace and lived in the camp. In his marches he took no tent orbaggage, but slept in the open air, lived on horse-flesh broiled byhimself upon the coals, and showed all the endurance of a Cossackwarrior born in the snows. After years of warfare he fell on the fieldof battle, and his skull, ornamented with a circle of gold, became adrinking-cup for the prince of the Petchenegans, by whose hands he hadbeen slain. His empire was divided between his three sons, Yaropolkreigning in Kief, Oleg becoming prince of the Drevlians, and Vladimirtaking Rurik's old capital of Novgorod. 

These brothers did not long dwell in harmony. War broke out betweenYaropolk and Oleg, and the latter was killed. Vladimir, fearing that histurn would come next, fled to the country of the Varangians, andYaropolk became lord over all Russia. It is the story of the fugitiveprince, and how he made his way from flight to empire and from empire tosainthood, that we are now about to tell. 

For two years Vladimir dwelt with his Varangian kinsmen, during whichtime he lived the wild life of a Norseman, joining the bold vikings intheir raids for booty far and wide over the seas of Europe. Then, gathering a large band of Varangian adventurers, he returned toNovgorod, drove out the men of Yaropolk, and sent word by them to hisbrother that he would soon call upon him at Kief. 

Vladimir quickly proved himself a prince of barbarian instincts. InPolotsk ruled Rogvolod, a Varangian prince, whose daughter Rogneda, famed for her beauty, was betrothed to Yaropolk. Vladimir demanded herhand, but received an insulting reply. 

"I will never unboot the son of a slave, " said the haughty princess. 

It was the custom at that time for brides, on the wedding night, to pulloff the boots of their husbands; and Vladimir's mother had been one ofQueen Olga's slave women. 

But insults like this, to men like Vladimir, are apt to breed bloodshed. Hot with revengeful fury, he marched against Polotsk, killed in battleRogvolod and his two sons, and forced the disdainful princess to accepthis hand still red with her father's blood. 

Then he marched against Kief, where Yaropolk, who seems to have had moreambition than courage, shut himself up within the walls. These wallswere strong, the people were faithful, and Kief might long have defiedits assailant had not treachery dwelt within. Vladimir had secretlybought over a villain named Blude, one of Yaropolk's trustedcouncillors, who filled his master's mind with suspicion of the peopleof Kief and persuaded him to fly for safety. His flight gave Kief intohis brother's hands. 

To Rodnia fled the fugitive prince, where he was closely besieged byVladimir, to whose aid came a famine so fierce that it still gives pointto a common Russian proverb. Flight or surrender became necessary. Yaropolk might have found strong friends among some of the powerfulnative tribes, but the voice of the traitor was still at his ear, and atBlude's suggestion he gave himself up to Vladimir. It was like the sheepyielding himself to the wolf. By the victor's order Yaropolk was slainin his father's palace. 

And now the traitor sought his reward. Vladimir felt that it was toBlude he owed his empire, and for three days he so loaded him withhonors and dignities that the false-hearted wretch deemed himself thegreatest among the Russians. 

But the villain had been playing with edge tools. At the end of thethree days Vladimir called Blude before him. 

"I have kept all my promises to you, " he said. "I have treated you as myfriend; your honors exceed your highest wishes; I have made you lordamong my lords. But now, " he continued, and his voice grew terrible, "the judge succeeds the benefactor. Traitor and assassin of yourprince, I condemn you to death. "

And at his stern command the startled and trembling traitor was struckdead in his presence. 

The tide of affairs had strikingly turned. Vladimir, late a fugitive, was now lord of all the realm of Russia. His power assured, he showedhimself in a new aspect. Yaropolk's widow, a Greek nun of great beauty, was forced to become his wife. Not content with two, he continued tomarry until he had no less than six wives, while he filled his palaceswith the daughters of his subjects until they numbered eight hundred inall. 

"Thereby hangs a tale, " as Shakespeare says. Rogneda, Vladimir's firstwife, had forgiven him for the murder of her father and brothers, butcould not forgive him for the insult of turning her out of his palaceand putting other women in her place. She determined to be revenged. 

One day when he had gone to see her in the lonely abode to which she hadbeen banished, he fell asleep in her presence. Here was the opportunityher heart craved. Seizing a dagger, she was on the point of stabbing himwhere he lay, when Vladimir awoke and stopped the blow. While thefrightened woman stood trembling before him, he furiously bade herprepare for death, as she should die by his own hand. 

"Put on your wedding dress, " he harshly commanded; "seek your handsomestapartment, and stretch yourself on the sumptuous bed you there possess. Die you must, but you have been honored as the wife of Vladimir, andshall not meet an ignoble death. "

Rogneda did as she was bidden, yet hope had not left her heart, and shetaught her young son Isiaslaf a part which she wished him to play. Whenthe frowning prince entered the apartment where lay his condemned wife, he was met by the boy, who presented him with a drawn sword, saying, "You are not alone, father. Your son will be witness to your deed. "

Vladimir's expression changed as he looked at the appealing face of thechild. 

"Who thought of seeing you here?" he cried, and, flinging the sword tothe floor, he hastily left the room. 

Calling his nobles together, he told them what had happened and askedtheir advice. 

"Prince, " they said, "you should spare the culprit for the sake of thechild. Our advice is that you make the boy lord of Rogvolod'sprincipality. "

Vladimir did so, sending Rogneda with her son to rule over her father'srealm, where he built a new city which he named after the boy. 

Vladimir had been born a pagan, and a pagan he was still, worshippingthe Varangian deities, in particular the god Perune, of whom he had astatue erected on a hill near his palace, adorned with a silver head. Onthe same sacred hill were planted the statues of other idols, andVladimir proposed to restore the old human sacrifices by offering one ofhis own people as a victim to the gods. 

For this purpose there was selected a young Varangian who, with hisfather, had adopted the Christian faith. The father refused to give uphis son, and the enraged people, who looked on the refusal as an insultto their prince and their gods, broke into the house and murdered bothfather and son. These two have since been canonized by the RussianChurch as the only martyrs to its faith. 

Vladimir by this time had become great in dominion, his warlike prowessextending the borders of Russia on all sides. The nations to the southsaw that a great kingdom had arisen on their northern border, ruled by awarlike and conquering prince, and it was deemed wise to seek to win himfrom the worship of idols to a more elevated faith. Askhold and Dir hadbeen baptized as Christians. Olga, after her bloody revenge, had gone toConstantinople and been baptized by the patriarch. But the nationcontinued pagan, Vladimir was an idolater in grain, and a great fieldlay open for missionary zeal. 

No less than four of the peoples of the south sought to make a convertof this powerful prince. The Bulgarians endeavored to win him to thereligion of Mohammed, picturing to him in alluring language the charmsof their paradise, with its lovely houris. But he must give up wine. This was more than he was ready to do. 

"Wine is the delight of the Russians, " he said: "we cannot do withoutit. "

The envoys of the Christian churches and the Jewish faith also sought towin him over. The appeal of the Jews, however, failed to impress him, and he dismissed them with the remark that they had no country, andthat he had no inclination to join hands with wanderers under the ban ofHeaven. There remained the Christians, comprising the Roman and GreekChurches, at that time in unison. Of these the Greek Church, the claimsof which were presented to him by an advocate from Constantinople, appealed to him most strongly, since its doctrines had been accepted byQueen Olga. 

As may be seen, religion with Vladimir was far more a matter of policythan of piety. The gods of his fathers, to whom he had done such honor, had no abiding place in his heart; and that belief which would be mostto his advantage was for him the best. 

To settle the question he sent ten of his chief boyars, or nobles, tothe south, that they might examine and report on the religions of thedifferent countries. They were not long in coming to a decision. Mohammedanism and Catholicism, they said, they had found only in poorand barbarous provinces. Judaism had no land to call its own. But theGreek faith dwelt in a magnificent metropolis, and its ceremonies werefull of pomp and solemnity. 

"If the Greek religion were not the best, " they said, in conclusion, "Olga, your ancestress, and the wisest of mortals, would never havethought of embracing it. "

Pomp and solemnity won the day, and Vladimir determined to follow Olga'sexample. As to what religion meant in itself he seems to have thoughtlittle and cared less. His method of becoming a Christian was sooriginal that it is well worth the telling. 

Since the days of Olga Kief had possessed Christian churches andpriests, and Vladimir might easily have been baptized without leavinghome. But this was far too simple a process for a prince of his dignity. He must be baptized by a bishop of the parent Church, and themissionaries who were to convert his people must come from the centralhome of the faith. 

Should he ask the emperor for the rite of baptism? Not he; it would betoo much like rendering homage to a prince no greater than himself. Thehaughty barbarian found himself in a quandary; but soon he discovered apromising way out of it. He would make war on Greece, conquer priestsand churches, and by force of arms obtain instruction and baptism in thenew faith. Surely never before or since was a war waged with the objectof winning a new religion. 

Gathering a large army, Vladimir marched to the Crimea, where stood therich and powerful Greek city of Kherson. The ruins of this city maystill be seen near the modern Sevastopol. To it he laid siege, warningthe inhabitants that it would be wise in them to yield, for he wasprepared to remain three years before their walls. 

The Khersonites proved obstinate, and for six months he besieged themclosely. But no progress was made, and it began to look as if Vladimirwould never become a Christian in his chosen mode. A traitor within thewalls, however, solved the difficulty. He shot from the ramparts anarrow to which a letter was attached, in which the Russians were toldthat the city obtained all its fresh water from a spring near theircamp, to which ran underground pipes. Vladimir cut the pipes, and thecity, in peril of the horrors of thirst, was forced to yield. 

Baptism was now to be had from the parent source, but Vladimir was stillnot content. He demanded to be united by ties of blood to the emperorsof the southern realm, asking for the hand of Anna, the emperor'ssister, and threatening to take Constantinople if his proposal wererejected. 

Never before had a convert come with such conditions. The princess Annahad no desire for marriage with this haughty barbarian, but reasons ofstate were stronger than questions of taste, and the emperors (therewere two of them at that time) yielded. Vladimir, having been baptizedunder the name of Basil, married the princess Anna, and the city he hadtaken as a token of his pious zeal was restored to his new kinsmen. Allthat he took back to Russia with him were a Christian wife, some bishopsand priests, sacred vessels and books, images of saints, and a number ofconsecrated relics. 

Vladimir displayed a zeal in his new faith in accordance with thetrouble he had taken to win it. The old idols he had worshipped were nowthe most despised inmates of his realm. Perune, as the greatest of themall, was treated with the greatest indignity. The wooden image of thegod was tied to the tail of a horse and dragged to the Borysthenes, twelve stout soldiers belaboring it with cudgels as it went. The banksreached, it was flung with disdain into the river. 

At Novgorod the god was treated with like indignity, but did not bearit with equal patience. The story goes that, being flung from a bridgeinto the Volkhof, the image of Perune rose to the surface of the water, threw a staff upon the bridge, and cried out in a terrifying voice, "Citizens, that is what I leave you in remembrance of me. "

In consequence of this legend it was long the custom in that city, onthe day which was kept as the anniversary of the god, for the youngpeople to run about with sticks in their hands, striking one anotherunawares. 

As for the Russians in general, they discarded their old worship aseasily as the prince had thrown overboard their idols. One day aproclamation was issued at Kief, commanding all the people to repair tothe river-bank the next day, there to be baptized. They assented withouta murmur, saying, "If it were not good to be baptized, the prince andthe boyars would never submit to it. "

These were not the only signs of Vladimir's zeal. He built churches, hegave alms freely, he set out public repasts in imitation of thelove-feasts of the early Christians. His piety went so far that he evenforbore to shed the blood of criminals or of the enemies of his country. 

But horror of bloodshed did not lie long on Vladimir's conscience. Inhis later life he had wars in plenty, and the blood of his enemies wasshed as freely as water. These wars were largely against thePetchenegans, the most powerful of his foes. And in connection with themthere is a story extant which has its parallel in the history of manyanother country. 

It seems that in one of their campaigns the two armies came face to faceon the opposite sides of a small stream. The prince of the Petchenegansnow proposed to Vladimir to settle their quarrel by single combat andthus spare the lives of their people. The side whose champion wasvanquished should bind itself to a peace lasting for three years. 

Vladimir was loath to consent, as he felt sure that his opponents hadready a champion of mighty power. He felt forced in honor to accept thechallenge, but asked for delay that he might select a worthy champion. 

Whom to select he knew not. No soldier of superior strength and skillpresented himself. Uneasiness and agitation filled his mind. But at thiscritical interval an old man, who served in the army with four of hissons, came to him, saying that he had at home a fifth son ofextraordinary strength, whom he would offer as champion. 

The young man was sent for in great haste. On his arrival, to test hispowers, a bull was sent against him which had been goaded into fury withhot irons. The young giant stopped the raging brute, knocked him down, and tore off great handfuls of his skin and flesh. Hope came toVladimir's soul on witnessing this wonderful feat. 

The day arrived. The champions advanced between the camps. ThePetchenegan warrior laughed in scorn on seeing his beardless antagonist. But when they came to blows he found himself seized and crushed as in avice in the arms of his boyish foe, and was flung, a lifeless body, tothe earth. On seeing this the Petchenegans fled in dismay, while theRussians, forgetting their pledge, pursued and slaughtered them withoutmercy. 

Vladimir at length (1015 A. D. ) came to his end. His son Yaroslaf, whomhe had made ruler of Novgorod, had refused to pay tribute, and the oldprince, forced to march against his rebel son, died of grief on the way. 

With all his faults, Vladimir deserved the title of Great which hiscountry has given him. He put down the turbulent tribes, plantedcolonies in the desert, built towns, and embellished his cities withchurches, palaces, and other buildings, for which workmen were broughtfrom Greece. Russia grew rapidly under his rule. He established schoolswhich the sons of the nobles were made to attend. And though he was buta poor pattern for a saint, he had the merit of finding Russia pagan andleaving it Christian. 

[Illustration: CATHEDRAL AT OSTANKINO, NEAR MOSCOW. ]

_THE LAWGIVER OF RUSSIA. _

The Russia of the year 1000 lay deep in the age of barbarism. Vladimirhad made it Christian in name, but it was far from Christian in thoughtor deed. It was a land without fixed laws, without settled government, without schools, without civilized customs, but with abundance ofignorance, cruelty, and superstition. 

It was strangely made up. In the north lay the great commercial city ofNovgorod, which, though governed by princes of the house of Rurik, was arepublic in form and in fact. It possessed its popular assembly, ofwhich every citizen was a member with full right to vote, and at whosemeetings the prince was not permitted to appear. The sound of a famousbell, the Vetchevoy, called the people together, to decide on questionsof peace and war, or to elect magistrates, and sometimes the bishop, oreven the prince. The prince had to swear to carry out the ancient lawsof the republic and not attempt to lay taxes on the citizens or tointerfere with their trade. They made him gifts, but paid him no taxes. They decided how many hours he should give to pleasure and how many tobusiness; and they expelled some of their princes who thought themselvesbeyond the power of the laws. 

It seems strange that the absolute Russia of to-day should then havepossessed one of the freest of the cities of Europe. Novgorod was notonly a city, it was a state. The provinces far and wide around weresubject to it, and governed by its prince, who had in them an authoritymuch greater than he possessed over the proud civic merchants and moneylords. 

In the south, on the contrary, lay the great imperial city of Kief, thecapital of the realm, and the seat of a government as arbitrary as thatof Novgorod was free. Here dwelt the grand prince as an irresponsibleautocrat, making his will the law, and forcing all the provinces, evenhaughty Novgorod, to pay a tax which bore the slavish title of tribute. Here none could vote, no assembly of citizens ever met, and the onlyrestraint on the prince was that of his warlike and turbulent nobles, who often forced him to yield to their wishes. The government was adrifting rather than a settled one. It had no anchors out, but was movedabout at the whim of the prince and his unruly lords. 

Under these two forms of government lay still a third. Rural Russia wasorganized on a democratic principle which still prevails throughout thatbroad land. This is the principle of the Mir, or village community, which most of the people of the earth once possessed, but which haseverywhere passed away except in Russia and India. It is the principleof the commune, of public instead of private property. The land of aRussian village belongs to the people as a whole, not to individuals. Itis divided up among them for tillage, but no man can claim the fieldshe tills as his own, and for thousands of years what is known ascommunism has prevailed on Russian soil. 

The government of the village is purely democratic. All the people meetand vote for their village magistrate, who decides, with the aid of acouncil of the elders, all the questions which arise within itsconfines, one of them being the division of the land. Thus at bottomRussia is a field sown thick with little communistic republics, thoughat top it is a despotism. The government of Novgorod doubtless grew outof that of the village. The republican city has long since passed away, but the seed of democracy remains planted deeply in the villagecommunity. 

All this is preliminary to the story of the Russian lawgiver and hislaws, which we have set out to tell. This famous person was no otherthan that Yaroslaf, prince of Novgorod, and son of Vladimir the Great, whose refusal to pay tribute had caused his father to die of grief. 

Yaroslaf was the fifth able ruler of the dynasty of Rurik. The story ofhis young life resembles that of his father. He found his brother strongand threatening, and designed to fly from Novgorod and join theVarangians as a viking lord, as his father had done before him. But theNovgorodians proved his friends, destroyed the ships that were to carryhim away, and provided him with money to raise a new army. With this hedefeated his base brother, who had already killed or driven into exileall their other brothers. The result was that Yaroslof, like his father, became sovereign of all Russia. 

But though this new grand prince extended his dominions by the sword, it was not as a soldier, but as a legislator, that he won fame. Hisgenius was not shown on the field of battle, but in the legislativecouncil, and Russia reveres Yaroslaf the Wise as its first maker oflaws. 

The free institutions of Novgorod, of which we have spoken, were by himsustained and strengthened. Many new cities were founded under hisbeneficent rule. Schools were widely established, in one of which threehundred of the youth of Novgorod were educated. A throng of Greekpriests were invited into the land, since there were none of Russianbirth to whom he could confide the duty of teaching the young. He gavetoleration to the idolaters who still existed, and when the people ofSuzdal were about to massacre some hapless women whom they accused ofhaving brought on a famine by sorcery, he stayed their hands and savedthe poor victims from death. The Russian Church owed its first nationalfoundation to him, for he declared that the bishops of the land shouldno longer depend for appointment on the Patriarch of Constantinople. 

There are no startling or dramatic stories to be told about Yaroslaf. The heroes of peace are not the men who make the world's dramas. But itis pleasant, after a season spent with princes who lived for war andrevenge, and who even made war to obtain baptism, to rest awhile underthe green boughs and beside the pleasant waters of a reign that becamefamous for the triumphs of peace. 

Under Yaroslaf Russia united itself by ties of blood to Western Europe. His sons married Greek, German, and English princesses; his sisterbecame queen of Poland; his three daughters were queens of Norway, Hungary, and France. Scandinavian in origin, the dynasty of Rurik wasreaching out hands of brotherhood towards its kinsmen in the West. 

But it is as a law-maker that Yaroslaf is chiefly known. Before his timethe empire had no fixed code of laws. To say that it was without lawwould not be correct. Every people, however ignorant, has its laws ofcustom, unwritten edicts, the birth of the ages, which have grown upstage by stage, and which are only slowly outgrown as the tribe developsinto the nation. 

Russia had, besides Novgorod, other commercial cities, with republicaninstitutions. Kief was certainly not without law. And the many tribes ofhunters, shepherds, and farmers must have had their legal customs. Butwith all this there was no code for the empire, no body of written laws. The first of these was prepared about 1018 by Yaroslaf, for Novgorodalone, but in time became the law of all the land. This early code ofRussian law is a remarkable one, and goes farther than history at largein teaching us the degree of civilization of Russia at that date. 

In connection with it the chronicles tell a curious story. In 1018, weare told, Novgorod, having grown weary of the insults and oppression ofits Varangian lords and warriors, killed them all. Angry at this, Yaroslaf enticed the leading Novgorodians into his palace andslaughtered them in reprisal. But at this critical interval, when hisguards were slain and his subjects in rebellion, he found himselfthreatened by his ambitious brother. In despair he turned to theNovgorodians and begged with tears for pardon and assistance. Theyforgave and aided him, and by their help made him sovereign of theempire. 

How far this is true it is impossible to say, but the code of Yaroslafwas promulgated at that date, and the rights given to Novgorod showedthat its people held the reins of power. It confirmed the city in theancient liberties of which we have already spoken, giving it a freedomwhich no other city of its time surpassed. And it laid down a series oflaws for the people at large which seem very curious in this enlightenedage. It must suffice to give the leading features of this ancient code. 

It began by sustaining the right of private vengeance. The law was forthe weak alone, the strong being left to avenge their own wrongs. Thepunishment of crime was provided for by judicial combats, which the lawdid not even regulate. Every strong man was a law unto himself. 

Where no avengers of crime appeared, murder was to be settled by fines. For the murder of a boyar eighty grivnas were to be paid, and forty forthe murder of a free Russian, but only half as much if the victim was awoman. Here we have a standard of value for the women of that age. 

Nothing was paid into the treasury for the murder of a slave, but hismaster had to be paid his value, unless he had been slain for insultinga freeman. His value was reckoned according to his occupation, andranged from twelve to five grivnas. 

If it be asked what was the value of a grivna, it may be said that atthat time there was little coined money, perhaps none at all, in Russia. Gold and silver were circulated by weight, and the common currency wascomposed of pieces of skin, called _kuni_. A grivna was a certain numberof kunis equal in value to half a pound of silver, but the kuni oftenvaried in value. 

All prisoners of war and all persons bought from foreigners werecondemned to perpetual slavery. Others became slaves for limitedperiods, --freemen who married slaves, insolvent debtors, servants out ofemployment, and various other classes. As the legal interest of moneywas forty per cent. , the enslavement of debtors must have been verycommon, and Russia was even then largely a land of slaves. 

The loss of a limb was fined almost as severely as that of a life. Topluck out part of the beard cost four times as much as to cut off afinger, and insults in general were fined four times as heavily aswounds. Horse-stealing was punished by slavery. In discovering theguilty the ordeals of red-hot iron and boiling water were in use, as inthe countries of the West. 

There were three classes in the nation, --slaves, freemen, and boyars, ornobles, the last being probably the descendants of Rurik's warriors. Theprince was the heir of all citizens who died without male children, except of boyars and the officers of his guard. 

These laws, which were little more primitive than those of WesternEurope at the same period, seem never to have imposed corporalpunishment for crime. Injury was made good by cash, except in the caseof the combat. The fines went to the lord or prince, and were one of hismeans of support, the other being tribute from his estates. No provisionfor taxation was made. The mark of dependence on the prince was militaryservice, the lord, as in the feudal West, being obliged to provide hisown arms, provisions, and mounted followers. 

Judges there were, who travelled on circuits, and who impanelled twelverespectable jurors, sworn to give just verdicts. There are several lawsextending protection to property, fixed and movable, which seemspecially framed for the merchants of Novgorod. 

Such are the leading features of the code of Yaroslaf. The franchisesgranted the Novgorodians, which for four centuries gave them the rightto "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, " form part of it. Crudeas are many of its provisions, it forms a vital starting-point, that inwhich Russia first came under definite in place of indefinite law. Andthe bringing about of this important change is the glory of Yaroslaf theWise. 

_THE YOKE OF THE TARTARS. _

In Asia, the greatest continent of the earth, lies its most extensiveplain, the vast plateau of Mongolia, whose true boundaries are themountains of Siberia and the Himalayan highlands, the Pacific Ocean andthe hills of Eastern Europe, and of which the great plain of Russia isbut an outlying section. This mighty plateau, largely a desert, is thehome of the nomad shepherd and warrior, the nesting-place of theemigrant invader. From these broad levels in the past horde after hordeof savage horsemen rode over Europe and Asia, --the frightful Huns, thedevastating Turks, the desolating Mongols. It is with the last that weare here concerned, for Russia fell beneath their arms, and was held fortwo centuries as a captive realm. 

The nomads are born warriors. They live on horseback; the care of theirgreat herds teaches them military discipline; they are always in motion, have no cities to defend, no homes to abandon, no crops to harvest. Their home is a camp; when they move it moves with them; their food ison the hoof and accompanies them on the march; they can go hungry for aweek and then eat like cormorants; their tools are weapons, always inhand, always ready to use; a dozen times they have burst like adevouring torrent from their desert and overwhelmed the South and West. 

While the Turks were still engaged in their work of conquest, theMongols arose, and under the formidable Genghis Khan swept over SouthernAsia like a tornado, leaving death and desolation in their track. Theconqueror died in 1227, --for death is a foe that vanquishes even thegreatest of warriors, --and was succeeded by his son Octoi, as Great Khanof the Mongols and Tartars. In 1235, Batou, nephew of the khan, was sentwith an army of half a million men to the conquest of Europe. 

This flood of barbarians fell upon Russia at an unfortunate time, one ofanarchy and civil war, when the whole nation was rent and torn and therewere almost as many sovereigns as there were cities. The system ofgiving a separate dominion to every son of a grand prince had ruinedRussia. These small potentates were constantly at war, confusion reignedsupreme, Kief was taken and degraded and a new capital, Vladimir, established, and Moscow, which was to become the fourth capital ofRussia, was founded. Such was the state of affairs when Batou, with hisvast horde of savage horsemen, fell on the distracted realm. 

Defence was almost hopeless. Russia had no government, no army, noimperial organization. Each city stood for itself, with great widths ofopen country around. Over these broad spaces the invaders swept like anavalanche, finding cultivated fields before them, leaving a desertbehind. They swam the Don, the Volga, and the other great rivers ontheir horses, or crossed them on the ice. Leathern boats brought overtheir wagons and artillery. They spread from Livonia to the Black Sea, poured into the kingdoms of the West, and would have overrun all Europebut for the vigorous resistance of the knighthood of Germany. 

The cities of Russia made an obstinate defence, but one after anotherthey fell. Some saved themselves by surrender. Most of them were takenby assault and destroyed. City after city was reduced to ashes, none ofthe inhabitants being left to deplore their fall. The nomads had no usefor cities. Walls were their enemies: pasturage was all they cared for. The conversion of a country into a desert was to them a gain rather thana loss, for grass will grow in the desert, and grass to feed theirhorses and herds was what they most desired. 

So far as the warriors of Mongolia were concerned, their conquests leftthem no better off. They still had to tend and feed their herds, andthey could have done that as well in their native land. But the leadershad the lust of dominion, their followers the blood-fury, and inspiredby these feelings they ravaged the world. 

One thing alone saved Russia from being peopled by Tartars, --itsclimate. This was not to their liking, and they preferred to dwell inlands better suited to their tastes and habits. The great Tartar empireof Kaptchak, or the Golden Horde, was founded on the eastern frontier;other khanates were founded in the south; but the Russian princes wereleft to rule in the remainder of the land, under tribute to the khans, to whom they were forced to do homage. In truth, these Tartar chiefsmade themselves lords paramount of the Russian realm, and no prince, great or small, could assume the government of his state until he hadjourneyed to Central Mongolia to beg permission to rule from the khan ofthe Great Horde. 

The subjection of the princes was that of slaves. A century afterwardthey were obliged to spread a carpet of sable fur under the hoofs of thesteed of the khan's envoy, to prostrate themselves at his feet and learnhis mission on their knees, and not only to present a cup of koumiss tothe barbarian, but even to lick from the neck of his horse the drops ofthe beverage which he might let fall in drinking. More shamefulsubjection it would be difficult to describe. 

Several princes who proved insubordinate were summoned to the camp ofthe Horde and there tried and executed. Rivals sought the khan, to buypower by presents. During their journeys, which occupied a year or more, the Tartar bashaks ruled their dominions. Tartar armies aided theprinces in their civil wars, and helped these ambitious lords to keeptheir country in a state of subjection. 

Fortunately for Russia, the great empire of the Mongols gradually fellto pieces of its own weight. The Kaptchak, or Golden Horde, broke loosefrom the Great Horde, and Russia had a smaller power to deal with. TheGolden Horde itself broke into two parts. And among the many princes ofRussia a grand prince was still acknowledged, with right by title todominion over the entire realm. 

One of these grand princes, Alexander by name, son of the grand princeof Vladimir, proved a great warrior and statesman and gained the poweras well as the title. Prince of Novgorod by inheritance, he defeated allhis enemies, drove the Germans from Russia, and recovered the Neva fromthe Swedes, which feat of arms gained him the title of Alexander Nevsky. The Tartars were too powerful to be attacked, so he managed to gaintheir good will. The khan became his friend, and when trouble arose withKief and Vladimir their princes were dethroned and these principalitiesgiven to the shrewd grand prince. 

Russia seemed to be rehabilitated. Alexander was lord of its threecapitals, Novgorod, Kief, and Vladimir, and grand prince of the realm. But the Russians were not content to submit either to his authority orto the yoke of the Tartars. His whole life was spent in battle withthem, or in journeys to the tent of the khan to beg forgiveness fortheir insults. 

The climax came when the Tartar collectors of tribute were massacred insome cities and ignominiously driven out of others. When these actsbecame known at the Horde the angry khan sent orders for the grandprince and all other Russian princes to appear before him and to bringall their troops. He said that he was about to make a campaign, andneeded the aid of the Russians. 

This story Alexander did not believe. He plainly perceived that the wilyTartar wished to deprive Russia of all its armed men, that he might themore easily reduce it again to subjection. Rather than see his countryruined, the patriotic prince determined to disobey, and to offer himselfas a victim by seeking alone the camp of Usbek, the great khan, amission of infinite danger. 

He hoped that his submission might save Russia from ruin, though he knewthat death lay on his path. He found Usbek bitterly bent on war, and fora whole year was kept in the camp of the Horde, seeking to appease thewrath of the barbarian. In the end he succeeded, the khan promising toforgive the Russians and desist from the intended war, and in the year1262 Alexander started for home again. 

He had seemingly escaped, but not in reality. He had not journeyed farbefore he suddenly died. To all appearance, poison had been mingled withhis food before he left the camp of the khan. Alexander had become toogreat and powerful at home for the designs of the conquerors. He diedthe victim of his love of country. His people have recognized his virtueby making him a saint. He had not labored in vain. In his hands thegrand princeship had been restored, Vladimir had become supreme, and acentre had been established around which the Russians might rally. Butfor a century and more still they were to remain subject to the Tartaryoke. 

_THE VICTORY OF THE DON. _

The history of Russia during the century after the Mongol conquest isone of shame and anarchy. The shame was that of slavish submission tothe Tartar khan. Each prince, in succession, fell on his knees beforethis high dignitary of the barbarians and begged or bought his throne. The anarchy was that of the Russian princes, on which the khan lookedwith winking eyes, thinking that the more they weakened themselves themore they would strengthen him. The rulers of Moscow, Tver, Vladimir, and Novgorod fought almost incessantly for supremacy, crushing theirpeople beneath the feet of their ambition, now one, now another, gainingthe upper hand. 

[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW OF MOSCOW. ]

In the end the princes of Moscow became supreme. They grew rich, andwere able to keep up a regular army, that chief tool of despotism. Thecrown lands alone gave them dominion over three hundred thousandsubjects. The time was coming in which they would be the absolute rulersof all Russia. But before this could be accomplished the power of thekhans must be broken, and the first step towards this was taken by thegreat Dmitri Donskoi, who became grand prince of Moscow in 1362. 

Dmitri came to the throne at a fortunate epoch. The Golden Horde wasbreaking to pieces. There were several khans, at war with one another, and discord ruled among the overlords of Russia. Still greater discordreigned in Russia itself. For eighteen years Dmitri was kept busy inwars with the princes of Tver, Kief, and Lithuania. Terrible was the warwith Tver. Four times he overcame Michael, its prince. Four times didMichael, aided by the prince of Lithuania, gain the victory. During thisobstinate conflict Moscow was twice besieged. Only its stone walls, lately built, saved it from capture and ruin. At length Olguerd, thefiery prince of Lithuania, died, and Tver yielded. Moscow becameparamount among the Russian principalities. 

And now Dmitri, with all Russia as his realm, dared to defy the terribleTartars. For more than a century no Russian prince had ventured toappear before the khan of the Golden Horde except on his knees. Dmitrihad thus humbled himself only three years before. Now, inflated with hisnew power, he refused to pay tribute to the khan, and went so far as toput to death the Tartar envoy, who insolently demanded the accustomedpayment. 

Dmitri had burned his bridges behind him. He had flung down the gage ofwar to the Tartars, and would soon feel their hand in all its dreadedstrength. The khan, on hearing of the murder of his ambassador, burstinto a terrible rage. The civil wars which divided the Golden Horde hadfor the time ceased, and Mamai, the khan, gathered all the power of theHorde and marched on defiant Moscow, vowing to sweep that rebel cityfrom the face of the earth. 

The Russians did not wait his coming. All dissensions ceased in theface of the impending peril, all the princes sent aid, and Dmitrimarched to the Don at the head of an army of two hundred thousand men. Here he found the redoubtable Mamai with three times that number of thefierce Tartar horsemen in his train. 

"Yonder lies the foe, " said Dmitri to his princely associates. "Hereruns the Don. Shall we await him here, or cross and meet him with theriver at our backs?"

"Let us cross, " was the unanimous verdict. "Let us be first in theassault. "

At once the order was given, and the battalions marched on board theboats and were ferried across the stream, at a short distance from theopposite bank of which the enemy lay. No sooner had they landed thanDmitri ordered all the boats to be cast adrift. It was to be victory ordeath; no hope of escape by flight was left; but well he knew that themen would fight with double valor under such desperate straits. 

The battle began. On the serried Russian ranks the Tartars poured inthat impetuous assault which had so often carried their hosts tovictory. The Russians defended themselves with fiery valor, assaultafter assault was repulsed, and so fiercely was the field contested thatmultitudes of the fallen were trampled to death beneath the horses'feet. At length, however, numbers began to tell. The Russians grew wearyfrom the closeness of the conflict. The vast host of the Tartars enabledthem to replace with fresh troops all that were worn in the fight. Victory seemed about to perch upon their banners. 

Dismay crept into the Russian ranks. They would have broken in flight, but no avenue of escape was left. The river ran behind them, unruffledby a boat. Flight meant death by drowning; fight meant death by thesword. Of the two the latter seemed best, for the Russians firmlybelieved that death at the hands of the infidels meant an immediatetransport to the heavenly mansions of bliss. 

At this critical moment, when the host of Dmitri was wavering betweenpanic and courage, the men ready to drop their swords through sheerfatigue, an unlooked-for diversion inspired their shrinking souls. Thegrand prince had stationed a detachment of his army as a reserve, andthese, as yet, had taken no part in the battle. Now, fresh and furious, they were brought up, and fell vigorously upon the rear of the Tartars, who, filled with sudden terror, thought that a new army had come to theaid of the old. A moment later they broke and fled, pursued by theirtriumphant foes, and falling fast as they hurried in panic fear from theencrimsoned field. 

Something like amazement filled the souls of the Russians as they sawtheir dreaded enemies in flight. Such a consummation they had scarcelydared hope for, accustomed as they had been for a century to crouchbefore this dreadful foe. They had bought their victory dearly. Theirdead strewed the ground by thousands. Yet to be victorious over theTartar host seemed to them an ample recompense for an even greater lossthan that sustained. Eight days were occupied by the survivors inburying the slain. As for the Tartar dead, they were left to fester onthe field. Such was the great victory of the Don, from which Dmitrigained his honorable surname of Donskoi. He died nine years afterwards(1389), having won the high honor of being the first to vanquish theterrible horsemen of the Steppes, firmly founded the authority of thegrand princes, and made Moscow the paramount power in Russia. 

_IVAN, THE FIRST OF THE CZARS. _

The victory of the Don did not free Russia from the Tartar yoke. Twoyears afterwards the principality of Moscow was overrun and ravaged by alieutenant of the mighty Tamerlane, the all-conquering successor ofGenghis Khan. Several times Moscow was taken and burned. Full seventyyears later, at the court of the Golden Horde, two Russian princes mighthave been seen disputing before the great khan the possession of thegrand principality and tremblingly awaiting his decision. Nevertheless, the battle of the Don had sounded the knell of the Tartar power. Anarchycontinued to prevail in the Golden Horde. The power of the grand princesof Moscow steadily grew. The khans themselves played into the hands oftheir foes. Russia was slowly but surely casting off her fetters, anddeliverance was at hand. 

Ivan III. , great-grandson of Dmitri Donskoi, ascended the throne in1462, nearly two centuries and a half after the Tartar invasion. Duringall that period Russia had been the vassal of the khans. Only now wasits freedom to come. It was by craft, more than by war, that Ivan won. In the field he was a dastard, but in subtlety and perfidy he surpassedall other men of his time, and his insidious but persistent policyended by making him the autocrat of all the Russias. 

He found powerful enemies outside his dominions, --the Tartars, theLithuanians, and the Poles. He succeeded in defeating them all. He hadpowerful rivals within the domain of Russia. These also he overcame. Hemade Moscow all-powerful, imitated the tyranny of the Tartars, andfounded the autocratic rule of the czars which has ever since prevailed. 

The story of the fall of the Golden Horde may be briefly told. It wasthe work of the Russian army, but not of the Russian prince. In 1469, after collecting a large army, Ivan halted and began negotiating. Butthe army was not to be restrained. Disregarding the orders of theirgeneral, they chose another leader, and assailed and captured Kasan, thechief Tartar city. As for the army of the Golden Horde, it was twicedefeated by the Russian force. In 1480 a third invasion of the Tartarstook place, which resulted in the annihilation of their force. 

The tale, as handed down to us, is a curious one. The army, full ofmartial ardor, had advanced as far as the Oka to meet the Tartars; buton the approach of the enemy Ivan, stricken with terror, deserted histroops and took refuge in far-off Moscow. He even recalled his son, butthe brave boy refused to obey, saying that "he would rather die at hispost than follow the example of his father. "

The murmurs of the people, the supplication of the priests, theindignation of the boyars, forced him to return to the army, but hereturned only to cover it with shame and himself with disgrace. Forwhen the chill of the coming winter suddenly froze the river between thetwo forces, offering the foe a firm pathway to battle, Ivan, inconsternation, ordered a retreat, which his haste converted into adisorderly flight. Yet the army was two hundred thousand strong and hadnot struck a blow. 

Fortune and his allies saved the dastard monarch. For at this perilousinterval the khan of the Crimea, an ally of Russia, attacked the capitalof the Golden Horde and forced a hasty recall of its army; and duringits disorderly homeward march a host of Cossacks fell upon it with suchfury that it was totally destroyed. Russia, threatened with a newsubjection to the Tartars by the cowardice of its monarch, was finallyfreed from these dreaded foes through the aid of her allies. 

But the fruits of this harvest, sown by others, were reaped by the czar. His people, who had been disgusted with his cowardice, now gave himcredit for the deepest craft and wisdom. All this had been prepared byhim, they said. His flight was a ruse, his pusillanimity was prudence;he had made the Tartars their own destroyers, without risking the fateof Russia in a battle; and what had just been condemned as dastardbaseness was now praised as undiluted wisdom. 

Ivan would never have gained the title of Great from his deeds in war. He won it, and with some justice, from his deeds in peace. He was greatin diplomacy, great in duplicity, great in that persistent pursuit of asingle object through which men rise to power and fame. This object, inhis case, was autocracy. It was his purpose to crush out the last shredsof freedom from Russia, establish an empire on the pernicious pattern ofa Tartar khanate, which had so long been held up as an example beforeRussian eyes, and make the Prince of Moscow as absolute as the Emperorof China. He succeeded. During his reign freedom fled from Russia. Ithas never since returned. 

The story of how this great aim was accomplished is too long to be toldhere, and the most important part of it must be left for our next tale. It will suffice, at this point, to say that by astute policy and goodfortune Ivan added to his dominions nineteen thousand square miles ofterritory and four millions of subjects, made himself supreme autocratand his voice the sole arbiter of fate, reduced the boyars andsubordinate princes to dependence on his throne, established a new andimproved system of administration in all the details of government, andby his marriage with Sophia, the last princess of the Greek imperialfamily, --driven by the Turks from Constantinople to Rome, --gained forhis standard the two-headed eagle, the symbol of autocracy, and forhimself the supreme title of czar. 

_THE FALL OF NOVGOROD THE GREAT. _

The Czar of Russia is the one political deity in Europe, the soleabsolute autocrat. More than a hundred millions of people have deliveredthemselves over, fettered hand and foot, almost body and soul, to theownership of one man, without a voice in their own government, withoutdaring to speak, hardly daring to think, otherwise than he approves. Thousands of them, millions of them, perhaps, are saying to-day, in thewords of Hamlet, "It is not and it cannot come to good; but break myheart, for I must hold my tongue. "

Who is this man, this god of a nation, that he should loom so high? Ishe a marvel of wisdom, virtue, and nobility, made by nature to wear thepurple, fashioned of porcelain clay, greater and better than all thehost to whom his word is the voice of fate? By no means; thousands ofhis subjects tower far above him in virtue and ability, but, puppet-like, the noblest and best of them must dance as he pulls thestrings, and hardly a man in Russia dares to say that his soul is hisown if the czar says otherwise. 

Such a state of affairs is an anachronism in the nineteenth century, ahideous relic of the barbarism and anarchy of medićval times. InAmerica, where every man is a czar, so far as the disposal of himselfis concerned, the enslavement of the Russians seems a frightfuldisregard of the rights of man, the nation a giant Gulliver bound downto the earth by chains of creed and custom, of bureaucracy and pervertedpublic opinion. Like Gulliver, it was bound when asleep, and it mustcontinue fettered while its intellect remains torpid. Some day it willawake, stretch its mighty limbs, burst its feeble bonds, and hurl indisarray to the earth the whole host of liliputian officials anddignitaries who are strutting in the pride of ownership on its greatbody, the czar tumbling first from his great estate. 

This does not seem a proper beginning to a story from Russian history, but, to quote from Shakespeare again, "Thereby hangs a tale. " Thehistory of Russia has, in fact, been a strange one; it began as arepublic, it has ended as a despotism; and we cannot go on with our workwithout attempting to show how this came about. 

It was the Mongol invasion that enslaved Russia. Helped by the khans, Moscow gradually rose to supremacy over all the other principalities, trod them one by one under her feet, gained power by the aid of Tartarswords and spears or through sheer dread of the Tartar name, and whenthe Golden Horde was at length overthrown the Grand Prince took theplace of the Great Khan and ruled with the same absolute sway. It wasthe absolutism of Asia imported into Europe. Step by step the princes ofMoscow had copied the system of the khan. This work was finished by Ivanthe Great, at once the deliverer and the enslaver of Russia, who freedthat country from the yoke of the khan, but laid upon it a heavierburden of servility and shame. 

Under the khan there had been insurrection. Under the czar there wassubjection. The latter state was worse than the former. The subjectioncontinues still, but the spirit of insurrection is again rising. Thetime is coming in which the rule of that successor of the Tartar khan, miscalled the czar, will end, and the people take into their own handsthe control of their bodies and souls. 

There were republics in Russia even in Ivan's day, free cities which, though governed by princes, maintained the republican institutions ofthe past. Chief among these was Novgorod, that Novgorod the Great whichinvited Rurik into Russia and under him became the germ of the vastRussian empire. A free city then, a free city it continued. Rurik andhis descendants ruled by sufferance. Yaroslaf confirmed the freeinstitutions which Rurik had respected. For centuries this greatcommercial city continued prosperous and free, becoming in time a memberof the powerful Hanseatic League. Only for the invasion of the Mongols, Novgorod instead of Moscow might have become the prototype of modernRussia, and a republic instead of a despotism have been established inthat mighty land. The sword of the Tartar cast into the scalesoverweighted the balance. It gave Moscow the supremacy, and libertyfell. 

Ivan the Great, in his determined effort to subject all Russia to hisautocratic sway, saw before him three republican communities, the freecities of Novgorod, Viatka, and Pskof, and took steps to sweep theselast remnants of ancient freedom from his path. Novgorod, as much themost important of these, especially demands our attention. With its fallRussian liberty fell to the earth. 

At that time Novgorod was one of the richest and most powerful cities ofthe earth. It was an ally rather than a subject of Moscow, and all thenorth of Russia was under its sway and contributed to its wealth. Butluxury had sapped its strength, and it held its liberties more bypurchase than by courage. Some of these liberties had already been lost, seized by the grand prince. The proud burghers chafed under thisinvasion of their time-honored privileges, and in 1471, inspired by theseeming timidity of Ivan, they determined to regain them. 

It was a woman that brought about the revolt. Marfa, a rich andinfluential widow of the city, had fallen in love with a Lithuanian, and, inspired at once by the passions of love and ambition, sought toattach her country to that of her lover. She opened her palace to thecitizens and lavished on them her treasures, seeking to inspire themwith her own views. Her efforts were successful: the officers of thegrand prince were driven out, and his domains seized; and when hethreatened reprisal they broke into open revolt, and bound themselves bytreaty to Casimir, prince of Lithuania. 

But events were to prove that the turbulent citizens were no match forthe crafty Ivan, who moved slowly but ever steadily to his goal, andmade secure each footstep before taking a step in advance. Hisinsidious policy roused three separate hostilities against Novgorod. Thepride of the nobles was stirred up against its democracy; the greed ofthe princes made them eager to seize its wealth; the fanatical peoplewere taught that this great city was an apostate to the faith. 

These hostile forces proved too much for the city against which theywere directed. Novgorod was taken and plundered, though Ivan did not yetdeprive it of its liberties. He had powerful princes to deal with, anddid not dare to seize so rich a prey without letting them share thespoil. But he ruined the city by devastation and plunder, deprived it ofits tributaries, the city and territory of Perm, and turned fromNovgorod to Moscow the rich commerce of this section. Taking advantageof some doubtful words in the treaty of submission, he held himself tobe legislator and supreme judge of the captive city. Such was the firstresult of the advice of an ambitious woman. 

The next step of the autocrat added to his influence. Novgorod beingthreatened with an attack from Livonia, he sent thither troops andenvoys to fight and negotiate in his name, thus taking from the city, whose resources he had already drained, its old right of making peaceand war. 

The ill feeling between the rich and the poor of Novgorod was fomentedby his agents; all complaints were required to be made to him; he stillfurther impoverished the rich by the presents and magnificent receptionswhich his presence among them demanded, and dazzled the eyes of thepeople by the Oriental state and splendor which had been adopted by thecourt of Moscow, and which he displayed in their midst. 

The nobles who had formerly been his enemies now became his victims. Hehad induced the people to denounce them, and at once seized them andsent them in chains to Moscow. The people, blinded by this seemingattention to their complaints, remained heedless of the violation of theancient law of their republic, "that none of its citizens should ever betried or punished out of the limits of its own territory. "

Thus tyranny made its slow way. The citizens, once governed and judgedby their own peers, now made their appeals to the grand prince and weresummoned to appear before his tribunal. "Never since Rurik, " say theannals, "had such an event happened; never had the grand princes of Kiefand Vladimir seen the Novgorodians come and submit to them as theirjudges. Ivan alone could reduce Novgorod to that degree of humiliation. "

This work was done with the deliberation of a settled policy. Ivan didnot molest Marfa, who had instigated the revolt; his sentences were justand equitable; men were blinded by his seeming moderation; and for fullseven years he pursued his insidious way, gradually weaning the peoplefrom their ancient customs, and taking advantage of every imprudence andthoughtless concession on their part to ground on it a claim toincreased authority. 

It was the glove of silk he had thus far extended to them. Within it layconcealed the hand of iron. The grasp of the iron hand was made when, during an audience, the envoy of the republic, through treason orthoughtlessness, addressed him by the name of sovereign (_Gosudar_, "liege lord, " instead of _Gospodin_, "master, " the usual title). 

Ivan, taking advantage of this, at once claimed all the absolute rightswhich custom had attached to that title. He demanded that the republicshould take an oath to him as its judge and legislator, receive hisboyars as their rulers, and yield to them the ancient palace ofYaroslaf, the sacred temple of their liberties, in which for more thanfive centuries their assemblies had been held. 

This demand roused the Novgorodians to their danger. They saw howblindly they had yielded to tyranny. A transport of indignation inspiredthem. For the last time the great bell of liberty sent forth its peal ofalarm. Gathering tumultuously at the palace from which they werethreatened with expulsion, they vigorously resolved, --

"Ivan is in fact our lord, but he shall never be our sovereign; thetribunal of his deputies may sit at Goroditch, but never at Novgorod:Novgorod is, and always shall be, its own judge. "

In their rage they murdered several of the nobles whom they suspected ofbeing friends of the tyrant. The envoy who had uttered the imprudentword was torn to pieces by their furious hands. They ended by againinvoking the aid of Lithuania. 

On hearing of this outbreak the despot feigned surprise. Groans brokefrom his lips, as if he felt that he had been basely used. Hiscomplaints were loud, and the calling in of a foreign power was broughtagainst Novgorod as a frightful aggravation of its crime. Under cover ofthese groans and complaints an army was gathered to which all theprovinces of the empire were forced to send contingents. 

These warlike preparations alarmed the citizens. All Russia seemedarrayed against them, and they tremblingly asked for conditions of peacein accordance with their ancient honor. "I will reign at Novgorod as Ido at Moscow, " replied the imperious despot. "I must have domains onyour territory. You must give up your Posadnick, and the bell whichsummons you to the national council. " Yet this threat of enslavement wascraftily coupled with a promise to respect their liberty. 

This declaration, the most terrible that free citizens could have heard, threw them into a state of violent agitation. Now in defiant fury theyseized their arms, now in helpless despondency let them fall. For awhole month their crafty adversary permitted them to exhibit their rage, not caring to use the great army with which he had encircled the citywhen assured that the terror of his presence would soon bring himvictory. 

They yielded: they could do nothing but yield. No blood was shed. Ivanhad gained his end, and was not given to useless cruelty. Marfa andseven of the principal citizens were sent prisoners to Moscow and theirproperty was confiscated. No others were molested. But on the 15th ofJanuary, 1478, the national assemblies ceased, and the citizens took theoath of subjection. The great republic, which had existed fromprehistoric times, was at an end, and despotism ruled supreme. 

On the 18th the boyars of Novgorod entered the service of Ivan, and thepossessions of the clergy were added to the domain of the prince, givinghim as vassals three hundred thousand boyar-followers, on whom hedepended to hold Novgorod in a state of submission. A great part of theterritories belonging to the city became the victor's prize, and it issaid that, as a share of his spoil, he sent to Moscow three hundredcart-loads of gold, silver, and precious stones, besides vast quantitiesof furs, cloths, and other goods of value. 

Pskov, another of the Russian republics, had been already subdued. In1479, Viatka, a colony of Novgorod, was reduced to like slavery. The endhad come. Republicanism in Russia was extinguished, and gradually therepublican population was removed to the soil of Moscow and replaced byMuscovites, born to the yoke. 

The liberties of Novgorod were gone. It had been robbed of its wealth. Its commerce remained, which in time would have restored its prosperity. But this too Ivan destroyed, not intentionally, but effectually. A burstof despotic anger completed the work of ruin. The tyrant, having beeninsulted by a Hanseatic city, ordered all the merchants of the Hansathen in Novgorod to be put in chains and their property confiscated. Asa result, that confidence under which alone commerce can flourishvanished, the North sought new channels for its trade, and Novgorod theGreat, once peopled by four hundred thousand souls, declined until onlyan insignificant borough marks the spot where once it stood. 

It is an interesting fact that this final blow to Russian republicanismwas dealt in 1492, the very year in which Columbus discovered a newworld beyond the seas, within which the greatest republic the world hasever known was destined to arise. 

_IVAN THE TERRIBLE. _

In seeking examples of the excesses to which absolute power may lead, weusually name the wicked emperors of Rome, among whom Nero stands mostnotorious as a monster of cruelty. Modern history has but one Nero inits long lines of kings and emperors, and him we find in Ivan IV. OfRussia, surnamed the Terrible. 

This cruel czar succeeded to the throne when but three years of age. Inhis early years he lived in a state of terror, being insulted anddespised by the powerful nobles who controlled the power of the throne. At fourteen years of age his enemies were driven out and his kinsmencame into power. They, caring only for blood and plunder, prompted theboy to cruelty, teaching him to rob, to torture, to massacre. Theyapplauded him when he amused himself by tormenting animals; and when, riding furiously through the streets of Moscow, he dashed all before himto the ground and trampled women and children under his horses' feet, they praised him for spirit and energy. 

This was an education fitted to make a Nero. But, happily for Russia, for thirteen years the tiger was chained. Ivan was seventeen years ofage when a frightful conflagration which broke out in Moscow gave riseto a revolt against the Glinski, his wicked kinsmen. They were torn topieces by the furious multitude, while terror rent his youthful soul. Amid the horror of flames, cries of vengeance, and groans of the dying, a monk appeared before the trembling boy, and with menacing looks andupraised hand bade him shrink from the wrath of Heaven, which hiscruelty had aroused. 

Certain appearances which appeared supernatural aided the effect ofthese words, the nature of Ivan seemed changed as by a miracle, dread ofHeaven's vengeance controlled his nature, and he yielded himself to theinfluence of the wise and good. Pious priests and prudent boyars becamehis advisers, Anastasia, his young and virtuous bride, gained aninfluence over him, and Russia enjoyed justice and felicity. 

During the succeeding thirteen years the country was ably and wiselygoverned, order was everywhere established, the army was strengthened, fortresses were built, enemies were defeated, the morals of the clergywere improved, a new code of laws was formed, arts were introduced fromEurope, a printing-office was opened, the city of Archangel was built, and the north of the empire was thrown open to commerce. 

All this was the work of Adashef, Ivan's wise prime minister, aided bythe influence of the noble-hearted Anastasia. In 1560, at the end ofthis period of mild and able administration, a sudden change took placeand the tiger was set free. Anastasia died. A disease seized Ivan whichseemed to affect his brain. The remainder of his life was marked byparoxysms of frightful barbarity. 

A new terror seized him, that of a vast conspiracy of the noblesagainst his power, and for safety he retired to Alexandrovsky, afortress in the midst of a gloomy forest. Here he assumed the monkishdress with three hundred of his minions, abandoning to the boyars thegovernment of the empire, but keeping the military power in his ownhands. 

On all sides Russia now suffered from its enemies. Moscow, with severalhundred thousand Muscovites, was burned by the Tartars in 1571. Disasterfollowed disaster, which Ivan was too cowardly and weak to avert. Trusting to incompetent generals abroad, he surrounded himself at homewith a guard of six thousand chosen men, who were hired to play the partof spies and assassins. They carried as emblems of office a dog's headand a broom, the first to indicate that they worried the enemies of theczar, the second that they swept them from the face of the earth. Theywere chosen from the lowest class of the people, and to them was giventhe property of their victims, that they might murder without mercy. 

The excesses of Ivan are almost too horrible to tell. He began byputting to death several great boyars of the family of Rurik, whiletheir wives and children were driven naked into the forests, where theydied under the scourge. Novgorod had been ruined by his grandfather. Hemarched against it, in a freak of madness, gathered a throng of thehelpless people within a great enclosure, and butchered them with hisown hand. When worn out with these labors of death, he turned on themhis guard, his slaves, and his dogs, while for a month afterwardshundreds of them were flung daily into the waters of the river, throughthe broken ice. What little vitality Ivan III. Had left in therepublican city was stamped out under the feet of this insensate brute. 

Tver and Pskov, two others of the free cities of the empire, sufferedfrom his frightful presence. Then returning to Moscow, he filled thepublic square with red-hot brasiers, great brass caldrons, and eightygibbets, and here five hundred of the leading nobles were slain by hisorders, after being subjected to terrible tortures. 

Women were treated as barbarously as men. Ivan, with a cruelty neverbefore matched, ordered many of them to be hanged at their own doors, and forced the husbands to go in and out under the swinging andfestering corpses of those they had loved and cherished. In other caseshusbands or children were fastened, dead, in their seats at table, andthe family forced to sit at meals, for days, opposite these terrifyingobjects. 

Seeking daily for new conceits of cruelty, he forced one lord to killhis father and another his brother, while it was his delight to letloose his dogs and bears upon the people in the public square, theanimals being left to devour the mutilated bodies of those they killed. Eight hundred women were drowned in one frightful mass, and theirrelatives were forced under torture to point out where their wealth layhidden. 

It is said that sixty thousand people were slain by Ivan's orders inNovgorod alone; how many perished in the whole realm history does notrelate. His only warlike campaign was against the Livonians. These hefailed to conquer, but held their resistance as a rebellion, and orderedhis prisoners to be thrown into boiling caldrons, spitted on lances, orroasted at fires which he stirred up with his own hands. 

This monster of iniquity married in all seven wives. He sought for aneighth from the court of Queen Elizabeth of England, and the daughter ofthe Earl of Huntington was offered him as a victim, --a willing one, itseems, influenced by the glamour which power exerts over the mind; butbefore the match was concluded the intended bride took fright, andbegged to be spared the terrible honor of wedding the Russian czar. 

Yet all the excesses of Ivan did not turn the people against him. Heassumed the manner of one inspired, claiming divine powers, and all theinjuries and degradation which he inflicted upon the people wereaccepted not only with resignation but with adoration. The Russians ofthat age of ignorance seem to have looked upon God and the czar as one, and submitted to blows, wounds, and insults with a blind servility towhich only abject superstition could have led. 

[Illustration: CHURCH AND TOWER OF IVAN THE GREAT. ]

The end came at last, in a final freak of madness. An humblesupplication, coming from the most faithful of his subjects, was made tohim; but in his distorted brain it indicated a new conspiracy of theboyars, of which his eldest and ablest son was to be the leader. In atransport of insane rage the frenzied emperor raised his iron-boundstaff and struck to the earth with a mortal blow this hope of his race. 

This was his last excess. Regret for his hasty act, though not remorsefor his murders, assailed him, and he soon after died, after twenty-sixyears of insane cruelties, ordering new executions almost with hislatest breath. 

_THE CONQUEST OF SIBERIA. _

In the year 1558 a family of wealthy merchants, Stroganof by name, beganto barter with the Tartar tribes dwelling east of the Ural Mountains. Ivan IV. Had granted to this family the desert districts of the Kama, with great privileges in trade, and the power to levy troops and buildforts--at their own expense--as a security against the robbers whocrossed the Urals to prey upon their settled neighbors to the west. Inreturn the Stroganofs were privileged to follow their example in a morelegal manner, by the brigandage of trade between civilization andbarbarism. 

These robbers came from the region now known as Siberia, which extendsto-day through thousands of miles of width, from the Urals to thePacific. Before this time we know little about this great expanse ofland. It seems to have been peopled by a succession of races, immigrantsfrom the south, each new wave of people driving the older tribes deeperinto the frozen regions of the north. Early in the Christian era therecame hither a people destitute of iron, but expert in the working ofbronze, silver, and gold. They had wide regions of irrigated fields, anda higher civilization than that of those who in time took their place. 

People of Turkish origin succeeded these tribes about the eleventhcentury. They brought with them weapons of iron and made fine pottery. In the thirteenth century, when the great Mongol outbreak took placeunder Genghis Khan, the Turkish kingdom in Siberia was destroyed andTartars took their place. Civilization went decidedly down hill. Suchwas the state of affairs when Russia began to turn eyes of longingtowards Siberia. 

The busy traders of Novgorod had made their way into Siberia as early asthe eleventh century. But this republic fell, and the trade came to anend. In 1555, Khan Ediger, who had made himself a kingdom in Siberia, and whose people had crossed swords with the Russians beyond the Urals, sent envoys to Moscow, who consented to pay to Russia a yearly tributeof a thousand sables, thus acknowledging Russian supremacy. 

This tribute showed that there were riches beyond the mountains. TheStroganofs made their way to the barrier of the hills, and it was notlong before the trader was followed by the soldier. The invasion ofSiberia was due to an event which for the time threatened the totaloverthrow of the Russian government. A Cossack brigand, Stepan Rozni byname, had long defied the forces of the czar, and gradually gained instrength until he had an army of three hundred thousand men under hiscommand. If he had been a soldier of ability he might have made himselflord of the empire. Being a brigand in grain, he was soon overturned andhis forces dispersed. 

Among his followers was one Yermak, a chief of the Cossacks of the Don, whom the czar sentenced to death for his love of plunder, but afterwardspardoned. Yermak and his followers soon found the rule of Moscow toostringent for their ideas of personal liberty, and he led a Cossack bandto the Stroganof settlements in Perm. 

Tradition tells us that the Stroganof of that date did not relish thepresence of his unruly guests, with their free ideas of property rights, and suggested to Yermak that Siberia offered a promising field for aready sword. He would supply him with food and arms if he saw fit tolead an expedition thither. 

The suggestion accorded well with Yermak's humor. He at once began toenlist volunteers for the enterprise, adding to his own Cossack band areinforcement of Russians and Tartars and of German and Polish prisonersof war, until he had sixteen hundred and thirty-six men under hiscommand. With these he crossed the mountains in 1580, and terrified thenatives to submission with his fire-arms, a form of weapon new to them. Making their way down the Tura and Taghil Rivers, the adventurerscrossed the immense untrodden forests of Tobol, and Kutchum, the Tartarkhan, was assailed in his capital town of Ister, near where Tobolsk nowstands. 

Many battles with the Tartars were fought, Ister was taken, the khanfled to the steppes, and his cousin was made prisoner by theadventurers. Yermak now, having added by his valor a great domain to theRussian empire, purchased the favor of Ivan IV. By the present of thisnew kingdom. He made his way to the Irtish and Obi, opened trade withthe rich khanate of Bokhara, south of the desert, and in various wayssought to consolidate the conquest he had made. But misfortune came tothe conqueror. One day, being surprised by the Tartars when unprepared, he leaped into the Irtish in full armor and tried to swim its rapidcurrent. The armor he wore had been sent him by the czar, and had servedhim well in war. It proved too heavy for his powers of swimming, borehim beneath the hungry waters, and brought the career of the victoriousbrigand to an end. After his death his dismayed followers fled fromSiberia, yielding it to Tartar hands again. 

Yermak--in his way a rival of Cortez and Pizarro--gained by his conquestthe highest fame among the Russian people. They exalted him to the levelof a hero, and their church has raised him to the rank of a saint, atwhose tomb miracles are performed. As regards the Russian saints, it mayhere be remarked that they have been constructed, as a rule, from veryunsanctified timber, as may be seen from the examples we have heretoforegiven. Not only the people and the priests but the poets have paid theirtribute to Yermak's fame, epic poems having been written about hisexploits and his deeds made familiar in popular song. 

Though the Cossacks withdrew after Yermak's death, others soon succeededthem. The furs of Siberia formed a rich prize whose allurement could notbe ignored, and new bands of hunters and adventurers poured into thecountry, sustained by regular troops from Moscow. The advance was madethrough the northern districts to avoid the denser populations of thesouth. New detachments of troops were sent, who built forts and settledlaborers around them, with the duty of supplying the garrisons withfood, powder, and arms. By 1650 the Amur was reached and followed to thePacific Ocean. 

It was a brief period in which to conquer a country of such vast extent. But no organized resistance was met, and the land lay almost at themercy of the invaders. There was vigorous opposition by the tribes, butthey were soon subdued. The only effective resistance they met was thatof the Chinese, who obliged the Cossacks to quit the Amur, which riverthey claimed. In 1855 the advance here began again, and the whole courseof the river was occupied, with much territory to its south. Siberia, thus conquered by arms, is being made secure for Russia by atrans-continental railroad and hosts of new settlers, and promises inthe future to become a land of the greatest prosperity and wealth. 

[Illustration: KIAKHTA, SIBERIA. ]

_THE MACBETH OF RUSSIA. _

On the 15th of May, 1591, five boys were playing in the court-yard ofthe Russian palace at Uglitch. With them were the governess and nurse ofthe principal child--a boy ten years of age--and a servant-woman. Thechild had a knife in his hand, with which he was amusing himself bythrusting it into the ground or cutting a piece of wood. 

Unluckily, the attention of the women for a brief interval was drawnaside. When the nurse looked at her charge again, to her horror shefound him writhing on the ground, bathed in blood which poured from alarge wound in his throat. 

The shrieks of the nurse quickly drew others to the spot, and in amoment there was a terrible uproar, for the dying boy was no less aperson than Dmitri, son of Ivan the Terrible, brother of Feodor, thereigning czar, and heir to the crown of Russia. The tocsin was sounded, and the populace thronged into the court-yard, thinking that the palacewas on fire. On learning what had actually happened they burst intouncontrollable fury. The child had not killed himself, but had beenmurdered, they said, and a victim for their rage was sought. 

In a moment the governess was hurled bleeding and half alive to theground, and one of her slaves, who came to her aid, was killed. Thekeeper of the palace was accused of the crime, and, though he fled andbarred himself within a house, the infuriated mob broke through thedoors and killed him and his son. The body of the child was carried intoa neighboring church, and here the son of the governess, against whomsuspicion had been directed, was murdered before it under his mother'seyes. Fresh victims to the wrath of the populace were sought, and thelives of the governess and some others were with difficulty saved. 

As for the child who had killed himself or had been killed, alarmingstories had recently been set afloat. He was said to be the image of histerrible father, and to manifest an unnatural delight in blood and thesight of pain, his favorite amusement being to torture and kill animals. But it is doubtful if any of this was true, for there was then one inpower who had a reason for arousing popular prejudice against the boy. 

That this may be better understood we must go back. Ivan had killed hisablest son, as told in a previous story, and Feodor, the present czar, was a feeble, timid, sickly incapable, who was a mere tool in the handsof his ambitious minister, Boris Godunof. Boris craved the throne. Between him and this lofty goal lay only the feeble Feodor and the childDmitri, the sole direct survivors of the dynasty of Rurik. With theirdeath without children that great line would be extinguished. 

The story of Boris reminds us in several particulars of that of theScotch usurper Macbeth. His future career had been predicted, in thedead of night, by astrologers, who said, "You shall yet wear thecrown. " Then they became silent, as if seeing horrors which they darednot reveal. Boris insisted on knowing more, and was told that he shouldreign, but only for seven years. In joy he exclaimed, "No matter, thoughit be for only seven days, so that I reign!"

This ambitious lord, who ruled already if he did not reign, hadtherefore a purpose in exciting prejudice against and distrust ofDmitri, the only heir to the crown, and in taking steps for his removal. Feodor dead, the throne would fall like ripe fruit into his own hands. 

Yet, whether guilty of the murder or not, he took active steps to clearhimself of the dark suspicion of guilt. An inquest was held, and theverdict rendered that the boy had killed himself by accident. At oncethe regent proceeded to punish those who had taken part in the outbreakat Uglitch. The czaritza, mother of Dmitri, who had first incited themob, was forced to take the veil. Her brothers, who had declared the actone of murder, were sent to remote prisons. Uglitch was treated withfrightful severity. More than two hundred of its inhabitants were put todeath. Others were maimed and thrown into dungeons. All the rest, exceptthose who had fled, were exiled to Siberia, and with them was banishedthe very church-bell which had called them out by its tocsin peal. Atown of thirty thousand inhabitants was depopulated that, as peoplesaid, every evidence of the guilt of Boris Godunof might be destroyed. 

This dreadful violence did Boris more harm than good. Macbeth stabbedthe sleeping grooms to hide his guilt. Boris destroyed a city. But heonly caused the people to look on him as an assassin and to doubt themotives of even his noblest acts. 

A fierce fire broke out that left much of Moscow in ruin. Boris rebuiltwhole streets and distributed money freely among the people. But eventhose who received this aid said that he had set fire to the cityhimself that he might win applause with his money. A Tartar army invadedthe empire and appeared at the gates of Moscow. All were in terror butBoris, who hastily built redoubts, recruited soldiers, and inspired allwith his own courage. The Tartars were defeated, and hardly a third ofthem reached home again. Yet all the return the able regent received wasthe popular saying that he had called in the Tartars in order to makethe people forget the death of Dmitri. 

A child was born to Feodor, --a girl. The enemies of the regent instantlydeclared that a boy had been born and that he had substituted for it agirl. It died in a few days, and then it was said that he had poisonedit. 

Yet Boris went on, disdaining his enemies, winning power as he went. Hegained the favor of the clergy by giving Russia a patriarch of its own. The nobles who opposed him were banished or crushed. He made thepeasants slaves of the land, and thus won over the petty lords. Citieswere built, fortresses erected, the enemies of Russia defeated; Siberiawas brought under firm control, and the whole nation made to see thatit had never been ruled by abler hands. 

Boris in all this was strongly paving his way to the throne. In 1598 theweak Feodor died. He left no sons, and with him, its fifty-secondsovereign, the dynasty of Rurik the Varangian came to an end. It hadexisted for more than seven centuries. Branches of the house of Rurikremained, yet no member of it dared aspire to that throne which thetyrant Ivan had made odious. 

A new ruler had to be chosen by the voice of those in power, and Borisstood supreme among the aspirants. The chronicles tell us, with strikingbrevity, "The election begins; the people look up to the nobles, thenobles to the grandees, the grandees to the patriarch; he speaks, henames Boris; and instantaneously, and as one man, all re-echo thatformidable name. "

And now Godunof played an amusing game. He held the reins of power sofirmly that he could safely enact a transparent farce. He refused thesceptre. The grandees and the people begged him to accept it, and hetook refuge from their solicitations in a monastery. This comedy, whicheven Cćsar had not long played, Boris kept up for over a month. Yet fromhis cell he moved Russia at his will. 

In truth, the more he seemed to withdraw the more eager became all tomake him accept. Priests, nobles, people, besieged him with theirsupplications. He refused, and again refused, and for six weeks kept allRussia in suspense. Not until he saw before him the highest grandees andclergy of the realm on their knees, tears in their eyes, in their handsthe relics of the saints and the image of the Redeemer, did he yieldwhat seemed a reluctant assent, and come forth from his cell to acceptthat throne which was the chief object of his desires. 

But Boris on the throne still resembled Macbeth. The memory of hiscrimes pursued him, and he sought to rule by fear instead of love. Heendeavored, indeed, to win the people by shows and prodigality, but thepowerful he ruled with a heavy hand, destroying all whom he had reasonto fear, threatening the extinction of many great families by forbiddingtheir members to marry, seizing the wealth of those he had ruined. Thefamily of the Romanofs, allied to the line of Rurik, and soon to becomepre-eminent in Russia, he pursued with rancor, its chief being obligedto turn monk to escape the axe. As monk he in time rose to the headshipof the church. 

The peasantry, who had before possessed liberty of movement, were by himbound as serfs to the soil. Thousands of them fled, and an insupportableinquisition was established, as hateful to the landowners as to theserfs. All this was made worse by famine and pestilence, which ravagedRussia for three years. And in the midst of this disaster the ghost ofthe slain Dmitri rose to plague his murderer. In other words, one whoclaimed to be the slain prince appeared, and avenged the murdered child, his story forming one of the most interesting tales in the history ofRussia. It is this which we have now to tell. 

About midsummer of the year 1603 Adam Wiszniowiecki, a Polish prince, angry at some act of negligence in a young man whom he had latelyemployed, gave him a box on the ear and called him by an insulting name. 

"If you knew who I am, prince, " said the indignant youth, "you would notstrike me nor call me by such a name. "

"Knew who you are! Why, who are you?"

"I am Dmitri, son of Ivan IV. , and the rightful czar of Russia. "

Surprised by this extraordinary statement, the prince questioned him, and was told a plausible story by the young man. He had escaped themurderer, he said, the boy who died being the son of a serf, whoresembled and had been substituted for him by his physician Simon, whoknew what Boris designed. The physician had fled with him from Uglitchand put him in the hands of a loyal gentleman, who for safety hadconsigned him to a monastery. 

The physician and gentleman were both dead, but the young man showed theprince a Russian seal which bore Dmitri's arms and name, and a goldcross adorned with jewels of great value, given him, he said, by hisprincely godfather. He was about the age which Dmitri would havereached, and, as a Russian servant who had seen the child said, hadwarts and other marks like those of the true Dmitri. He possessed also apersuasiveness of manner which soon won over the Polish prince. 

The pretender was accepted as an illustrious guest by PrinceWiszniowiecki, given clothes, horses, carriages, and suitable retinue, and presented to other Polish dignitaries. Dmitri, as he was thenceforthknown, bore well the honors now showered upon him. He was at ease amongthe noblest; gracious, affable, but always dignified; and all said thathe had the deportment of a prince. 

He spoke Polish as well as Russian, was thoroughly versed in Russianhistory and genealogy, and was, moreover, an accomplished horseman, versed in field sports, and of striking vigor and agility, qualitieshighly esteemed by the Polish nobles. 

The story of this event quickly reached Russia, and made its way withsurprising rapidity through all the provinces. The czarevitch Dmitri hadnot been murdered, after all! He was alive in Poland, and was about tocall the usurper to a terrible reckoning. The whole nation was astirwith the story, and various accounts of his having been seen in Russiaand of having played a brave part in the military expeditions of theCossacks were set afloat. 

Boris soon heard of this claimant of the throne. He also received thedisturbing news that a monk was among the Cossacks of the Don urgingthem to take up arms for the czarevitch who would soon be among them. His first movement was the injudicious one of trying to bribeWiszniowiecki to give up the impostor to him, --the result being toconfirm the belief that he was in truth the prince he claimed to be. 

The events that followed are too numerous to be given in detail, and itmust suffice here to say that on October 31, 1604, Dmitri enteredRussian territory at the head of a small Polish army, of less than fivethousand in all. This was a trifling force with which to invade anempire, but it grew rapidly as he advanced. Town after town submitted onhis appearance, bringing to him, bound and gagged, the governors setover them by Boris. Dmitri at once set them free and treated them withpolitic humanity. 

The first town to offer resistance was Novgorod-Swerski, which PeterBasmanof, a general of Boris, had garrisoned with five hundred men. Basmanof was brave and obstinate, and for several weeks he held theforce of Dmitri before this petty place, while Boris was making vigorousefforts to collect an army among his discontented people. On the lastday of 1604 the two armies met, fifteen thousand against fifty thousand, and on a broad open plain that gave the weaker force no advantage ofposition. 

But Dmitri made up for weakness by soldierly spirit. At the head of somesix hundred mail-clad Polish knights he vigorously charged the Russianright wing, hurled it back upon the centre, and soon had the whole armyin disorder. The soldiers flung down their arms and fled, shouting, "Theczarevitch! the czarevitch!"

Yet in less than a month this important victory was followed by adefeat. Dmitri had been weakened by his Poles being called home. Borisgathered new forces, and on January 20, 1605, the armies met again, nowseventy thousand Muscovites against less than quarter their number. Yetvictory would have come to Dmitri again but for treachery in his army. He charged the enemy with the same fierceness as before, bore down allbefore him, routed the cavalry, tore a great gap in the line of theinfantry, and would have swept the field had the main body of his army, consisting of eight thousand Zaporogues, come to his aid. 

At this vital moment this great body of cavalry, half the entire army, wheeled and quit the field, --bribed, it is said, by Boris. Such adefection, at such a moment, was fatal. The Russians rallied; the daywas lost; nothing but flight remained. Dmitri fled, hotly pursued, andhis horse suffering from a wound. He was saved by his devoted Cossackinfantry, four thousand in number, who stood to their guns and faced thewhole Muscovite army. They were killed to a man, but Dmitriescaped, --favored, as we are told, by some of the opposing leaders, whodid not want to make Boris too powerful. 

All was not lost while Dmitri remained at liberty. Lost armies could berestored. He took refuge in Putivle, one of the towns which hadpronounced in his favor, and while his enemies, who proved half-heartedin the cause of Boris, wasted their time in besieging a small fortress, new adherents flocked to his banner. Boris was furious against hisgenerals, but his fury caused them to hate instead of to serve him. Hetried to get rid of Dmitri by poison, but his agents were discovered andpunished, and the attempt helped his rival more than a victory wouldhave done. 

Dmitri wrote to Boris, declaring that Heaven had protected him againstthis base attempt, and ironically promising to extend mercy towards him. "Descend from the throne you have usurped, and seek in the solitude ofthe cloister to reconcile yourself with Heaven. In that case I willforget your crimes, and even assure you of my sovereign protection. "

All this was bitter to the Russian Macbeth. The princely blood which hehad shed to gain the throne seemed to redden the air about him. Theghost of his slain victim haunted him. His power, indeed, seemed asgreat as ever. He was an autocrat still, the master of a splendid court, the ruler over a vast empire. Yet he knew that they who came withreverence and adulation into his presence hated him in their hearts, andanguish must have smitten the usurper to the soul. 

His sudden death seemed to indicate this. On the 13th of April, 1605, after dining in state with some distinguished foreigners, illnesssuddenly seized him, blood burst from his mouth, nose, and ears, andwithin two hours he was dead. He had reigned six years, --nearly the fullterm predicted by the soothsayers. 

The story of Dmitri is a long one still, but must be dealt with herewith the greatest brevity. Feodor, the son of Boris, was proclaimed czarby the boyars of the court. The oath of allegiance was taken by thewhole city; all seemed to favor him; yet within six weeks this boyishczar was deposed and executed without a sword being drawn in hisdefence. 

Basmanof, the leading general of Boris, had turned to the cause ofDmitri, and the army seconded him. The people of Moscow declared infavor of the pretender, there were a few executions and banishments, andon the 20th of June the new czar entered Moscow in great pomp, amid theacclamations of an immense multitude, who thronged the streets, thewindows, and the house-tops; and the young man who, less than two yearsbefore, had had his ears boxed by a Polish prince, was now proclaimedemperor and autocrat of the mighty Russian realm. 

It was a short reign to which the false Dmitri--for there seems to be nodoubt of the death of the true Dmitri--had come. Within less than a yearMoscow was in rebellion, he was slain, and the throne was vacant. Andthis result was largely due to his generous and kindly spirit, largelyto his trusting nature and disregard of Russian opinion. 

No man could have been more unlike the tyrant Ivan, his reputed father. Dmitri proved kind and generous to all, even bestowing honors uponmembers of the family of Godunof. He remitted heavy taxes, punishedunjust judges, paid the debts contracted by Ivan, passed laws in theinterest of the serfs, and held himself ready to receive the petitionsand redress the grievances of the humblest of his subjects. Hisknowledge of state affairs was remarkable for one of his age, and Russiahad never had an abler, nobler-minded, and more kindly-hearted czar. 

But Dmitri in discretion was still a boy, and made trouble where anolder head would have mended it. He offended the boyars of his councilby laughing at their ignorance. 

"Go and travel, " he said; "observe the ways of civilized nations, foryou are no better than savages. "

The advice was good, but not wise. He offended the Russian demand fordecorum in a czar by riding through the streets on a furious stallion, like a Cossack of the Don. In religion he was lax, favoring secretly theLatin Church. He chose Poles instead of Russians for his secretaries. And he excited general disgust by the announcement that he was about tomarry a Polish woman, heretical to the Russian faith. The people werestill more incensed by the conduct of Marina, this foreign bride, bothbefore and after the wedding, she giving continual offence by herinsistence on Polish customs. 

While thus offending the prejudices and superstitions of his people, Dmitri prepared for his downfall by his trustfulness and clemency. Hedismissed the spies with whom former czars had surrounded themselves, and laid himself freely open to treachery. The result of his acts andhis openness was a conspiracy, which was fortunately discovered. Shuiski, its leader, was condemned to be executed. Yet as he knelt withthe axe lifted above him, he was respited and banished to Siberia; andon his way thither a courier overtook him, bearing a pardon for him andhis banished brothers. His rank was restored, and he was again made acouncillor of the empire. 

Clemency like this was praiseworthy, but it proved fatal. Like Cćsarbefore him, Dmitri was over-clement and over-confident, and with thesame result. Yet his answer to those who urged him to punish theconspirator was a noble one, and his trustfulness worth far more than asecurity due to cruelty and suspicion. 

"No, " he said, "I have sworn not to shed Christian blood, and I willkeep my oath. There are two ways of governing an empire, --tyranny andgenerosity. I choose the latter. I will not be a tyrant. I will notspare money; I will scatter it on all hands. "

Only for the offence which he gave his people by disregarding theirprejudices, Dmitri might have long and ably reigned. His confidenceopened the way to a new conspiracy, of which Shuiski was again at thehead. Reports were spread through the city that Dmitri was a heretic andan impostor, and that he had formed a plot to massacre the Muscovites bythe aid of the Poles whom he had introduced into the city. 

As a result of the insidious methods of the conspirators, the whole citybroke out in rebellion, and at daybreak on the 29th of May, 1606, a bodyof boyars gathered in the great square in full armor, and, followed by amultitude of townsmen, advanced on the Kremlin, whose gates were thrownopen by traitors within. 

Dmitri, who had only fifty guards in the palace, was aroused by the dinof bells and the uproar in the streets. An armed multitude filled theouter court, shouting, "Death to the impostor!"

Soon conspirators appeared in the palace, where the czar, snatching asword from one of the guards, and attended by Basmanof, attacked them, crying out, "I am not a Boris for you!"

He killed several with his own hands, but Basmanof was slain beforehim, and he and the guards were driven back from chamber to chamber, until the guards, finding that the czar had disappeared, laid down theirarms. 

Dmitri, seeing that resistance was hopeless, had sought a distant room, and here had leaped or been thrown from a window to the ground. Theheight was thirty feet, his leg was broken by the fall, and he faintedwith the pain. 

His last hope of life was gone. Some faithful soldiers who found himsought to defend him against the mob who soon appeared, but theirresistance was of no avail. Dmitri was seized, his royal garments weretorn off, and the caftan of a pastry-cook was placed upon him. Thusdressed, he was carried into a room of the palace for the mockery of atrial. 

"Bastard dog, " cried one of the Russians, "tell us who you are andwhence you came. "

"You all know I am your czar, " replied Dmitri, bravely, "the legitimateson of Ivan Vassilievitch. If you desire my death, give me time at leastto collect my senses. "

At this a Russian gentleman named Valnief shouted out, --

"What is the use of so much talk with the heretic dog? This is the way Iconfess this Polish fifer. " And he put an end to the agony of Dmitri byshooting him through the breast. 

In an instant the mob rushed on the lifeless body, slashing it with axesand swords. It was carried out, placed on a table, and a set ofbagpipes set on the breast with the pipe in the mouth. 

"You played on us long enough; now play for us, " cried the ribaldinsulter. 

Others lashed the corpse with their whips, crying, "Look at the czar, the hero of the Germans. "

For three days Dmitri's body lay exposed to the view of the populace, but it was so hacked and mangled that none could recognize in it thegallant young man who a few days before had worn the imperial robes andcrown. 

On the third night a blue flame was seen playing over the table, and theguards, frightened by this natural result of putrefaction, hastened tobury the body outside the walls. But superstitious terrors followed theprodigy: it was whispered that Dmitri was a wizard who, by magic arts, had the power to come to life from the grave. To prevent this the bodywas dug up again and burned, and the ashes were collected, mixed withgunpowder, and rammed into a cannon, which was then dragged to the gateby which Dmitri had entered Moscow. Here the match was applied, and theashes of the late czar were hurled down the road leading to Poland, whence he had come. 

Thus died a man who, impostor though he seems to have been, was perhapsthe noblest and best of all the Russian czars, while the story of hisrise and fall forms the most dramatic tale in all the annals of theempire over which for one short year he ruled. 

_THE ERA OF THE IMPOSTORS. _

We have told how the ashes of Dmitri were loaded into a cannon and firedfrom the gate of Moscow. They fell like seeds of war on the soil ofRussia, and for years that unhappy land was torn by faction and harriedby invasion. From those ashes new Dmitris seemed to spring, otherimpostors rose to claim the crown, and until all these shades were laidpeace fled from the land. 

Vassili Shuiski, the leader in the insurrection against Dmitri, hadhimself proclaimed czar. He was destined to learn the truth of thesaying, "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. " For hardly had themob that murdered Dmitri dispersed before rumors arose that their victimwas not dead. His body had been so mangled that none could recognize it, and the story was set afloat that it was one of his officers who hadbeen killed, and that he had escaped. Four swift horses were missingfrom the stables of the palace, and these were at once connected withthe assumed flight of the czar. Rumor was in the air, and even in Moscowdoubts of Dmitri's death grew rife. 

Fuel soon fell on the flame. Three strangers in Russian dress, butspeaking the language of Poland, crossed the Oka River, and gave theferryman the high fee of six ducats, saying, "You have ferried theczar; when he comes back to Moscow with a Polish army he will not forgetyour service. "

At a German inn, a little farther on, the same party used similarlanguage. This story spread like wildfire through Russia, and deeplyalarmed the new czar. To put it down he sought to play on the religiousfeelings of the Russians, by making a saint of the original Dmitri. Abody was produced, said to have been taken from the grave of the slainboy at Uglitch, but in a remarkable state of preservation, since itstill displayed the fresh hue of life and held in its hand somestrangely preserved nuts. Tales of miracles performed by the relics ofthe new saint were also spread, but with little avail, for the peoplewere not very ready to believe the man who had stolen the throne. 

War broke out despite these manufactured miracles. PrinceShakhofskoi--the supposed leader of the party who had told the story atthe Oka--was soon in the field with an army of Cossacks and peasants, and defeated the royal army. But the new Dmitri, in whose name hefought, did not appear. It seemed as if Shakhofskoi had not yet beenable to find a suitable person to play the part. 

Russia, however, was not long without a pretender. During Dmitri's reigna young man had appeared among the Cossacks of the Volga, callinghimself Peter Feodorovitch, and claiming to be the son of the formerczar Feodor. This man now reappeared and presented himself to the rebelarmy as the representative of his uncle Dmitri. He was eagerly welcomedby Shakhofskoi, who badly needed some one whom he might offer to hismen as a prince. 

And now we have to describe one of the strangest sieges in the annals ofhistory. Shakhofskoi, finding himself threatened by a powerful army, took refuge in the fortified town of Toula. Here he was soon joined byBolotnikof, a Polish general who had come to Russia with a commissionbearing the imperial seal of Dmitri. In this stronghold they werebesieged by an army of one hundred thousand men, led by the czarhimself. 

Toula was strong. It was vigorously defended, the garrison fightingbravely for their lives. No progress was made with the siege, andShuiski grew disconsolate, for he knew that to fail now would be ruin. 

From this state of anxiety he was relieved by a remarkable proposal, that of an obscure individual who promised to drown all the people ofToula and deliver the town into his hands. This extraordinary offer, made by a monk named Kravkof, was at first received with incredulouslaughter, and it was some time before the czar and his council could bebrought to listen to the words of an idle braggart, as they deemed thestranger. In the end the czar asked him to explain his plan. 

It proved to be the following. Toula lay in a narrow valley, down whosecentre flowed the little river Oupa, passing through the town. Kravkofsuggested that they should dam this stream below the town. "Do as Isay, " he remarked, "and if the whole town is not under water in a fewhours, I will answer for the failure with my head. "

The project thus presented seemed feasible. Immediately all the millersin the army, men used to the kind of work required, were put under hisorders, and the other soldiers were set to carrying sacks of earth tothe place chosen for the dam. As this rose in height, the water backedup in the town. Soon many of the streets became canals, hundreds ofhouses, undermined by the water, were destroyed, and the promise ofKravkof seemed likely to be fulfilled. 

Yet the garrison, confined in what had become a walled-in lake, foughtwith desperate obstinacy. Water surrounded them, yet they waded to thewalls and fought. Famine decimated them, yet they starved and fought. Aterrible epidemic broke out in the water-soaked city, but the garrisonfought on. Dreadful as were their surroundings, they held out withunflinching courage and intrepidity. 

The dam was the centre of the struggle. The besiegers sought to raise itstill higher and deepen the water in the streets; the besieged did theirbest to break it down and relieve the city. It had grown to a greatheight with such rapidity that the superstitious people of Toula feltsure that magic had aided in its building and fancied that it might bedestroyed by magic means. A monk declared that Shuiski had broughtdevils to his aid, but professed to be a proficient in the black art, and offered, for a hundred roubles, to fight the demons in their ownelement. 

Bolotnikof accepted his terms, and he stripped, plunged into the river, and disappeared. For a full hour nothing was seen of him, and every onegave him up for lost. But at the end of that time he rose to the surfaceof the water, his body covered with scratches. The story he had to tellwas, to say the least, remarkable. 

"I have had a frightful conflict, " he said, "with the twelve thousanddevils Shuiski has at work upon his dam. I have settled six thousand ofthem, but the other six thousand are the worst of all, and will not givein. "

Thus against men and devils alike, against water, famine, andpestilence, fought the brave men of Toula, holding out withextraordinary courage. Letters came to them in Dmitri's name, promisinghelp, but it never came. At length, after months of this brave defencehad elapsed, Shakhofskoi proposed that they should capitulate. TheCossacks of the garrison, furious at the suggestion, seized and thrusthim into a dungeon. Not until every scrap of food had been eaten, horsesand dogs devoured, even leather gnawed as food, did Bolotnikof and Peterthe pretender offer to yield, and then only on condition that thesoldiers should receive honorable treatment. If not, they would die witharms in their hands, and devour one another as food, rather thansurrender. As for themselves, they asked for no pledges of safety. 

Shuiski accepted the terms, and the gates were opened. Bolotnikofadvanced boldly to the czar and offered himself as a victim, presentinghis sword with the edge laid against his neck. 

"I have kept the oath I swore to him who, rightly or wrongly, callshimself Dmitri, " he said. "Deserted by him, I am in your power. Cut offmy head if you will; or, if you will spare my life, I will serve you asI have served him. "

This appeal was wasted on Shuiski. He forgot the clemency which the czarDmitri had formerly shown to him, sent Bolotnikof to Kargopol, and soonafter ordered him to be drowned. Peter the pretender was hanged on thespot. Shakhofskoi alone was spared. They found him in chains, which hesaid had been placed on him because he counselled the obstinate rebelsto submit. Shuiski set him free, and the first use he made of hisliberty was to kindle the rebellion again. 

Thus ended this remarkable siege, one in some respects without parallelin the history of war. What followed must be briefly told. Though thesiege of Toula ended with the hanging of one pretender to the throne, another was already in the field. The new Dmitri, in whose name the warwas waged, had made his appearance during the siege. Some of theofficers of the first Dmitri pretended to recognize him, but in realityhe was a coarse, vulgar, ignorant knave, who had badly learned hislesson, and lacked all the native princeliness of his predecessor. 

Yet he had soon a large army at his back, and with it, on April 24, 1608, he defeated the army of the czar with great slaughter. He mighteasily have taken Moscow, but instead of advancing on it he halted atthe village of Tushino, twelve versts away, where he held his court forseventeen months. 

Meanwhile still another pretender appeared, who called himself Feodor, son of the czar Feodor. He presented himself to the Don Cossacks, whobrought him in chains to Dmitri, by whom he was promptly put to death. Soon afterwards Marina, wife of the first Dmitri, who had been released, with her father, by Shuiski, was brought into the camp of the pretender. And here an interesting bit of comedy was played. Marina, rather than goback to meet ridicule in Poland, was ready to become the wife of thisvulgar impostor, though she saw at once that he was not the man heclaimed to be. 

She met him coldly at first, but at a second meeting she greeted himwith a great show of tenderness before the whole army, being glad, itwould appear, to regain her old position on any terms. The news thatMarina had recognized the pretender brought over numbers to his side, and soon nearly all Russia had declared for him, the only cities holdingout being Moscow, Novgorod, and Smolensk. 

The false Dmitri had now reached the summit of his fortunes. A rapiddecline followed. One of his generals, who laid siege to the monasteryof the Trinity, near Moscow, was repulsed. His partisans were defeatedin other quarters. Soon the whole aspect of the war changed. A new enemyto Russia came into the field, Sigismund, King of Poland, who laid siegeto the strong city of Smolensk, while the army of the czar, whichmarched to its relief, suffered an annihilating defeat. 

This result closed the reign of Shuiski. An insurrection broke out inMoscow, he was forced to become a monk, and in the end was delivered toSigismund and died in prison. Thus was Dmitri avenged. The newcondition of affairs proved as disastrous to the false Dmitri. His Polesdeserted him, his power vanished, and he descended to the level of amere Cossack robber. In December, 1610, murder ended his career. 

Smolensk fell after a siege of eighteen months, but at the last moment apowder magazine exploded and set fire to the city, and Sigismund becamemaster only of a heap of ruins. The Poles in Moscow, attacked by theRussians, took possession of the Kremlin, burned down most of the city, and massacred a hundred thousand of the people. Anarchy was rampanteverywhere. New chiefs appeared in all quarters. Each town declared foritself. The Swedes took possession of Novgorod. A third Dmitri appeared, and dwelt in state for a while, but was soon taken and hanged. The wholegreat empire was in a state of frightful confusion, and seemed as if itwas about to fall to pieces. 

From this fate it was saved by one of the common people, a butcher ofNijni Novgorod, Kozma Minin by name. Brave, honest, patriotic, andsensible, this man aroused his fellow-citizens, who took up arms for thedeliverance of their country. Other towns followed this example, an armywas raised with Prince Pojarski at its head, and Minin, the patrioticbutcher, seconded him in an administrative capacity, being hailed by thepeople as "the elect of the whole Russian empire. "

Driving the Poles before him, Pojarski entered Moscow, and in October, 1612, became master of the Kremlin. The impostors all disappeared;Marina and her three-year-old son Ivan were captured, the child to behanged and she to end her eventful life in prison; anarchy vanished, andpeace returned to the realm. 

The end came in 1613, when a national council was convened to choose anew czar. Pojarski refused the crown, and Michael Romanof, a boy ofsixteen, scion of one of the noblest families of Russia, and allied tothe Ruriks by the female line, was elected czar. His descendants stillhold the throne. 

[Illustration: CHURCH OF THE ASSUMPTION, MOSCOW, IN WHICH THE CZAR ISCROWNED. ]

_THE BOOKS OF ANCESTRY. _

The noble families of Russia, for the most part descendants of theScandinavian adventurers who had come in with Rurik, were as proud intheir way as the descendants of the vikings who came to England underWilliam of Normandy. Their books of pedigree were kept with the mostscrupulous care, and in these were set down not only the genealogies ofthe families, but every office that had been held by any ancestor, atcourt, in the army, or in the administration. 

With this there is no special fault to be found. It is as well, doubtless, to keep the pedigrees of men as it is to keep those of horsesand dogs; though the animals, being ignorant of their records, are lesslikely to make them a matter of pride and presumption. In Russia thefact that certain men knew the names and standing of their ancestors ledto the most absurd consequences. The books of ancestry were constantlyappealed to for the support of foolish pretensions, and the nobles ofRussia strutted like so many peacocks in their insensate pride offamily. 

In no other country has the question of precedence been carried to suchridiculous lengths as it was in Russia in the days of the earlyRomanofs. If a nobleman were appointed to a post at court or a positionin the army, he at once examined the books of ancestry to learn if theofficials under whom he would serve had fewer ancestors on record thanhe. If such proved to be the case the office was refused, or acceptedunder protest, the government being, metaphorically, forced to fall onits knees to the haughtiness of its offended lordling. 

The folly of the nobles went even farther than this. The height of theirgenealogy counted for as much as its length. They would refuse to acceptpositions under persons whose ancestors were shown by the books to havebeen subordinate to theirs in the same positions. If it appeared thatthe John of five centuries before had been under the Peter of thatperiod, the modern Peter was too proud to accept a similar positionunder the modern John. And so it went, until court life became aconstant scene of bickering and discontent, and of murmurs at the mosttrifling slights and neglects. In short, it became necessary that anoffice of genealogy should be established at court, in which exactcopies of the family trees and service registers of the noble familieswere kept, and the officers here employed found enough to keep them busyin settling the endless disputes of their lordly clients. 

In the reign of Theodore, the third czar of the Romanof dynasty, thisridiculous sentiment reached its climax, and it became almost impossibleto appoint a wise man to office over a fool, if the fool's ancestors hadhappened to hold the same office over those of the man of wisdom. Thefancy seemed to be held that folly and wisdom are handed down fromfather to son, a conceit which is often the very reverse of the truth. 

Theodore was a feeble youth, who reigned little more than five years, yet in that time he managed to bury this folly out of sight. Annoyed bythe constant bickerings of courtiers and officials, he consulted withhis able minister, Prince Vassili Galitzin, and hit on a means ofridding himself of the difficulty. 

Proclamation was made that all the noble families of the kingdom shoulddeliver their service rolls into court by a fixed date, that they mightbe cleared of certain errors which had unavoidably crept into them. Theorder was obeyed, and a multitude of these precious documents werebrought into the palace halls of the czar. The heads of the noblefamilies and the higher clergy were now sent for, composing a proudassembly, before whom the patriarch, who had received his instructions, made an eloquent address. He ended by speaking of the claims toprecedence in the following words:

"They are a bitter source of every kind of evil; they render abortivethe most useful enterprises, in like manner as the tares stifle the goodgrain; they have introduced, even into the hearts of families, dissension, confusion, and hatred. But the pontiff comprehends the granddesign of his czar; God alone could have inspired it!"

Though utterly ignorant of what that design was, the grandees feltcompelled to express a warm approval of these words. At this Theodore, who pretended to be enraptured by their unanimous applause, suddenlyrose, and, simulating a burst of patriotic enthusiasm, proclaimed theabolition of all their hereditary claims. 

"That the very recollection of them may be forever extinguished, " heexclaimed, "let all the papers relative to these titles be instantlyconsumed. "

The fire was already prepared, and by his orders the precious paperswere hurled into the flames before the anguished eyes of the nobles, whodid not dare in that despotic court to express their true feelings, andstrove to hide their dismay under hollow acclamations of assent. 

As what they deemed their most valuable possessions were thus convertedto ashes before their eyes, the patriarch again rose, and declared ananathema against any one who should dare to oppose this order of theczar. An "Amen" that was like a groan came from the lips of thehorrified nobles, and precedence went up in flames. 

The czar had no thought of effacing the noble families. New books wereprepared, in which their ancestry was described. But the absurd claimswhich had caused such discord were forever abolished, and court lifethereafter proved smoother and easier in consequence of the iconoclasticact of the czar Theodore. 

_BOYHOOD OF PETER THE GREAT. _

Peter the Great, grandson of the first emperor of the Romanof line, wasa man of such extraordinary power of body and mind, such a remarkablecombination of common sense, mental activity, advanced ideas, anddetermination to lift Russia to a high place among the nations, withcruelty, grossness, and infirmities of vice and passion, that his reignof forty-three years fills as large a place in Russian history as do theannals of all the preceding centuries, and the progress of Russia duringthis short period was greater than in any other epoch of three or fourtimes its length. 

The character of the man showed in the boy, and while a mere child hebegan those steps of progress which were continued throughout his life. He had two brothers, both older than he, and sons of a different mother, so that the throne seemed far from his grasp. But Theodore, the oldestof the three, died after a brief reign, leaving no heirs to the throne. Ivan, the second son, was an imbecile, nearly blind, and subject toepileptic fits. The clergy and grandees, in consequence, looked uponPeter as the most promising successor to the throne. But he was stillonly a child, not yet ten years of age. 

The czar Alexis had left also several daughters; but in those days thefate of princesses of the blood was a harsh one. They were not permittedto marry, and were consigned to convents, where they knew nothing ofwhat was passing in the busy world without. One of the daughters, Sophiaby name, had escaped from this fate. At her earnest request she wastaken from the convent and permitted to nurse her sickly brotherTheodore. 

She was a woman of high intelligence, bold and ambitious by nature, andduring her residence in court learned much of the politics of the empireand took some part in its government. After the death of Theodore shecontrived to have herself named regent for her two brothers, Ivan beingplainly unfit to rule, and Peter too young. 

There are many stories told about her, of which probably the half arenot true. It is said that she kept her young brother at a distance fromMoscow, where she surrounded him with ministers of evil, whose businessit was to encourage him in riot and dissipation, to the end that hemight become a moral monster, odious and insupportable to the nation atlarge. Such a course had been pursued with Ivan the Terrible, and to itwas largely due his incredible iniquity. 

If Sophia had really any such purpose in view, she was playing withedge-tools. She quite mistook the character of her young brother, andforgot that the same rule may work differently in different cases. Thesteps taken to make the boy base, if really so intended, aided to makehim great. His morals were corrupted, his health was impaired, and hisheart hardened by the excesses of his youth, but his removal from thepalace atmosphere of flattery and effeminacy tended to make himself-reliant, while his free life in the country and the activity whichit encouraged helped to develop the native energy of his character. 

It is probable that Sophia had no such intention to corrupt the natureof the child, for she showed no ill will against him. It was apparentlyto his mother, rather than to his sister, that his residence in thecountry was due, and he was obliged to go frequently to Moscow, to takepart in ceremonial affairs, while his name was used in all publicdocuments, many of which he was required to sign. 

From early life the boy had shown himself active, intelligent, quick tolearn, and full of curiosity. He was particularly interested in militaryaffairs, and playing at soldiers was one of the leading diversions ofhis youth. Only a day or two after a great riot in Moscow, in whichnumbers of nobles were slaughtered, and in which the child had lookedunmoved into the savage faces of the rioters, he sent to the arsenal fordrums, banners, and arms. Uniforms and wooden cannon were supplied him, and on his eleventh birthday--in 1683--he was allowed to have some realguns, with which he fired salutes. 

From his country home at Preobrajensk messengers came almost daily toMoscow for powder, lead, and shot; small brass and iron cannon weresupplied the boy, and drummer-boys, selected from the differentregiments, were sent to him. Thus he was allowed to play at soldier tohis heart's content. 

A company was formed from the younger domestics of the place, fifty innumber, the officers being sons of the boyars or lords. But these wererequired by the alert boy to pass through all the grades of the service, which he also did himself, serving successively as private, sergeant, lieutenant, and captain, and finally as colonel of the regiment whichgrew from this youthful company. Peter called his company "the guards, "but it was known in Moscow as the "pleasure company, " or "troops forsport. " In time, however, it grew into the Preobrajensky Guards, acelebrated regiment which is still kept up as the first regiment of theRussian Imperial Guard, and of which the emperor is always the colonel. Another company, formed on the same plan in an adjoining village, becamethe Semenofsky Regiment. From these rudiments grew the present Russianarmy. 

These military exercises soon ceased to be child's play to the activelad. He gave himself no rest from his prescribed duties, stood his watchin turn, shared in the labors of the camp, slept in the tents of hiscomrades, and partook of their fare. He used to lead his company on longmarches, during which the strictest discipline was maintained, and thecamps at night were guarded as in an enemy's country. 

On reaching his thirteenth year the boy took further steps in hismilitary education, building a small fortress, whose remains are stillpreserved. This was constructed with great care, and took nearly a yearto build. At the suggestion of a German officer it was named Pressburg, the name being given with much ceremony, Peter leading from Moscow aprocession of most of the court officials and nobles to take part in theperformance. 

These military sports were not enough for the active mind of the boy, who kept himself busy at a dozen labors. He used to hammer and forge inthe blacksmith's shop, became an expert with the lathe, and learned theart of printing and binding books. He built himself a wheelbarrow andother articles which he needed, and at a later date it was said that he"knew excellently well fourteen trades. "

When in Moscow, Peter spent much of his time in the foreign quarter, joining his associates there in the beer, wine, and tobacco of whichthey were specially fond, and questioning them about a thousand subjectsunknown to the Russians, thus acquiring a wide knowledge of men andaffairs. He troubled himself little about rank or position, making acompanion of any one, high or low, from whom anything could be learned, while any mechanical curiosity particularly attracted him. 

A sextant and astrolabe were brought him from France, of whose use noone could inform him, though he asked all whom he met. At length a Dutchmerchant, Franz Timmermann by name, was brought him, who measured withthe instrument the distance to a neighboring house. 

Peter was delighted, and eagerly asked to be taught how to use theinstrument himself. 

"It is not so easy, " replied Timmermann; "you must first learnarithmetic and geometry. "

Here was a new incentive. The boy at once set to work, spending all hisleisure time, day and night, over these studies, to which he afterwardsadded geography and fortification. It was in this desultory way that hiseducation was gained, no regular course of training being prescribed, and his strong self-will breaking through all family discipline. 

We may end here what we have to say about the boy's military activity. His army gradually grew until it numbered five thousand men, mainlyforeigners, who were commanded by General Gordon, a Scotch officer. Lefort, a Swiss, who had become one of Peter's favorite companions, nowundertook to raise an army of twelve thousand men. He succeeded in this, and unexpectedly found himself made general of this force. 

It is, however, of the boy's activity in naval affairs that we must nowspeak. Timmermann had become one of his constant companions, and wasalways teaching him something new. One day in 1688, when Peter wassixteen years old, he was wandering about one of the country estates ofthe throne, near the village of Ismailovo. An old building in theflax-yard attracted his attention, and he asked one of the servants whatit was. 

"It is a storehouse, " the man said, "in which was put all the rubbishthat was left after the death of Nikita Romanof, who used to live here. "

Peter at once, curious to see this "rubbish, " had the doors opened, wentin, and looked about. In one corner, bottom upward, lay a boat, verydifferent in build from the flat-bottomed, square-sterned boats whichwere in use on the Russian rivers. 

"What is that?" he asked. 

"It is an English boat, " said Timmermann. 

"But what is it good for? Is it better than our boats?" demanded Peter. 

"Yes. If you had sails for it, you would find that it would not only gowith the wind, but against the wind. "

"Against the wind! Is that possible? How can it be possible?"

With his usual impatience, the boy wanted to try it at once. But theboat proved to be too rotten for use. It would need to be repaired andtarred, and a mast and sails would have to be made. 

Where could these be had? Who could make them? Timmermann was able totell him. Some thirty years before, a number of Dutch ship-carpentershad been brought from Holland and had built some vessels on the VolgaRiver for the czar Alexis. These had been burned by a brigand, andBrandt, the builder, had returned to Moscow, where he still worked as ajoiner. In those days it was easier to get into Russia than to get outagain, foreigners who entered the land being held there as virtualprisoners. Even General Gordon tried in vain to get back to his nativeland. 

Old Brandt was found, looked over the boat, put it in order, andlaunched it on a neighboring stream. To Peter's surprise and delight, hesaw the boat moving under sail up and down the river, turning to rightand left in obedience to the helm. Greatly excited, he called on Brandtto stop, jumped in, and, under the old man's directions, began to managethe boat himself. 

But the river was too narrow and the water too shallow for easysailing, and the energetic boy had the boat dragged overland to a largepond, where it went better, but still not to his satisfaction. Where wasa better body of water? He was told that there was a large lake aboutfifty miles away, but that it would be easier to build a new boat thanto drag the English boat that distance. 

"Can you do that?" asked the eager boy. 

"Yes, sire, " said Brandt, "but I will need many things. "

"Oh, that does not matter at all, " said Peter. "We can have anything. "

No time was lost. Brandt, with one of his old comrades and Timmermann, went to work at once in the woods bordering the lake, Peter working withthem when he could get away from Moscow, where he was frequently needed. It took time. Timber had to be prepared, a hut built to live in, and adock to launch the boats, which were built on a larger scale than thesmall English craft. Thus it was not until the following spring that thenew boats were ready to launch. 

Peter meanwhile had been married. But the charms of his wife could notkeep him from his beloved boats. Back he went, aided in completing andlaunching the new craft, and took such delight in sailing them about thelake that he could hardly be induced to return to Moscow for importantduties. 

In this humble way began the Russian navy, which had grown to largeproportions before Peter died. The little English boat, which some thinkwas one sent by Queen Elizabeth to Ivan the Terrible, has ever sincePeter's time been known as the "Grand-sire of the Russian navy. " It iskept with the greatest care in a small brick building within thefortress at St. Petersburg, and was one of the principal objects ofinterest in the great parade in that city in 1870 on the two hundredthanniversary of Peter's birth. 

It will suffice to say, in conclusion, that shortly after these eventsPeter became the reigning czar, and turned from sport to earnest. Sophiahad enjoyed so long the pleasure of ruling that her ambition grew withits exercise, and she sought to retain her position as long as possible. It is even said that she laid a plot to assassinate Peter, so that onlythe feeble Ivan should be left. The boy, told that assassins wereseeking him, fled for his life. His fright seems to have beengroundless, but it made him an undying enemy of his sister. The affairended in the bulk of the nobility and soldiery turning to his side andin Sophia being obliged to leave the throne for a convent, where shespent the remainder of her life in the misery of strict seclusion. 

[Illustration: ALEXANDER III. , CZAR OF RUSSIA. ]

_CARPENTER PETER OF ZAANDAM. _

On the banks of the river Zaan, about five miles from Amsterdam, liesthe picturesque little town of Zaandam, with its cottages of blue, green, and pink, half hidden among the trees, while a multitude ofwindmills surround the town like so many monuments to thrift andenterprise. Here, two centuries ago, ship-building was conducted on agreat scale, the timber being sawed by windmill power, while the workmenwere so numerous that a vessel was often on the sea in five weeks afterthe keel had been laid. 

To this place, in August, 1697, came a workman of foreign birth, whofound humble quarters in a small frame hut and entered himself as aship-carpenter at the wharf of Lynst Rogge. There was nothing speciallynoticeable about the stranger, who wore a workman's dress and atarpaulin hat. But with him were some comrades dressed in the strangegarb of Russia, who attracted the attention of the people. 

As for the new workman, he did not long escape curious looks. The rumorhad got about that no less a personage than the Czar of Russia was inthe town, and it began to be suspected that this unobtrusive strangermight be the man, so that it was not long before inquisitive eyes beganto follow him wherever he went. The rumor soon brought large crowdsfrom Amsterdam, whose presence made the streets of the small Dutch townanything but comfortable. 

It was well known that Peter I. , Czar of Russia, was travelling throughthe nations of the West. A large embassy, composed of several hundredpeople, some of them the highest officials of the court, had left theMuscovite kingdom, and visited the several courts and large cities ontheir route, being everywhere received with the greatest distinction. But the czar did not appear openly among them. He was there in disguise, but had given strict orders that his presence should not be revealed. Hehated crowds, hated adulation, and wished only to be let alone to seeand learn all he could. So while the ambassadors were receiving thehighest honors of kingdoms and courts and bowing and parading to theirhearts' content, the czar kept himself in the background as an amusedspectator, thought by most observers to be one of the servants of thegorgeous train. 

And thus he reached Zaandam, which he had been told was the best placeto learn how ships were built. Here he saw fishing in the river one ofhis old acquaintances of the foreign quarter of Moscow, a smith namedGerrit Kist. Calling him from his rod, and binding him to secrecy, hetold him why he had come to Holland, and insisted on taking up quartersin his house. This house, a small frame hut, is now preserved as asacred object, enclosed within a brick building, and has long been aplace of pilgrimage even for royal travellers. Emperors and kings havebent their lofty heads to enter its low door. 

Yet Peter lived in Zaandam only a week, and during that week did littlework at ship-building, spending much of his time in rowing about amongthe shipping, and visiting most of the factories and mills, at one ofwhich he made a sheet of paper with his own royal hands. 

One day the disguised emperor met with an adventure. He had bought ahatful of plums, and was eating them in the most plebeian fashion as hewalked along the street, when he met a crowd of boys. He shared hisfruit with some of these, but those to whom he refused to give plumsbegan to follow him with boyish reviling, and when he laughed at themthey took to pelting him with mud and stones. Here was a situation foran emperor away from home. The Czar of all the Russias had to take tohis heels and run for refuge to the Three Swans Inn, where he sent forthe burgomaster of the town, told who he was, and demanded aid andrelief. At least we may suppose so, for an edict was soon issuedthreatening punishment to all who should insult "distinguished personswho wished to remain unknown. "

The end of Peter's stay soon came. A man in Zaandam had received aletter from his son in Moscow, saying that the czar was with the greatRussian embassy, and describing him so closely that he could no longerremain unknown. This letter was seen by Pomp, the barber of Zaandam, andwhen Peter came into his place with his Russian comrades he at once knewhim from the description and spread the news. 

From that time the czar had no rest. Wherever he went he was followed bycrowds of curious people. They grew so annoying that at length heleaped in anger from his boat and gave one of the most forward of hispersecutors a sharp cuff on the cheek. 

"Bravo, Marsje!" cried the crowd in delight: "you are made a knight. "

The czar rushed angrily to an inn, where he shut himself up out ofsight. The next day a large ship was to be moved across the dike bymeans of capstans and rollers, a difficult operation, in which Petertook deep interest. A place was reserved for him to see it, but thecrowd became so great as to drive back the guards, break down therailings, and half fill the reserved space. Peter, seeing this, refusedto leave his house. The burgomaster and other high officials begged himto come, but the most he could be got to do was to thrust his head outof the door and observe the situation. 

"_Te veel volks, te veel volks_" ("too many people"), he bluntly cried, and refused to budge. 

The next day was Sunday, and all Amsterdam seemed to have come toZaandam to see its distinguished guest. He escaped them by fleeing toAmsterdam. Getting to a yacht he had bought, and to which he had fitteda bowsprit with his own hands, he put to sea, giving no heed to warningsof danger from the furious wind that was blowing. Three hours after hereached Amsterdam, where his ambassadors then were, and where they wereto have a formal reception the next day. 

Receptions were well enough for ambassadors, but they were idle flummeryto the czar, who had come to see, not to be seen, and who did his bestto keep out of sight. He visited the fine town hall, inspected thedocks, saw a comedy and a ballet, consented to sit through a greatdinner, witnessed a splendid display of fireworks, and, most interestingto him of all, was entertained with a great naval sham fight, whichlasted a whole day. 

Zaandam has the credit of having been the scene of Peter the Great'slabor as a shipwright, but it was really at Amsterdam that his life as aworkman was passed. At his request he was given the privilege of workingat the docks of the East India Company, a house being assigned himwithin the enclosure where he could dwell undisturbed, free from thecuriosity of crowds. As a mark of respect it was determined to begin theconstruction of a new frigate, one hundred feet long, so that thedistinguished workman might see the whole process of the building of aship. With his usual impetuosity Peter wished to begin work immediately, and could hardly be induced to wait for the fireworks to burn themselvesout. Then he set out for Zaandam on his yacht to fetch his tools, andthe next day, August 30, presented himself as a workman at the EastIndia Company's wharf. 

For more than four months, with occasional breaks, Peter workeddiligently as a ship-carpenter, ten of his Russian companions--probablymuch against their will--working at the wharf with him. He was knownsimply as Baas Peter (Carpenter Peter), and, while sitting on a log atrest, with his hatchet between his knees, was willing to talk with anyone who addressed him by this name, but had no answer for those whocalled him Sire or Your Majesty. Others of the Russians were put to workelsewhere, to study the construction of masts, blocks, sails, etc. , someof them were entered as sailors before the mast, and Prince Alexander ofImeritia went to the Hague to study artillery. None of them was allowed"to take his ease at his inn. "

Peter insisted on being treated as a common workman, and would notpermit any difference to be made between him and his fellow-laborers. Healso demanded the usual wages for his work. On one occasion, when theEarl of Portland and another nobleman came to the yard to have a sightof him, the overseer, to indicate him, called out, "Carpenter Peter ofZaandam, why don't you help your comrades?" Without a word, Peter puthis shoulders under a log which several men were carrying, and helped tolift it to its place. 

His evenings were spent in studying the theory of ship-building, and hisspare hours were fully occupied in observation. He visited everythingworth seeing, factories, museums, cabinets of coins, theatres, hospitals, etc. , constantly making shrewd remarks and inquiries, andsoon becoming known from his quick questions, "What is that for? Howdoes that work? That will I see. "

He went to Zaandam to see the Greenland whaling fleet, visited thecelebrated botanical garden with the great Boerhaave, studied themicroscope at Delft under Leuwenhoek, became intimate with the militaryengineer Coehorn, talked with Schynvoet of architecture, and learned toetch from Schonebeck. An impression of a plate made by him, ofChristianity victorious over Islam, is still extant. 

He made himself familiar with Dutch home life, mingled with themerchants engaged in the Russian trade, went to the Botermarkt everymarket-day, and took lessons from a travelling dentist, experimenting onhis own servants and suite, probably not much to their enjoyment. Hemended his own clothes, learned enough of cobbling to make himself apair of slippers, and, in short, was insatiable in his search forinformation of every available kind. 

His work on the frigate whose keel he had helped to lay was continueduntil it was launched. It was well built, and for many years proved agood and useful ship, braving the perils of the seas in the East Indiatrade. But with all this the imperial carpenter was not satisfied. TheDutch methods did not please him. The ship-masters seemed to workwithout rules other than the "rule of thumb, " having no theory ofship-building from which the best proportions of a vessel could bededuced. 

Learning that things were ordered differently in English ship-yards, that there work was done by rule and precept, Peter sent an order to theRussian docks not to allow the Dutch shipwrights to work as theypleased, but to put them under Danish or English overseers. For himself, he resolved to go to England and follow up his studies there. KingWilliam had sent him a warm invitation and presented him a splendidyacht, light, beautifully proportioned, and armed with twenty brasscannon. Delighted with the present, he sailed in it to England, escorted by an English fleet, and in London found an abiding-place in ahouse which a few years before had been the refuge of William Penn whencharged with treason. Here he slept in a small room with four or fivecompanions, and when the King of England came to visit him, received hisfellow-monarch in his shirt-sleeves. The air of the room was so badthat, though the weather was very cold, William insisted on a windowbeing raised. 

In England the czar, though managing to see much outside the ship-yards, worked steadily at Deptford for several months, leaving only when he hadgained all the special knowledge which he could obtain. His admirationfor the English ship-builders was high, he afterwards saying that butfor his journey to England he would have always remained a bungler. While here he engaged many men to take service in Russia, shipwrights, engineers, and others; he also engaged numerous officers for his navyfrom Holland, several French surgeons, and various persons of othernationality, the whole numbering from six to eight hundred skilledartisans and professional experts. To raise money for their advancepayment he sold the monopoly of the Russian tobacco trade for twentythousand pounds. Sixty years before, his grandfather Michael hadforbidden the use of tobacco in Russia under pain of death, and theprejudice against it was still strong. But in spite of this the use oftobacco was rapidly spreading, and Peter thus threw down the bars. 

Great numbers of anecdotes are afloat about Peter's doings in Hollandand England, --many of them, doubtless, invented. The sight of a greatmonarch going about in workman's clothes and laboring like a commonship-carpenter was apt to aid the imagination of story-tellers and giverise to numerous tales with little fact to sustain them. 

In May, 1698, Peter left England and proceeded to Amsterdam, where hisembassy had remained, often in great distress about him, for the winterwas cold and stormy and at one time no news was received from him for amonth. From Amsterdam he made his way to Vienna, whence he proposed togo to Venice and Rome, but was prevented by disturbing news from Moscow, which turned his steps homeward. Here he was to show a new phase of hisvaried character, as will be seen in the following tale. 

_THE FALL OF THE STRELITZ. _

History presents us with four instances of an imperial soldiery who tookthe power into their own hands and for a time ruled as the tyrants of anation. These were the Pretorian Guards of Rome, the Mamelukes of Egypt, the Janissaries of Turkey, and the Strelitz of Russia. Of these, thePretorian Guards remained pre-eminent, and made emperors at their will. The other three came to a terrible end. History elsewhere records thetragic fate of the Mamelukes and the Janissaries: we are here concernedonly with that of the Strelitz corps of Russia. 

The Strelitz were the first regular military force of Russia, apermanent militia of fusileers, formed during the early reign of Ivanthe Terrible, and themselves in time becoming a terror to the nation. The first serious outbreak of this dangerous civic guard was on thenomination of Peter I. To the throne of the czar. They did not dreamthen of the terrible revenge which this despised boy would take uponthem. 

Two days after the funeral of the czar Theodore the insurrection began, the Strelitz marching in an armed body to the Kremlin, where theyaccused nine of their colonels of defrauding them of their pay. Thefrightened ministers hastened to dismiss these officers, but this didnot satisfy the savage soldiery, who insisted on their being deliveredinto their hands. This done, the unfortunate officers were sentenced tobe scourged, some of them by that fearful Russian whip called the knout. 

Their success in this outbreak led the Strelitz to greater outrages. Thetiger in their savage natures was let loose, and only blood couldappease its rage. Marching to the Kremlin, they declared that the lateczar had been poisoned by his doctor, and demanded the death of allthose in the plot. Breaking into the palace, they seized two of thesuspected princes and flung them from the windows, to be received uponthe pikes of the soldiers in the street below. The next victim was oneof the Narishkins, the uncles of Peter the Great. He was massacred inthe same brutal manner and his bleeding body dragged through thestreets. Three of the proscribed nobles had fled for sanctuary to achurch, but were torn from the altar, stripped of their clothing, andcut to pieces with knives. 

The next victim was a friend and favorite of the Strelitz, who waskilled under the belief that he was one of the Narishkins. Discoveringtheir error, the assassins carried the mangled body of the youngnobleman to the house of his father for interment. The old man, timid bynature, did not dare to complain of the savage act, and even rewardedthem for bringing him the body of his son. For this weakness he wasbitterly reproached by his wife and daughters and the weeping wife ofthe victim. 

"What could I do?" pleaded the helpless father; "let us wait for anopportunity to be revenged. "

A revengeful servant overheard these words and repeated them to thesoldiers. In a sudden fury the savages returned, dragged the old manfrom the room by the hair of his head, and cut his throat at his owndoor. 

Meanwhile some of the Strelitz, seeking the Dutch physician Vongad, whohad attended the dying czar and was accused of poisoning him, met hisson and asked where his father was. "I do not know, " replied thetrembling youth. His ignorance was instantly punished with death. 

In a few minutes a German physician fell in their way. "You are adoctor, " they cried. "If you have not poisoned our master Theodore, youhave poisoned others. You deserve death. " And in a moment the unluckydoctor fell a victim to their blind rage. 

The Dutch physician was at length discovered and dragged to the palace. Here the princesses begged hard for his life, declaring that he was askilful doctor and a good man and had worked hard to save theirbrother's life. They answered that he deserved to die as a sorcerer aswell as a physician, for they had found the skeleton of a toad and theskin of a snake in his cabinet. 

The next victim demanded was Ivan Narishkin, who they were sure wassomewhere concealed in the palace. Not finding him, they threatened toburn down the building unless he were delivered into their hands. Atthis terrifying threat the young man was taken from his place ofconcealment and brought to them by the patriarch, who held in his handsan image of the Virgin Mary which was said to have performed miracles. The princesses surrounded the victim, and, kneeling to the soldiers, prayed with tears for his life. 

All their supplications and the demands of the venerable patriarch werewithout effect on the savage soldiery, who dragged their captives to thebottom of the stairway, went through the forms of a mock trial, andcondemned them to the torture. They were sentenced to be cut to pieces, a form of punishment to which parricides are condemned in China andTartary. This tragedy went on until all the proscribed on whom theycould lay their hands had perished and Sophia felt secure in her power. 

In the end, Ivan and Peter were declared joint sovereigns (1682), andtheir sister Sophia was made regent. The acts of the Strelitz wereapproved and they rewarded, the estates of their victims wereconfiscated in their favor, and a monument was erected on which thenames of the victims were inscribed as traitors to their country. 

The Strelitz had learned their power, and took frequent occasion toexercise it. Twice again they broke out in revolt during the regency ofSophia. After the accession of Peter their hostility continued. He hadsent them to fight on the frontiers. He had supplanted them withregiments drilled in the European manner. He had organized a corps oftwelve thousand foreigners and heretics. He had ordered the constructionof a fleet of a hundred vessels, which would add to the weight of taxesand bring more foreigners into the country. And he proposed to leaveRussia, to journey in the lands of the heretics, and to bring back totheir sacred land the customs of profane Europe. 

All this was too much for the leaders of the Strelitz, who representedold Russia, as Peter represented new. They resolved to sacrifice theczar to their rage. Tradition tells the following story, which, thoughprobably not true, is at least interesting. Two leaders of the Strelitzlaid a plot to start a fire at night, feeling sure that Peter, with hisusual activity, would hasten to the scene. In the confusion attendingthe fire they meant to murder him, and then to massacre all theforeigners whom he had introduced into Moscow. 

[Illustration: DINING-ROOM IN THE PALACE OF PETER THE GREAT. MOSCOW. ]

The time fixed for the consummation of this plot was at hand. A banquetwas held, at which the principal conspirators assembled, and where theysought in deep potations the courage necessary for their murderous work. Unfortunately for them, liquor does not act on all alike. While usuallygiving boldness, it sometimes produces timidity. Two of the villainslost their courage through their potations, left the room on somepretext, promising to return in time, and hastened to the czar with thestory of the plot. 

Peter knew not the meaning of the words timidity and procrastination. His plans were instantly laid. The time fixed for the conflagration wasmidnight. He gave orders that the hall in which the conspirators wereassembled should be surrounded exactly at eleven. Soon after, thinkingthat the hour had come, he sought the place alone and boldly enteredthe room, fully expecting to find the conspirators in the hands of hisguards. 

To his consternation, not a guard was present, and he found himselfalone and unarmed in the midst of a furious band who were just swearingto compass his destruction. 

The situation was a critical one. The conspirators, dismayed at thisunlooked-for visit, rose in confusion. Peter was furious at his guardsfor having exposed him to this peril, but instantly perceived that therewas only one course for him to pursue. He advanced among the throng oftraitors with a countenance that showed no trace of his emotions, andpleasantly remarked, --

"I saw the light in your house while passing, and, thinking that youmust be having a gay time together, I have come in to share yourpleasure and drain a cup with you. "

Then, seating himself at the table, he filled a cup and drank to hiswould-be assassins, who, on their feet about him, could not avoidresponding to the toast and drinking his health. 

But this state of affairs did not long continue. The courage of theconspirators returned, and they began to exchange looks and signs. Theopportunity had fallen into their hands; now was the time to availthemselves of it. One of them leaned over to Sukanim, one of theirleaders, and said, in a low tone, --

"Brother, it is time. "

"Not yet, " said Sukanim, hesitating at the critical moment. 

At that instant Peter heard the footsteps of his guards outside, and, starting to his feet, knocked the leader of the assassins down by aviolent blow in his face, exclaiming, --

"If it is not yet time for you, scoundrel, it is for me. "

At the same moment the guards entered the room, and the conspirators, panic-stricken by the sight, fell on their knees and begged for pardon. 

"Chain them!" said the czar, in a terrible voice. 

Turning then to the commander of the guards, he struck him and accusedhim of having disobeyed orders. But the officer proving to him that thehour fixed had just arrived, the czar, in sudden remorse at his haste, clasped him in his arms, kissed him on the forehead, proclaimed hisfidelity, and gave the traitors into his charge. 

And now Peter showed the savage which lay within him under the thinveneer of civilization. The conspirators were put to death with thecruellest of tortures, and, to complete the act of barbarity, theirheads were exposed on the summit of a column with their limbs arrangedaround them as ornaments. 

Satisfied that this fearful example would keep Russia tranquil duringhis absence, Peter set out on his journey, visiting most of thecountries of Western Europe. He had reached Vienna, and was on the pointof setting out for Venice, when word was brought him from Russia thatthe Strelitz had broken out in open insurrection and were marching fromtheir posts on the frontier upon Moscow. 

The czar at once left Vienna and journeyed with all possible speed toRussia, reaching Moscow in September, 1698. His appearance took all bysurprise, for none knew that he had yet left Austria. 

He came too late to suppress the insurrection. That had been alreadydone by General Gordon, who, marching in all haste, had met the rebelsabout thirty miles from Moscow and called on them to surrender. As theyrefused and attacked the troops, he opened on them with cannon, put themto flight, and of the survivors took captive about two thousand. Thesewere decimated on the spot, and the remainder imprisoned. 

This was punishment enough for a soldier, but not enough for anautocrat, whose mind was haunted by dark suspicions, and who looked uponthe outbreak as a plot to dethrone him and to call his sister Sophia tothe throne. In his treatment of the prisoners the spirit of the monsterIvan IV. Seems to have entered into his soul, and the cruelty shown, while common enough in old-time Russia, is revolting to the modern mind. 

The trial was dragged out through six weeks, with daily torture of someof the accused, under the eyes of the czar himself, who sought to forcefrom them a confession that Sophia had been concerned in the outbreak. The wives of the prisoners, all the women servants of the princesses, even poor beggars who lived on their charity, were examined undertorture. The princesses themselves, Peter's sisters, were questioned bythe czar, though he did not go so far as to torture them. Yet with allthis nothing was discovered. There was not a word to connect Sophia withthe revolt. 

The trial over, the executions began. Of the prisoners, some werehanged, some beheaded, others broken on the wheel. It is said that thosebeheaded were made to kneel in rows of fifty before trunks of trees laidon the ground, and that Peter compelled his courtiers and nobles to actas executioners, Mentchikof specially distinguishing himself in thiswork of slaughter. It is even asserted that the czar wielded the axehimself, though of this there is some doubt. The opinion grew among thepeople that neither Peter nor Prince Ramodanofsky, his cruel viceroy, could sleep until they had tasted blood, and a letter from the princecontains the following lurid sentence: "_I am always washing myself inblood. _"

The headless bodies of the dead were left where they had fallen. Thelong Russian winter was just beginning, and for five months they layunburied, a frightful spectacle for the eyes of the citizens of Moscow. 

Of those hanged, nearly two hundred were left depending from a largesquare gallows in front of the cell of Sophia at the convent in whichshe was confined, and with a horrible refinement of cruelty three ofthese bodies were so placed as to hang all winter under her very window, one of them holding in his hand a folded paper to represent a petitionfor her aid. 

The six regiments of Strelitz still on the frontier showed signs of asimilar outbreak, but the news of the executions taught them that it wassafest to keep quiet. But many of them were brought in chains to Moscowand punished for their intentions. Various stories are told of Peter'scruelty in connection with these executions. One is that he beheadedeighty with his own hand, Plestchef, one of his boyars, holding them bythe hair. Another story, told by M. Printz, the Prussian ambassador, says that at an entertainment given him by the czar, Peter, when drunk, had twenty rebels brought in from the prisons, whom he beheaded in quicksuccession, drinking a bumper after each blow, the whole concludingwithin the hour. He even asked the ambassador to try his skill in thesame way. It may be said here, however, that these stories rest uponvery poor evidence, and that anecdote-makers have painted Peter inblacker colors than he deserves. 

In the end the corps of the Strelitz was abolished, their houses andlands in Moscow were taken from the survivors, and all were exiled intothe country, where they became simple villagers. 

_THE CRUSADE AGAINST BEARDS AND CLOAKS. _

The return of Peter the Great from his European journey was marked byother events than his cruel revenge upon the rebellious Strelitz. Thathad affected only a few thousand people; the reforms he sought tointroduce affected the nation at large. The Russians were then moreOriental than European in style, wearing the long caftan or robe ofPersia and Turkey, which descended to their heels, while their beardswere like those of the patriarchs, the man deeming himself most in honorwho had the longest and fullest crop of hair upon his face. 

[Illustration: PETER THE GREAT. ]

To Peter, fresh from the West, and strongly imbued with European views, all this was ridiculous, if not abominable. He determined to reform itall, and at once set to work in his impetuous way, which could not brooka day's delay, to deprive the Russians of their beards and the tails oftheir coats. He had scarcely arrived before the boyars and leadingcitizens of Moscow, who flocked to congratulate him on his return, weretaken aback by the edict that whiskers were condemned, and that therazor must be set at work without delay upon their honorable chins. 

This edict was like a thunder-clap from a clear sky. The Russiansadmired and revered their beards. They were time-honored and sacred intheir eyes. To lose them was like losing their family trees and patentsof nobility. But Peter was without reverence for the past, and his wordwas law. He had ordered a mowing and reaping of hair, and the harvestmust be made, or worse might come. General Shein, commander-in-chief ofthe army, was the first to yield to the imperative edict and submit hisvenerable beard to the indignity of the razor's edge. The old age seemedpast and the new age come when Shein walked shamefacedly into court witha clean chin. 

The example thus set was quickly followed. Beards were tabooed withinthe precincts of the court. All shared the same fate, none being left tolaugh at the rest. The patriarch, it is true, was exempted, through awefor his high office in the Church, while reverence for advanced yearsreprieved Prince Tcherkasy, and Tikhon Streshnef was excused out ofhonor for his services as guardian of the czaritza. Every one elsewithin the court had to submit to the razor's fatal edge or feel theczar's more fatal displeasure, and beards fell like "autumnal leavesthat strow the brooks in Vallombrosa. "

An observer speaks as follows concerning a feast given by General Shein:"A crowd of boyars, scribes, and military officers almost incredible wasassembled there, and among them were several common sailors, with whomthe czar repeatedly mixed, divided apples, and even honored one of themby calling him his brother. A salvo of twenty-five guns marked eachtoast. Nor could the irksome offices of the barber check thefestivities of the day, though it was well known he was enacting thepart of jester by appointment at the czar's court. It was of evil omento make show of reluctance as the razor approached the chin, andhesitation was to be forthwith punished with a box on the ears. In thisway, between mirth and the wine-cup, many were admonished by this insaneridicule to abandon the olden guise. "

For Peter to shave was easy, as he had little beard and a very thinmoustache. But by the old-fashioned Russian of his day the beard wascherished as the Turk now cherishes his hirsute symbol of dignity or theChinaman his long-drawn-out queue. Shortly after Peter came to thethrone the patriarch Adrian had delivered himself in words of thunderagainst all who were so unholy and heretical as to cut or shave theirbeards, a God-given ornament, which had been worn by prophets andapostles and by Christ himself. Only heretics, apostates, idol-worshippers, and image-breakers among monarchs had forced theirsubjects to shave, he declared, while all the great and good emperorshad indicated their piety in the length of their beards. 

To Peter, on the contrary, the beard was the symbol of barbarity. He wasnot content to say that his subjects might shave, he decreed that they_must_ shave. It began half in jest, it was continued in solid earnest. He could not well execute the non-shavers, or cut off the heads of thosewho declined to cut off their beards, but he could fine them, and hedid. The order was sent forth that all Russians, with the exception ofthe clergy, should shave. Those who preferred to keep their beardscould do so by paying a yearly tax into the public treasury. This wasfixed at a kopeck (one penny) for peasants, but for the higher classesvaried from thirty to a hundred rubles (from sixty dollars to twohundred dollars). The merchants, being at once the richest and mostconservative class, paid the highest tax. Every one who paid the tax wasgiven a bronze token, which had to be worn about the neck and renewedevery year. 

The czar would allow no one to be about him who did not shave, and manysubmitted through "terror of having their beards (in a merry humor)pulled out by the roots, or taken so rough off that some of the skinwent with them. " Many of those who shaved continued to do reverence totheir beards by carrying them within their bosoms as sacred objects, tobe buried in their graves, in order that a just account might berendered to St. Nicholas when they should come to the next world. 

The ukase against the beard was soon followed by one against the caftan, or long cloak, the old Russian dress. The czar and the leading officersof his embassy set the example of wearing the German dress, and he cutoff, with his own hands, the long sleeves of some of his officers. "Those things are in your way, " he would say. "You are safe nowhere withthem. At one moment you upset a glass, then you forgetfully dip them inthe sauce. Get gaiters made of them. "

On January 14, 1700, a decree was issued commanding all courtiers andofficials throughout the empire to wear the foreign dress. This decreehad to be frequently repeated, and models of the clothing exposed. It issaid that patterns of the garments and copies of the decrees were hungup together at the gates of the towns, while all who disobeyed the orderwere compelled to pay a fine. Those who yielded were obliged "to kneeldown at the gates of the city and have their coats cut off just evenwith the ground, " the part that lay on the ground as they kneeled beingcondemned to suffer by the shears. "Being done with a good humor, itoccasioned mirth among the people, and soon broke the custom of theirwearing long coats, especially in places near Moscow and those townswherever the czar came. "

This demand did not apply to the peasantry, and was therefore moreeasily executed. Even the women were required to change their Russianrobes for foreign fashions. Peter's sisters set the example, which wasquickly followed, the women showing themselves much less conservativethan the men in the adoption of new styles of dress. 

The reform did not end here. Decrees were issued against the highRussian boots, against the use of the Russian saddle, and even againstthe long Russian knife. Peter seemed to be infected with a passion forreform, and almost everything Russian was ordered to give way before theinflux of Western modes. Western ideas did not come with them. To changethe dress does not change the thoughts, and it does not civilize a manto shave his chin. Though outwardly conforming to the advanced fashionsof the West, inwardly the Russians continued to conform to theunprogressive conceptions of the East. 

It may be said that these changes did not come to stay. They were toorevolutionary to take deep root. There is no disputing the fact that acoat down to the heels is more comfortable in a cold climate than oneending at the knees, and is likely to be worn in preference. Students inRussia to-day wear the red shirt, the loose trousers tucked into thehigh boots, and the sleeveless caftan of the peasant, to show that theyare Slavs in feeling, while the old Russian costume is the regulationcourt dress for ladies on occasions of state. 

We cannot here name the host of other reforms which Peter introduced. The army was dressed and organized in the fashion of the West. A navywas rapidly built, and before many years Russia was winning victories atsea. Peter had not worked at Amsterdam and Deptford in vain. The moneyof the country was reorganized, and new coins were issued. The year, which had always begun in Russia on September 1, was now ordered tobegin on January 1, the first new year on the new system, January 1, 1700, being introduced with impressive ceremonies. Up to this time theRussians had counted their year from the supposed date of creation. Theywere now ordered to date their chronology from the birth of Christ, thefirst year of the new era being dated 1700 instead of 7208. Unluckily, the Gregorian calendar was not at the same time introduced, and Russiastill clings to the old style, so that each date in that country istwelve days behind the same date in the rest of the Christian world. 

Another reform of an important character was introduced. Peter hadobserved the system of local self-government in other countries, andresolved to have something like it in his realm. In Little Russia thepeople already had the right of electing their local officials. Asimilar system was extended to the whole empire, the merchants in thetowns being permitted to choose good and honest men, who formed acouncil which had general charge of municipal affairs. Where bribery andcorruption were discovered among these officials the knout and exilewere applied as inducements to honesty in office. Even death wasthreatened; yet bribery went on. Honesty in office cannot be made toorder, even by a czar. 

_MAZEPPA, THE COSSACK CHIEF. _

Among the romantic characters of history none have attained highercelebrity than the hero of our present tale, whose remarkable adventure, often told in story, has been made immortal in Lord Byron's famous poemof "Mazeppa. " Those who wish to read it in all its dramatic intensitymust apply to the poem. Here it can only be given in plain prose. 

Mazeppa was a scion of a poor but noble Polish family, and became, whilequite young, a page at the court of John Casimir, King of Poland. Therehe remained until he reached manhood, when he returned to the vicinityof his birth. And now occurred the striking event on which the fame ofour hero rests. The court-reared young man is said to have engaged in anintrigue with a Polish lady of high rank, or at least was suspected byher jealous husband of having injured him in his honor. 

Bent upon a revenge suitable to the barbarous ideas of that age, thefurious nobleman had the young man seized, cruelly scourged, and in theend stripped naked and firmly bound upon the back of an untamed horse ofthe steppes. The wild animal, terrified by the strange burden upon itsback, was then set free on the borders of its native wilds of theUkraine, and, uncontrolled by bit or rein, galloped madly for miles uponmiles through forest and over plain, until, exhausted by the violenceof its flight, it halted in its wild career. For a dramatic rendering ofthis frightful ride our readers must be referred to Byron's glowingverse. 

The savage Polish lord had not dreamed that his victim would escapealive, but fortune favored the poor youth. He was found, still fetteredto the animal's back, insensible and half dead, by some Cossackpeasants, who rescued him from his fearful situation, took him to theirhut, and eventually restored him to animation. 

Mazeppa was well educated and fully versed in the art of war of thatday. He made his home with his new friends, to whom his courage, agility, and sagacity proved such warm recommendations that he soonbecame highly popular among the Cossack clans. He was appointedsecretary and adjutant to Samilovitch, the hetman or chief of theCossacks, and on the disgrace and exile of this chief in 1687 Mazeppasucceeded him as leader of the tribe. He distinguished himselfparticularly in the war waged by the army of the Princess Sophia againstthe Turks and Tartars of the Crimea, in which Mazeppa led his Cossackfollowers with the greatest courage and skill. 

On the return of the army to Moscow, Prince Galitzin, its leader, brought into the capital a strong force of Cossacks, with Mazeppa attheir head. It was the first time the Cossacks had been allowed to enterMoscow, and their presence gave great offence. It was supposed to be apart of the plot of Sophia to dethrone her young brother and seize thethrone for herself. It was known that they would execute to the fullany orders given them by their chief; but their motions were sorestricted by the indignant people that the ambitious woman, if sheentertained such a design, found herself unable to employ them in it. 

The daring hetman of the Cossacks became afterwards a cherished friendof Peter the Great, who conferred on him the title of prince, andseverely punished those who accused him of conspiring with the enemiesof Russia. Having the fullest confidence in his good faith, Peterbanished or executed his foes as liars and traitors. Yet they seem tohave been the true men and Mazeppa the traitor, for at length, whensixty-four years of age, he threw off allegiance to Russia and became anally of the Swedish enemies of the realm. 

The fiery and ungovernable temper of Peter is said to have been thecause of this. The story goes that one day, when Mazeppa was visitingthe Russian court, and was at table with the czar, Peter complained tohim of the lawless character of the Cossacks, and proposed that Mazeppashould seek to bring them under better control by a system oforganization and discipline. 

The chief replied that such measures would never succeed. The Cossackswere so fierce and uncontrollable by nature, he said, and so fixed intheir irregular habits of warfare, that it would be impossible to getthem to submit to military discipline, and they must continue to fightin their old, wild way. 

These words were like fire to flax. Peter, who never could bear theleast opposition to any of his plans or projects, and was accustomed tohave everybody timidly agree with him, broke into a furious rage at thiscontradiction, and visited his sudden wrath on Mazeppa, as usual, in themost violent language. He was an enemy and a traitor, who deserved to beand should be impaled alive, roared the furious czar, not meaning atithe of what he said, but saying enough to turn the high-spirited chieffrom a friend to a foe. 

Mazeppa left the czar's presence in deep offence, muttering thedispleasure which it would have been death to speak openly, and bent onrevenge. Soon after he entered into communication with Charles XII. OfSweden, the bitter enemy of Russia, which he was then invading. Hesuggested that the Swedish army should advance into Southern Russia, where the Cossacks would be sure to be sent to meet it. He would then goover with all his forces to the Swedish side, so strengthening it thatthe army of the czar could not stand against it. The King of Swedenmight retain the territory won by his arms, while the Cossacks wouldretire to their own land, and become again, as of old, an independenttribe. 

The plot was well laid, but it failed through the loyalty of theCossacks. They broke into wild indignation when Mazeppa unfolded to themhis plan, most of them refusing to join in the revolt, and threateningto seize him and deliver him, bound hand and foot, to the czar. Some twothousand in all adhered to Mazeppa, and for a time it seemed as if abloody battle would take place between the two sections of the tribe, but in the end the chief and his followers made their way to the Swedishcamp, while the others marched back and put themselves under the commandof the nearest Russian general. 

Mazeppa was now sentenced to death, and executed, --luckily for him, ineffigy only. In person he was out of the reach of his foes. A woodenimage was made to represent the culprit, and on this dumb block thepenalties prescribed for him were inflicted. A pretty play--for a savagehorde--they made of it. The image was dressed to imitate Mazeppa, whilerepresentations of the medals, ribbons, and other decorations he usuallywore were placed upon it. It was then brought out before the general andleading officers, the soldiers being drawn up in a square around it. Aherald now read the sentence of condemnation, and the mock executionbegan. First Mazeppa's patent of knighthood was torn to pieces and thefragments flung into the air. Then the medals and decorations were rentfrom the image and trampled underfoot. Finally the image itself wasstruck a blow that toppled it over into the dust. The hangman now tookit in hand, tied a rope round its neck, and dragged it to a gibbet, onwhich it was hung. The affair ended in the Cossacks choosing a newchief. 

The remainder of Mazeppa's story may soon be told. The battle ofPultowa, fought, it is said, by his advice, ended the military career ofthe great Swedish general. The Cossack chief made his escape, with theKing of Sweden, into Turkish territory, and the reward which the czaroffered for his body, dead or alive, was never claimed. Mentchikof tookwhat revenge he could by capturing and sacking his capital city, Baturin, while throughout Russia his name was anathematized from thepulpit. Traitor in his old days, and a fugitive in a foreign land, thedisgrace of his action seemed to weigh heavily upon the mind of the oldchief of the Ukraine, and in the following year he put an end to thewretchedness of his life by poison. 

_A WINDOW OPEN TO EUROPE. _

Peter the Great hated Moscow. It was to him the embodiment of that oldRussia which he was seeking to reform out of existence. Had he been ableto work his own will in all things, he would never have set foot withinits walls; but circumstances are stronger than men, even though thelatter be Russian czars. In one respect Peter set himself againstcircumstance, and built Russia a capital in a locality seemingly lackingin all natural adaptation for a city. 

In the early days of the eighteenth century his armies captured a smallSwedish fort on Lake Ladoga near the river Neva. The locality pleasedhim, and he determined to build on the Neva a city which should serveRussia as a naval station and commercial port in the north. Why heselected this spot it is not easy to say. Better localities for hispurpose might have been easily chosen. There was old Novgorod, a centreof commerce during many centuries of the past, which it would have beena noble tribute to ancient Russian history to revive. There was Riga, acity better situated for the Baltic commerce. But Peter would have noneof these; he wanted a city of his own, one that should carry his namedown through the ages, that should rival the Alexandria of Alexander theGreat, and he chose for it a most inauspicious and inhospitable site. 

The Neva, a short but deep and wide stream, which carries to the seathe waters of the great lakes Ladoga, Onega, and Ilmen, breaks up nearits mouth and makes its way into the Gulf of Finland through numerouschannels, between which lie a series of islands. These then bore Finnishnames equivalent to Island of Hares, Island of Buffaloes, and the like. Overgrown with thickets, their surfaces marshy, liable to annualoverflow, inhabited only by a few Finnish fishermen, who fled from theirhuts to the mainland when the waters rose, they were far from promising;yet these islands took Peter's fancy as a suitable site for a commercialport, and with his usual impetuosity he plunged into the business ofmaking a city to order. 

[Illustration: ST. PETERSBURG HARBOR, NEVA RIVER. ]

In truth, he fell in love with the spot, though what he saw in it toadmire is not so clear. In summer mud ruled there supreme: the very nameNeva is Finnish for "mud. " During four months of the year ice took theplace of mud, and the islands and stream were fettered fast. The countrysurrounding was largely a desert, its barren plains alternating withforests whose only inhabitants were wolves. Years after the city wasbuilt, wolves prowled into its streets and devoured two sentries infront of one of the government buildings. Moscow lay four hundred milesaway, and the country between was bleak and almost uninhabited. Evento-day the traveller on leaving St. Petersburg finds himself in adesert. The great plain over which he passes spreads away in everydirection, not a steeple, not a tree, not a man or beast, visible uponits bare expanse. There is no pasturage nor farming land. Fruits andvegetables can scarcely be grown; corn must be brought from a distance. Rye is an article of garden culture in St. Petersburg, cabbages andturnips are its only vegetables, and a beehive there is a curiosity. 

Yet, as has been said, Peter was attracted to the place, which in one ofhis letters he called his "paradise. " It may have reminded him ofHolland, the scene of his nautical education. The locality had a certainsacredness in Russian tradition, being looked upon as the most ancientRussian ground. By the mouth of the Neva had passed Rurik and hisfellows in their journeys across the Varangian sea, --_their own sea_. The czar was willing to restore to Sweden all his conquests in Livoniaand Esthonia, but the Neva he would not yield. From boyhood he haddreamed of giving Russia a navy and opening it up to the world'scommerce, and here was a ready opening to the waters of the Baltic andthe distant Atlantic. 

St. Petersburg owed its origin to a whim; but it was the whim of a manwhose will swayed the movements of millions. He was not even willing tobegin his work on the high ground of the mainland, but chose the Islandof Hares, the nearest of the islands to the gulf. It was a seaport, nota capital, that he at first had in view. Legend tells us that hesnatched a halberd from one of his soldiers, cut with it two strips ofturf, and laid them crosswise, saying, "Here there shall be a town. "Then, dropping the halberd, he seized a spade and began the firstembankment. As he dug, an eagle appeared and hovered above his head. Shot by one of the men, it fluttered to his feet. Picking up the woundedbird, he set out in a boat to explore the waters around. To this eventis given the date of May 16, 1703. 

The city began in a fortress, for the building of which carpenters andmasons were brought from distant towns. The soldiers served as laborers. In this labor tools were notable chiefly for their absence. Wheelbarrowswere unknown; they are still but little used in Russia. Spades andbaskets were equally lacking, and the czar's impatience could not waitfor them to be procured. The men scraped up the earth with their handsor with sticks and carried it in the skirts of their caftans to theramparts. The czar sent orders to Moscow that two thousand of thethieves and outlaws destined for Siberia should be despatched the nextsummer to the Neva. 

The fort was at first built of wood, which was replaced by stone someyears afterwards. Logs served for all other structures, for no stone wasto be had. Afterwards every boat coming to the town was required tobring a certain number of stones, and, to attract masons to the newcity, the building of stone houses in Moscow or elsewhere was forbidden. As for the fortress, which was erected at no small cost in life andmoney, it soon became useless, and to-day it only protects the mint andcathedral of St. Petersburg. 

The new city, named Petersburg from its founder, has long been known asSt. Petersburg. While the fort was in process of erection a church wasalso built, dedicated to St. Peter and St. Paul. The site of this woodenedifice is now occupied by the cathedral, begun in 1714, ten yearslater. As regarded a home for himself, Peter was easily satisfied. A hutof logs--his palace he called it--was built near the fortress, fifty-five feet long by twenty-five wide, and containing but threerooms. At a later date, to preserve this his first place of residence inhis new city, he enclosed it within another building. Thus it stillremains, a place of pilgrimage for devout Russians. It contains manyrelics of the great czar. His bedroom is now a chapel. 

Such a city, in such a situation, should have taken years to build. Peter wished to have it done in months, and he pushed the labor withlittle regard for its cost in life and treasure. Men were brought fromall sections of Russia and put to work. Disease broke out among them, engendered by the dampness of the soil; but the work went on. Floodscame and covered the island, drowning some of the sick in their beds;but there was no alleviation. History tells us that Swedish prisonerswere employed, and that they died by thousands. Death, in Peter's eyes, was only an unpleasant incident, and new workmen were brought inmultitudes, many of them to perish in their turn. It has been said thatthe building of the city cost two hundred thousand lives. This is, nodoubt, an exaggeration, but it indicates a frightful mortality. But thefeverish impatience of the czar told in results, and by 1714 the citypossessed over thirty-four thousand buildings, with inhabitants inproportion. 

The floods came and played their part in the work of death. In that of1706, Peter measured water twenty-one inches deep on the floor of hishut. He thought it "extremely amusing" as men, women, and children wereswept past his windows on floating wreckage down the stream. What thepeople themselves thought of it history does not say. 

[Illustration: SLEIGHING IN RUSSIA. ]

As yet Peter had no design of making St. Petersburg the capital of hisempire. That conception seems not to have come to him until after thecrushing defeat of the Swedish monarch Charles XII. At the battle ofPultowa. And indeed it was not until 1817 that it was made the capital. It was the fifth Russian capital, its predecessors in that honor havingbeen Novgorod, Kief, Vladimir, and Moscow. 

To add a commercial quarter to the new city, Peter chose the island ofVasily Ostrof, --the Finnish "Island of Buffaloes, "--where a town waslaid out in the Dutch fashion, with canals for streets. This island isstill the business centre of the city, though the canals have long sincedisappeared. The streets of St. Petersburg for many years continuedunpaved, notwithstanding the marshy character of the soil, and in theearly days boats replaced carriages for travel and traffic. 

The work of building the new capital was not confined to the czar. Thenobles were obliged to build palaces in it, --very much to their chagrin. They hated St. Petersburg as cordially as Peter hated Moscow. Theyalready had large and elegant mansions in the latter city, and hadlittle relish for building new ones in this desert capital, four hundredmiles to the north. But the word of the czar was law, and none dared sayhim nay. Every proprietor whose estate held five hundred serfs wasordered to build a stone house of two stories in the new city. Those ofgreater wealth had to build more pretentious edifices. Peter's own tastein architecture was not good. He loved low and small rooms. None of hispalaces were fine buildings. In building the Winter Palace, whosestories were made high enough to conform to others on the street, he haddouble ceilings put in his special rooms, so as to reduce their height. 

The city under way, the question of its defence became prominent. TheSwedes, the mortal enemies of the czar, looked with little favor on thisnew project, and their prowling vessels in the gulf seemed to threatenit with attack. Peter made vigorous efforts to prepare for defence. Ship-building went on briskly on the Svir River, between Lakes Ladogaand Onega, and the vessels were got down as quickly as possible into theNeva. Peter himself explored and measured the depth of water in the Gulfof Finland. Here, some twenty miles from the city, lay the island ofCronslot, seven miles long, and in the narrowest part of the gulf. Thenorthern channel past this island proved too shallow to be a source ofdanger. The southern channel was navigable, and this the czar determinedto fortify. 

A fort was begun in the water near the island's shores, stone being sunkfor its foundation. Work on it was pressed with the greatest energy, forfear of an attack by the Swedish fleet, and it was completed before thewinter's end. With the idea of making this his commercial port, Peterhad many stone warehouses built on the island, most of which soon fellinto decay for want of use. But to-day Cronstadt, as the new town andfortress were called, is the greatest naval station and one of the mostflourishing commercial cities in Russia, while its fortificationsprotect the capital from dangers of assault. 

In those early days, however, St. Petersburg was designed to be thecentre of commerce, and Peter took what means he could to enticemerchant vessels to his new city. The first to appear--coming almost byaccident--was of Dutch build. It arrived in November, 1703, and Peterhimself served as pilot to bring it up to the town. Great was theastonishment of the skipper, on being afterwards presented to the czar, to recognize in him his late pilot. And Peter's delight was equallygreat on learning that the ship had been freighted by Cornelis Calf, oneof his old Zaandam friends. The skipper was feasted to his heart'scontent and presented with five hundred ducats, while each sailorreceived thirty thalers, and the ship was renamed the St. Petersburg. Two other ships appeared the same year, one Dutch and one English, andtheir skippers and crews received the same reward. These pioneer vesselswere exempted forever from all tolls and dues at that port. 

St. Petersburg, as it exists to-day, bears very little resemblance tothe city of Peter's plan. To his successors are due the splendid granitequays, which aid in keeping out the overflowing stream, the rows ofpalaces, the noble churches and public buildings, the statues, columns, and other triumphs of architecture which abundantly adorn the greatmodern capital. The marshy island soil has been lifted by two centuriesof accretions, while the main city has crept up from its old location tothe mainland, where the fashionable quarters and the government officesnow stand. 

St. Petersburg is still exposed to yearly peril by overflow. The violentautumnal storms, driving the waters of the gulf into the channel of thestream, back up terrible floods. The spring-time rise in the lakes whichfeed the Neva threatens similar disaster. In 1721 Peter himself narrowlyescaped drowning in the Nevski Prospect, now the finest street inEurope. 

Of the floods that have desolated the city, the greatest was that ofNovember, 1824. Driven into the river's mouth by a furious southweststorm, the waters of the gulf were heaped up to the first stories of thehouses even in the highest streets. Horses and carriages were sweptaway; bridges were torn loose and floated off; numbers of houses weremoved from their foundations; a full regiment of carbineers, who hadtaken refuge on the roof of their barracks, perished in the furioustorrent. At Cronstadt the waters rose so high that a hundred-gun shipwas left stranded in the market-place. The czar, who had just returnedfrom a long journey to the east, found himself made captive in his ownpalace. Standing on the balcony which looks up the Neva, surrounded byhis weeping family, he saw with deep dismay wrecks of every kind, bridges and merchandise, horses and cattle, and houses peopled withhelpless inmates, swept before his eyes by the raging flood. Boats wereoverturned and emptied their crews into the stream. Some who escapeddeath by drowning died from the bitter cold as they floated downward onvessels or rafts. It seemed almost as if the whole city would be carriedbodily into the gulf. 

The official reports of this disaster state that forty-five hundred ofthe people perished, --probably not half the true figure. Of the housesthat remained, many were ruined, and thousands of poor wretches wanderedhomeless through the drenched streets. Such was one example of theinheritance left by Peter the Great to the dwellers in his favoritecity, his "window to Europe, " as it has been called. 

_FROM THE HOVEL TO THE THRONE. _

The reign of Peter the Great was signalized by two notable instances ofthe rise of persons from the lowest to the highest estate, ability beingplaced above birth and talent preferred to noble descent. A poor boy, Mentchikof by name, son of a monastery laborer, had made his way toMoscow and there found employment with a pastry-cook, who sent him outdaily with a basket of mince pies, which he was to sell in the streets. The boy was destitute of education, but he had inherited a musical voiceand a lively manner, which stood him in good stead in proclaiming themerits of his wares. He could sing a ballad in taking style, and becameso widely known for his songs and stories that he was often invited intogentlemen's houses to entertain company. His voice and his wit ended inmaking him a prince of the empire, a favorite of the czar, and in theend virtually the emperor of Russia. 

Being one day in the kitchen of a boyar's house, where dinner was beingprepared for the czar, who had promised to dine there that day, youngMentchikof overheard the master of the house give special directions tohis cook about a dish of meat of which he said the czar was especiallyfond, and noticed that he furtively dropped a powder of some kind intoit, as if by way of spice. 

This act seemed suspicious to the acute lad. Noting particularly thecomposition of the dish, he betook himself to the street, where he beganagain to exalt the merits of his pies and to entertain the passers-bywith ballads. He kept in the vicinity of the boyar's house until theczar arrived, when he raised his voice to its highest pitch and began tosing vociferously. The czar, attracted by the boy's voice and amused byhis manner, called him up, and asked him if he would sell his stock intrade, basket and all. 

"I have orders only to sell the pies, " replied the shrewd vender: "Icannot sell the basket without asking my master's leave. But, aseverything in Russia belongs to your majesty, you have only to lay on meyour commands. "

This answer so greatly pleased the czar that he bade the boy come withhim into the house and wait on him at table, much to the youngpie-vender's joy, as it was just the result for which he had hoped. Thedinner went on, Mentchikof waiting on the czar with such skill as hecould command, and watching eagerly for the approach of the suspecteddish. At length it was brought in and placed on the table before theczar. The boy thereupon leaned forward and whispered in the monarch'sear, begging him not to eat of that dish. 

Surprised at this request, and quick to suspect something wrong, theczar rose and walked into an adjoining room, bidding the boy accompanyhim. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Why should I not eat of that particulardish?"

"Because I am afraid it is not all right, " answered the boy. "I was inthe kitchen while it was being prepared, and saw the boyar, when thecook's back was turned, drop a powder into the dish. I do not know whatall this meant, but thought it my duty to put your majesty on yourguard. "

"Thanks for your shrewdness, my lad, " said the czar; "I will bear it inmind. "

Peter returned to the table with his wonted cheerfulness of countenance, giving no indication that he had heard anything unusual. 

"I should like your majesty to try that dish, " said the boyar: "I fancythat you will find it very good. "

"Come sit here beside me, " suggested Peter. It was the custom at thattime in Moscow for the master of a house to wait on the table when heentertained guests. 

Peter put some of the questionable dish on a plate and placed it beforehis host. 

"No doubt it is good, " he said. "Try some of it yourself and set me anexample. "

This request threw the host into a state of the utmost confusion, andwith trembling utterance he replied that it was not becoming for aservant to eat with his master. 

"It is becoming to a dog, if I wish it, " answered Peter, and he set theplate on the floor before a dog which was in the room. 

In a moment the brute had emptied the dish. But in a short time thepoor animal was seen to be in convulsions, and it soon fell dead beforethe assembled company. 

"Is this the dish you recommended so highly?" said Peter, fixing aterrible look on the shrinking boyar. "So I was to take the place ofthat dead dog?"

Orders were given to have the animal opened and examined, and the resultof the investigation proved beyond doubt that its death was due topoison. The culprit, however, escaped the terrible punishment which hewould have suffered at Peter's hands by taking his own life. He wasfound dead in bed the next morning. 

We do not vouch for the truth of this interesting story. Though told bya writer of Peter's time, it is doubted by late historians. But such isthe fate of the best stories afloat, and the voice of doubt threatens torob history of much of its romance. The story of Mentchikof, in its mostusual shape, states that Le Fort, general and admiral, was the first tobe attracted to the sprightly boy, and that Peter saw him at Le Fort'shouse, was delighted with him, and made him his page. 

The pastry-cook's boy soon became the indispensable companion of theczar, assisted him in his workshop, attended him in his wars, and at thesiege of Azov displayed the greatest bravery. He accompanied Peter inhis travels, worked with him in Holland, and distinguished himself inthe wars with the Swedes, receiving the order of St. Andrew forgallantry at the battle of the Neva. In 1704 he was given the rank ofgeneral, and was the first to defeat the Swedes in a pitched battle. Atthe czar's request he was made a prince of the Holy Roman Empire. 

As Prince Mentchikof the new grandee loomed high. His house in Moscowwas magnificent, his banquets were gorgeous with gold and silver plate, and the ambassadors of the powers of Europe figured among his guests. Such was the bright side of the picture. The dark side was one ofextortion and robbery, in which the favorite of the czar out-did inpeculation all the other officials of the realm. 

Peculation in Russia, indeed, assumed enormous proportions, but this wasa crime towards which Peter did not manifest his usual severity. Two ofthe robbers in high places were executed, but the others were let offwith fines and a castigation with Peter's walking-stick, which he was inthe habit of using freely on high and low alike. As for Mentchikof, hewas incorrigible. So high was he in favor with his master that thesenators, who had abundant proofs of his robberies and little love forhim personally, dared not openly accuse him before the czar. The mostthey ventured to do was to draw up a statement of his peculations andlay the paper on the table at the czar's seat. Peter saw it, ran his eyeover its contents, but said nothing. Day after day the paper lay in thesame place, but the czar continued silent. One day as he sat in thesenate, the senator Tolstoi, who sat beside him, was bold enough to askhim what he thought of that document. 

"Nothing, " Peter replied, "but that Mentchikof will always beMentchikof. "

The death of Peter placed the favorite in a precarious position. He hada host of enemies, who would have rejoiced in his downfall. These, whoformed what may be called the Old Russian party, wished to proclaim asmonarch the grandson of the deceased czar. But Mentchikof and the partyof reform were beforehand with them, and gave the throne to Catharine, the widow of the late monarch. Under her the pastry-cook's boy rose tothe summit of his power and virtually governed the country. Unluckilyfor the favorite, Catharine died in two years, and a new czar, PeterII. , grandson of Peter the Great, came to the throne. 

Mentchikof had been left guardian of the youthful czar, to whom hisdaughter was betrothed, and whom he took to his house and surroundedwith his creatures. And now for a time the favorite soared higher thanever, was practically lord of the land, and made himself more fearedthan had been Peter himself. 

But he had reached the verge of a precipice. There was no love betweenthe young czar and Mary Mentchikof, and the youthful prince was soonbrought to dislike his guardian. Events moved fast. Peter leftMentchikof's house and sought the summer palace, to which his guardianwas refused admittance. Soon after he was arrested, the shock of thedisgrace bringing on an apoplectic stroke. In vain he appealed to theemperor; he was ordered to retire to his estate, and soon after wasbanished, with his whole family, to Siberia. This was in 1727. Thedisgraced favorite survived his exile but two years, dying of apoplexyin 1729. Four months afterwards the new czar followed in death the manhe had disgraced. 

The other instance of a rise from low to high estate was that of theempress herself, whose career was very closely related to that ofMentchikof. There are various instances in history of a woman of lowestate being chosen to share a monarch's throne, but only one, that ofCatharine of Russia, in which a poor stranger, taken from among theruins of a plundered town, became eventually the absolute sovereign ofthat empire into which she had been carried as captive or slave. 

It was in 1702, during the sharply contested war between Russia andSweden, that, while Charles XII. Of Sweden was making conquests inPoland, the Russian army was having similar success in Livonia andIngria. Among the Russian successes was the capture of a small townnamed Marienburg, which surrendered at discretion, but whose magazineswere blown up by the Swedes. This behavior so provoked the Russiangeneral that he gave orders for the town to be destroyed and all itsinhabitants to be carried off. 

Among the prisoners was a girl, Catharine by name, a native of Livonia, who had been left an orphan at the age of three years, and had beenbrought up as a servant in the family of M. Gluck, the minister of theplace. Such was the humble origin of the woman who was to become thewife of Peter the Great, and afterwards Catharine I. , Empress of Russia. 

In 1702 Catharine, then seventeen years of age, married a Swedishdragoon, one of the garrison of Marienburg. Her married life was a shortone, her husband being obliged to leave her in two days to join hisregiment. She never saw him again. She could neither read nor write, and, like Mentchikof, never learned those arts. She was, however, handsome and attractive, delicate and well formed, and of a mostexcellent temper, being never known to be out of humor, while she wasobliging and civil to all, and after her exaltation took good care ofthe family of her benefactor Gluck. As for her first husband, she senthim sums of money until 1705, when he was killed in battle. 

It was a common fate of prisoners of war then to be sold as slaves tothe Turks, but the beauty of Catharine saved her from this. After somevicissitudes, she fell into the hands of Mentchikof, at whose quartersshe was seen by the czar. Struck by her beauty and good sense, Petertook her to his palace, where, finding in her a warm appreciation of hisplans of reform and an admirable disposition, he made her his own by aprivate marriage. In 1711 this was supplemented by a public wedding. 

Catharine was soon able amply to reward the czar for the honor he hadconferred upon her. He was at war with the Turks, and, through a foolishcontempt for their generalship and military skill, allowed himself tofall into a trap from which there seemed no escape. He found himselfcompletely surrounded by the enemy and cut off from all supplies, andit seemed as if he would be forced to surrender with his whole force tothe despised foe. 

From this dilemma Catharine, who was in the camp, relieved him. Collecting a large sum of money and presents of jewelry, and seeking thecamp of the enemy, she succeeded in bribing the Turkish general, or insome way inducing him to conclude peace and suffer the Russian army toescape. Peter repaid his able wife by conferring upon her the dignity ofempress. 

The death of the czar was followed, as we have said, by the elevation ofhis wife to the vacant throne, principally through the aid ofMentchikof, her former lord and master, aided by the effect of herseemingly inconsolable grief and the judicious distribution of money andjewels as presents. 

For two years Catharine and Mentchikof, whose life had begun in thehovel, and who were now virtually together on the throne, were theunquestioned autocrats of Russia. Catharine had no genius forgovernment, and left the control of affairs to her minister, who was toall intents and purposes sovereign of Russia. The empress, meanwhile, passed her days in vice and dissipation, thereby hastening her end. Shedied in 1727, at the age of about forty years. In the same year, asalready stated, the man who had grown great with her fell from his highestate. 

_BUFFOONERIES OF THE RUSSIAN COURT. _

Amid the serious matters which present themselves so abundantly in thehistory of Russia, buffooneries of the coarsest character at times findplace. Numerous examples of this might be drawn from the reign of Peterthe Great, whose idea of humor was broad burlesque, and who, despite thereligious prejudices of the people, did not hesitate to make the churchthe subject of his jests. One of the broadest of these farces was thatknown as the Conclave, the purpose of which was to burlesque or treatwith contumely the method of selecting the head of the Roman CatholicChurch. 

At the court of the czar was an old man named Sotof, a drunkard ofinimitable powers of imbibition, and long a butt for the jests of thecourt. He had taught the czar to write, a service which he deemed worthyof being rewarded by the highest dignities of the empire. 

Peter, who dearly loved a practical joke, learning the aspirations ofthe old sot, promised to confer on him the most eminent office in theworld, and accordingly appointed him _Kniaz Papa_ that is, prince-pope, with a salary of two thousand roubles and a palace at St. Petersburg. The exaltation of Sotof to this dignity was solemnized by a performancemore gross than ludicrous. Buffoons were chosen to lift the newdignitary to his throne, and four fellows who stammered with every worddelivered absurd addresses upon his exaltation. The mock pope thencreated a number of cardinals, at whose head he rode through the streetsin procession, his seat of state being a cask of brandy which wascarried on a sledge drawn by four oxen. 

The cardinals followed, and after them came sledges laden with food anddrink, while the music of the procession consisted of a hideous turmoilof drums, trumpets, horns, fiddles, and hautboys, all playing out oftime, mingled with the ear-splitting clatter of pots and pans vigorouslybeaten by a troop of cooks and scullions. Next came a number of mendressed as Roman Catholic monks, each carrying a bottle and a glass. Inthe rear of the procession marched the czar and his courtiers, Peterdressed as a Dutch skipper, the others wearing various comic disguises. 

The place fixed for the conclave being reached, the cardinals were ledinto a long gallery, along which had been built a range of closets. Ineach of these a cardinal was shut up, abundantly provided with food anddrink. To each of the cardinals two conclavists were attached, whoseduty it was to ply them with brandy, carry insulting messages from oneto another, and induce them, as they grew tipsy, to bawl out all sortsof abuse of one another. To all this ribaldry the czar listened withdelight, taking note at the same time of anything said of which he mightmake future use against the participants. 

This orgy lasted three days and three nights, the cardinals not beingreleased until they had agreed upon answers to a number of ridiculousquestions propounded to them by the Kniaz Papa. Then the doors wereflung open, and the pope and his cardinals were drawn home at mid-daydead drunk on sledges, --that is, such of them as survived, for some hadactually drunk themselves to death, while others never recovered fromthe effect of their debauch. 

This offensive absurdity appealed so strongly to the czar's idea ofhumor that he had it three times repeated, it growing more gross andshameless on each successive occasion; and during the last conclavePeter indulged in such excesses that his death was hastened by theireffects. 

As for the national church of Russia, Peter treated it with contemptuousindifference. The office of patriarch becoming vacant, he left itunfilled for twenty-one years, and finally, on being implored by adelegation from the clergy to appoint a patriarch, he started up in afurious passion, struck his breast with his fist and the table with hiscutlass, and roared out, "Here, here is your patriarch!" He then stampedangrily from the room, leaving the prelates in a state of utter dismay. 

Soon after he took occasion to make the church the subject of a secondcoarse jest. Another buffoon of the court, Buturlin by name, wasappointed Kniaz Papa, and a marriage arranged between him and the widowof Sotof, his predecessor. The bridegroom was eighty-four years of age, the bride nearly as old. Some decrepit old men were chosen to play thepart of bridesmaids, four stutterers invited the wedding guests, whilefour of the most corpulent fellows who could be found attended theprocession as running footmen. A sledge drawn by bears held theorchestra, their music being accompanied with roars from the animals, which were goaded with iron spikes. The nuptial benediction was given inthe cathedral by a blind and deaf priest, who wore huge spectacles. Themarriage, the wedding feast, and the remaining ceremonies were allconducted in the same spirit of broad burlesque, in which one of thesacred ceremonies of the Russian Church was grossly paraphrased. 

Peter did not confine himself to coarse jests in his efforts todiscredit the clergy. He took every occasion to unmask the trickery ofthe priests. Petersburg, the new city he was building, was an object ofabhorrence to these superstitious worthies, who denounced it as one ofthe gates of hell, prophesying that it would be overthrown by the wrathof heaven, and fixing the date on which this was to occur. So great wasthe fear inspired by their prophecies that work was suspended in spiteof the orders of the terrible czar. 

To impress the people with the imminency of the peril, the priestsdisplayed a sacred image from whose eyes flowed miraculous tears. Itseemed to weep over the coming fate of the dwellers within the doomedcity. 

"Its hour is at hand, " said the priests; "it will soon be swallowed up, with all its inhabitants, by a tremendous inundation. "

When word of this seeming miracle and of the consternation which it hadproduced was brought to the czar, he hastened with his usual impetuosityto the spot, bent on exposing the dangerous fraud which his enemies wereperpetrating. He found the weeping image surrounded by a multitude ofsuperstitious citizens, who gazed with open-eyed wonder and reverence onthe miraculous feat. 

Their horror was intense when Peter boldly approached and examined theimage. Petrified with terror, they looked to see him stricken dead by abolt from heaven. But their feelings changed when the czar, breakingopen the head of the image, explained to them the ingenious trick whichthe priests had devised. The head was found to contain a reservoir ofcongealed oil, which, as it was melted by the heat of lighted tapersbeneath, flowed out drop by drop through artfully provided holes, andran from the eyes like tears. On seeing this the dismay of the peopleturned to anger against the priests, and the building of the city wenton. 

The court fool was an institution born in barbarism, though it survivedlong into the age of civilization, having its latest survival in Russia, the last European state to emerge from barbarism. In the days of Peterthe Great the fool was a fixed institution in Russia, though thiselement of court life had long vanished from Western Europe. In truth, the buffoon flourished in Russia like a green bay-tree. Peter was neversatisfied with less than a dozen of these fun-making worthies, and aprivate family which could not afford at least one hired fool wasthought to be in very straitened circumstances. 

In the reign of the empress Anne the number of court buffoons wasreduced to six, but three of the six were men of the highest birth. Theyhad been degraded to this office for some fault, and if they refused toperform such fooleries as the queen and her courtiers desired they werewhipped with rods. 

Among those who suffered this indignity was no less a grandee thanPrince Galitzin. He had changed his religion, and for this offence hewas made court page, though he was over forty years of age, and buffoon, though his son was a lieutenant in the army, and his family one of thefirst in the realm. His name is here given in particular as he was madethe subject of a cruel jest, which could have been perpetrated nowherebut in the Russian court at that period. 

The winter of 1740, in which this event took place, was of unusualseverity. Prince Galitzin's wife having died, the empress forced him tomarry a girl of the lowest birth, agreeing to defray the cost of thewedding, which proved to be by no means small. 

As a preliminary a house was built wholly of ice, and all its furniture, tables, seats, ornaments, and even the nuptial bedstead, were made ofthe same frigid material. In front of the house were placed four cannonsand two mortars of ice, so solid in construction that they were firedseveral times without bursting. To make up the wedding processionpersons of all the nations subject to Russia, and of both sexes, werebrought from the several provinces, dressed in their national costumes. 

The procession was an extraordinary one. The new-married couple rode onthe back of an elephant, in a huge cage. Of those that followed somewere mounted on camels, some rode in sledges drawn by various beasts, such as reindeer, oxen, dogs, goats, and hogs. The train, which allMoscow turned out to witness, embraced more than three hundred persons, and made its way past the palace of the empress and through all theprincipal streets of the city. 

The wedding dinner was given in Biren's riding-house, which wasappropriately decorated, and in which each group of the guests weresupplied with food cooked after the manner of their own country. A ballfollowed, in which the people of each nation danced their nationaldances to their national music. The pith of the joke, in the Russianappreciation of that day, came at the end, the bride and groom beingconducted to a bed of ice in an icy palace, in which they were forced tospend the night, guards being stationed at the door to prevent theirgetting out before morning. 

Though not so gross as Peter's nuptial jests, this was more cruel, and, in view of the social station of the groom, a far greater indignity. 

A Russian state dinner during the reign of Peter the Great, as describedby Dr. Birch, speaking from personal observation, was one in which onlythose of the strongest stomach could safely take part. On suchoccasions, indeed, the experienced ate their dinners beforehand athome, knowing well what to expect at the czar's table. Ceremony wasabsolutely lacking, and, as two or three hundred persons were usuallyinvited to a feast set for a hundred, a most undignified scuffling forseats took place, each holder of a chair being forced to struggle withthose who sought to snatch it from him. In this turmoil distinguishedforeigners had to fight like the natives for their seats. 

Finally they took their places without regard to dignity or station. "Carpenters and shipwrights sit next to the czar; but senators, ministers, generals, priests, sailors, buffoons of all kinds, sitpell-mell, without any distinction. " And they were crowded so closelythat it was with great difficulty they could lift their hands to theirmouths. As for foreigners, if they happened to sit between Russians, they were little likely to have any appetite to eat. All this Peterencouraged, on the plea that ceremony would produce uneasiness andstiffness. 

There was usually but one napkin for two or three guests, which theyfought for as they had for seats; while each person had but one plateduring dinner, "so if some Russian does not care to mix the sauces ofthe different dishes together, he pours the soup that is left in hisplate either into the dish or into his neighbor's plate, or even underthe table, after which he licks his plate clean with his finger, and, last of all, wipes it with the table-cloth. "

Liquids seem to have played as important a part as solids at thesemeals, each guest being obliged to begin with a cup of brandy, afterwhich great glasses of wine were served, "and betweenwhiles a bumper ofthe strongest English beer, by which mixture of liquors every one of theguests is fuddled before the soup is served up. " And this was notconfined to the men, the women being obliged to take their share in theliberal potations. As for the music that played in the adjoining room, it was utterly drowned in the noise around the table, the uproar beingoccasionally increased by a fighting-bout between two drunken guests, which the czar, instead of stopping, witnessed with glee. 

We may close with a final quotation from Dr. Birch. "At greatentertainments it frequently happens that nobody is allowed to go out ofthe room from noon till midnight; hence it is easy to imagine whatpickle a room must be in that is full of people who drink like beasts, and none of whom escape being dead drunk. 

"They often tie eight or ten young mice in a string, and hide them undergreen peas, or in such soups as the Russians have the greatest appetitesto, which sets them a kicking and vomiting in a most beastly manner whenthey come to the bottom and discover the trick. They often bake cats, wolves, ravens, and the like in their pastries, and when the companyhave eaten them up, they tell them what they have in their stomachs. 

"The present butler is one of the czar's buffoons, to whom he has giventhe name of _Wiaschi_, with this privilege, that if any one calls him bythat name he has leave to drub him with his wooden sword. If, therefore, anybody, by the czar's setting them on, calls out _Wiaschi_, as thefellow does not know exactly who it is, he falls to beating them allaround, beginning with prince Mentchikof and ending with the last of thecompany, without excepting even the ladies, whom he strips of their headclothes, as he does the old Russians of their wigs, which he tramplesupon, on which occasion it is pleasant enough to see the variety oftheir bald pates. "

On reading this account of a Russian court entertainment two centuriesago, we cannot wonder that after the visit of Peter the Great and hissuite to London it was suggested that the easiest way to cleanse thepalace in which they had been entertained might be to set it on fire andburn it to the ground. 

_HOW A WOMAN DETHRONED A MAN. _

We have told how one Catharine, of lowly birth and the captive of awarlike raid, rose to be Empress of Russia. We have now to tell how asecond of the same name rose to the same dignity. This one was indeed aprincess by descent, her birthplace being a little German town. But ifshe began upon a higher level than the former Catharine, she reached ahigher level still, this insignificant German princess becoming known inhistory as Catharine the Great, and having the high distinction of beingthe only woman to whose name the title Great has ever been attached. Wemay here say, however, that many women have lived to whom it might havebeen more properly applied. 

In 1744 this daughter of one of the innumerable German kinglings becameGrand Duchess of Russia, through marriage with Peter, the coming heir tothe throne. We may here step from the beaten track of our story to saythat Russia, at this period of its history, was ruled over by a numberof empresses, though at no other time have women occupied its throne. The line began with Sophia, sister of Peter the Great, who reigned forsome years as virtual empress. Catharine, the wife of Peter, becameactual empress, and was followed, with insignificant intervals of malerulers, by Anne, Elizabeth, and Catharine the Great. These male rulerswere Peter II. , whose reign was brief, Ivan, an infant, and Peter III. , husband of Catharine, who succeeded Elizabeth in 1762. It is with thelast named that we are concerned. 

Peter III. , though grandson of Peter the Great, was as weak a man asever sat on a throne; Catharine a woman of unusual energy. For years oftheir married life these two had been enemies. Peter had the misfortuneto have been born a fool, and folly on the throne is apt to make a sorryshow. He had, besides, become a drunkard and profligate. The one goodpoint about him, in the estimation of many, was his admiration forFrederick the Great, since he came to the throne of Russia at the crisisof Frederick's career, and saved him from utter ruin by withdrawing theRussian army from his opponents. 

His folly soon raised up against him two powerful enemies. One of thesewas the army, which did not object, after fighting with the Austriansagainst the Prussians, to turn and fight with the Prussians against theAustrians, but did object to the Prussian dress and discipline, whichPeter insisted upon introducing. It possessed a discipline of its own, which it preferred to keep, and bitterly disliked its change of dress. The czar even spoke of suppressing the Guards, as his grandfather hadsuppressed the corps of the Strelitz. This was a fatal offence. It madethis strong force his enemy, while he was utterly lacking in theresolution with which Peter the Great had handled rebels in arms. 

The other enemy was Catharine, whom he had deserted for an unworthyfavorite. But her enmity was quiet, and might have remained so had henot added insult to injury. Heated by drink, he called her a "fool" at apublic dinner before four hundred people, including the greatestdignitaries of the realm and the foreign ministers. He was not satisfiedwith an insult, but added to it the folly of a threat, that of an orderfor her arrest. This he withdrew, --a worse fault, under thecircumstances, than to have made it. He had taught Catharine that heronly safety lay in action, if she would not be removed from the thronein favor of the worthless creature who had supplanted her in herhusband's esteem. 

Events moved rapidly. It was on the 21st of June, 1762, that the insultwas given and the threat made. Within a month the czar was dead and hiswife reigned in his stead. On the 24th Peter left St. Petersburg forOranienbaum, his summer residence. He did not propose to remain therelong. He had it in view to join his army and defeat the Danes, hispresent foes, with the less defined intention of gaining glory on somegreat battle-field at the side of his victorious ally Frederick theGreat. The fleet with which Denmark was to be invaded was not ready tosail, many of the crew being sick; but this little difficulty did notdeter the czar. He issued an imperial ukase ordering the sick sailors toget well. 

On going to his summer residence Peter had imprudently left Catharine atSt. Petersburg, taking his mistress in her stead. On the 29th his wifereceived orders from him to go to Peterhof. Thither he meant to proceedbefore setting out on his campaign. His feast-day came on the 10th ofJuly. On the morning of the 9th he set out with a large train offollowers for the palace of Peterhof, where the next day Catharine wasto give a grand dinner in his honor. 

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Peterhof was reached. To theutter surprise of the czar, there were none but servants to meet him, and they in a state of mortal terror. 

"Where is the empress?" he demanded. 

"Gone. "

"Where?"

No one could tell him. She had simply gone, --where and why he was soonto learn. As he waited and fumed, a peasant approached and handed him aletter, which proved to be from Bressau, his former French valet. Itcontained the astounding information that the empress had arrived in St. Petersburg that morning and had been proclaimed _sole and absolutesovereign of Russia_. 

The tale was beyond his powers of belief. Like a madman he rushedthrough the empty rooms, making them resound with vociferous demands forhis wife; looked in every corner and cupboard; rushed wildly through thegardens, calling for Catharine again and again; while the crowd offrightened courtiers followed in his steps. It was in vain; no voicecame in answer to his demand, no Catharine was to be found. 

The story of what had actually happened is none too well known. It hasbeen told in more shapes than one. What we know is that there was aconspiracy to place Catharine on the throne, that the leaders of thetroops had been tampered with, and that one of the conspirators, CaptainPassek, had just been arrested by order of the czar. It was this arrestthat precipitated the revolution. Fearing that all was discovered, theplotters took the only available means to save themselves. 

The arrest of Passek had nothing to do with the conspiracy. It was forquite another cause. But it proved to be an accident with great results, since the Orlofs, who were deep in the conspiracy, thought that theirlives were in danger, and that safety lay only in prompt action. As aresult, at five A. M. . On July 9, Alexis Orlof suddenly appeared atPeterhof, and demanded to see the empress at once. 

Catharine was fast asleep when the young officer hastily entered herroom. He lost no time in waking her. She gazed on him with surprise andalarm. 

"It is time to get up, " he said, in as calm a tone as if he had beenannouncing that breakfast was waiting. "Everything is ready for yourproclamation. "

"What do you mean?" she demanded. 

"Passek is arrested. You must come, " he said, in the same tone. 

This was enough. A long perspective of peril lay behind those words. Theempress arose, dressed in all haste, and sprang into the coach besidewhich Orlof awaited her. One of her women entered with her, Orlof seatedhimself in front, a groom sprang up behind, and off they set, atheadlong speed, for St. Petersburg. 

The distance was nearly twenty miles, and the horses, which had alreadycovered that distance, were in very poor condition for doubling itwithout rest. In his haste Orlof had not thought of ordering a relay. His carelessness might have cost them dear, since it was of vital momentto reach the city without delay. Fortunately, they met a peasant, andborrowed two horses from his cart. Those two horses perhaps won thethrone for Catharine. 

[Illustration: A RUSSIAN DROSKY. ]

Five miles from the city they met two others of the conspirators, devoured with anxiety. Changing to the new coach, the party drove in atbreakneck pace, and halted before the barracks of the Ismailofskyregiment, with which the conspirators had been at work. 

It was between six and seven o'clock in the morning. Only a dozen menwere at the barracks. Nothing had been prepared. Excitement or terrorhad turned all heads. Yet now no time was lost. Drummers were roused anddrums beaten. Out came soldiers in haste, half dressed and half asleep. 

"Shout 'Long live the empress!'" demanded the visitors. 

Without hesitation the guardsmen obeyed, their only thought at themoment being that of a free flow of _vodka_, the Russian drink. A priestwas quickly brought, who, like the soldiers, was prepared to do as hewas told. Raising the cross, he hastily offered them a form of oath, towhich the soldiers subscribed. The first step was taken; the empress wasproclaimed. 

The proclamation declared Catharine sole and absolute sovereign. It madeno mention of her little son Paul, as some of the leaders in theconspiracy had proposed. The Orlofs controlled the situation, and theaction of the Ismailofsky was soon sanctioned by other regiments of theguard. They hated the czar and were ripe for revolt. 

One regiment only, the Preobrajensky, that of which the czar himself wascolonel, resisted. It was led against the other troops under the commandof a captain and a major. The hostile bodies came face to face a fewpaces apart; the queen's party greatest in number, but in disorder, theczar's party drawn up with military skill. A moment, a word, mightprecipitate a bloody conflict. 

Suddenly a man in the ranks cried out, "_Oura!_ Long live the empress!"In an instant the whole regiment echoed the cry, the ranks were broken, the soldiers embraced their comrades in the other ranks, and, falling ontheir knees, begged pardon of the empress for their delay. 

And now the throng turned towards the neighboring church of Our Lady ofKasan, in which Catharine was to receive their oaths of fidelity. Acrowd pushed in to do homage, composed not only of soldiers, but ofmembers of the senate and the synod. A manifesto was quickly drawn up bya clerk named Tieplof, printed in all haste, and distributed to thepeople, who read it and joined heartily in the cry of "Long live theempress!"

Catharine next reviewed the troops, who again hailed her with shouts. And thus it was that a czar was dethroned and a new reign begun withoutthe loss of a drop of blood. There was some little disorder. Severalwine-shops were broken into, the house of Prince George of Holstein waspillaged and he and his wife were roughly handled, but that was all: asyet it had been one of the simplest of revolutions. 

Catharine was empress, but how long would she remain so? Her empireconsisted of the fickle people of St. Petersburg, her army of fourregiments of the guards. If Peter had the courage to strike for histhrone, he might readily regain it. He had with him about fifteenhundred Holsteiners, an excellent body of troops, on whose loyalty hecould fully rely, for they were foreigners in Russia, and their safetydepended on him. At the head of these troops was one of the firstsoldiers of the age, Field-Marshal Münich. The main Russian army was inPomerania, under the orders of the czar, if he were alert in givingthem. He had it in view to annihilate the Danes, to show himself a herounder Frederick of Prussia; surely a handful of conspirators and a fewregiments of malcontents would have but a shallow chance. 

Yet Catharine knew the man with whom she dealt. The grain of couragewhich would have saved Peter was not to be found in his make-up, andMünich strove in vain to induce him to act with manly resolution. Adozen fancies passed through his mind in an hour. He drew up manifestoesfor a paper campaign. He sent to Oranienbaum for the Holstein troops, intending to fortify Peterhof, but changed his mind before they arrived. 

Münich now advised him to go to Cronstadt and secure himself in thatstronghold. After some hesitation he agreed, but night had fallenbefore the whole party, male and female, set off in a yacht and galley, as if on a pleasure-trip. It was one o'clock in the morning when theyarrived in sight of the fortress. 

"Who goes there?" hailed a sentinel from the ramparts. 

"The emperor. "

"There is no emperor. Keep off!"

Delay had given Catharine ample time to get ahead of him. 

"Do not heed the sentry, " cried Münich. "They will not dare to fire onyou. Land, and all will be safe. "

But Peter was below deck, in a panic of fear. The women were shriekingin terror. Despite Münich, the vessels were put about. Then the oldsoldier, half in despair at this poltroonery, proposed another plan. 

"Let us go to Revel, embark on a war-ship, and proceed to Pomerania. There you can take command of the army. Do this, sire, and within sixweeks St. Petersburg and Russia will be at your feet. I will answer forthis with my head. "

But Peter was hopelessly incompetent to act. He would go back toOranienbaum. He would negotiate. He arrived there to learn thatCatharine was marching on him at the head of her regiments. On she came, her cap crowned with oak leaves, her hair floating in the wind. Thesoldiers had thrown off their Prussian uniforms and were dressed intheir old garb. They were eager to fight the Holstein foreigners. 

No opportunity came for this. A messenger met them with a flag oftruce. Peter had sent an offer to divide the power with Catharine. Receiving no answer, in an hour he sent an offer to abdicate. He wasbrought to Peterhof, where Catharine had halted, and where he cried likea whipped child on receiving the orders of the new empress and beingforcibly separated from the woman who had ruined him. 

A day had changed the fate of an empire. Within little more than sixmonths from his accession the czar had been hurled from his throne andhis wife had taken his place. Peter was sent under guard to Ropcha, alonely spot about twenty miles away, there to stay until accommodationscould be prepared for him in the strong fortress of Schlüsselburg. 

He was never to reach the latter place. He had abdicated on July 14. OnJuly 18 Alexis Orlof, covered with sweat and dust, burst into thedressing-room of the empress. He had a startling story to tell. He hadridden full speed from Ropcha with the news of the death of Peter III. 

The story was that the czar had been found dead in his room. That wasdoubtless the case, but that he had been murdered no one had a shadow ofdoubt. Yet no one knew, and no one knows to this day, just what hadtaken place. Stories of his having been poisoned and strangled have beentold, not without warrant. A detailed account is given of poison beingforced upon him by the Orlofs, who are said to have, on the poisonfailing to act, strangled him in a revolting manner by their own hands. Though this story lacks proof, the body was quite black. "Blood oozedthrough the pores, and even through the gloves which covered the hands. "Those who kissed the corpse came away with swollen lips. 

That Peter was murdered is almost certain; but that Catharine hadanything to do with it is not so sure. It may have been done by theconspirators to prevent any reversal of the revolution. Prison-wallshave hidden many a dark event; and we only know that the czar was deadand Catharine on the throne. 

_A STRUGGLE FOR A THRONE. _

While the armies of Catharine II. Were threatening with destruction theempire of Turkey, and her diplomats were deciding what part ofdismembered Poland should fall to her share, her throne itself was putin danger of destruction by an aspirant who arose in the east and fortwo years kept Russia from end to end in a state of dire alarm. Thesummary manner in which Peter III. Had been removed from the throne wasnot relished by the people. Numerous small revolts broke out, which weresuccessively put down. St. Petersburg accepted Catharine, but Moscow didnot, and on her visits to the latter city the political atmosphereproved so frigid that she was glad to get back to the more genialclimate of the city on the Neva. 

Years passed before Russia settled down to full acceptance of a reignbegun in violence and sustained by force, and in this interval therewere no fewer than six impostors to be dealt with, each of whom claimedto be Peter III. Murdered emperors sleep badly in their graves. Theexample of the false Dmitris, generations before, remained in men'sminds, and it seemed as if every Russian who bore a resemblance to thevanished czar was ready to claim his vacated seat. 

Of these false Peters, the sixth and most dangerous was a Cossack ofthe Don, whose actual name was Pugatchef, but whose face seemed capableof calling up an army wherever it appeared, and who, if his ability hadbeen equal to his fortune, might easily have seated himself on thethrone. The impostor proved to be his own worst foe, and defeatedhimself by his innate barbarity. 

Pugatchef began his career as a common soldier, afterwards becoming anofficer. Deserting the army after a period of service, he made his wayto Poland, where he dwelt with the monks of that country and pretendedto equal the best of them in piety. Here he was told that he bore astriking resemblance to Peter III. The hint was enough. He returned toRussia, where he professed sanctity, dressed like a patriarch of thechurch, and scattered benedictions freely among the Cossacks of the Don. He soon gained adherents among the old orthodox party, who were bitteragainst the religious looseness of the court. Finally he gave himselfout as Peter III. , declaring that the story of his death was false, thathe had escaped from the hands of the assassins, and that he desired towin the throne, not for himself, but for his infant son Paul. 

The first result of this announcement was that the impostor was seizedand taken to Kasan as a prisoner. But the carelessness of his guardsallowed him to escape from his prison cell, and he made his way to theVolga, near its entrance into the Caspian Sea, where he began to collecta body of followers among the Cossacks of that region. His first opendeclaration was made on September 17, 1773, when he appeared with threehundred Cossacks at the town of Yaitsk, and published an appeal toorthodox believers, declaring that he was the czar Peter III. Andcalling upon them for support. 

His handful of Cossacks soon grew into an army, multitudes of thetribesmen gathered around him, and in a brief time he found himself atthe head of a large body of the lowest of the people. The man was asavage at heart, betraying his innate depravity by foolish and uselesscruelties, and in this way preventing the more educated class of thecommunity from joining his ranks. 

Yet he contrived to gather about him an army of several thousand men, and obtained a considerable number of cannon, with which he soonafterwards laid siege to the city of Orenburg. Both Yaitsk and Orenburgdefied his efforts, but he had greater success in the field, defeatingtwo armies in succession. These victories gave him new assurance. He nowcaused money to be coined in his name, as though he were the lawfulemperor, and marched northward at the head of a large force to meet thearmies of the state. 

His army was destitute of order or discipline and he woefully deficientin military skill, yet his proclamation of freedom to the people, andthe opportunities he gave them for plunder and outrage, strengthened hishands, and recruits came in multitudes. The Tartars, Kirghis, andBashkirs, who had been brought against their will under the Russianyoke, flocked to his standard, in the hope of regaining their freedom. Many of the Poles who had been banished from their country also soughthis ranks, and the people of Moscow and its vicinity, who had from thefirst been opposed to Catharine's reign, waited his approach that theymight break out in open rebellion. 

The outbreak had thus become serious, and had Pugatchef been skilled asa leader he might have won the throne. As it was, his followers showed afiery valor, and, undisciplined as they were, gave the armies of theempire no small concern. Bibikof, who had been sent to subdue them, failed through over-caution, and was slain in the field. Hislieutenants, Galitzin and Michelson, proved more active, and frequentlydefeated the impostor, though only to find him rising again with newarmies as often as the old ones were crushed, like the fabulous giantwho sprang up in double form whenever cut in twain. 

Prince Galitzin defeated him twice, the last time after a furious battlesix hours in length. Pugatchef, abandoned by his followers, now fled tothe Urals, but soon appeared again with a fresh body of troops. Betweenthe beginning of March and the end of May, 1774, the rebel chief wasdefeated six or seven times by Michelson, in the end being driven as afugitive to the Ural Mountains. But he had only to raise his standardagain for fresh armies to spring up as if from the ground, and earlyJune found him once more in the field. Defeated on June 4, he fled oncemore to the hills, but in the beginning of July was facing his foesagain at the head of twenty-two thousand men. 

Only the cruelty shown by himself and his followers, and hisruthlessness in permitting the plunder and burning of churches andconvents, kept back the much greater hosts who would otherwise haveflocked to his ranks. And at this critical moment in his career hecommitted the signal error of failing to march on Moscow, the principalseat of the old Russian faith which he proposed to restore, and where hewould have found an army of partisans. He marched upon Kasan instead, took the city, but failed to capture the citadel. Here he was makinghavoc with fire and sword, when Michelson came up and defeated him in along and obstinate fight. 

[Illustration: THE CITY OF KASAN. ]

He now fled to the Volga, wasting the land as he went, burning the cropsand villages, and leaving desolation in his track. Men came in numbersto replace those he had lost, and an army of twenty thousand was soonagain under his command. With these he surprised and routed a Russianforce and took several forts on the Volga, while the German colonies ofMoravians which had been established upon that stream, and were amongthe most industrious inhabitants of the empire, suffered severely at hishands. In the town of Saratof he murdered all whom he met. 

As an example of the character of this monster in human form, it isrelated that hearing that an astronomer from the Imperial Academy ofSciences of St. Petersburg was near by, engaged in laying out the routeof a canal from the Volga to the Don, he ordered him to be broughtbefore him. When the peaceful astronomer appeared, the brutal ruffianbade his men to lift him on their pikes "so that he might be nearer thestars. " Then he ordered him to be cut to pieces. 

The end of this carnival of murder came at the siege of Zaritzin. HereMichelson came up on the 22d of August and forced him to raise thesiege. On the 24th the insurgents were attacked when in the intricatepasses of the mountains and encumbered with baggage-wagons, women, andcamp-followers. Though thus taken at a disadvantage, they defendedthemselves vigorously, the mass of them falling in the mountain passesor being driven over the cliffs and precipices. Pugatchef continued tofight till his army was destroyed, then made his escape, as so oftenbefore, swimming the Volga and vanishing in the desert. Only about sixtyof his most faithful partisans accompanied him in his flight. 

Michelson, failing to reach him in his retreat, took care that he shouldnot emerge into the cultivated districts. But in the end the Russianswere able to capture him only by treachery. They won over some of theirCossack prisoners, among them Antizof, the nearest friend of thefugitive. These were then set free, and sought the desert retreat oftheir late leader, where they awaited an opportunity to take him bysurprise. 

This they were not able to do until November. Pugatchef was gnawing thebone of a horse for food when his false friends ran up to him, saying, "Come, you have long enough been emperor. "

Perceiving that treachery was intended, he drew his pistol and fired athis foes, shattering the arm of the foremost. The others seized andbound him and conveyed him to Goroduk in the Ural, the locality ofAntizof's tribe. Michelson was still seeking him in the desert when wordcame to him that the fugitive had been delivered into Russian hands atSimbirsk, and was being conveyed to Moscow in an iron cage, like thebeast of prey which he resembled in character. 

On the way he sought to starve himself, but was forced to eat by thesoldiers. On reaching Moscow he counterfeited madness. His trial wasconducted without the torture which had formerly been so common afeature of Russian tribunals. The sentence of the court was that heshould be exhibited to the people with his hands and feet cut off, andthen quartered alive. With unyielding resolution Pugatchef awaited thiscruel death, but the sentence, for some reason, was not executed, hebeing first beheaded and then quartered. Four of his principal followerssuffered the same fate, and thus ended one of the most determinedefforts on the part of an impostor to seize the Russian throne that hadever been known. The undoubted courage of the man was enough to provethat he was not Peter III. Had he combined military capacity with hisdaring he could readily have won the throne. 

_THE FLIGHT OF THE KALMUCKS. _

On the 5th of January, 1771, began one of the most remarkable events inthe history of the world, the migration of an entire nation, more thanhalf a million strong, with its women and children, flocks and herds, and all that it possessed, to a new home four thousand miles away. Morethan once--many times, apparently--in the history of the past suchmigrations have taken place. But those were warlike movements, withconquest as their aim. This was a peaceful migration, the only desire ofthose concerned being to be let alone. This desire was not granted, anddeath and terror marked every step of their frightful journey. 

A century and a half earlier the fathers of these people, the KalmuckTartars, had left their homes in the Chinese empire and wandered west, finding a resting-place at last on the Volga River, in the Russianrealm. Here they would have been well content to remain but for the artsand designs of one man, Zebek-Dorchi by name, who, ambitious to be madekhan of the tribe, and not being favored in his desires by the Russiancourt, determined to remove the whole Kalmuck nation beyond the reach ofRussian control. 

This was no easy matter to do. Russia had spread to the east until thewhole width of Asia lay within its broad expanse and its boundarytouched the Pacific waves. To reach China, the mighty Mongolian plainhad to be crossed, largely a desert, swarming with hostile tribes; deathand disaster were likely to haunt every mile of the way; and a generaltomb in the wilderness, rather than a home in a new land, was the mostprobable destiny of the migrating horde. 

Zebek-Dorchi was confronted with a difficult task. He had to induce thetribesmen to consent to the new movement, and that so quickly that astart could be made before the Russians became aware of the scheme. Otherwise the path would be lined with armies and the movement checked. 

Oubacha, the khan of the Kalmucks, was a brave but weak man. Theconspirator controlled him, and through him the people. On a fixed day, through a false alarm that the Kirghises and Bashkirs had made an inroadupon the Kalmuck lands, he succeeded in gathering a great Kalmuck horde, eighty thousand in all, at a point out of reach of Russian ears. Here, with subtle eloquence, he told them of the oppressions of Russia, of herinsults to the Kalmucks, her contempt for their religion, and her designto reduce them to slavery, and declared that a plan had been devised torob them of their eldest sons. By a skilful mixture of truth andfalsehood he roused their fears and their anger, and at length heproposed that they should leave their fields and make a rapid march tothe Temba or some other great river, from behind which they could speakin bolder language to the Russian empress and claim better terms. Hedid not venture as yet to hint at his startling plan of a migration tofar-off China. 

The simple minded Tartars, made furious by his skilful oratory, acceptedhis plan by acclamation, and returned home to push with the utmost hastethe preparations for their stupendous task. The idea of a migration _enmasse_ did not frighten them. They were nomads and the descendants ofnomads, who for ages had been used to fold their tents and flit away. 

The Kalmuck villages extended on both sides of the Volga. A largesection of the horde would have to cross that great stream, and thiscould be done with sufficient speed only when its surface was bridgedwith ice. For this reason midwinter was chosen for the flight, despitethe sufferings which must arise from the bitter Russian cold, and the5th of January was appointed for religious reasons by the leading Lamaof the tribe. The year had been selected by the Great Lama of Thibet, the head of the Buddhist faith, to which the Kalmucks belonged, and towhom the conspirator had appealed. 

Despite the secrecy and rapidity of the movement, tidings of it reachedthe Russian court. But the Russian envoy who dwelt among the Kalmuckswas quite deceived by their wiles, and sent word to the imperial courtthat the rumors were false and nothing resembling an outbreak was inview. The governor of Astrachan, a man of more sense and discernment, sent courier after courier, but his warnings were ignored, and the fatal5th of January came without a preventive step being taken by thegovernment. Then the governor, learning that the migration had actuallybegun, sprang into his sleigh and drove over the Russian snows at thefurious speed of three hundred miles a day, finally rushing into theimperial presence-chamber at St. Petersburg to announce to the empressthat all his warnings had been true and that the Kalmucks were in fullflight. Other couriers quickly confirmed his words, and the envoy paidfor his blindness by death in a dungeon-cell. 

Meanwhile the banks of the Volga had been the locality of a remarkableevent. At early dawn of the selected day the Kalmucks east of the streambegan to assemble in troops and squadrons, gathering in tens ofthousands, a great body of the tribe setting out every half-hour on itsmarch. Women and children, several hundred thousand in number, wereplaced on wagons and camels, and moved off in masses of twenty thousandat once, with escorts of mounted men. As the march proceeded, outlyingbodies of the horde kept falling in during that and the following day. 

From sixty to eighty thousand of the best mounted warriors stayed behindfor work of ruin and revenge. Their first purpose was to destroy theirown dwellings, lest some of the weak-minded might be tempted to return. Oubacha, the khan, set the example by applying the torch to his ownpalace. Before the day was over the villages throughout a district often thousand square miles were in a simultaneous blaze. Nothing wassaved except the portable utensils and such of the wood-work as might beused in making the long Tartar lances. 

This was but part of the destruction proposed. Zebek-Dorchi had it inview to pillage and destroy all the Russian towns, churches, andbuildings of every kind within the surrounding district, with outrageand death to their inhabitants, --a frightful scheme, which wasprovidentially checked. The day of flight had been selected, as has beensaid, in the worst season of the year, in order that the tribes west ofthe Volga might be able to cross its surface on a thick bridge of ice. Yet for some reason--possibly because of the weakness of the ice--thewestern Kalmucks failed to join their eastern brethren, and fully onehundred thousand of the Tartars were left behind. It was this that savedthe Russian towns, it being feared by the leaders that such a vengeancewould be repaid upon their brethren left to Russian reprisal. Thesewestern Kalmucks little guessed what horrors they were escaping by beingprevented from joining in the flight. 

The migrating horde was not less than six hundred thousand strong, whilea vast number of horses, camels, cattle, goats, and sheep added to themultitude of living forms. The march was a forced one. Every day gainedwas of prime importance, for it was well known that Russian armies wouldsoon be in hot pursuit, while the tribes on their line of march, hereditary foes of the Kalmucks, would gather from all sides to opposetheir passage as the news of the flight reached their ears. 

The river Jaik, three hundred miles away, must be reached before a day'srest could be had. The weather was not severely cold, and the journeymight have been accomplished with little distress but for the forcedpace. As it was, the cattle suffered greatly, the sheep died inmultitudes, milk began to fail, and only the great number of camelssaved the children and the infirm. 

The first of the subjects of Russia with whom the Kalmucks came intocollision were the Cossacks of the Jaik. At this season most of thesewere absent at the fisheries on the Caspian, and the others fled incrowds to the fortress of Koulagina, which was quickly summoned tosurrender by the Kalmuck khan. The Russian commandant, numerous as werehis foes, refused, knowing that they must soon resume their flight. Hehad not long to wait. On the fifth day of the siege, from the walls ofthe fort a number of Tartar couriers, mounted on the swift Bactriancamels, were seen to cross the plains and ride into the Kalmuck camp attheir highest speed. 

Immediately a great agitation was visible in the camp, the siege wasraised, and the signal for flight resounded through the host. The newsbrought was that an entire Kalmuck division, numbering nine thousandfighting-men, stationed on a distant flank of the line of march, andbetween whom and the Cossacks there was an ancient feud, had beenattacked and virtually exterminated. The exhaustion of their horses andcamels had prevented flight, quarter was not asked or given, and thebattle continued until not a fighting-man was left alive. 

The utmost speed was now necessary, for a sufficient reason. The nextsafe halting-place of the Kalmucks was on the east bank of the ToorgaďRiver. Between it and them rose a hilly country, a narrow defile throughwhich offered the nearest and best route. This lost, the need ofpasturage would require a further sweep of five hundred miles. TheCossack light horsemen were only about fifty miles more distant from thepass. If it were to be won, the most rapid march possible must be made. 

For a day and a night the flight went on, with renewed suffering andloss of animals. Then a snowfall, soon too deep to journey through, checked all progress, and for ten days they had a season of rest, comfort, and plenty. The cows and oxen had perished in such numbers thatit was resolved to slaughter what remained, feast to their hearts'content, and salt the remainder for future stores. 

At length clear, frosty weather came: the snow ceased to drift, and itssurface froze. It would bear the camels, and the flight was resumed. Butalready seventy thousand persons of all ages had perished, in additionto those slain in battle, and new suffering and death impended, for wordcame that the troops of the empire were converging from all parts ofCentral Asia upon the fords of the Toorgaď, as the best place to cut offthe flight of the tribes, while a powerful army was marching rapidlyupon their rear, though delayed by its artillery. 

On the 2d of February Ouchim, the much-desired defile, was reached. TheCossacks had been out-marched. A considerable body of them, it is true, had reached the pass some hours before, but they were attacked and sofiercely dealt with that few of them escaped. The Kalmucks hereobtained revenge for the slaughter of their fellows twenty days before. 

The road was now open. How long it would continue open was in doubt. Word came that a large Russian army, led by General Traubenberg, wasadvancing upon the Toorgaď. He was to be met on his route by tenthousand Bashkirs and as many Kirghises, implacable enemies of theKalmucks, from whom they had suffered in past years. The only hope nowlay in speed, and onward the Kalmucks pressed, their line of marchmarked by the bodies of the dead. The weak, the sick, had to be leftbehind; nothing was suffered to impede the rapidity of their flight. 

From the starting-point on the Volga to the halting-ground on theToorgaď, counting the circuits that had to be made, was full twothousand miles, much of it traversed in the dead of winter, the cold, for seven weeks of the journey, being excessively severe. Napoleon'sarmy in its retreat from Moscow suffered no more from the winter chillthan did this migrating nation. On many a morning the dawning lightshone on a circle that had gathered the night before around a sparsefire (made from the lading of the camels or from broken-upbaggage-wagons), now dead and frozen stiff as they sat. 

But at length the snows ceased to fall, the frost to chill. Spring came. March and April passed away. May arrived with its balmy airs. Vernalsights and sounds cheered them on every side. During all these monthsthey continued their march, and towards the end of May the Toorgaď wasreached and crossed, and the weary wanderers, having left their enemiesfar in the rear, hoped to find comfort and security during weeks ofrest, and to complete their journey with less of ruin and suffering. They little dreamed that the worst of their task had yet to be endured. 

During the five months of their wanderings their losses had beenfrightfully severe. Not less than two hundred and fifty thousand membersof the horde had perished, while their herds and flocks--oxen, cows, sheep, goats, horses, mules, and asses--had perished, only the camelssurviving. These hardy creatures had come through the terrible journeyunharmed, and on them rested all their hopes for the remainder of theirflight. 

But another two thousand miles lay before them, with hostility in frontand in rear. Should they still go on, or should they return and throwthemselves on the mercy of the empress? Oubacha, the khan, advisedreturn, offering to take all the guilt of the flight upon himself. Zebek-Dorchi earnestly urged them to proceed, and not lose the fruit ofall their suffering. But the people, worn out with the hardships andperils of their route, favored a return and a trust in the imperialmercy, and this would probably have been determined upon but for anuntoward event. 

This was the arrival of two envoys from Traubenberg, the Russiangeneral, who, after a long and painful march, had approached within afew days' journey of the fugitives about the 1st of June. On his way hehad been joined by large bodies of the Kirghis and Bashkir nomads. Theharsh tone and peremptory demands of the envoys aroused hostile feelingsamong the Kalmuck chiefs. But the main check to negotiations was theaction of the Bashkirs, who, finding that Traubenberg would not advance, left his camp in a body and set off for the Kalmuck halting-place. 

In six days they reached the Toorgaď, swam their horses across it, andfell in fury upon the Kalmucks, who were dispersed over leagues ofground in search of pasture and food. Peace at once changed to war. Overa field from thirty to forty miles wide, fighting, flight and pursuit, rescue and death, went on at all points. More than once were the khanand Zebek-Dorchi in peril of death. At one time both were madeprisoners. But at length, concentrating their strength, they forced theBashkirs to retreat. For two days more the wild Bashkir and Kirghiscavalry continued their attacks, and the Kalmuck chiefs, looking uponthese as the advance parties of the Russian army, felt themselvesobliged to order a renewal of the flight. Thus suddenly ended theirhoped-for season of repose. 

One event took place during this period of which it is important tospeak. A Russian gentleman, Weseloff by name, was held prisoner in theKalmuck camp, and had been brought that far on their route. The khanOubacha, who saw no object in holding him, now gave him leave to attempthis escape, and also asked him to accompany him during a privateinterview which he was to hold on the next night with the hetman of theBashkirs. Weseloff declined to do so, and bade the khan to beware, ashe feared the scheme meant treachery. 

About ten that night Weseloff, with three Kalmucks who had offered tojoin in his flight, they having strong reasons for a return to Russia, sought a number of the half-wild horses of that district which they hadcaught and hidden in the thickets on the river's side. They were in theact of mounting, when the silence of the night was broken by a suddenclash of arms, and a voice, which sounded like that of the khan, washeard calling for aid. 

The Russian, remembering what Oubacha had told him, rode off hastilytowards the sound, bidding his companions follow. Reaching an open gladein the wood, he saw four men fighting with nine or ten, one, who lookedlike the khan, contending on foot against two horsemen. Weseloff firedat once, bringing down one of the assailants. His companions followedwith their fire, and then all rode into the glade, whereupon theassailants, thinking that a troop of cavalry was upon them, hastilyfled. The dead man, when examined, proved to be a confidential servantof Zebek-Dorchi. The secret was out: this ambitious conspirator hadsought the murder of the khan. 

Accompanying the khan until he had reached a place of safety, Weseloffand his companions, at the suggestion of the grateful Oubacha, rode offat the utmost speed, fearing pursuit. Their return was made along theroute the Kalmucks had traversed, every step of which could be traced byskeletons and other memorials of the flight. Among these were heaps ofmoney which had been abandoned in the desert, and of which they took asmuch as they could conveniently carry. Weseloff at length reached home, rushed precipitately into the house where his loving mother had longmourned his loss, and so shocked her by the sudden revulsion of joyafter her long sorrow that she fell dead on the spot. It was a sadending to his happy return. 

To return to the Kalmuck flight. Two thousand miles still remained to betraversed before the borders of China would be reached. All that tookplace in the dreary interval is too much to tell. It must suffice to saythat the Bashkirs pursued them through the whole long route, while thechoice of two evils lay in front. Now they made their way through desertregions. Now, pressed by want of food, they traversed rich and inhabitedlands, through which they had to win a passage with the sword. Every daythe Bashkirs attacked them, drawing off into the desert when too sharplyresisted. Thus, with endless alternations of hunger and bloodshed, theborders of China at length were approached. 

And now we have another scene in this remarkable drama to describe. KeenLung, the emperor of China, had been long apprised of the flight of theKalmucks, and had prepared a place of residence for these erringchildren of his nation, as he considered them, on their return to theirnative land. But he did not expect their arrival until the approach ofwinter, having been advised that they proposed to dwell during thesummer heats on the Toorgaď's fertile banks. 

One fine morning in September, 1771, this fatherly monarch was enjoyinghimself in hunting in a wild district north of the Great Wall. Here, forhundreds of square leagues, the country was overgrown with forest, filled with game. Centrally in this district rose a gorgeoushunting-lodge, to which the emperor retired annually for a season ofescape from the cares of government. Leaving his lodge, he had pursuedthe game through some two hundred miles of forest, every night pitchinghis tent in a different locality. A military escort followed at no greatdistance in the rear. 

On the morning in question the emperor found himself on the margin ofthe vast deserts of Asia, which stretched interminably away. As he stoodin his tent door, gazing across the extended plain, he saw withsurprise, far to the west, a vast dun cloud arise, which mounted andspread until it covered that whole quarter of the sky. It thickened asit rose, and began to roll in billowy volumes towards his camp. 

This singular phenomenon aroused general attention. The suite of theemperor hastened to behold it. In the rear the silver trumpets sounded, and from the forest avenues rode the imperial cavalry escort. All eyeswere fixed upon the rolling cloud, the sentiment of curiosity beinggradually replaced by a dread of possible danger. At first thedust-cloud was imagined to be due to a vast troop of deer or other wildanimals, driven into the plain by the hunting train or by beasts ofprey. This conception vanished as it came nearer, until, seemingly, itwas but a few miles away. 

And now, as the breeze freshened a little, the vapory curtain rolledand eddied, until it assumed the appearance of vast aerial draperiesdepending from the heavens to the earth; sometimes, where rent by theeddying breeze, it resembled portals and archways, through which, atintervals, were seen the gleam of weapons and the dim forms of camelsand human beings. At times, again, the cloud thickened, shutting allfrom view; but through it broke the din of battle, the shouts ofcombatants, the roar of infuriated hordes in mortal conflict. 

It was, in fact, the Kalmuck host, now in the last stage of misery andexhaustion, yet still pursued by their unrelenting foes. Of the sixhundred thousand who had begun the journey scarcely a third remained, cold, heat, famine, and warfare having swept away nearly half a millionof the fleeing host, while of their myriad animals only the camels andthe horses brought from the Toorgaď remained. For the past ten daystheir suffering had reached a climax. They had been traversing afrightful desert, destitute alike of water and of vegetation. Two daysbefore their small allowance of water had failed, and to the fatigue offlight had been added the horrors of insupportable thirst. 

On came the flying and fighting mass. It was soon evident that it wasnot moving towards the imperial train, and those who knew the countryjudged that it was speeding towards a large freshwater lake about sevenor eight miles away. Thither the imperial cavalry, of which a strongbody, attended with artillery, lay some miles in the rear, was orderedin all haste to ride; and there, at noon of September 8, the greatmigration of the Kalmucks came to an end, amid the most ferocious andbloodthirsty scene of its whole frightful course. 

The lake of Tengis lies in a hollow among low mountains, on the verge ofthe great desert of Gobi. The Chinese cavalry reached the summit of aroad that led down to the lake at about eleven o'clock. The descent wasa winding and difficult one, and took them an hour and a half, duringthe whole of which they were spectators of an extraordinary scene below, the last and most fiendish spectacle in eight months of almost constantwarfare. 

The sight of the distant hills and forests on that morning, and theannouncement of the guides that the lake of Tengis was near at hand, hadexcited the suffering host into a state of frenzy, and a wild rush wasmade for the water, in which all discipline was lost, and the heat ofthe day and the exhaustion of the people were ignored. The rear-guardjoined in the mad flight. In among the people rode the savage Bashkirs, suffering as much as themselves, yet still eager for blood, andslaughtering them by wholesale, almost without resistance. Screams andshouts filled the air, but none heeded or halted, all rushing madly on, spurred forward by the intolerable agonies of thirst. 

At length the lake was reached. Into its waters dashed the wholesuffering mass, forgetful of everything but the wild instinct to quenchtheir thirst. But hardly had the water moistened their lips when thecarnival of bloodshed was resumed, and the waters became crimsoned withgore. The savage Bashkirs rode fiercely through the host, striking offheads with unappeased fury. The mortal foes joined in a death-grapple inthe waters, often sinking together beneath the ruffled surface. Even thecamels were made to take part in the fight, striking down the foe withtheir lashing forelegs. The waters grew more and more polluted; but newmyriads came up momentarily and plunged in, heedless of everything butthirst. Such a spectacle of revengeful passion, ghastly fear, the frenzyof hatred, mortal conflict, convulsion and despair as fell on the eyesof the approaching horsemen has rarely been seen, and that quietmountain lake, which perhaps had never before vibrated with the soundsof battle, was on that fatal day converted into an encrimsoned sea ofblood. 

At length the Bashkirs, alarmed by the near approach of the Chinesecavalry, began to draw off and gather into groups, in preparation tomeet the onset of a new foe. As they did so, the commandant of a smallChinese fort, built on an eminence above the lake, poured an artilleryfire into their midst. Each group was thus dispersed as rapidly as itformed, the Chinese cavalry reached the foot of the hills and joined inthe attack, and soon a new scene of war and bloodshed was in fullprocess of enactment. 

But the savage horsemen, convinced that the contest was growinghopeless, now began to retire, and were quickly in full flight into thedesert, pursued as far as it was deemed wise. No pursuit was needed, even to satisfy the Kalmuck spirit of revenge. The fact that theirenemies had again to cross that inhospitable desert, with its horrors ofhunger and thirst, was as full of retribution as the most vindictivecould have asked. 

Here ends our tale. The exhausted Kalmucks were abundantly provided forby their new lord and master, who supplied them with the food necessary, established them in a fertile region of his empire, furnished them withclothing, tools, a year's subsistence, grain for their fields, animalsfor their pastures, and money to aid them in their other needs, displaying towards his new subjects the most kindly and munificentgenerosity. They were placed under better conditions than they hadenjoyed in Russia, though changed from a pastoral and nomadic people toan agricultural one. 

As for Zebek-Dorchi, his attempt on the life of the khan had produced afeud between the two, which grew until it attracted the attention of theemperor. Inquiring into the circumstances of the enmity, he espoused thecause of Oubacha, which so infuriated the foe of the khan that he wovenets of conspiracy even against the emperor himself. In the endZebek-Dorchi, with his accomplices, was invited to the imperial lodge, and there, at a great banquet, his arts and plots were exposed, and heand all his followers were assassinated at the feast. 

As a durable monument to the mighty exodus of the Kalmucks, the mostremarkable circumstance of the kind in the whole history of nations, theemperor Keen Lung ordered to be erected on the banks of the Ily, at themargin of the steppes, a great monument of granite and brass, bearingan inscription to the following effect:

 By the Will of God, Here, upon the brink of these Deserts, Which from this Point begin and stretch away, Pathless, treeless, waterless, For thousands of miles, and along the margins of many mighty Nations, Rested from their labors and from great afflictions Under the shadow of the Chinese Wall, And by the favor of KEEN LUNG, God's Lieutenant upon Earth, The Ancient Children of the Wilderness, the Torgote Tartars, Flying before the wrath of the Grecian Czar, Wandering sheep who had strayed away from the Celestial Empire in the year 1616, But are now mercifully gathered again, after infinite sorrow, Into the fold of their forgiving Shepherd. Hallowed be the spot forever, and Hallowed be the day, --September 8, 1771. Amen. 

_A MAGICAL TRANSFORMATION SCENE. _

Catharine the Great earned her title cheaply, her patent of greatnessbeing due to the fact that she had the judgment to select great generalsand a great minister and the wisdom to cling to them. Russia grewpowerful during her reign, largely through the able work of hergenerals, and she forgave Potemkin a thousand insults and unblushingrobberies in view of his successful statesmanship. Potemkin possessed, in addition to his ability as a statesman, the faculty of a spectacularartist, and arranged a show for the empress which stands unrivalled amidthe triumphs of the stage. It is the tale of this spectacle which wepropose to tell. 

Catharine had literary aspirations, one of her admirations beingVoltaire, with whom she corresponded, and on whom she depended tochronicle the glory of her reign. The poet had his dreams, in which thewoman shared, and between them they contrived a scheme of a modernUtopia, a Russo-Grecian city of whose civilization the empress was to bethe source, and which a decree was to raise from the desert and an ideamake great. This fancy Potemkin, who stood ready to flatter the empressat any price, undertook to realize, and he built her a city in thefashion in which cities were built in the times of the Arabian Nights, and made it flourish in the same unsubstantial fashion. The magnificentPotemkin never hesitated before any question of cost. Russia was rich, and could bleed freely to please the empress's whim. He thereforeordered a city to be built, with dwellings and edifices of everydescription common to the cities of that date, --stores, palaces, publichalls, private residences in profusion. The buildings ready, he soughtfor citizens, and forcibly drove the people from all quarters to take upa temporary residence within its walls. It was his one purpose to make aspectacle of this theatrical city to enchant the eyes of the empress. Sothat it had an appearance of prosperity during her visit, he cared not afig if it fell to pieces and its inhabitants vanished as soon as hissupporting hand was removed. He only required that the scenes should beset and the actors in place when the curtain rose. 

And the city grew, on the banks of the Dnieper, eighteen million rublesbeing granted by the empress for its cost, --though much of this clung tothe bird-lime of avarice on Potemkin's fingers. It was named Kherson. The desert around it was erected into a province, entitled by the wilyminister _Catharine's Glory_ (Slava Ekatarina). Another province, farther north, he named after his imperial mistress Ekatarinoslaf. Andthus, by fraud and violence, a city to order was brought into existence. The stage was ready. The next thing to be done was to raise the curtainwhich hid it from Catharine's eyes. 

It was early in the year 1787 that the empress began her journey towardsher Utopian city, to receive the homage of its citizens and to exhibitto the world the magnificence of her reign. Great projects were in theair. Poland had just been cut into fragments and distributed among thehungry kingdoms around. The same was to be done with Turkey. Joseph II. Of Austria was to meet the empress in Kherson to consult upon thispartition of the Turkish empire; while Constantine, grand duke of Russiaand grandson of the empress, was to reign at Byzantium, orConstantinople, over the new empire carved from the Turkish realm. Suchwas the paper programme prepared by Potemkin and the empress, theminister doubtless smiling behind his sleeve, his mistress in solidearnest. 

And now we have the story to tell of one of the most marvellous journeysever undertaken. It was made through a thinly inhabited wilderness, which to the belief of the empress was to be converted into a populousand thriving realm. That the journey might proceed by night as well asby day, great piles of wood were prepared at intervals of fifty perches, whose leaping flames gave to the high-road a brightness like that ofday. In six days Smolensk was reached, and in twenty days the oldRussian capital of Kief, where the procession halted for a season beforeproceeding towards its goal. 

As it went on, the whole country became transformed. The deserts weresuddenly peopled, palaces awaited the train in the trackless wild, temporary villages hid the nakedness of the plain, and fireworks atnight testified to the seeming joy of the populace. Wide roads wereopened by the army in advance of the cortége, the mountains wereilluminated as it passed, howling wildernesses were made to appear likefertile gardens, and great flocks and herds, gathered from distantpastures, delighted the eyes of the empress with the appearance ofthrift and prosperity as her vehicle drove rapidly along the roads. Tothe charmed eyes of those not "to the manner born" the whole countryseemed populous and prosperous, the people joyous, the soil fertile, theland smiling with abundance. There was no hint to indicate that it was adesert covered for the time being by an enamelled carpet. 

[Illustration: SCENE ON A RUSSIAN FARM. ]

The Dnieper reached, the empress and her train passed down that river infifteen splendid galleys, with the pomp of a triumphal procession. Itwas now the month of May, and the banks of the river showed the samesigns of prosperity as had the sides of the road. At Kaidack the emperorJoseph met the empress, having reached Kherson in advance and gone northto anticipate her coming. He accompanied her down the stream, lookingwith her on the show of prosperity and populousness which delighted herinexperienced eyes, and smiling covertly at the delusion whichPotemkin's magic had raised, well assured that as soon as she had passedsilence and desertion would succeed these busy scenes. At a newprojected town on the way, of which Catharine had, with much ceremony, laid the first stone, Joseph was asked to lay the second. He did so, afterwards saying of the farcical proceeding, "The Empress of Russia andI have finished a very important business in a single day: she has laidthe first stone of a city, and I have laid the last. " He had no doubtthat, when they had gone, the buildings in which they had slept, thevillages which they had seen, the wayside herders and flocks, wouldvanish like theatrical scenery, and the country present the dismalaspect of a deserted stage. 

At length the new city was reached, the magical Kherson. Catharineentered it in grand state, under a noble triumphal arch inscribed inGreek with the words "The Way to Byzantium. " It was a busy city in whichshe found herself. The houses were all inhabited; shops, filled withgoods, lined the principal streets; people thronged the sidewalks, spectators of the entry; luxury of every kind awaited the empress in thecapital which had arisen for her as by the rubbing of Aladdin's ring, and entertainments of the most lavish character were prepared by thepotent genius to whom all she saw was due. Potemkin hesitated at noexpense. The journey had cost the empire no less than seven millions ofrubles, fourteen thousand of which were expended on the throne built forthe empress in what was named the admiralty of Kherson. 

Such was the scenery prepared for one of the most theatrical events theworld has ever witnessed. It cost the empire dearly, but Potemkin'spurpose was achieved. He had charmed the empress by causing the desertto "blossom like the rose, " and after the spectators had passed all sankagain into silence and emptiness. The new empire of Byzantium remained adream. Turkey had not been consulted in the project, and was not quiteready to consent to be dismembered to gratify the whim of empress andemperor. 

As for the city of Kherson, its site was badly chosen, and its seemingprosperity and populousness during the empress's presence quickly passedaway. The city has remained, but its actual growth has been gradual, andit has been thrown into the shade by Odessa, a port founded some yearslater without a single flourish of trumpets, but which has now grown tobe the fourth city of Russia in size and importance. Of late yearsKherson has shown some signs of increase, but all we need say further ofit here is that it has the honor of being the burial-place of the shrewdPotemkin, under whose fostering hand it burst into such premature bloomin its early days. 

_KOSCIUSKO AND THE FALL OF POLAND. _

Of the several nations that made up the Europe of the eighteenthcentury, one, the kingdom of Poland, vanished before the nineteenthcentury began. Destitute of a strong central government, the scene ofcontinual anarchy among the turbulent nobles, possessing no nationalfrontiers and no national middle class, its population being made up ofnobles, serfs, and foreigners, it lay at the mercy of the ambitioussurrounding kingdoms, by which it was finally absorbed. On threesuccessive occasions was the territory of the feeble nation dividedbetween its foes, the first partition being made in 1772, betweenRussia, Prussia, and Austria; the second in 1793, between Russia andPrussia; and the third and final in 1795, in which Russia, Prussia, andAustria again took part, all that remained of the country being nowdistributed and the ancient kingdom of Poland effaced from the map ofEurope. 

Only one vigorous attempt was made to save the imperilled realm, that ofthe illustrious Kosciusko, who, though he failed in his patrioticpurpose, made his name famous as the noblest of the Poles. When heappeared at the head of its armies, Poland was in a desperate strait. Some of its own nobles had been bought by Russian gold, Russian armieshad overrun the land, and a Prussian force was marching to their aid. At Grodno the Russian general proudly took his seat on that throne whichhe was striving to overthrow. The defenders of Poland had beendispersed, their property confiscated, their families reduced topoverty. The Russians, swarming through the kingdom, committed thegreatest excesses, while Warsaw, which had fallen into their hands, wasgoverned with arrogant barbarity. Such was the state of affairs whensome of the most patriotic of the nobles assembled and sent toKosciusko, asking him to put himself at their head. 

As a young man this valiant Pole had aided in the war for Americanindependence. In 1792 he took part in the war for the defence of hisnative land. But he declared that there could be no hope of successunless the peasants were given their liberty. Hitherto they had beentreated in Poland like slaves. It was with these despised serfs thatthis effort was made. 

In 1794 the insurrection broke out. Kosciusko, finding that the countrywas ripe for revolt against its oppressors, hastened from Italy, whitherhe had retired, and appeared at Cracow, where he was hailed as thecoming deliverer of the land. The only troops in arms were a small forceof about four thousand in all, who were joined by about three hundredpeasants armed with scythes. These were soon met by an army of seventhousand Russians, whom they put to flight after a sharp engagement. 

The news of this battle stirred the Russian general in command at Warsawto active measures. All whom he suspected of favoring the insurrectionwere arrested. The result was different from what he had expected. Thecity blazed into insurrection, two thousand Russians fell before theonslaught of the incensed patriots, and their general saved himself onlyby flight. 

The outbreak at Warsaw was followed by one at Vilna, the capital ofLithuania, the Russians here being all taken prisoners. Three Polishregiments mustered into the Russian service deserted to the army oftheir compatriots, and far and wide over the country the flames ofinsurrection spread. 

Kosciusko rapidly increased his forces by recruiting the peasantry, whose dress he wore and whose food he shared in. But these mendistrusted the nobles, who had so long oppressed them, while many of thelatter, eager to retain their valued prerogatives, worked against thepatriot cause, in which they were aided by King Stanislaus, who had beensubsidized by Russian gold. 

To put down this effort of despair on the part of the Poles, Catharineof Russia sent fresh armies to Poland, led by her ablest generals. Prussians and Austrians also joined in the movement for enslavement, Frederick William of Prussia fighting at the head of his troops againstthe Polish patriot. Kosciusko had established a provisional government, and faced his foes boldly in the field. Defeated, he fell back onWarsaw, where he valiantly maintained himself until threatened by twonew Russian armies, whom he marched out to meet, in the hope ofpreventing their junction. 

The decisive battle took place at Maciejowice, in October, 1794. Kosciusko, though pressed by superior forces, fought with the greatestvalor and desperation. His men at length, overpowered by numbers, werein great part cut to pieces or obliged to yield, while their leader, covered with wounds, fell into the hands of his foes. It is said that heexclaimed, on seeing all hopes at an end, "Finis Polonić!" In the wordsof the poet Byron, "Freedom shrieked when Kosciusko fell. "

Warsaw still held out. Here all who had escaped from the field tookrefuge, occupying Praga, the eastern suburb of the city, wheretwenty-six thousand Poles, with over one hundred cannon and mortars, defended the bridges over the Vistula. Suwarrow, the greatest of theRussian generals, was quickly at the city gates. He was weaker, both inmen and in guns, than the defenders of the city; but with his wontedimpetuosity he resolved to employ the same tactics which he had morethan once used against the Turks, and seek to carry the Polish lines atthe bayonet's point. 

After a two days' cannonade, he ordered the assault at daybreak ofNovember 4. A desperate conflict continued during the five succeedinghours, ending in the carrying of the trenches and the defeat of thegarrison. The Russians now poured into the suburb, where a scene offrightful carnage began. Not only men in arms, but old men, women, andchildren were ruthlessly slaughtered, the wooden houses set on fire, thebridges broken down, and the throng of helpless people who sought toescape into the city driven ruthlessly into the waters of the Vistula. In this butchery not only ten thousand soldiers, but twelve thousandcitizens of every age and sex were remorselessly slain. 

On the following day the city capitulated, and on the 6th the Russianvictors marched into its streets. It was, as Kosciusko had said, "theend of Poland. " The troops were disarmed, the officers were seized asprisoners, and the feeble king was nominally raised again to the head ofthe kingdom, so soon to be swept from existence. For a year Suwarrowheld a military court in Warsaw, far eclipsing the king in the splendorof his surroundings. By the close of 1795 all was at an end. The smallremnant left of the kingdom was parted between the greedy aspirants, andon the 1st of January, 1796, Warsaw was handed over to Prussia, to whoseshare of the spoils it appertained. 

In this arbitrary manner was a kingdom which had an area of nearly threehundred thousand square miles and a population of twelve millions, andwhose history dated back to the tenth century, removed from the map ofthe world, while the heavy hand of oppression fell upon all who dared tospeak or act in its behalf. One bold stroke for freedom was afterwardsmade, but it ended as before, and Poland is now but a name. 

_SUWARROW THE UNCONQUERABLE. _

Of men born for battle, to whose ears the roar of cannon and the clashof sabres are the only music, the smoke of conflict their nativeatmosphere, Suwarrow (Suvarof, to give him his Russian name) standsamong the foremost. A little, wrinkled, stooping man, five feet fourinches in height and sickly in appearance, he was the last to whom onewould have looked for great deeds in war or mighty exploits in theembattled field. Yet he had the soul of a hero in his diminutive frame, and even as a boy the passion for military glory fired his heart, Cćsarand Charles XII. Of Sweden (from which country his ancestors came) beingthe heroes worshipped by his youthful imagination. Born in 1729, heentered the army as a private at seventeen, but rapidly rose from theranks, made himself famous in the Seven Years' War and in the Polish warof 1768-71, and from that time until death put an end to his career wasalmost constantly in the field. Napoleon, against whose armies he foughtin his later days, was not more enraptured with the breath of battlethan was this war-dog of the Russian army. 

Diminutive and sickly as he looked, Suwarrow was strong and hardy, andso inured to hardship that the severity of the Russian climate failedto affect his vigorous frame. Disdaining luxury, and ignoring comfort, he lived like the soldiers under his command, preferring to sleep on atruss of hay, and accepting every privation which his men might becalled on to endure. He was a man of high intelligence, a cleverlinguist, and a diligent reader even when on campaign, and religiouslyseems to have been very devout, being ready to kneel and pray beforeevery wayside image, even when the roads were deep with mud. 

In his ordinary manners he carried eccentricity to an extravagantextent, was brusque and curt in speech, often to the verge of insult, laconic in his despatches, and--a soldier in grain--treated withstinging sarcasm all whose lack of activity or of courage invited hiscontempt. It was by this spirit that he incurred the enmity of theEmperor Paul, when, in his half-mad thirst for change, the latterattempted to change the native dress of the Russian soldier for theancient attire of Germany. His fair locks, which the Russian was used towash every morning, he was now bidden to bedaub with grease and flour, while he energetically cursed the black spatterdashes which it took himan hour to button every morning. Orders to establish these noveltiesamong his men were sent to Suwarrow, then in Italy with the army, thedirections being accompanied with little sticks for models of the tailsand side curls in which the soldiers' hair was to be arranged. The oldwarrior's lips curled contemptuously on seeing these absurd devices, andhe growled out in his curt fashion, "Hair-powder is not gunpowder;curls are not cannon; and tails are not bayonets. "

This sarcastic utterance, which forms a sort of rhyming verse in theRussian tongue, got abroad, and spread from mouth to mouth through thearmy like a choice morsel of wit. The czar, to whose ears it came, heardit with deep offence. Soon after Suwarrow was recalled from the army, onanother plea, and on his return to St. Petersburg was not permitted tosee the emperor's face. This injustice may have been a cause of hisdeath, which occurred shortly after his return, on May 18, 1800. Nocourtier of the Russian court, and no diplomatist, except the Englishambassador, followed the war-worn veteran to the grave. 

Suwarrow was the idol of his men, whose favorite title for him was"Father Suvarof, " and who were ready at command to follow him to thecannon's mouth. In all his long career he never lost a battle, and onlyonce in his life of war acted on the defensive. With a superb faith inhis own star, the inspiration of the moment served him for counsel, andrapidity of movement and boldness and dash in the onset brought him manya victory where deliberation might have led to defeat. 

A striking instance of this, and of his usual brusque eccentricity, tookplace in 1799 in Italy, where Suwarrow was placed in command of all theallied troops. This raising of a Russian to the supreme command excitedthe jealousy of the Austrian generals, and they called a council of warto examine his plans for the campaign. The members of the council, theyoungest first, gave their views as to the conduct of the war. Suwarrowlistened in grim silence until they had all spoken, and had turned tohim for his comment on their views. The wrinkled veteran drew to himselfa slate, and made on it two lines. 

"Here, gentlemen, " he said, pointing to one line, "are the French, andhere are the Russians. The latter will march against the former and beatthem. " This said, he rubbed out the French line. Then, looking up at hissurprised auditors, he curtly remarked, "This is all my plan. Thecouncil is ended. "

In war he is said to have been averse to the shedding of blood, and tohave been at heart humane and merciful. Yet this hardly accords with thestory of his exploits, it being said that twenty-six thousand Turks werekilled in the storming of Ismail, while in that of Praga at Warsaw morethan twenty thousand Poles were massacred. 

Such was the character of one of the men who aided to make glorious thereign of Catharine of Russia, and whose merit she--unlike her weak sonPaul--was fully competent to appreciate. With this estimate of thegreatest soldier Russia has ever produced, and one of the ablestgenerals of modern times, we may briefly describe some of the moststriking exploits of Suwarrow's career. 

In 1789, during one of the interminable wars against Turkey, in which onthis occasion the Austrians took part with the Russians, the Prince ofCoburg was at the head of an Austrian force, which he was strikinglyincapable of commanding. The prince, advancing with sublimedeliberation, found himself suddenly threatened by a considerableTurkish army. Filled with alarm at the sight of the enemy, he sent ahasty appeal to Suwarrow to come to his aid. 

The Russian general had just rejoined his army after recovering from awound. The news of Coburg's peril reached him at Belat, in Moldavia, between forty and fifty miles away, and these miles of mountains, ravines, and almost impassable wilds. Suwarrow at once broke camp, andwith his usual impetuosity led his army over its difficult route, reaching the Austrians in less than thirty-six hours after receiving thenews. 

It was five o'clock in the evening when he arrived. At eleven he senthis plan of attack to the prince. An assault on the enemy was to be madeat two in the morning. Coburg, who had never dreamed of such rapidity ofmovement and such impetuosity in action, was utterly astounded. Incomplete bewilderment, he sought Suwarrow at his quarters, going therethree times without finding him. The supreme command belonged to him asthe older general, but he had the sense not to claim it, and to act as asubordinate to his abler ally. In an hour after the advance began theallied armies were in the Turkish camp, and the Turks, though muchoutnumbering their assailants, were in full flight. All their stores, ahundred standards, and seventy pieces of artillery fell into the handsof the victors. 

Suwarrow returned to Moldavia, and Coburg looked quietly on while theTurks collected a new army. In less than two months he found himselfconfronted by a hundred thousand men. In new alarm, he hastily sentagain to Suwarrow for aid. 

In two days the Russian army had reached the Austrian camp, which theenemy was just about to attack. The Turks had neglected to fortify theircamp before offering battle. Of this oversight the keen-eyed Russiantook instant advantage, attacked them in their unfinished trenches, and, as before, took their camp by storm, --though after a more stubborndefence than in the previous instance. The Turkish army was againdispersed, immense booty was taken, and Suwarrow received for his valorthe title of a count of the Austrian empire, while the empress Catharinegave him in reward the honorable surname of Rimniksky, from the name ofthe river on which the battle had been fought. 

The next great exploit of Suwarrow was performed at Ismail, a Turkishtown which Potemkin had been besieging for seven months. The primeminister at length grew impatient at the delay, and determined on moreeffective measures. Living in a luxury in his camp that contrastedstrangely with the sparse conditions of Suwarrow, Potemkin wassurrounded by courtiers and ladies, who made strenuous efforts tofurnish the great man with amusement. One of the ladies, handling a packof cards, from which she laughingly pretended to be able to read thesecrets of destiny, proclaimed that he would be in possession of thetown at the end of three weeks. 

"You are not bad at prediction, " said Potemkin, with a smile, "but Ihave a method of divination far more infallible. My prediction is that Iwill have the town in three days. "

He at once sent orders to Suwarrow, who was at Galatz, to come and takethe town. 

The obedient warrior, who seemed to be always at somebody's beck andcall, quickly appeared and surveyed the situation. His first stepsseemed to indicate that he proposed to continue the siege, the troopsbeing formed into a besieging army of about forty thousand men, whilethe Russian fleet was ordered up to the town. But the deliberation of asiege never accorded with Suwarrow's ardent humor. His real purpose wasto take the place by storm. He had taken Otchakof in this way theprevious year with heavy loss, and with the slaughter of twenty thousandTurks. He now, on the 21st of September, twice summoned the city tosurrender, threatening the people with the fate of Otchakof. Theyrefused to yield, and the assault began at four o'clock of the followingmorning. 

Battalion after battalion was hurled against the walls: the slaughterfrom the Turkish fire was frightful, but the stern commander hurled evernew hosts into the pit of death, and about eight o'clock the summit ofthe walls was reached. But the work was yet only begun. The city wasdefended street by street, house by house. It was noon before theRussians, fighting their way through a desperate resistance, reached themarket-place, where were gathered a body of the Tartars of the Crimea. For two hours these fought fiercely for their lives, and after they hadall fallen the Turks kept up the conflict with equal desperation in thestreets. At length the gates were thrown open and Suwarrow sent hiscavalry into the city, who charged through the streets, cutting down allwhom they met. It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the butcheryended, after which the city was given up for three days to the mercy ofthe troops. According to the official report, the Turks lost forty-threethousand in killed and prisoners, the Russians forty-five hundred inall; the one estimate probably as much too large as the other was toosmall. 

We may conclude with the story of Suwarrow's career in Italy andSwitzerland against the armies of the French republic. The plan whichthe Russian conqueror had marked out on the slate for the Austriangenerals was literally fulfilled. In less than three months he hadcleared Lombardy and Piedmont of the troops of France. He forced thepassage of the Adda against Moreau and his army, compelling the Frenchto abandon Milan, which he entered in triumph. His next success was atTurin, a dépôt of French supplies, towards which Moreau was hastilyadvancing. The Russians took the city by surprise, driving the Frenchgarrison into the citadel, and capturing three hundred cannons andenormous quantities of muskets, ammunition, and military stores. TheFrench army was saved from ruin only by the great ability of itscommander, who led it to Genoa in four days over a mountain path. 

The czar Paul rewarded his victorious general with the honorabledesignation of Italienski, or the Italian, and, in his grandiloquentfashion, issued a ukase commanding all people to regard Suwarrow as thegreatest commander the world had ever known. 

We cannot describe the whole course of events. Other victories were wonin Italy, but finally Suwarrow was weakened by the jealousy of theAustrians, who withdrew their troops, and subsequently was obliged to goto the relief of his fellow-commander, Korsakof, who, with twentythousand men, had imprudently allowed himself to be hemmed in by aFrench army at Zurich. He finally forced his way through the enemy, losing all his artillery and half his host. 

Of this Suwarrow knew nothing, as he made his way across the Alps to theaid of the beleaguered general. He attempted to force his way over theSt. Gothard pass, meeting with fierce opposition at every point. Therewas a sharp fight at the Devil's Bridge, which the French blew up, butfailed to keep back Suwarrow and his men, who crossed the rocky gorge ofthe Unerloch, dashed through the foaming Reuss, and drove the Frenchfrom their post of vantage. 

At length, with his men barefoot, his provisions almost exhausted, theRussian general reached Muotta, to find to his chagrin that Korsakof hadbeen defeated and put to flight. He at once began his retreat, followedin force by Masséna, who was driven off by the rear-guard. On October 1Suwarrow reached Glarus. Here he rested till the 4th, then crossed thePanixer Mountains through snow two feet deep to the valley of the Rhine, which he reached on the 10th, having lost two hundred of his men andall his beasts of burden over the precipices. Thus ended thisextraordinary march, which had cost Suwarrow all his artillery, nearlyall his horses, and a third of his men. 

These losses in the Russian armies stirred the czar to immeasurablerage. All the missing officers--who were prisoners in France--werebranded as deserters, and Suwarrow was deprived of his command, ostensibly for his failure, but largely for the sarcasm alreadymentioned. He returned home to die, having experienced what a misfortuneit is for a great man to be at the mercy of a fool in authority. 

_THE RETREAT OF NAPOLEON'S GRAND ARMY. _

In the spring of 1812 Napoleon reached the frontiers of Russia at thehead of the greatest army that had ever been under his command, itembracing half a million of men. It was not an army of Frenchmen, however, since much more than half the total force was made up ofGermans and soldiers of other nationalities. In addition to the soldierywas a multitude of non-combatants and other incumbrances, whichNapoleon, deviating from his usual custom, allowed to follow the troops. These were made up of useless aids to the pomp and luxury of the emperorand his officers, and an incredible number of private vehicles, women, servants, and others, who served but to create confusion, and to consumethe army stores, of which provision had been made for only a shortcampaign. 

Thus, dragging its slow length along, the army, on June 24, 1812, crossed the Niemen River and entered upon Russian soil. From emperor toprivate, all were inspired with exaggerated hopes of victory, and lookedsoon to see the mighty empire of the north prostrate before the geniusof all-conquering France. Had the vision of that army, as it was torecross the Niemen within six months, risen upon their minds, it wouldhave been dismissed as a nightmare of false and monstrous mien. 

Onward into Russia wound the vast and hopeful mass, without a battle andwithout sight of a foe. The Russians were retreating and drawing theirfoes deeper and deeper into the heart of their desolate land. Battleswere not necessary; the country itself fought for Russia. Food was notto be had from the land, which was devastated in their track. Burningcities and villages lit up their path. The carriages and wagons, evenmany of the cannon, had to be left behind. The forced marches whichNapoleon made in the hope of overtaking the Russians forced him toabandon much of his supplies, while men and horses sank from fatigue andhunger. The decaying carcasses of ten thousand horses already poisonedthe air. 

At length Moscow was approached. Here the Russian leaders were forced bythe sentiment of the army and the people to strike one blow in defenceof their ancient capital. A desperate encounter took place at Borodino, two days' march from the city, in which Napoleon triumphed, but at afearful price. Forty thousand men had fallen, of whom the wounded nearlyall died through want and neglect. When Moscow was reached, it proved tobe deserted. Napoleon had won the empty shell of a city, and was as faras ever from the conquest of Russia. 

It is not our purpose here to give the startling story of the burning ofMoscow, the sacrifice of a city to the god of war. Though this is one ofthe most thrilling events in the history of Russia, it has already beentold in this series. [1] We are concerned at present solely with theretreat of the grand army from the ashes of the Muscovite capital, themost dreadful retreat in the annals of war. 

Napoleon lingered amid the ruins of the ancient city until winter wasnear at hand, hoping still that the emperor Alexander would sue forpeace. No suit came. He offered terms himself, and they were not evenhonored with a reply. A deeply disappointed man, the autocrat of Europemarched out of Moscow on October 19 and began his frightful homewardmarch. He had waited much too long. The Russian armies, largelyincreased in numbers, shut him out from every path but the wasted one bywhich he had come, a highway marked by the ashes of burnt towns and thedecaying corpses of men and animals. 

On November 6, winter suddenly set in. The supplies had largely beenconsumed, the land was empty of food, famine alternated with cold tocrush the retreating host, and death in frightful forms hovered overtheir path. The horses, half fed and worn out, died by thousands. Mostof the cavalry had to go afoot; the booty brought from Moscow wasabandoned as valueless; even much of the artillery was left behind. Thecold grew more intense. A deep snow covered the plain, through whosewhite peril they had to drag their weary feet. Arms were flung away asuseless weights, flight was the only thought, and but a tithe of thearmy remained in condition to defend the rest. 

The retreat of the grand army became one of incredible distress andsuffering. Over the seemingly endless Russian steppes, from whosesnow-clad level only rose here and there the ruins of a desertedvillage, the freezing and starving soldiers made their miserable way. Wan, hollow-eyed, gaunt, clad in garments through which the biting coldpierced their flesh, they dragged wearily onward, fighting with oneanother for the flesh of a dead horse, ready to commit murder for theshadow of food, and finally sinking in death in the snows of thatinterminable plain. Each morning, some of those who had stretched theirlimbs round the bivouac fires failed to rise. The victims of the nightwere often revealed only by the small mounds of fallen snow which hadburied them as they slept. 

That this picture may not be thought overdrawn, we shall relate ananecdote told of Prince Emilius of Darmstadt. He had fallen asleep inthe snow, and in order to protect him from the keen north wind four ofhis Hessian dragoons screened him during the night with their cloaks. The prince arose from his cold couch in the morning to find his faithfulguardians still in the position they had occupied during thenight, --frozen to death. 

Maddened with famine and frost, men were seen to spring, with wildlyexulting cries, into the flames of burning houses. Of those that fellinto the hands of the Russian boors, many were stripped of theirclothing and chased to death through the snow. Smolensk, which the armyhad passed in its glory, it now reached in its gloom. The city wasdeserted and half burned. Most of the cannon had been abandoned, foodand ammunition were lacking, and no halt was possible. The despairingarmy pushed on. 

Death followed the fugitives in other forms than those of frost andhunger. The Russians, who had avoided the army in its advance, harassedit continually in its retreat. From all directions Russian troopsmarched upon the worn-out fugitives, grimly determined that not a man ofthem should leave Russia if they could prevent. The intrepid Ney, withthe men still capable of fight, formed the rear-guard, and kept at baytheir foes. This service was one of imminent peril. Cut off at Smolenskfrom the main body, only Ney's vigilance saved his men from destruction. During the night he led them rapidly along the banks of the Dnieper, repulsing the Russian corps that sought to cut off his retreat, andjoined the army again. 

The Beresina at length was reached. This river must be crossed. But thefrightful chill, which hitherto had pursued the fleeing host, nowinopportunely decreased, a thaw broke the frozen surface of the stream, and the fugitives gazed with horror on masses of floating ice where theyhad dreamed of a solid pathway for their feet. The slippery state of thebanks added to the difficulty, while on the opposite side a Russian armycommanded the passage with its artillery, and in the rear the roar ofcannon signalled the approach of another army. All seemed lost, andonly the good fortune which had so often befriended him now savedNapoleon and his host. 

For at this critical moment a fresh army corps, which had been leftbehind in his advance, came to the emperor's aid, and the Russiangeneral who disputed the passage, deceived by the French movements, withdrew to another point on the stream. Taking instant advantage of theopportunity, Napoleon threw two bridges across the river, over which theable-bodied men of the army safely made their way. 

After them came the vast host of non-combatants that formed the rear, choking the bridges with their multitude. As they struggled to cross, the pursuing Russian army appeared and opened with artillery upon thehelpless mass, ploughing long red lanes of carnage through its midst. One bridge broke down, and all rushed to the other. Multitudes wereforced into the stream, while the Russian cannon played remorselesslyupon the struggling and drowning mass. For two days the passage hadcontinued, and on the morning of the third a considerable number of sickand wounded soldiers, sutlers, women, and children still remainedbehind, when word reached them that the bridges were to be burned. Afearful rush now took place. Some succeeded in crossing, but the fireran rapidly along the timbers, and the despairing multitude leaped intothe icy river or sought to plunge through the mounting flames. When theice thawed in the spring twelve thousand dead bodies were found on theshores of the stream. Sixteen thousand of the fugitives remainedprisoners in Russian hands. 

This day of disaster was the climax of the frightful retreat. But asthe army pressed onward the temperature again fell, until it reachedtwenty-seven degrees below zero, and the old story of "frozen to death"was resumed. Napoleon, fearing to be taken prisoner in Germany if thetruth should become known, left his army on December 5, and hurriedtowards Paris with all speed, leaving the news of the disaster behind inhis flight. Wilna was soon after reached by the army, but could not beheld by the exhausted troops, and, with its crowded magazines and thewealth in its treasury, fell into the hands of the Russians. 

During this season of disaster the Austrian and Prussian commanders leftbehind to guard the route contrived to spare their troops. Schwarzenberg, the Austrian commander, retreated towards Warsaw and leftthe Russian armies free to act against the French. The Prussians, whohad been engaged in the siege of Riga, might have covered the fleeinghost; but York, their commander, entered into a truce with the Russiansand remained stationary. They had been forced to join the French, andtook the first opportunity to abandon their hated allies. 

A place of safety was at length reached, but the grand army wasrepresented by a miserable fragment of its mighty host. Of thehalf-million who crossed the Russian frontier, but eighty thousandreturned. Of those who had reached Moscow, the meagre remnant numberedscarcely twenty thousand in all. 

_THE DEATH-STRUGGLE OF POLAND. _

The French revolution of 1830 precipitated a similar one in Poland. Therule of Russia in that country had been one of outrage and oppression. In the words of the Poles, "personal liberty, which had been solemnlyguaranteed, was violated; the prisons were crowded; courts-martial wereappointed to decide in civil cases, and imposed infamous punishmentsupon citizens whose only crime was that of having attempted to save fromcorruption the spirit and the character of the nation. "

On the 29th of November the people sprang to arms in Warsaw and theRussians were driven out. Soon after a dictator was chosen, an armycollected, and Russian Poland everywhere rose in revolt. 

It was a hopeless struggle into which the Polish patriots had entered. In all Europe there was not a hand lifted in their aid. Prussia andAustria stood in a threatening attitude, each with an army of sixtythousand men upon the frontiers, ready to march to the aid of Russia ifany disturbance took place in their Polish provinces. Russia invaded thecountry with an army of one hundred and twenty thousand men, a forcemore than double that which Poland was able to raise. And the Polisharmy was commanded by a titled incapable, Prince Radzivil, chosenbecause he had a great name, regardless of his lack of ability as asoldier. Chlopicki, his aide, was a skilled commander, but he foughtwith his hands tied. 

On the 19th of February, 1831, the two armies met in battle, and began adesperate struggle which lasted with little cessation for six days. Warsaw lay in the rear of the Polish army. Behind it flowed the Vistula, with but a single bridge for escape in case of defeat. Victory or deathseemed the alternatives of the patriot force. 

[Illustration: RUSSIAN PEASANTS. ]

The struggle was for the Alder Wood, the key of the position. For thepossession of this forest the fight was hand to hand. Again and again itwas lost and retaken. On the 25th, the final day of battle, it was heldby the Poles. Forty-five thousand in number, they were confronted by aRussian army of one hundred thousand men. Diebitsch, the Russiancommander, determined to win the Alder Wood at any cost. Chlopicki gaveorders to defend it to the last extremity. 

The struggle that succeeded was desperate. By sheer force of numbers theRussians made themselves masters of the wood. Then Chlopicki, puttinghimself at the head of his grenadiers, charged into the forest depths, driving out its holders at the bayonet's point. Their retreat threw thewhole Russian line into confusion. Now was the critical moment for acavalry charge. Chlopicki sent orders to the cavalry chief, but herefused to move. This loss of an opportunity for victory maddened thevaliant leader. "Go and ask Radzivil, " he said to the aides who askedfor orders; "for me, I seek only death. " Plunging into the ranks of theenemy, he was wounded by a shell, and borne secretly from the field. Butthe news of this disaster ran through the ranks and threw the whole armyinto consternation. 

The fall of the gallant Chlopicki changed the tide of battle. Fiercelystruggling still, the Poles were driven from the wood and hurled backupon the Vistula. A battalion of recruits crossed the river on the iceand carried terror into Warsaw. Crowds of peasants, heaps of dead anddying, choked the approach to Praga, the outlying suburb. Night fellupon the scene of disorder. The houses of Praga were fired, and flameslit up the frightful scene. Groans of agony and shrieks of despairfilled the air. The streets were choked with débris, but workmen fromWarsaw rushed out with axes, cleared away the ruin, and left thepassages free. 

Inspirited by this, the infantry formed in line and checked the chargeof the Russian horse. The Albert cuirassiers rode through the firstPolish line, but soon found their horses floundering in mud, andthemselves attacked by lancers and pikemen on all sides. Of thebrilliant and daring corps scarce a man escaped. 

That day cost the Poles five thousand men. Of the Russians more than tenthousand fell. Radzivil, fearing that the single bridge would be carriedaway by the broken ice, gave orders to retreat across the stream. Diebitsch withdrew into the wood. And thus the first phase of thestruggle for the freedom of Poland came to an end. 

This affair was followed by a striking series of Polish victories. Theice in the Vistula was running free, the river overflowed its banks, andfor a month the main bodies of the armies were at rest. But GeneralDwernicki, at the head of three thousand Polish cavalry, signalized theremainder of February by a series of brilliant exploits, attacking anddispersing with his small force twenty thousand of the enemy. 

Radzivil, whose incompetency had grown evident, was now removed, andSkrzynecki, a much abler leader, was chosen in his place. He was notlong in showing his skill and daring. On the night of March 30 the Pragabridge was covered with straw and the army marched noiselessly across. At daybreak, in the midst of a thick fog, it fell on a body of sleepingRussians, who had not dreamed of such a movement. Hurled back indisorder and dismay, they were met by a division which had been postedto cut off their retreat. The rout was complete. Half the corps wasdestroyed or taken, and the remainder fled in terror through the forestdepths. 

Before the day ended the Poles came upon Rosen's division, fifteenthousand in number, and strongly posted. Yet the impetuous onslaught ofthe Poles swept the field. The Russians were driven back in utter rout, with the loss of two thousand men, six thousand prisoners, and largequantities of cannon and arms. The Poles lost but three hundred men inthis brilliant success. During the next day the pursuit continued, andfive thousand more prisoners were taken. So disheartened were theRussian troops by these reverses that when attacked on April 10 at thevillage of Iganie they scarcely attempted to defend themselves. Theflower of the Russian infantry, the _lions of Varna_, as they had beencalled since the Turkish war, laid down their arms, tore the eagles fromtheir shakos, and gave themselves up as prisoners of war. Twenty-fivehundred were taken. 

What immediately followed may be told in a few words. Skrzynecki failedto follow up his remarkable success, and lost valuable time, in whichthe Russians recovered from their dismay. The brave Dwernicki, afterrouting a force of nine thousand with two thousand men, crossed thefrontier and was taken prisoner by the Austrians, who had made noobjection to its being crossed by the Russians. And, as if nature werefighting against Poland, the cholera, which had crossed from India toRussia and infected the Russian troops, was communicated to the Poles atIganie, and soon spread throughout their ranks. 

The climax in this suicidal war came on the 26th of May, when the wholeRussian army, led by General Diebitsch, advanced upon the Poles. Duringthe preceding night the Polish army had retreated across the riverNarew, but, by some unexplained error, had left Lubienski's corpsbehind. On this gallant corps, drawn up in front of the town ofOstrolenka, the host of Russians fell. Flanked by the Cossacks, whospread out in clouds of horsemen on each wing, the cavalry retreatedthrough the town, followed by the infantry, the 4th regiment of theline, which formed the rear-guard, fighting step by step as it slowlyfell back. 

Across the bridges poured the retreating Poles. The Russians followedthe rear-guard hotly into the town. Soon the houses were in flames. Disorder reigned in the streets. The fight continued in the midst of theconflagration. Russian infantry took possession of the houses adjoiningthe river and fired on the retreating mass. Artillery corps rushed tothe river bank and planted their batteries to sweep the bridges. All theavenues of escape were choked by the columns of the invading force. 

The 4th regiment, which had been left alone in the town, was in imminentperil of capture, but at this moment of danger it displayed anindomitable spirit. With closed ranks it charged with the bayonet on thecrowded mass before it, rent a crimson avenue through its midst, andcleared a passage to the bridges over heaps of the dead. Over thequaking timbers rushed the gallant Poles, followed closely by theRussian grenadiers. The Polish cannon swept the bridge, but the gunnerswere picked off by sharp-shooters and stretched in death beside theirguns. On the curving left bank eighty Russian cannon were planted, whosefire protected the crossing troops. 

Meanwhile the bulk of the Polish army lay unsuspecting in its camp. Skrzynecki, the commander, resting easy in the belief that all his menwere across, heard the distant firing with unconcern. Suddenly theimminence of the peril was brought to his attention. Rushing from histent, and springing upon his horse, he galloped madly through theranks, shouting wildly, as he passed from column to column, "Ho!Rybinski! Ho! Malachowski! Forward! forward, all!"

The troops sprang to their feet; the forming battalions rushed forwardin disorder; from end to end of the line rushed the generalissimo, theother officers hurrying to his aid. Charge after charge was made on theRussians who had crossed the stream. As if driven by frenzy, the Polesfell on their foes with swords and pikes. Singing the Warsaw hymn, theofficers rushed to the front. The lancers charged boldly, but theirhorses sank in the marshy soil, and they fell helpless before theRussian fire. 

The day passed; night fell; the field of battle was strewn thick withthe dead and dying. Only a part of the Russian army had succeeded incrossing. Skrzynecki held the field, but he had lost seven thousand men. The Russians, of whom more than ten thousand had fallen, recrossed theriver during the night. But they commanded the passage of the stream, and the Polish commander gave orders for a retreat on Warsaw, sadlyrepeating, as he entered his carriage, Kosciusko's famous words, "FinisPolonić. "

The end indeed was approaching. The resources of Poland were limited, those of Russia were immense. New armies trebly replaced all Russianlosses. Field-Marshal Paskievitch, the new commander, at the head of newforces, determined to cross the Vistula and assail Warsaw on the leftbank of the stream, instead of attacking its suburb of Praga andseeking to force a passage across the river at that point, as on formeroccasions. 

The march of the Russians was a difficult and dangerous one. Heavy rainshad made the roads almost impassable, while streams everywhereintersected the country. To transport a heavy park of artillery and theimmense supply and baggage train for an army of seventy thousand men, through such a country, was an almost impossible task, particularly inview of the fact that the cholera pursued it on its march, and the sickand dying proved an almost fatal encumbrance. 

Had it been attacked under such circumstances by the Polish army, itmight have been annihilated. But Skrzynecki remained immovable, althoughhis troops cried hotly for "battle! battle!" whenever he appeared. Thefavorable moment was lost. The Russians crossed the Vistula on floatingbridges, and marched in compact array upon the Polish capital. 

And now clamor broke out everywhere. Riots in Warsaw proclaimed thepopular discontent. A dictator was appointed, and preparations to defendthe city to the last extremity were made. But at the last moment twentythousand men were sent out to collect supplies for the threatened city, leaving only thirty-five thousand for its defence. The Russians, meanwhile, had been reinforced by thirty thousand men, making their armyone hundred and twenty thousand strong, while in cannon they outnumberedthe Poles three to one. 

Such was the state of affairs in beleaguered Warsaw on that fatal 6th ofSeptember when the Russian general, taking advantage of the weakeningof the patriot army, ordered a general assault. 

At daybreak the attack began with a concentrated fire from two hundredguns. The troops, who had been well plied with brandy, rushed in atorrent upon the battered walls, and swarmed into the suburb of Wola, driving its garrison into the church, where the carnage continued untilnone were left to resist. 

From Wola the attack was directed, about noon, upon the suburb ofCzyste. This was defended by forty guns, which made havoc in the Russianranks, while two battalions of the 4th regiment, rushing upon them intheir disorder, strove to drive them back and wrest Wola from theirhands. The effort was fruitless, strong reinforcements coming to theRussian aid. 

Through the blood-strewn streets of the city the struggle continued, success favoring now the Poles, now the Russians. About five in theafternoon the tide of battle turned decisively in favor of the Russians. A shower of shells from the Russian batteries had fired the houses ofCzyste, within whose flame-lit streets a hand-to-hand struggle went on. The famous 4th regiment, intrenched in the cemetery, defended itselfvaliantly, but was driven back by the spread of the flames. Night fell, but the conflict continued. The dawn of the following day saw the cityat the mercy of the Russian host. The twenty thousand men sent out toforage were still absent. Nothing remained but surrender, and at nine inthe evening the news of the capitulation was brought to the army, towhom orders to retire on Praga were given. 

Thus ended the final struggle for the freedom of Poland. The story ofwhat followed it is not our purpose to tell. The mild Alexander was nolonger on the Russian throne. The stern Nicholas had replaced him, andfearful was his revenge. For the crime of patriotism Poland wasdecimated, thousands of its noblest citizens being transported to theCaucasus and Siberia. The remnant of separate existence possessed byPoland was overthrown, and it was made a province of the Russian empire. Even the teaching of the Polish language was forbidden, the youth of thenation being commanded to learn and speak the Russian tongue. As for thepersecution and suffering which fell upon the Poles as a nation, it istoo sad a story to be here told. There is still a Polish people, but aPoland no more. 

_SCHAMYL THE HERO OF CIRCASSIA. _

In the region lying between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea rise therugged Caucasian Mountains, a mighty wall of rock which there dividesthe continents of Europe and Asia. Monarch of those lofty hills towersthe tall peak of Elbrus, called by the natives "the great spirit of themountains. " Farther east Kasbek lifts its lofty summit, and at a lowerlevel the whole jagged line, "the thousand-peaked Caucasus, " rises intoview. Below these a lower range, dark with forests, marks its outline onthe snowy summits beyond. Fruitful clearings appear to the height offive thousand feet on the western slopes; garden terraces mount theeastward face, and the valleys, green with meadows or golden with grain, are dotted with clusters of cottages. Sheep and goats browse in greatnumbers on the hill-sides; lower down the camel and buffalo feed; herdsof horses roam half wild through the glades, and from the higher rocksthe chamois looks boldly down on the inhabited realms below. 

In these mountain fastnesses dwells a race of bold and liberty-lovingmountaineers who have preserved their freedom through all the historiceras, yielding only at last, after years of valiant resistance, when thewhole power of the Russian empire was brought to bear upon them intheir wilds. For years the heroic Schamyl, their unconquerable chief, braved his foes, again and again he escaped from their toils or hurledthem back in defeat, and for a quarter of a century he defied all thepower of Russia, yielding only when driven to his final lair. 

In the _aoul_ or village of Himri, perched like an eagle's nest high ona projecting rock, this famous chief was born in the year 1797. The onlyaccess to this high-seated stronghold was by a narrow path windingseveral hundred feet up the slope, while a triple wall, flanked by hightowers, further defended it, and the overhanging brow of the mountainguarded it above. Such is the character of one of the strongholds ofthis mountain land, and such an example of the difficulties its foes hadto overcome. 

There are no finer horsemen than the daring Circassian mountaineers, whoare ready to dash at full speed up or down precipitous steeps, to leapchasms, or to swim raging torrents. In an instant, also, they candischarge their weapons, unslinging the gun when at full gallop, firingupon the foe, and as quickly returning it to its place. They can restsuspended on the side of the horse, leap to the ground to pick up afallen weapon, and bound into the saddle again without a halt. And suchis the precision of their aim that they are able to strike the smallestmark while riding at full speed. 

Such were some of the arts in which Schamyl was trained, and in which hebecame signally expert. In the hunt, the trial of skill, all the laborsand sports of the youthful mountaineers, he was an adept, and so valiantand resourceful that his admiring countrymen at length chose him astheir Iman, or governor, during the defence of their country against theRussian invaders. 

The first battle in which Schamyl engaged was behind the walls of hisnative village. Himri, well situated as it was, was hurled into ruin bythe artillery of the foe, and among its prostrate defenders lay Schamyl, with two balls through his body. He was left by the enemy as dead, andin after-years the mountaineers looked upon his escape and recovery asdue to miracle. 

Schamyl was thirty-seven years of age when he became leader of thetribes. Of middle stature, with fair hair, gray eyes shadowed with thickbrows, a Grecian nose, small mouth, and unusually fair complexion, hewas one of the handsomest and most distinguished in appearance of themountaineers. He was erect in carriage, light and active in tread, andhad a natural nobility of air and aspect. His manner was calmlycommanding, while his eloquence was at once fiery and persuasive. "Flames sparkle from his eyes, " says one, "and flowers are scatteredfrom his lips. "

In 1839 the Russians made one of their most determined efforts to crushthe resistance of the mountaineers. Schamyl's head-quarters were then atAkhulgo, a stronghold perched upon the top of an isolated conical peakaround whose foot a river wound. Strong by nature, it was wellfortified, trenches, earthworks, and covered ways now taking the placeof those stone walls which the Russian cannon had so easily overturnedat Himri. 

Other fortified works were built on the road to Akhulgo, which wasretained as a last resort, behind whose defences the mountaineers wereresolved to conquer or die. Its garrison was composed of the flower ofthe Circassian warriors, while some fifteen thousand men beside stoodready to take part in the fight. 

In the month of May the Russians advanced, with such energy and in suchforce that the anterior works were soon taken, and the mountaineersfound themselves obliged to take refuge in their final fortress ofdefence. The fight here was fierce and persistent. Step by step theRussians made their way, pushing their parallels against the intrenchedworks of their foes. Point after point was gained, and at length, inlate August, the crisis came. A sudden charge carried them into thefort, and the defenders died where they stood, leaving only women andchildren to fall as prisoners into the Russians' hands. 

But Schamyl had disappeared. Seek as they would, the chief was not to befound. The fortress, the approaches, every nook and corner, wereexplored, but the famous warrior, for whom his foes would have givenhalf their wealth, had utterly vanished, no one knew how. To make sureof his death they had scarcely left a fighting man alive, yet to theirchagrin the redoubtable Schamyl was soon again in the field. 

How the brave mountaineer escaped is not known. Of the stories afloat, one is that he lay concealed until night in a rock refuge, and thenmanaged to swim the river while some of his friends attracted theattention and drew the fire of the guards. All that can be said is thatin September he reappeared, ready for new feats of arms, and was seenagain at the head of a gallant body of mountain warriors. 

His head-quarters were now fixed at Dargo, a village in the heart of themountains and in the midst of the primeval forest. But the chief hadlearned a lesson from his late experience. The Circassians were no matchfor the Russians behind fortifications. He resolved in the future tofight in a manner better suited to the habits of his followers, and towear out the foe by a guerilla warfare. 

Three years passed before the Russians again sought to penetrate themountains in force. Then General Grabbe, the victor at Akhulgo, attempted to repeat his success at Dargo. But the experience he gainedproved to be of a less agreeable type. At the close of the first day'smarch, when the soldiers had eaten their evening meal and stretchedtheir limbs to rest after a hard day's march, they were suddenly broughtto their feet by a rattling volley of musketry from the surroundingwoods. All night long the firing continued, no great damage being donein the darkness, but the soldiers being effectually deprived of theirrest. When day dawned there was not a Circassian to be seen. 

Near noon, as the column wound through a ravine in the forest, thefiring sharply recommenced, a murderous volley pouring upon the vanguardfrom behind the trees. The number of wounded became so great that therewere not wagons enough for their transportation. Still General Grab bekept on, despite the advice of his officers, only to be attacked againat night as his weary men lay in a small open meadow among the hills. All night long the whiz of bullets drove away repose, and at every stepof the next day's march the woods belched forth the leaden messengers ofdeath. 

The goal of the march was near at hand. The little village of Dargocould be seen on a distant hill-top. But it was to be reached only by apath of death, and the Russian commander was at length forced to givethe order to retreat. On seeing the column wheel and begin its backwardmarch the Circassians grew wild with excitement and triumph. Slingingtheir rifles behind their backs, they rushed, sabre in hand, upon theenemy's centre, breaking through it again and again, while a deadly hailof rifle-shots still came from the woods. In the end, of the column ofsix thousand, two thousand were left dead, the remainder reaching thefortress from which they had set out in sorry plight. 

For several years Schamyl made Dargo his head-quarters. Not until 1845did the Russians succeed in taking it, their army now being ten thousandstrong. But it was a village in flames they captured. Schamyl had firedit before leaving, and the Russians were so beset in coming and goingthat their empty conquest was made at the cost of three thousand oftheir men. 

In the spring of the following year the valiant chief repaid the enemyin part for these invasions of his country. He had now under his commandno less than twenty thousand warriors, largely horsemen, and in theleafy month of May, taking advantage of a weakening of the Russian line, he dashed suddenly from the highlands for a raid in the neighboringcountry of the Kabardians. 

Two rivers flowed between the mountain ranges and the Kabardas, and twolines of hostile fortresses guarded the frontier, containing in all noless than seventy thousand men. Between the forts lay Cossacksettlements, and beyond them the Kabardians, an armed and warlike race. Schamyl had no artillery, no fortresses, no dépôts of provisions andammunition. All he could do was to make a quick dash and a hasty return. 

Down upon the Cossacks he rode, followed by his thousands of daringriders. Plundering their villages, he halted to take no forts exceptthose that went down in the whirl of his coming. Before the garrisons inthe strongholds fairly knew that he was among them he was gone; andwhile the Kabardians believed that he was lurking in the mountaindepths, he suddenly dashed into their midst. Sixty populous Kabardianvillages were plundered, and the mountaineers proudly refused to turntill they had watered their horses in the Kuban and even reached themore distant banks of the Laba. 

But how were they to return? Thousands of horsemen had gathered in theway. Long battalions of infantry had hurried to cut off the raiders ontheir retreat. Schamyl knew that he could not get back by the way hehad come; but, turning southward, he galloped at headlong speed throughthe Cossack settlements in that quarter, and, with his cruppers ladenwith booty and his saddle-bows well furnished with food, evaded his foesand reached the mountains again. May seemed to bloom more richly thanever as the wild riders dashed proudly back to the doors of their homesand heard the glad shouts of joy that greeted their safe return. 

The whole story of the exploits of the famous Circassian chief is tooextended and too full of stirring incidents to be here given even inepitome. It must suffice to say, in conclusion, that ten years after hisescape from Akhulgo that stronghold was again attacked and taken by theRussians, and as before Schamyl mysteriously escaped. Completelybaffled, nothing was left for the Russians but to wear out the chief andhis people by continued invasions of their mountain land. Again andagain their armies were beaten by their indomitable foe, but thecontinuance of the struggle slowly exhausted the land and its powers ofresistance. 

The Circassians were helped during the Crimean War by the foes ofRussia, who supplied them with arms and money, but after that war theRussians kept up the struggle with more energy than ever, and, byopening a road over the mountains, cut off a part of the country andcompelled its submission. At length, in April, 1859, twenty-five yearsafter the struggle began, Weden, Schamyl's stronghold at that time, wastaken, after a seven weeks' siege. As before, the chief escaped, but thecountry was virtually subdued, and he had only a small band offollowers left. 

For months afterwards his foes pursued him actively from fastness tofastness, determined to run him down, and at length, on September 6, 1859, surprised him on the plateau of Gounib. Here the devoted band madea desperate resistance, not yielding until of the original four hundredonly forty-seven remained alive. Schamyl, the lion of the Caucasus, wasat length taken, after having cost the Russians uncounted losses in lifeand money. 

With his capture the independence of Circassia came to an end. It hassince formed an integral part of the Russian empire, and its subjugationhas opened the gateway to that vast expansion of Russia in Central Asiawhich since then has taken place. The captive chief had won the respectof his foes, and was honorably treated, being assigned a residence atKaluga, in Central Russia, with an annual pension of five thousanddollars. He, like his countrymen, was a Mohammedan in faith, and removedto Mecca, in Arabia, in 1870, dying at Medina in the following year. 

_THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. _

The Crimean War, brief as was the interval it occupied in the annals oftime, was one replete with exciting events. And of these much the mostbrilliant was that which took place on the 25th of October, 1854, thefamous "Charge of the Light Brigade, " which Tennyson has immortalized insong, and which stands among the most dramatic incidents in the historyof war. It was truthfully said by one of the French generals whowitnessed it, "It is magnificent, but it is not war. " We give it for itsmagnificence alone. 

[Illustration: MOUNT ST. PETER, CRIMEA. ]

First let us depict the scene of that memorable event. The British andFrench armies lay in front of Balaklava, their base of supplies, facingtowards Sebastopol. They occupied a mountain slope, which was stronglyintrenched. A valley lay before them, and some two miles distant roseanother mountain range, rocky and picturesque. In the valley betweenwere four rounded hillocks, each crowned by an earthwork defended by afew hundred Turks. These outlying redoubts formed the central points ofthe famous battle of October 25. 

In the early morning of that day the Russians appeared in force, debouching from the mountain passes in front of the allied army. Sixcompact masses of infantry were seen, with a line of artillery infront, and on each flank a powerful cavalry force, while a cloud ofmounted skirmishers filled the space between. Fronting the line of theallies were the Zouaves, crouching behind low earthworks, on the rightthe 93d Highlanders, and in front the British cavalry, composed of theHeavy Brigade, under General Scarlett, and, more in advance, the LightBrigade, under Lord Cardigan. Such were, in broad outline, the formationof the ground and the position of the actors in the drama of battleabout to be played. 

The scene opened with an attack on the advanced redoubts. No. 1 wasquickly taken, the Turks flying in haste before the fire of the Russianguns. No. 2 was evacuated in similar panic haste, the Cossackskirmishers riding among the fleeing Turks and cutting them mercilesslydown. The guns of No. 2 were at once turned upon No. 3, whose garrisonof Turks fired a few shots in return, and then, as in the previouscases, broke into open flight. After them dashed the Cossack lighthorsemen, flanking them to right and left, and many of the turbanedfugitives paid for their panic with their lives. The Russians had won inthe first move of the game. They had taken three of the redoubts beforea movement could be made for their support. 

Next a squadron of the Russian cavalry charged vigorously upon theHighlanders. But a deadly rifle fire met them as they came, volley aftervolley tearing gaps through their compact ranks, and in a moment morethey had wheeled, opened their files, and were in full flight. "Bravo, Highlanders!" came up an exulting shout from the thousands of spectatorsbehind. 

It was evident that Balaklava was the goal of the Russian movement, andthe heavy cavalry were ordered into position to protect the approaches. As they moved towards the post indicated, a large body of the enemy'scavalry appeared over the ridge in front. These were _corps d'élite_, evidently, their jackets of light blue, embroidered with silver lace, giving them a holiday appearance. Behind them, as they galloped at aneasy pace to the brow of the hill, appeared the keen glitter oflance-tips, and in the rear of the lancers came several squadrons ofgray-coated dragoons as supports. As the serried ranks of horsemenadvanced, their pace declined from a gallop to an easy trot, and fromthat almost to a halt. Their first line was double the length of theBritish, and three times as deep. Behind it came a second line, equallystrong. They greatly outnumbered their foe. 

It was evident that the shock of a cavalry battle was at hand. Thehearts of the spectators throbbed with excitement as they saw the HeavyBrigade suddenly break into a full gallop and rush headlong upon theenemy, making straight for the centre of the Russian line. On they went, Grays and Enniskilleners, in serried array, while their cheers andshouts rent the air as they struck the Russian line with an impetuswhich carried them through the close-drawn ranks. For a moment there wasa glittering flash of sword-blades and a sharp clash of steel, andthen, in thinned numbers, the charging dragoons appeared in the rear ofthe line, heading with unchecked speed towards the second Russian rank. 

The gallant horsemen seemed buried amid the multitude of the enemy. "Godhelp them! they are lost!" came from more than one trembling lip and wasechoed in many a fearful heart. The onset was terrific: the second linewas broken like the first, and in its rear the red-coated ridersappeared. But the first line of Russians, which had been rolled backupon its flanks by the impetuous rush, was closing up again, and themuch smaller force in their midst was in serious peril of beingswallowed up and crushed by sheer force of numbers. 

The crisis was a terrible one. But at the moment when the danger seemedgreatest, two regiments of dragoons, the 4th and 5th, who had closelyfollowed their fellows in the charge, broke furiously upon the enemy, dashing through and rending to fragments the already broken line. In amoment all was over. Less than five minutes had passed since the firstshock, and already the Russian horse was in full flight, beaten by halfits force. Wild cheers burst from the whole army as the victors drewback with almost intact ranks, their loss having been very small. 

Thus ended the famous "Charge of the Heavy Brigade. " Its glory was to beeclipsed by that memorable "Charge of the Light Brigade" which becamethe theme of Tennyson's stirring ode, and the recital of which stillcauses many a heart to throb. We are indebted for our story of it tothe thrilling account of W. H. Russell, the _Times_ correspondent, and aspectator of the event. 

As the Russian cavalry retired, their infantry fell back, leaving men inthree of the captured redoubts, but abandoning the other points gained. They also had guns on the heights overlooking their position. About thehour of eleven, while the two armies thus faced each other, resting foran interval from the rush of conflict, there came to Lord Cardigan thatfatal order which caused him to hurl his men into "the jaws of death. "How it came to be given, how the misapprehension occurred, who was atfault in the error, has never been made clear. Captain Nolan, whobrought the order, was one of the first to fall, and his story of theevent died with him. All we know is that he handed Lord Lucan a writtencommand to advance, and when asked, "Where are we to advance to?" hepointed to the Russian line, and said, "There are the enemy, and thereare the guns, " or words of similar meaning. 

It is a maxim in war that "cavalry shall never act without a support, "that "infantry should be close at hand when cavalry carry guns, " andthat a line of cavalry should have some squadrons in column on itsflanks, to guard it against a flank attack. None of these rules wascarried out here, and Lord Lucan reluctantly gave the order to advanceupon the guns, which Lord Cardigan as reluctantly accepted, for to anyeye it was evident that it was an order to advance upon death. "Some onehad blundered, " and wisdom would have dictated the demand for aconfirmation of the order. Valor suggested that it should be obeyed inall its blank enormity. Dismissing wisdom and yielding to valor, LordCardigan gave the word to advance, the brigade, scarcely a regiment intotal strength, broke into a sudden gallop, and within a minute thedevoted line was flying over the plain towards the enemy. 

The movement struck Lord Raglan, from whom the order was supposed tohave emanated, with consternation. It struck the Russians with surprise. Surely that handful of men was not going to attack an army in position?Yet so it seemed as the Light Brigade dashed onward, the uplifted sabresglittering in the morning sun, the horses galloping at full speedtowards the Russian guns, over a plain a mile and a half in width. 

Not far had they gone when a hot fire of cannon, musketry, and riflesbelched from the Russian line. A flood of smoke and flame hid theopposing ranks, and shot and shell tore through the charging troops. Gaps were rent in their ranks, men and horses went down in rapidsuccession, and riderless horses were seen rushing wildly across theplain. The first line was broken. It was joined by the second. On wentthe brigade in a single line with unchecked speed. Though torn by thedeadly fire of thirty guns, the brave riders rode steadily on into thesmoke of the batteries, with cheers which too often changed in a breathto the cry of death. 

Through the clouds of smoke the horsemen could be seen dashing up to andbetween the guns, cutting down the gunners as they stood. Then, wheeling, they broke through a line of Russian infantry which sought tostay their advance, and scattered it to right and left. In a momentmore, to the relief of those who had watched their career in an agony ofemotion, they were seen riding back from the captured redoubt. 

Scattered and broken they came, some mounted, some on foot, allhastening towards the British lines. As they wheeled to retreat, aregiment of lancers was hurled upon their flank. Colonel Shewell, of the8th Hussars, saw the danger, and rushed at the foe, cutting a passagethrough with great loss. The others had similarly to break their waythrough the columns that sought to envelop them. As they emerged fromthe cavalry fight, the gunners opened upon them again, cutting new linesof carnage through their decimated ranks. The Heavy Brigade had riddento their relief, but could only cover the retreat of the slender remnantof the gallant band. In twenty-five minutes from the start not a Britishsoldier, except the dead and dying, was left on the scene of this daringbut mad exploit. 

Captain Nolan fell among the first; Lord Lucan was slightly wounded;Lord Cardigan had his clothes pierced by a lance; Lord Fitzgibbonreceived a fatal wound. Of the total brigade, some six hundred strong, the killed, wounded, and missing numbered four hundred and twenty-six. 

While this event was taking place, a body of French cavalry made abrilliant charge on a battery at the left, which was firing upon thedevoted brigade, and cut down the gunners. But they could not get theguns off without support, and fell back with a loss of one-fourth theirnumber. Thus ended that eventful day, in which the British cavalry hadcovered itself with glory, though it had only glory to show in returnfor its heavy loss. 

Such is the story as it stands in prose. Here is Tennyson's poeticversion, which is full of the dash and daring of the wild ride. 

THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 

 Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. 

 "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Was there a man dismayed? Not though the soldier knew Some one had blundered: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die, Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. 

 Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them, Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well; Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell, Rode the six hundred. 

 Flashed all their sabres bare, Flashed as they turned in air, Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wondered: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right through the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reeled from the sabre-stroke Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not-- Not the six hundred. 

 Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them, Volleyed and thundered; Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them, Left of six hundred. 

 When can their glory fade? Oh, the wild charge they made! All the world wondered. Honor the charge they made! Honor the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!

_THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL. _

The history of Russia has been largely a history of wars, --which indeedmight be said with equal justice of most of the nations of Europe. Intruth, history as written gives such prominence to warlike deeds, andglosses over so hastily the events of peace, that we seem to hear theroll of the drum rising from the written page itself, and to see the hueof blood crimsoning the printed sheets. This dominance of war in historyis a striking instance of false perspective. Nations have not spent allor most of their lives in fighting, but the clash of the sword rings soloudly through the historic atmosphere that we scarcely hear the mildersounds of peace. 

So far as Russia is concerned, the torrent of war has rolled mainlytowards the south. From those early days in which the Scythians droveback the Persian host and the early Varangians fiercely assailed theGreek empire, the relations of the north and the south have beenstrained, and a rapid succession of wars has been waged between theRussians and their varying foes, the Greeks, the Tartars, and the Turks. For ten centuries these wars have continued, with Constantinople fortheir ultimate goal, yet in all these ten centuries of conflict noRussian foot has ever been set in hostility within that ancient city'swalls. 

Of these many wars, that which looms largest on the historic page isthe fierce conflict of 1854-55, in which England and France came toTurkey's aid and Russia met with defeat on the soil of the Crimea. Wehave already given the most striking and dramatic incident of thisfamous Crimean war. It may be aptly followed by the final scene of all, the assault upon and capture of Sebastopol. 

The city of this name (Russian _Sevastopol_) is a seaport and fortresson the site of an old Tartar village near the southwest extremity of theCrimea, built by Russia as her naval station on the Black Sea. Itpossesses one of the finest natural harbors of the world, and formed thecentral scene of the Crimean War, the English and French armiesbesieging it with all the resources at their command. For nearly a yearthis stronghold of Russia was subjected to bombardment. Battles werefought in front of it, vigorous efforts for its capture and its reliefwere made, but in early September, 1855, it still remained in Russianhands, though frightfully torn and rent by the torrent of iron ballswhich had been poured into it with little cessation. But now the climaxof the struggle was at hand, and all Europe stood in breathless anxietyawaiting the result. 

On September 5 the fiercest cannonade the city had yet felt was begun bythe French, the English batteries quickly joining in. All that night andduring the night of the 6th the bombardment was unceasingly continued, and during the 7th the cannons still belched their fiery hail upon thetown. Everywhere the streets showed the terrible effect of thisvigorous assault. Nearly every house in sight was rent asunder by theballs. Towards evening the great dock-yard shears caught fire, andburned fiercely in the high wind then prevailing. A large vessel in theharbor was next seen in flames, and burned to the water's edge. Thisbombardment was preliminary to a general assault, fixed for the 8th, andon the morning of that day it was resumed, as a mask to the comingcharge upon the works. 

The Malakoff fort, the key to the Russian position, was to be assaultedby the French, who gathered in great force in its front during thenight. The Redan, another strong fortification, was reserved for theBritish attack. In the trenches, facing the works, men were gathered asclosely as they could be packed, with their nerves strung to an intensepitch as they awaited the decisive word. The hour of noon was fixed forthe French assault, and as it approached a lull in the cannonade toldthat the critical moment was at hand. 

At five minutes to twelve the word was given, and like a swarm of angrybees the French sprang from their trenches and rushed in mad hasteacross the narrow space dividing them from the Malakoff. The place, amoment before quiet and apparently deserted, seemed suddenly alive. Afew bounds took the active line of stormers across the perilousinterval, and within a minute's time they were scrambling up the faceand slipping through the embrasures of the long-defiant fort. On theycame, stream after stream, battalion succeeding battalion, each dashingfor the embrasures, and before the last of the stormers had left thetrenches the flag of the foremost was waving in triumph above a bastionof the fort. 

The Russians had been taken by surprise. Very few of them were in thefort. The destructive cannonade had driven them to shelter. It was inthe hands of the French by the time their foes were fully aware of whathad occurred. Then a determined attempt was made to recapture it, andthe Russian general hurled his men in successive storming columns uponthe work, vainly endeavoring to drive out its captors. From noon untilseven in the evening these furious efforts continued, thousands of theRussians falling in the attempt. In the end the exhausted legions werewithdrawn, the French being left in possession of the work they had soably won and so valiantly held. 

Meanwhile the British were engaged in their share of the assault. Themoment the French tricolor was seen waving from the parapet of theMalakoff four signal rockets were sent up, and the dash on the Redanbegan. It was made in less force than the French had used, and with avery different result. The Russians were better prepared, and the spaceto be crossed was wider, the assaulting column being rent with musketryas it dashed over the interval between the trenches and the fort. Ondashed the assailants, through the abatis, which had been torn tofragments by the artillery fire, into the ditch, and up the face of thework. The parapet was scaled almost without opposition, the few Russiansthere taking shelter behind their breastworks in the rear, whence theyopened fire on the assailing force. 

At this point, instead of continuing the charge, as their officersimplored them to do, the men halted and began loading and firing, a workin which they were greatly at a disadvantage, since the Russiansreturned the fire briskly from behind their shelters. Every momentreinforcements rushed in from the town and added to the weight of theenemy's fire. The assailants were falling rapidly, particularly theofficers, who were singled out by their foes. 

For an hour and a half the struggle continued. By that time the Russianshad cleared the Redan, but the British still held the parapets. Then arush from within was made, and the assailants were swept back and driventhrough the embrasures or down the face of the parapet into the ditch, where their foes followed them with the bayonet. 

A short, sharp, and bloody struggle here took place. Step by step theband of Britons was forced back by the enemy, those who fled for thetrenches having to run the gauntlet of a hot fire, those who remainedhaving to defend themselves against four times their force. The attempthad hopelessly failed, and of those in the assailing columncomparatively few escaped. The day's work had been partly a success andpartly a failure. The French had succeeded in their assault. The Englishhad failed in theirs, and lost heavily in the attempt. 

What the final result was to be no one could tell. Silence followed theday's struggle, and night fell upon a comparatively quiet scene. Abouteleven o'clock a new act in the drama began, with a terrific explosionthat shook the ground like an earthquake. By midnight several otherexplosions vibrated through the air. Here and there flames were seen, half hidden by the cloud of dust which rose before the strong wind. Asthe night waned, the fires grew and spread, while tremendous explosionsfrom time to time told of startling events taking place in the town. What was going on under the shroud of night? The early dawn solved themystery. The Russians were abandoning the city they had so long and sogallantly held. 

The Malakoff was the key of their position. Its loss had made the cityuntenable. The failure of the attempt to recover it was followed byimmediate preparations for evacuation. The gray light of the coming dayshowed a stream of soldiers marching across the bridge to the northside. The fleet had disappeared. It lay sunk in the harbor's depths. 

The retreat had begun at eight o'clock of the evening before, soon afterthe failure to retake the Malakoff. But it was a Moscow the Russiangeneral proposed to leave his foes. Combustibles had been stored in theprincipal houses. About two o'clock flames began to rise from these, andat the same hour all the vessels of the fleet except the steamers werescuttled and sunk. The steamers were retained to aid in carrying off thestores. A terrific explosion behind the Redan at four o'clock shook thewhole camp. Four others equally startling followed. Battery afterbattery was hurled into the air by the explosion of the magazines. Before seven o'clock the last of the Russians had crossed the bridge tothe north side, which was uninvested by the allies, and the hill-sidesopposite the city were alive with troops. Smaller explosions followed. From a steamer in the harbor clouds of dense smoke arose. Flames spreadrapidly, and by ten o'clock the whole city was in a blaze, while vastcolumns of smoke rose far into the skies, lurid in the glare of theflames below. The sounds of battle had ceased. Those of conflagrationand ruin succeeded. The final flames were those sent up from thesteamers, which were set on fire when the work of transporting storeshad ceased. 

Great was the surprise throughout the camp that Sunday morning when thenews spread that Sebastopol was on fire and the enemy in full retreat. Most of the soldiers, worn out with their desperate day's work, sleptthrough the explosions and woke to learn that the city so long foughtfor was at last theirs--or so much of it as the flames were likely toleave. 

About midnight, attracted by the dead silence, some volunteers had creptinto an embrasure of the Redan and found the place deserted by the foe. As soon as dawn appeared, the French Zouaves began to steal from theirtrenches into the burning town, heedless of the flames, the explosions, and the danger of being shot by some lurking foe, the desire for plunderbeing stronger in their minds than dread of danger. Soon the reduniforms of these daring marauders could be seen in the streets, revealed by the flames, and the day had but fairly dawned when men camestaggering back laden with spoils, Russian relics being offered for salein the camps while the Russian columns were still marching from thedeserted city. The sailors were equally alert, and could soon be seenbearing more or less worthless lumber from the streets, often uselessstuff which they had risked their lives to gain. 

The allies had won a city in ruins; but they had defeated the Russiansat every encounter, in field and in fort, and the Muscovite resourceswere exhausted. The war must soon cease. What followed was to completethe destruction which the torch had began. The splendid docks whichRussia had constructed at immense cost were mined and blown up. Thehouses which had escaped the fire were robbed of doors, windows, andfurniture to add to the comfort of the huts which were built for winterquarters by the troops. As for the scene of ruin, disaster, and deathwithin the city, it was frightful, and it was evident that the Russianshad clung to it with a death-grip until it was impossible to remain. Itwas an absolute ruin from which the Sebastopol of to-day began itsgrowth. 

_AT THE GATES OF CONSTANTINOPLE. _

From the days of Rurik down, a single desire--a single passion, we maysay--has had a strong hold upon the Russian heart, the desire to possessConstantinople, that grand gate-city between Europe and Asia, with itscontrol of the avenue to the southern seas. While it continued thecapital of the Greek empire it was more than once assailed by Russianarmies. After it became the metropolis of the Turkish dominion renewedattempts were made. But Greek and Turk alike valiantly held their own, and the city of the straits defied its northern foes. Through thecenturies war after war with Turkey was fought, the possession ofConstantinople their main purpose, but the Moslem clung to his capitalwith fierce pertinacity, and not until the year 1878 did he give way anda Russian army set eyes on the city so long desired. 

In 1875 an insurrection broke out in Bosnia and Herzegovina, twoChristian provinces under Turkish rule. The rebellious sentiment spreadto Bulgaria, and in 1876 Turkey began a policy of repression so cruel asto make all Europe quiver with horror. Thousands of its most savagesoldiery were let loose upon the Christian populations south of theBalkans, with full license to murder and burn, and a frightful carnivalof torture and massacre began. More than a hundred towns were destroyed, and their inhabitants treated with revolting inhumanity. In the month ofJune, 1876, about forty thousand Bulgarians, of all ages and sexes, wereput to death, many of the children being sold as slaves in the Turkishcities. 

Of all the powers of Europe, Russia was the only one that took arms toavenge these slaughtered populations. England stood impassive, the othernations held aloof, but Alexander II. Called out his troops, and oncemore the Russian battalions were set _en route_ for the Danube, withConstantinople as their ultimate goal. 

In June, 1877, the Danube was crossed and the Russian host enteredBulgaria, the Turks retiring as they advanced. But the march of invasionwas soon arrested. The Balkan Mountains, nature's line of defence forTurkey, lay before the Russian troops, and on the high-road to itspasses stood the town of Plevna, a fortress which must be taken beforethe mountains could safely be crossed. The works were very strong, andbehind them lay Osman Pacha, one of the boldest and bravest of theTurkish soldiers, with a gallant little army under his command. Thedefence of this city was the central event of the war. From July toSeptember the Russians sought its capture, making three desperateassaults, all of which were repulsed. In October the city was investedwith an army of forty thousand men, under the intrepid GeneralSkobeleff, with a determination to win. But Osman held out with all hisold stubbornness, and continued his unflinching defence untilstarvation forced him to yield. He had lost his city, but had held backthe Russian army for nearly half a year and won the admiration of theworld. 

The fall of Plevna set free the large Russian army that had been tied upby its siege. What should be done with these troops, more than onehundred thousand strong? The Balkans, whose gateways Plevna had closed, now lay open before them, but winter was at hand, winter with its frostsand snows. An attempt to cross the mountains at this time, even ifsuccessful, would bring them before strong Turkish fortresses inmidwinter, with a chain of mountains in the rear, over which it would beimpossible to maintain a line of supplies. The prudent course would havebeen to put the men into winter quarters at the foot of the Balkans onthe north and wait for spring before venturing upon the mountain passes. 

The Grand Duke Nicholas, however, was not governed by suchconsiderations of prudence, but determined, at all hazards, to strikethe Turks before they had time to reorganize and recuperate. The armywas, therefore, at once set in motion, General Gourko marching upon theAraba-Konak, Radetzky upon the Shipka Pass. The story of these movementsis a long one, but must be given here in a few words. The bitter cold, the deep snow, the natural difficulties of the passes, the efforts ofthe enemy, all failed to check the Russian advance. Gourko forced hisway through all opposition, took the powerful fortress of Sophia withouta blow, and routed an army of fifty thousand men on his march toPhilippopolis. Radetzky did even better, since he captured the Turkisharmy defending the Shipka Pass, thirty-six thousand strong. The wholeTurkish defence of the Balkans had gone down with a crash, and theRussians found themselves on the south side of the mountains with theenemy everywhere on the retreat, a broken and demoralized host. 

Meanwhile what had become of the Turkish population of the Balkans andRoumelia? There were none of them to be seen; no fugitives were passed;not a Turk was visible in Sophia; the whole region traversed up toPhilippopolis seemed to have only a Christian population. But on leavingthe last-named city the situation changed, and a terrible scene ofbloodshed, death, and misery met the eyes of the marching hosts. It wasnow easy to see what had become of the Turks: they were here inmultitudes in full flight for their lives. The Bulgarians had avengedthemselves bitterly on their late oppressors. Dead bodies of men andanimals, broken carts, heaps of abandoned household goods, and tattersof clothing seemed to mark every step of the way. Fierce and terriblehad been the struggle, dreadful the result, Turks and Bulgarians lyingthickly side by side in death. Here appeared the bodies of Bulgarianpeasants horrible with gaping wounds and mutilations, the marks ofTurkish vengeance; there beside them lay corpses of dignified old Turks, their white beards stained with their blood. 

While the men had died from violence, the women and children hadperished from cold and hunger, many of them being frozen to death, thefaces and tiny hands of dead children visible through the shroudingsnows. The living were dragging their slow way onward through thisghastly array of the dead, in a seemingly endless procession of wagons, drawn by half starved oxen, and bearing sick and feeble human beings andloads of household goods. Beside the laden vehicles the wretched, famine-stricken, worn-out fugitives walked, pushing forward in unceasingfear of their merciless Bulgarian foes. 

Farther on the scene grew even more terrible. The road was strewn withdiscarded bedding, carpets, and other household goods. In one villagewere visible the bodies of some Turkish soldiers whom the Bulgarians hadstoned to death, the corpses half covered with the heaps of stones andbricks which had been hurled at them. 

Beyond this was reached a vast mass of closely packed wagons extendingwidely over roads and fields, not fewer than twenty thousand in all. Theoxen were still in the yokes, but the people had vanished, and Bulgarianplunderers were helping themselves unresisted to the spoil. The greatcompany, numbering fully two hundred thousand, had fled in terror to themountains from some Russian cavalry who had been fired upon by theescort of the fugitives and were about to fire in return. Abandoningtheir property, the able-bodied had fled in panic fear, leaving the old, the sick, and the infants to perish in the snow, and their cherishedeffects to the hands of Bulgarian pilferers. 

In advance lay Adrianople, the ancient capital of Turkey and the secondcity in the empire. Here, if anywhere, the Turks should have made astand. But news came that this stronghold had been abandoned by itsgarrison, that the wildest panic prevailed, and that the Turkishpopulation of the city and the surrounding villages was in full flight. At daylight of the 20th of January the city was entered by the cavalry, and on the 22d Skobeleff marched in with his infantry, at oncedespatching the cavalry in pursuit of the retreating enemy. The defenceof Adrianople had been well provided for by an extensive system ofearthworks, but not an effort was made to hold it, and an incrediblepanic seemed everywhere to have seized the Turks. 

Russia had almost accomplished the task for which it had been strivingduring ten centuries. Constantinople at last lay at its mercy. The Turksstill had an army, still had strong positions for defence, but everyshred of courage seemed to have fled from their hearts, and their powersof resistance to be at an end. They were in a state of utterdemoralization and ready to give way to Russia at all points and acceptalmost any terms they could obtain. Had they decided to continue thefight, they still possessed a position famous for its adaptation todefence, behind which it was possible to hold at bay all the power ofRussia. 

This was the celebrated position of Buyak-Tchek-medje, a defensive linetwenty-five miles from Constantinople and of remarkable militarystrength. The peninsula between the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmora isat this point only twenty miles wide, and twelve of these miles areoccupied by broad lakes which extend inland from either shore. Of theremaining distance, about half is made up of swamps which are almost orquite impassable, while dense and difficult thickets occupy the rest ofthe line. Behind this stretch of lake, swamp, and thicket there extendsfrom sea to sea a ridge from four hundred to seven hundred feet inheight, the whole forming a most admirable position for defence. Thisridge had been fortified by the Turks with redoubts, trenches, andrifle-pits, which, fully garrisoned and mounted with guns, might haveproved impregnable to the strongest force. The thirty thousand menwithin them could have given great trouble to the whole Russian army, and double that number might have completely arrested its march. Yetthis great natural stronghold was given up without a blow, signed awaywith a stroke of the pen. 

[Illustration: THE WALLS OF CONSTANTINOPLE. ]

On January 31 an armistice was signed, one of whose terms was that thisformidable defensive line should be evacuated by the Turks, who were toretire to an inner line, while the Russians were to occupy a positionabout ten miles distant. It was no consideration for Turkey that nowkept the Russians outside the great capital, but dread of the powers ofEurope, which jealously distrusted an increase of the power of Russia, and were bent on saving Turkey from the hands of the czar. 

On February 12 an event took place that threatened ominous results. TheBritish fleet forced the passage of the Dardanelles and moved uponConstantinople, on the pretence of protecting the lives of Britishsubjects in that city. As soon as news of this movement reached St. Petersburg the emperor telegraphed to the Grand Duke Nicholas, givinghim authority to march a part of his army into Constantinople, on thesame plea that the British had made. In response the grand duke demandedof the sultan the right to occupy a part of the environs of his capitalwith Russian soldiers, the negotiations ending with the permission tooccupy the village of San Stefano, on the Sea of Marmora, about sixmiles from the walls of the threatened city. 

What would be the end of it all was difficult to foresee. On the watersof the city floated the English iron-clads, with their mute threat ofwar; around the walls Turkish troops were rapidly throwing upearthworks; leading officers in the Russian army chafed at the thoughtof stopping so near their longed-for goal, and burned with the desire tomake a final end of the empire of the Turks and add Constantinople tothe dominions of the czar. Yet though thus, as it were, on the edge of avolcano, their ordinary policy of delay and hesitation was shown by theTurkish diplomats, and the treaty of peace was not concluded and signeduntil the 3d of March. The Russians had used their controlling positionwith effect, and the treaty largely put an end to Turkish dominion inEurope. 

The news of the signing was received with cheers of enthusiasm by theRussian army, drawn up on the shores of the inland sea, thePreobrajensky, the famous regiment of Peter the Great, holding the postof honor. Scarce a rifle-shot distant, crowding in groups the crests ofthe neighboring hills, and deeply interested spectators of the scene, appeared numbers of their late opponents. The news received, thecheering battalions wheeled into column, and past the grand duke wentthe army in rapid review, the march still continuing after darkness haddescended on the scene. 

And thus ended the war, with the Russians within sight of the walls ofthat city which for so many centuries they had longed and struggled topossess. Only for the threatening aspect of the powers of Europe theOttoman empire would have ended then and there, and the Turk, "encampedin Europe, " would have ended forever his rule over Christian realms. 

_THE NIHILISTS AND THEIR WORK. _

In 1861 Alexander II. , Emperor of Russia, signed a proclamation for theemancipation of the Russian serfs, giving freedom by a stroke of the pento over fifty millions of human beings. In 1881, twenty yearsafterwards, when, as there is some reason to believe, he was about togrant a constitution and summon a parliament for the politicalemancipation of the Russian people, he fell victim to a band ofrevolutionists, and the thought of granting liberty to his peopleperished with him. 

This assassination was the work of the secret society known as theNihilists. To say that their association was secret is equivalent tosaying that we know nothing of their purposes other than their name andtheir deeds indicate. Nihilism signifies _nothingness_. It comes fromthe same root as _annihilate_, and annihilation of despots appears tohave been the Nihilist theory of obtaining political rights. Thissociety reached its culmination in the reign of Alexander II. , and, despite the fact that he proved himself one of the mildest and mostpublic-spirited of the czars, he was chosen as the victim of the theoryof obtaining political regeneration by terror. 

Threats preceded deeds. The final years of the emperor's life were madewretched through fear and anxiety. His ministers were killed by therevolutionists. Some of the guards placed about his person becamevictims of the secret band. Letters bordered with black and threateningthe emperor's life were found among his papers or his clothes. Anexplosive powder placed in his handkerchief injured his sight for atime; a box of asthma pills sent him proved to contain a small butdangerous infernal machine. He grew haggard through this constant peril;his hair whitened, his form shrank, his nerves were unstrung. 

In February, 1879, Prince Krapotkin, governor-general of Kharkoff, waskilled by a pistol-shot fired into his carriage window. In April aNihilist fired five pistol-shots at the czar. In June the Nihilistsresolved to use dynamite with the purpose of destroying thegovernors-general of several provinces and the czar and heir-apparent. Among their victims was the chief of police, while two of his successorsbarely escaped death. 

The first attempt to kill the czar by dynamite took the form ofexcavating mines under three railroads on one of which he was expectedto travel. Of these mines only one was exploded. A house on the Moscowrailroad, not far from that city, was purchased by the conspirators, andan underground passage excavated from its cellar to the roadway. Hereauger-holes were bored upward in which were inserted iron pipescommunicating with dynamite stored below. On the day when the emperorwas expected to pass, a woman Nihilist named Sophia Perovskya stoodwithin view of the track, with instructions to wave her handkerchief tothe conspirators in the house at the proper moment. The pilot trainwhich always preceded the imperial train was allowed to pass. The othertrain drew up to take water, and was wrecked by the explosion of themine. Fortunately for the emperor, he was in the pilot train and out ofdanger. 

Some of the participants in this affair were arrested, but their chief, a German named Hartmann, escaped. Despite the utmost efforts of thepolice, he made his way safely out of Russia, aided by Nihilists atevery step, sometimes travelling on foot, at other times in peasants'carts, finally crossing the frontier and reaching the nest ofconspirators at Geneva. Here he is supposed to have taken part withothers in devising a new and what proved a fatal plot. Meanwhile a freshattempt was made on the life of the czar. 

On February 5, 1880, Alexander II. Was to entertain at dinner in theWinter Palace a royal visitor, Prince Alexander of Hesse. Fortunately, the czar was detained for a short time, and the hour fixed for thedinner had passed when the party proceeded along the corridor to thedining-hall. The brief delay probably saved their lives, for at thatmoment a tremendous explosion took place, wrecking the dining-hall andcompletely demolishing the guard-room, which was filled with dead anddying victims, sixty-seven in all. It proved that a Nihilist hadobtained employment among some carpenters engaged in repairs within thepalace, and had succeeded in storing dynamite in a tool-chest in hisroom. He escaped, and was never seen in St. Petersburg again. Two dayslater the corpse of a murdered policeman was found on the frozen surfaceof the Neva, a paper pinned to his breast threatening with death everygovernor-general except Melikoff, the successor of the murderedKrapotkin. 

Their failures had proved so nearly successes that the Nihilists wererather encouraged than depressed. New plans followed the failure of oldones. It was proposed to poison the emperor and his son, the murder tobe followed by a revolt of the disaffected in Moscow and St. Petersburg, the seizure of the palaces, and the establishment of a constitutionalgovernment. This plan, however, was given up as not likely to have the"_great moral effect_" which the Nihilists hoped to produce. 

A Nihilist student in St. Petersburg had sent to the Paris committee ofthe society a recipe for a formidable explosive of his invention. Aquantity of this dangerous substance was manufactured in France andsecretly conveyed to St. Petersburg, where bombs to contain it had beenprepared. The plans of the conspirators were now very carefully laid. They did not propose to fail again, if care could insure success. Acheesemonger's shop was opened on a street leading to the palace, underwhich a mine was laid to the centre of the carriage-way, it beingproposed to kill the czar when out driving. If his carriage should takeanother route and follow the street leading from the Catharine Canal, itwas arranged to wreck it with bombs flung by hand. The death of the czarwas the sole thing in view. The conspirators seemed willing freely tosacrifice their own lives to that object. As regards the mine, it was soheavily charged with dynamite that its explosion would have wrecked agreat part of the Anitchkoff Palace while killing the czar. 

How the explosive material was conveyed from Paris to Russia is amystery which was never successfully traced by the police. The utmostcare was taken at the frontiers to prevent the entrance of anysuspicious substance. For a year or two even the tea that came on thebacks of camels from China was carefully searched, while all travellerswere closely examined, and all articles coming from Western Europe werealmost pulled to pieces in the minuteness of the scrutiny. The explosiveis said to have looked like golden syrup, and to have been sweet to thetaste, though acrid in its after-effects. A drop or two let fall on ahot stove flashed up in a brilliant sheet of flame, though without smellor noise. 

[Illustration: THE ARREST OF A NIHILIST. ]

Among the conspirators, one of the most useful was Sophia Perovskya, thewoman already named. She was young, of noble family, handsome, educated, and fascinating in manner. Her beauty and high connections gave heropportunities which none of her fellow-conspirators enjoyed, and by herinfluence over men of rank and position she was enabled to learn many ofthe secrets of the court and to become familiar with all the precautionstaken by the police to insure the safety of the czar. There was anotherwoman in the plot, a Jewish girl named Hesse Helfman. Eight menconstituted the remainder of the party. 

The fatal day came in March, 1881. On the morning of the 12th Melikoff, minister of the interior, told the czar that a man connected with therailroad explosion had just been arrested, on whose person were foundpapers indicating a new plot. He earnestly entreated Alexander to avoidexposing himself. On the next morning the czar went early to mass, andsubsequently accompanied his brother, the Grand Duke Michael, to inspecthis body-guard. Sophia Perovskya had been apprised of these intendedmovements, and informed the chief conspirators, who at once determinedthat the deed should be done that day. The lover of Hesse Helfman hadbeen arrested and had at once shot himself. Papers of an incriminatingcharacter had been found in her house, and it was feared that furtherdelay might frustrate the plot, so that the purpose of waiting until theczar and his son might be slain together was abandoned. It was not knownwhich street the czar would take. If he took the one, the mine was to beexploded; if the other, the bombs were to be thrown. 

Two men, Resikoff and Elnikoff, the latter a young man completely underSophia's influence, were to throw the bombs. She took a position fromwhich she might signal the approach of the carriage. As it proved, theCatharine Canal route was taken. The carriage approached. Everythingwore its usual aspect. There was nothing to excite suspicion. Suddenly adark object was hurled from the sidewalk through the air and atremendous report was heard. Resikoff had flung his bomb. A baker's boyand the Cossack footman of the czar were instantly killed, but theintended victim was unhurt and the horses were only slightly wounded. The coachman, who had escaped injury, wished to drive onward at speedout of the quickly gathering crowd, but Alexander, who had seen hisfootman fall, insisted on getting out of the carriage to assist him. Itwas a fatal resolve. As his feet touched the ground, Elnikoff flung hisbomb. It exploded at the feet of the czar with such force as to throwmen many yards distant to the ground, but proved fatal to only two, Elnikoff, who was instantly killed, and Alexander, who was mortallywounded, his lower limbs and the lower part of his body beingfrightfully shattered. He survived for a few hours in dreadful pain. 

Terrible as was the crime, it was worse than useless. The proposedrising did not take place. A new czar immediately succeeded the deadone. The hoped-for constitution perished with him upon whom it depended. The Nihilists, instead of gaining liberal institutions, had set back theclock of reform for a generation, and perhaps much longer. Of theconspirators, one of the men was killed, one shot himself, and twoescaped; the other four were executed. Of the women, Sophia wasexecuted. She knew too much, and those who had betrayed to her thesecrets of the court, fearing that she might implicate them, privatelyurged the new czar to sign her death-warrant. She held her peace, anddied without a word. 

_THE ADVANCE OF RUSSIA IN ASIA. _

The Emperor of Russia, lord of his people, absolute autocrat over someone hundred and twenty-five millions of the human race, to-day standsmaster not only of half the soil of Europe but of more than a third ofthe far greater continent of Asia. To gain some definite idea of thetotal extent of this vast empire it may suffice to say that it isconsiderably more than double the size of Europe, and nearly as large asthe whole of North America. The tales already given will serve to showhow the European empire of Russia gradually spread outward from itsearly home in the city and state of Novgorod until it covered half thecontinent. How Russia made its way into Asia has been described in partin the story of the conquest of Siberia. The remainder needs to be told. 

[Illustration: DOWAGER CZARINA OF RUSSIA. ]

It is now more than three hundred years since the Cossack robber Yermakinvaded Siberia, and more than two centuries since that vast section ofNorthern Asia was added to the Russian empire. The great river Amur, flowing far through Eastern Siberia to the Pacific, was discovered in1643 by a party of Cossack hunters, who launched their boats on thismagnificent stream and sailed down it to the sea. It was Chinese soilthrough which it ran, its waters flowing through the province ofManchuria, the native land of the emperors of China. 

But to this the Russian pioneers paid little heed. They invaded Chinesesoil, built forts on the Amur, and for forty years war went on. In theend they were driven out, and China came to her own again. 

Thus matters stood until the year 1854. Six years before, an officerwith four Cossacks had been sent down the river to spy out the land. They never returned, and not a word could be had from China as to theirfate. In the year named the Russians explored the river in force. Chinaprotested, but did not act, and the whole vast territory north of thestream was proclaimed as Russian soil. Forts were built to make good theclaim, and China helplessly yielded to the gigantic steal. Since thenRussia has laid hands on an extensive slice of Chinese territory whichlies on the Pacific coast far to the south of the Amur, and has forciblytaken possession of the Japanese island of Saghalien. Her avariciouseyes are fixed on the kingdom of Corea, and the whole of Manchuria mayyet become Russian soil. 

Siberia is by no means the inhospitable land of ice which the namesuggests to our minds. That designation applies well to its northernhalf, but not to the Siberia of the south. Here are vast fertile plains, prolific in grain, which need only the coming railroad facilities tomake this region the granary of the Russian empire. The great rivers andthe numerous lakes of the country abound in valuable fish; large forestsof useful timber are everywhere found; fur-bearing animals yield a richharvest in the icy regions of the north; the mineral wealth is immense, including iron, gold, silver, platinum, copper, and lead; preciousstones are widely found, among them the diamond, emerald, topaz, andamethyst; and of ornamental stones may be named malachite, jasper, andporphyry, from which magnificent vases, tables, and other articles ofornament are made. The region on the Amur and its tributaries isparticularly valuable and rich, and a great population is destined inthe future to find an abiding-place in this vast domain. 

South of Siberia lies another immense extent of territory, stretchingacross the continent, and comprising the great upland plain known as thesteppes. On this broad expanse rain rarely falls, and its surface ishalf a desert, unfit for agriculture, but yielding pasturage to vastherds of cattle, horses, and sheep, the property of wandering tribes. Here is the great home of the nomad, and from these broad plainsconquering hordes have poured again and again over the civilized world. From here came the Huns, who devastated Europe in Roman days; the Turks, who later overthrew the Eastern Empire; and the Mongols, who, led byGenghis and Tamerlane, committed frightful ravages in Asia and forcenturies lorded it over Russia. 

To-day the greater part of this vast territory belongs to China. Butwestward from Chinese Mongolia extends a broad region of the steppes, bordering upon Europe on the west, and traversed by numerous wanderingtribes known by the name of the Kirghis hordes. For many years Russia, the great annexer, has been quietly extending her power over the domainof the hordes, until her rule has become supreme in the land of theKirghis, which in all maps of Europe is now given as part of Siberia. 

One by one military posts have been established in this semi-desertrealm, the wandering tribes being at first cajoled and in the enddefied. The glove of silk has been at first extended to the tribes, butwithin it the hand of iron has always held fast its grasp. Thesimple-minded chiefs have easily been brought over to the Russianschemes. Some of them have been won by money and soft words; others bysome mark of distinction, such as a medal, a handsome sabre, a cockedhat or a gold-laced coat. Rather than give these up some of them wouldhave sold half the steppes. They have signed papers of which they didnot understand a word, and given away rights of whose value they wereutterly ignorant. 

Thus insidiously has the power of the emperor made its way into thesteppes, fort after fort being built, those in the rear being abandonedas the country became subdued and new forts arose in the south. Citieshave risen around some of these forts, of which may be mentioned Kopaland Vernoje, which to-day have thousands of inhabitants. 

"Russia is thus surrounding the Kirgheez hordes with civilization, " saysthe traveller Atkinson, "which will ultimately bring about a moralrevolution in this country. Agriculture and other branches of industrywill be introduced by the Russian peasant, than whom no man can betteradapt himself to circumstances. "

Michie, another traveller, gives in brief the general method of theRussian advance. It will be seen to be similar to that by which theIndian lands of the western United States were gained. "The Cossacks atRussian stations make raids on their own account on the Kirgheez, andsubject them to rough treatment. An outbreak occurs which it requires amilitary force to subdue. An expedition for this purpose is sent everyyear to the Kirgheez steppes. The Russian outposts are pushed fartherand farther south, more disturbances occur, and so the front is year byyear extended, on pretence of keeping peace. This has been the systempursued by the Russian government in all its aggressions in Asia. "

But this does not tell the whole story of the Russian advance in Asia. South of the Kirghis steppes lies another great and important territory, known as Central Asia, or Turkestan. Much of this region is absolutedesert, wide expanses of sand, waterless and lifeless, on which to haltis to court death. Only swift-moving troops of horsemen, or caravanscarrying their own supplies, dare venture upon these arid plains. Butwithin this realm of sand lie a number of oases whose soil is wellwatered and of the highest fertility. Two mighty rivers traverse theselands, the Amu-Daria--once known as the Oxus--and theSyr-Daria--formerly the Jaxartes, --both of which flow into the Sea ofAral. It is to the waters of these streams that the fertility of _the_oases is due, they being diverted from their course to irrigate theland. 

Three of the oases are of large size. Of these Khiva has the CaspianSea as its western boundary, Bokhara lies more to the east, whilenortheast of the latter extends Khokand. The deserts surrounding theseoases have long been the lurking-places of the Turkoman nomads, a raceof wild and warlike horsemen, to whom plunder is as the breath of life, and who for centuries kept Persia in alarm, carrying off hosts ofcaptives to be sold as slaves. 

The religion of Arabia long since made its way into this land, whosepeople are fanatical Mohammedans. Its leading cities, Khiva, Bokhara, and Samarcand, have for many centuries been centres of bigotry. For agesTurkestan remained a land of mystery. No European was sure for a momentof life if he ventured to cross its borders. Vambéry, the traveller, penetrated it disguised as a dervish, after years of study of thelanguage and habits of the Mohammedans, yet he barely escaped with life. It is pleasant to be able to say that this state of affairs has ceased. Russia has curbed the violence of the fanatics and the nomads, and theonce silent and mysterious land is now traversed by the iron horse. 

The first step of Russian invasion in this quarter was made in 1602. Inthat year a Russian force captured the city of Khiva, but was not ableto hold its prize. In 1703, during the reign of Peter the Great, theKhan of Khiva placed his dominions under Russian rule, and during thecentury Khiva continued friendly, but after the opening of thenineteenth century it became bitterly hostile. 

Meanwhile Russia was making its way towards the Caspian and Aral seas. In 1835 a fort was built on the eastern shore of the Caspian andseveral armed steamers were placed on its waters. Four years later warbroke out with Khiva, and the khan was forced to give up some Russianprisoners he had seized. In 1847 a fort was built on the Sea of Aral, atthe mouth of the Syr-Daria, whose waters formed the only safe avenue tothe desert-girdled khanate of Khokand. Steamers were brought in sectionsfrom Sweden, being carried with great labor across the desert to theinland sea, on whose banks they were put together and launched. Armedwith cannon, they quickly made their appearance on the navigable watersof the Syr. 

The Amu-Daria is not navigable, so that the Syr at that time formed theonly ready channel of approach to Khokand, and from this to the otherkhanates, none of which could be otherwise reached without a long anddangerous desert march. Russia thus, by planting herself at the mouth ofthe Syr, had gained the most available position from which to begin acareer of conquest in Central Asia. 

War necessarily followed these steps of invasion. In 1853 the Russiansbesieged and captured the fort of Ak Mechet, on the Syr, thought by itsholders to be impregnable. Up the river, bordered on each side by anarrow band of vegetation from which a desert spread away, the Russiansgradually advanced, finally planting a military post within thirty-twomiles of Tashkend, the military key of Central Asia. 

Such was the state of affairs in 1862, when war arose between thekhanates themselves, and the Emir of Bokhara invaded and conqueredKhokand. Russia looked on, awaiting its opportunity. It came at lengthin an appeal from the merchants of Tashkend for protection. Theprotection came in true Russian style, a Cossack force marching into andoccupying the town, which has since then remained in Russian hands. Themovement of invasion went on until a large portion of Khokand wasseized. 

This audacious procedure of the Muscovites, as the Emir of Bokhararegarded it, roused that ruler to a high pitch of fury and fanaticism. He imprisoned Colonel Struve, an eminent Russian astronomer who was on amission to his capital, and declared a holy war against the invadinginfidels. 

The emir had little fear of his foes, having what he considered twoimpassable lines of defence. Of these the first was the desert, whichenclosed his land as within a wall of sand. The second, and in his viewthe more impregnable, was the large number of saints that lay buried inBokharan soil, before whose graves the infidel host would surely bestayed. 

He probably soon lost faith in the saints, for the Russians quicklydrove his troops out of Khokand and then invaded Bokhara itself, defeating his troops near the venerable and famous city of Samarcand, ofwhich they immediately afterwards took possession. These infidelassaults soon brought the holy war to an end, the emir being forced tocede Samarcand and three other places to Russia, the four being sochosen as to give the invaders full military control of the country. 

This disaster, which fell upon Bokhara in 1868, was repeated in Khiva in1873. Bokharan troops aided the Russians, and Bokhara was rewarded witha generous slice of the conquered territory. Khiva was overthrown asquickly as the other oases had been, and the whole of Central Asiabecame Russian soil. It is true that a shadow of the old government ismaintained, the khans of Bokhara and Khiva still occupying theirthrones. But they are mere puppets to move as the Czar of Russia pullsthe strings. As for Khokand, it has disappeared from the map of Asia, being replaced by the Russian province of Ferghana. 

We have thus in few words told a long and vital story, that of the stepsby which Russia gained its strong foothold in Asia, and extended itsboundaries from the Ural Mountains and Caspian Sea to the Pacific Oceanand the boundaries of China, Persia, and India, all of which may yetbecome part of the vast Russian empire, if what some consider the secretpurpose of Russia be carried out. 

Asia has been won by the sword; it is being held by other influences. Schools have been founded among the Kirghis, and a newspaper is printedin their language. Their plundering habits have been suppressed, agriculture is encouraged, and luxuries are being introduced into thesteppes, with the result of changing the ideas and habits of the nomads. Thriving Cossack colonies have grown up on the plains, and the wanderingbarbarians behold with wonder the ways and means of civilization intheir midst. 

The same may be said of Turkestan, in which violence has been suppressedand industry encouraged, while the Russian population, alike of thesteppes and of the oases, is rapidly increasing. A railroad penetratesthe formerly mysterious land, trains roll daily over its soil, carryinggreat numbers of Asiatic passengers, and an undreamed-of activity ofcommerce has taken the place of the old-time plundering raids of thehalf-savage Turkoman horsemen. 

The Russian is thoroughly adapted to deal with the Asiatic. Half anAsiatic himself, in spite of his fair complexion, he knows how to bafflethe arts and overcome the prejudices of his new subjects. The Russiandiplomatist has all the softness and suavity of his Asiatic congeners. He conforms to their customs and allows them to delay and prevaricate totheir hearts' content. He is an adept in the art of bribery, hasemissaries everywhere, and is much too deeply imbued with this Asiaticspirit for the bluntness of European methods. "You must beat about thebush with a Russian, " we are told. "You must flatter them and humbugthem. You must talk about everything but _the_ thing. If you want to buya horse you must pretend you want to sell a cow, and so work graduallyround to the point in view. "

Thus the shrewd Russian has gained point after point from his Orientalneighbors, and has succeeded in annexing a vast territory while keepingon the friendliest of terms with his new subjects. He has respectedtheir prejudices, left their religions untouched, dealt with them intheir own ways, and is rapidly planting the Muscovite type ofcivilization where Asiatic barbarism had for untold ages prevailed. 

No man can predict the final result of these movements. Asia has been inall ages the field of great invasions and of the sudden building up ofimmense empires. But the movements of the Muscovite conquerors have noneof the torrent rush of those great invasions of the past. The Russianadvances with extreme caution, takes no risks, and makes sure of hisgame before he shows his hand. He prepares the ground in front beforetaking a step forward, and all that he leaves in his rear falls into thestrong folds of the imperial net. Gold and diplomacy are his weaponsequally with the sword, and in the progress of his arms we seem to seeEurope marching into Asia with a solid and unyielding front. 

_THE RAILROAD IN TURKESTAN. _

On the 24th of January, 1881, Edward O'Donovan, a daring traveller whohad journeyed far through the wastes and wilds of Turkestan, foundhimself on a mountain summit not far removed from the northern boundaryof Persia, from which his startled eyes beheld a spectacle of fearfulimport. Below him the desert stretched in a broad level far away to thedistant horizon. Near the foot of the range rose a great fortress, within which at that moment a frightful struggle was taking place. Bringing his field-glass to bear upon the scene, the traveller saw ahost of terror-stricken fugitives streaming across the plain, and hotupon their steps a throng of merciless pursuers, who slaughtered them inmultitudes as they fled. Even from where he stood the white face of thedesert seemed changing to a crimson hue. 

What the astounded traveller beheld was the death-struggle of the desertTurkomans, the hand of retribution smiting those savage brigands who forcenturies had carried death and misery wherever they rode. These werethe Tekke Turkomans, the tribes who haunted the Persian frontier, andwhose annual raids swept hundreds of captives from that peaceful land tospend the remainder of their days in the most woful form of slavery. Fora month previous General Skobeleff, the most daring and merciless ofthe Russian leaders, had besieged them in their great fort of Geop Tepe, an earthwork nearly three miles in circuit, and containing within itsample walls a desert nation, more than forty thousand in all, men, women, and children. 

On that day, fatal to the Turkoman power, Skobeleff had taken the fortby storm, dealing death wherever he moved, until not a man was leftalive within its walls except some hundreds of fettered Persian slaves. Through its gateways a trembling multitude had fled, and upon thesemiserable fugitives the Russian had let loose his soldiers, horse, foot, and artillery, with the savage order to hunt them to the death and giveno quarter. 

Only too well was the brutal order obeyed. Not men alone, but women andchildren as well, fell victims to the sword, and only when night put anend to the pursuit did that terrible massacre cease. By that time eightthousand persons, of both sexes and all ages, lay stretched in deathupon the plain. Within the fort thousands more had fallen, the women andchildren here being spared. Skobeleff's report said that twenty thousandin all had been slain. 

Such was the frightful scene which lay before O'Donovan's eyes when hereached the mountain top, on his way to the Russian camp, a spectacle ofhorrible carnage which only a man of the most savage instincts couldhave ordered. "Bloody Eyes" the Turkomans named Skobeleff, and the titlefairly indicated his ruthless lust for blood. It was his theory of warto strike hard when he struck at all, and to make each battle a lessonthat would not soon be forgotten. The Turkoman nomads have been taughttheir lesson well. They have given no trouble since that day ofslaughter and revenge. 

Such was one of the weapons with which the Russians conquered thedesert, --the sword. It was succeeded by another, --the iron rail. It isnow some twenty years since the idea of a railroad from the Caspian Seaeastward was first advanced. In 1880 a narrow-gauge road was begun toaid Skobeleff, but that daring and impetuous chief had made his marchand finished his work before the rails had crept far on their way. Soonit was determined to change the narrow-gauge for a broad-gauge road, andGeneral Annenkoff, a skilful engineer, was placed in charge in 1885, with orders to push it forward with all speed. 

It was a new and bold project which the Russians had in view. Neverbefore had a railroad been built across so bleak a plain, a treeless andwaterless expanse, stretching for hundreds of miles in a dead level, over which the winds drove at will the shifting sands, constantlythreatening to bury any work which man ventured to lay upon the desert'sbroad breast. West of Bokhara and south of Khiva stretched the greatdesert of Kara-Kum, touching the Caspian Sea on the west, the Amu-DariaRiver on the east, the home of the wandering Turkomans, the born foes ofthe settled races, but from whom all thought of disputing the Russianrule had for the time been driven by Skobeleff's death-dealing blade. 

The total length of the road thus ordered to be built--extending fromthe shores of the Caspian Sea, the outpost of European Russia, to thefar-away city of Samarcand, the ancient capital of Timur the Tartar, andthe very stronghold of Asiatic barbarism--was little short of a thousandmiles, of which several hundred were bleak and barren desert. Twoimmense steppes, waterless, and scorching hot in summer, lay on theroute, while it traversed the oases of Kizil-Arvat, Merv, Charjui, andBokhara. In the northern section of the last lay the famous city ofSamarcand, the eastern terminus of the road. The western terminus was atUsun-ada, on the Caspian, and opposite the petroleum region of Baku, perhaps the richest oil-yielding district in the world. 

General Annenkoff had special difficulties to overcome in the buildingof this road, of a kind never met with by railroad engineers before. Chief among these were the lack of water and the instability of theroadway, the wind at times manifesting an awkward disposition to blowout the foundation from under the ties, at other times to bury the wholeroad under acres of flying sand. 

These difficulties were got rid of in various ways. Fresh water, made byboiling the salt water of the Caspian and condensing the steam, wascarried in vats or tuns over the road to the working parties. At a laterdate water was conveyed in pipes from the mountains to fill cisterns atthe stations, whence it was carried in canals or underground conduitsalong the line, every well and spring on the route being utilized. 

To overcome the shifting of the sand, near the Caspian it wasthoroughly soaked with salt water, and at other places was covered witha layer of clay. But there are long distances where no such means couldbe employed, at least two hundred miles of utter wilderness, where thesurface resembles a billowy sea, the sand being raised in loose hillocksand swept from the troughs between, flying in such clouds before everywind that an incessant battle with nature is necessary to keep the roadfrom burial. To prevent this, tamarisk, wild oats, and desert shrubs areplanted along the line, and in particular that strange plant of thewilderness, the _saxaoul_, whose branches are scraggly and scant, butwhose sturdy roots sink deep into the sand, seeking moisture in thedepths. Fascines of the branches of this plant were laid along the trackand covered with sand, and in places palisades were built, of which onlythe tops are now visible. 

Yet despite all these efforts the sands creep insidiously on, and incertain localities workmen have to be kept employed, shovelling it backas it comes, and fighting without cessation against the forces of thedesert and the winds. In the building of the road, and in this battlingwith the sands, Turkomans have been largely employed, having given upbrigandage for honest labor, in which they have proved the mostefficient of the various workmen engaged upon the road. 

Aside from the peculiar difficulties above outlined, the TranscaspianRailway was remarkably favored by nature. For nearly the whole distancethe country is as flat as a billiard-table, and the road so straightthat at times it runs for twenty or thirty miles without the shadow of acurve. In the entire distance there is not a tunnel, and only some smallcuttings have been made through hills of sand. Of bridges, other thanmere culverts, there are but three in the whole length of the road, theonly large one being that over the Amu-Daria. This is a hastily built, rickety affair of timber, put up only as a make-shift, and at the mercyof the stream if a serious rise should take place. 

The whole road, indeed, was hastily made, with a single track, the railssimply spiked down, and the work done at the rate of from a mile to amile and a half a day. Before the Bokharans fairly realized what wasafoot, the iron horse was careering over their level plains, and theshrill scream of the locomotive whistle was startling the saints intheir graves. 

Over such a road no great speed can be attained. Thirty miles an hour isthe maximum, and from ten to twenty miles the average speed, while thestops at stations are exasperatingly long to travellers from theimpatient West. To the Asiatics they are of no concern, time being withthem not worth a moment's thought. 

In the operation of this road petroleum waste is used as fuel, therefining works at Baku yielding an inexhaustible supply. The carriagesare of mixed classes, some being two stories in height, each story ofdifferent class. There are very few first-class carriages on the road. As for the stations, some of them are miles from the road, that ofBokhara being ten miles away. This method was adopted to avoid excitingthe prejudices of the Asiatics, who at first were not in favor of theroad, regarding it as a device of Shaitan, the spirit of evil. Yet the"fire-cart, " as they call it, is proving very convenient, and they haveno objection to let this fiery Satan haul their grain and cotton tomarket and carry themselves across the waterless plains. The camel isbeing thrown out of business by this shrill-voiced prince of evil. Theroad is being extended over the oases, and will in the end bring allTurkestan under its control. 

It almost takes away one's breath to think of railway stations andtime-tables in connection with the old-time abiding-place of theterrible Tartar, and of the iron horse careering across the empire ofbarbarism, rushing into the metropolis of superstition, and waking withthe scream of the steam whistle the silent centuries of the Orient. Nothing of greater promise than this planting of the railroad in CentralAsia has been performed of recent years. The son of the desert is to becivilized despite himself, and to be taught the arts and ideas of theWest by the irresistible logic of steel and steam. 

But this enterprise is a minor one compared with that which Russia hasrecently completed, that of a railway extending across the whole widthof Siberia, being, with its branches, more than five thousand mileslong--much the longest railway in the world. Work on this was begun in1890, and it is now completed to Vladivostok, the chief Russian port onthe Pacific, a traveller being able to ride from St. Petersburg to theshores of the Pacific Ocean without change of cars. A branch of thisroad runs southward through Manchuria to Port Arthur, but as a result ofthe war with Japan this has been transferred to China, Manchuria beingwrested from the controlling grasp of Russia. It is a single-track road, but it is proposed to double-track it throughout its entire length, thusgreatly increasing its availability as a channel of transport alike inwar and peace. 

All this is of the deepest significance. The railroad in Asia has cometo stay; and with its coming the barbarism of the past is nearing itsend. The sleeping giant of Orientalism is stirring uneasily in its bed, its drowsy senses stirred by the shrill alarum of the locomotivewhistle. New ideas and new habits must follow in the track of the ironhorse. The West is forcing itself into the East, with all its restlessactivity. In the time to come this whole broad continent is destined tobe covered with railroads as with a vast spider-web; new industries willbe established, machinery introduced, and the great region of thesteppes, famous in the past only as the starting-point of conqueringmigrations, must in the end become an active centre of industry, thehome of peace and prosperity, a new-found abiding-place of civilizationand human progress. 

_AN ESCAPE FROM THE MINES OF SIBERIA. _

The name Siberia calls up to our minds the vision of a stupendousprison, a vast open penitentiary larger than the whole United States, acontinental place of captivity which for three centuries past has beenthe seat of more wretchedness and misery than any other land inhabitedby the human race. To that far, frozen land a stream of the best andworst of the people of Russia has steadily flowed, including prisonersof state, religious dissenters, rebels, Polish patriots, convicts, vagabonds, and all others who in any way gave offence to the authoritiesor stood in the way of persons in power. 

Not freedom of action alone, but even freedom of thought, is a crime inRussia. It is a land of innumerable spies, of secret arrest and rapidcondemnation, in which the captive may find himself on the road toSiberia without knowing with what crime he is charged, while hisfriends, even his wife and family, may remain in ignorance of his fate. Every year a convoy of some twenty thousand wretched prisoners is sentoff to that dismal land, including the ignorant and the educated, thedebased and the refined, men and women, young and old, the horror ofexile being added to indescribably by this mingling of delicate andrefined men and women with the rudest and most brutal of the convictclass, all under the charge of mounted Cossacks, well armed, and bearinglong whips as their most effective arguments of control. 

It may be said here that the misery of this long journey on foot hasbeen somewhat mitigated since the introduction of railroads andsteamboats, and will very likely be done away with when theTrans-siberian Railway is finished; but for centuries the horrors of theconvict train have piteously appealed to the charity of the world, whilethe sufferings and brutalities which the exiles have had to endure standalmost without parallel in the story of convict life. 

The exiles are divided into two classes, those who lose all and thosewho lose part of their rights. Of a convict of the former class neitherthe word nor the bond has any value: his wife is released from all dutyto him, he cannot possess any property or hold any office. In prison hewears convict clothes, has his head half shaved, and may be cruellyflogged at the will of the officials, or murdered almost with impunity. Those deprived of partial rights are usually sent to Western Siberia;those deprived of total rights are sent to Eastern Siberia, where theirlife, as workers in the mines, is so miserable and monotonous that deathis far more of a relief than something to be feared. 

[Illustration: GROUP OF SIBERIANS. ]

Many of the exiles escape, --some from the districts where they livefree, with privilege of getting a living in any manner available, othersfrom the prisons or mines. The mere feat of running away is in manycases not difficult, but to get out of the country is a very differentmatter. The officers do not make any serious efforts to prevent escapes, and can be easily bribed to allow them, since they are enabled then toturn in the name of the prisoner as still on hand and charge thegovernment for his support. In the gold-mines the convicts work ingangs, and here one will lie in a ditch and be covered with rubbish byhis comrades. When his absence is discovered he is not to be found, andat nightfall he slips from the trench and makes for the forest. 

To spend the summer in the woods is the joy of many convicts. They haveno hope of getting out of the country, which is of such vast extent thatwinter is sure to descend upon them before they can approach the border, but the freedom of life in the woods has for them an undefinable charm. Then as the frigid season approaches they permit themselves to becaught, and go back to their labor or confinement with hearts lightenedby the enjoyment of their vagrant summer wanderings. There is in somecases another advantage to be gained. A twenty years' convict who hasescaped and lets himself be caught again may give a false name, andavoid all incriminating answers through a convenient failure of memory. If not detected, he may in this way get off with a five years' sentenceas a vagrant. But if detected his last lot is worse than his first, since the time he has already served goes for nothing. 

There is another peril to which escaping prisoners are exposed. Thenative tribes are apt to look upon them as game and shoot them down atsight. It is said that they receive three roubles for each convict theybring to the police, dead or alive. "If you shoot a squirrel, " they say, "you get only his skin; but if you shoot a _varnak_ [convict] you gethis skin and his clothing too. "

Atkinson, the Siberian traveller, tells a remarkable story of an escapeof prisoners, which may be given in illustration of the above remarks. One night in September, 1850, the people of Barnaoul, a town in WesternSiberia, were roused from their slumbers by the clatter of a party ofmounted Cossacks galloping up the quiet street. The story they broughtwas an alarming one. Siberia had been invaded by three thousand Tartarsof the desert, who were marching towards the town. Nearly all the goldfrom the Siberian gold-mines lay in Barnaoul, waiting to be smelted intobars and sent to St. Petersburg. There was much silver also, withabundance of other valuable government stores. All this would form arich booty for an army of nomad plunderers, could they obtain it, andthe news filled the town with excitement and alarm. 

As the night passed and the day came on, other Cossacks arrived withstill more alarming news. The three thousand had grown to seventhousand, many of them armed with rifles, who were burning the Kalmuckvillages as they advanced, and murdering every man, woman, and child whofell into their hands. Some thought that the wild hordes of Asia werebreaking loose again, as in the time of Genghis Khan, and the terror ofmany of the people grew intense. 

By noon the enemy had increased to ten thousand, and the peopleeverywhere were flying before their advance. Hasty steps were taken fordefence and for the safety of the gold and silver, while orders weredespatched in all directions to gather a force to meet them on theirway. But as the days passed on the alarm began to subside. The number ofthe invaders declined almost as rapidly as it had grown. They were notadvancing upon the town. No army was needed to oppose them, and Cossackswere sent to stop the march of the troops. In the course of two daysmore the truth was sifted from the mass of wild rumors and reports. Theten thousand invaders dwindled to forty Circassian prisoners who hadescaped from the gold-mines on the Birioussa. 

These fugitives had not a thought of invading the Russian dominions. They were prisoners of war who, with heartless cruelty, had beencondemned to the mines of Siberia for the crime of a patriotic effort tosave their country, and their sole purpose was to return to theirfar-distant homes. 

By the aid of small quantities of gold, which they had managed to hidefrom their guards, they succeeded in purchasing a sufficient supply ofrifles and ammunition from the neighboring tribesmen, which they hid ina mountain cavern about seven miles away. There was no fear of theTartars betraying them, as they had received for the arms ten timestheir value, and would have been severely punished if found with gold intheir possession. 

On a Saturday afternoon near the end of July, 1850, after completing theday's labors, the Circassians left the mine in small parties, going indifferent directions. This excited no suspicion, as they were free tohunt or otherwise amuse themselves after their work. They gradually cametogether in a mountain ravine about six miles south of the mines. Notfar from this locality a stud of spare horses were kept at pasture, andhither some of the fugitives made their way, reaching the spot just asthe animals were being driven into the enclosure for the night. Thethree horse-keepers suddenly found themselves covered with rifles andforced to yield themselves prisoners, while their captors began toselect the best horses from the herd. 

The Circassians deemed it necessary to take the herdsmen with them toprevent them from giving the alarm. Two of these also were skilfulhunters and well acquainted with the surrounding mountain regions, andwere likely to prove useful as guides. In all fifty-five horses werechosen, out of the three or four hundred in the herd. The remainder wereturned out of the enclosure and driven into the forest, as if they hadbroken loose and their keepers were absent in search of them. This done, the captors sought their friends in the glen, by whom they were receivedwith cheers, and before midnight, the moon having risen, the fugitivesbegan their long and dangerous journey. 

Sunrise found them on a high summit, which commanded a view of thegold-mine they had left, marked by the curling smoke which rose fromfires kept constantly alive to drive away the mosquitoes, the pests ofthe region. Taking a last look at their place of exile, they moved oninto a grassy valley, where they breakfasted and fed their horses. Onthey went, keeping a sharp watch upon their guides, day by day, untilthe evening of the fourth day found them past the crest of the range anddescending into a narrow valley, where they decided to spend the night. 

Thus far all had gone well. They were now beyond the Russian frontierand in Chinese territory, and as their guides knew the country nofarther, they were set free and their rifles restored to them. Venisonhad been obtained plentifully on the march, and fugitives and captivesalike passed the evening in feasting and enjoyment. With daybreak theSiberians left to return to the mine and the Circassians resumed theirroute. 

From this time onward difficulties confronted them. They were in aregion of mountains, precipices, ravines, and torrents. One dangerousriver they swam, but, instead of keeping on due south, the difficultiesof the way induced them to change their course to the west, alarmed, probably, by the vast snowy peaks of the Tangnou Mountains in thedistance, though if they had passed these all danger from Siberia wouldhave been at an end. As it was, after more than three weeks ofwandering, the nature of the country forced them towards the northwest, until they came upon the eastern shore of the Altin-Kool Lake. 

Here was their final chance. Had they followed the lake southerly theymight still have reached a place of safety. But ill fortune brought themupon it at a point where it seemed easiest to round it on the north, and they passed on, hoping soon to reach its western shores. But theBëa, the impassable torrent that flows from the lake, forced them againmany miles northward in search of a ford, and into a locality from whichtheir chance of escape was greatly reduced. 

More than two months had passed since they left the mines, and the poorwanderers were still in the vast Siberian prison, from which, if theyhad known the country, they might now have been far away. The regionthey had reached was thinly inhabited by Kalmuck Tartars, and theyfinally entered a village of this people, with whose inhabitants theyunluckily got into a broil, ending in a battle, in which severalKalmucks were killed and the village burned. 

To this event was due the terrifying news that reached Barnaoul, thealarm being carried to a Cossack fort whose commandant was drunk at thetime and sent out a series of exaggerated reports. As for the fugitives, they had in effect signed their death-warrant by their conflict with theKalmucks. The news spread from tribe to tribe, and when the real numberof the fugitives was learned the tribesmen entered savagely intopursuit, determined to obtain revenge for their slain kinsmen. TheCircassians were wandering in an unknown country. The Kalmucks knewevery inch of the ground. Scouts followed the fugitives, and after themcame well-mounted hunters, who rapidly closed upon the trail, being onthe evening of the third day but three miles away. 

The Circassians had crossed the Bëa and turned to the south, but herethey found themselves in an almost impassable group of snow-cladmountains. On they pushed, deeper and deeper into the chain, stillclosely pursued, the Kalmucks so managing the pursuit as to drive theminto a pathless region of the hills. This accomplished, they came onleisurely, knowing that they had their prey safe. 

At length the hungry and weary warriors were driven into a mountainpass, where the pursuers, who had hitherto saved their bullets, began asavage attack, rifle-balls dropping fast into the glen. The fugitivessought shelter behind some fallen rocks, and returned the fire witheffect. But they were at a serious disadvantage, the hunters, who faroutnumbered them, and knew every crag in the ravines, picking them offin safety from behind places of shelter. From point to point theCircassians fell back, defending their successive stations desperately, answering every call to surrender with shouts of defiance, and holdingeach spot until the fall of their comrades warned them that the placewas no longer tenable. 

Night fell during the struggle, and under its cover the remainingfifteen of the brave fugitives made their way on foot deeper into themountains, abandoning their horses to the merciless foe. At daybreakthey resumed their march, scaling the rocky heights in front. Here, scanning the country in search of their pursuers, not one of whom was tobe seen, they turned to the west, a range of snow-clad peaks closing theway in front. A forest of cedars before them seemed to present theironly chance of escape, and they hurried towards it, but when within twohundred yards of the wood a puff of white smoke rose from a thicket, andone of the fugitives fell. The hunters had ambushed them on this spot, and as they rushed for the shelter of some rocks near by five more fellbefore the bullets of their foes. 

The fire was returned with some effect, and then a last desperate rushwas made for the forest shelter. Only four of the poor fellows reachedit, and of these some were wounded. The thick underwood now screenedthem from the volley that whistled after them, and they were soon safefrom the effects of rifle-shots in the tangled forest depths. 

Meanwhile the clouds had been gathering black and dense, and soon rainand sleet began to fall, accompanied by a fierce gale. Two small partiesof Kalmucks were sent in pursuit, while the others began to prepare anencampment under the cedars. The storm rapidly grew into a hurricane, snow falling thick and whirling into eddies, while the pursuers weresoon forced to return without having seen the small remnant of thegallant band. For three days the storm continued, and then was followedby a sharp frost. The winter had set in. 

No further pursuit was attempted. It was not needed. Nothing more wasever seen of the four Circassians, nor any trace of them found. Theyundoubtedly found their last resting-place under the snows of thatmountain storm. 

_THE SEA FIGHT IN THE WATERS OF JAPAN. _

On the memorable Saturday of May 27, 1905, in far eastern waters inwhich the guns of war-ships had rarely thundered before, took place anevent that opened the eyes of the world as if a new planet had sweptinto its ken or a great comet had suddenly blazed out in the easternskies. It was that of one of the most stupendous naval victories inhistory, won by a people who fifty years before had just begun to emergefrom the dim twilight of medićval barbarism. 

Japan, the Nemesis of the East, had won her maiden spurs on the field ofwarfare in her brief conflict with China in 1894, but that was lookedupon as a fight between a young game-cock and a decrepit barn-yard fowl, and the Western world looked with a half-pitying indulgence upon thespectacle of the long-slumbering Orient serving its apprenticeship inmodern war. Yet the rapid and complete triumph of the island empire overthe leviathan of the Asiatic continent was much of a revelation of thelatent power that dwelt in that newly-aroused archipelago, and when in1903 Japan began to speak in tones of menace to a second leviathan, thatof Eastern Europe and Northern Asia, the world's interest was deeplystirred again. 

Would little Japan dare attack a European power and one so great andpopulous as Russia, with half Asia already in its clasp, with strongfortresses and fleets within striking distance, and with a continentalrailway over which it could pour thousands of armed battalions? The ideaseemed preposterous, many looked upon the attitude of Japan as themadness of temerity, and when on February 6, 1904, the echo of the gunsat Port Arthur was heard the world gave a gasp of astonishment andalarm. 

Were there any among us then who believed it possible for little Japanto triumph over the colossus it had so daringly attacked? If any, theywere very few. It is doubtful if there was a man in Russia itself whodreamed of anything but eventual victory, with probably the adding ofthe islands of Japan to its chaplet of orient pearls. True, the successof the attack on their fleet was a painful surprise, and when they sawtheir great iron-clads locked up in Port Arthur harbor it was cause forannoyance. But if the fleet had been taken by surprise, the fortress wasclaimed to be impregnable, the army was powerful and accustomed tovictory over its foes in Asia, and it was with an amused contempt oftheir half-barbarian foes and confidence in rapid and brilliant triumphthat the Muscovite cohorts streamed across Asia with arms in hand andhope in heart. 

We do not propose to tell here what followed. The world knows it. Menread with an interest they had rarely taken in foreign affairs of therapid and stupendous successes of the little soldiers of Nippon, theindomitable valor of the troops, the striking skill of their leaders, the breadth and completeness of their tactics, the training anddiscipline of the men, the rare hygienic condition of the camps, theirimpetuosity in attack, their persistence in pursuit; in short, thesudden advent of an army with all the requisites of a victorious career, as pitted against the ill-handled myriads of Russia, not wanting inbrute courage, but sadly lacking in efficient leadership and strategicalskill in their commanders. 

Back went the Russian hosts, mile by mile, league by league, steadilypressed northward by the unrelenting persistence of the island warriors;while on the Liao-tung peninsula the besieging forces crept on foot byfoot, caring apparently nothing for wounds or death, caring only for thepossession of the fortress which they had been sent to win. 

We should like to record some victories for the Russians, but the annalsof the war tell us of none. Outgeneralled and driven back from theirstrong position on the Yalu River; decisively beaten in the great battleof Liao-yang; checked in their offensive movement on the Shakhe River, with immense loss; and finally utterly defeated in the desperate twoweeks' struggle around Mukden; the field warfare ended in the two greatarmies facing each other at Harbin, with months of manoeuvring beforethem. 

Meanwhile the campaign in the peninsula had gone on with like desperateefforts and final success of the Japanese, Port Arthur surrendering toits irresistible besiegers on the opening day of 1905. With it fell theRussian fleet which had been cooped up in its harbor for nearly a year;defeated and driven back in its every attempt to escape; its flag-ship, the "Petropavlovsk, " sunk by a mine on April 13, 1904, carrying downAdmiral Makaroff and nearly all its crew; the remnant of the fleet beingfinally sunk or otherwise disabled to save them from capture on thesurrender of Port Arthur to the besieging forces. 

Such, in very brief epitome, were the leading features of the conflicton land and its earlier events on the sea. We must now return to thegreat naval battle spoken of above, which calls for detailed descriptionalike from its being the closing struggle of the contest and from itsextraordinary character as a phenomenal event in maritime war. 

The loss of the naval strength of Russia in eastern waters led to adesperate effort to retrieve the disaster, by sending from the Balticevery war-ship that could be got ready, with the hope that a strongfleet on the open waters of the east would enable Russia to regain itsprestige as a naval power and deal a deadly blow at its foe, by closingthe waters upon the possession of which the islanders depended for thesupport of their armies in Manchuria. 

This supplementary fleet, under Admiral Rojestvensky, set sail from theport of Libau on October 16, 1904, beginning its career inauspiciouslyby firing impulsively on some English fishing-boats on the 21st, withthe impression that these were Japanese scouts. This hasty actthreatened to embroil Russia with another foe, the ally of Japan, but itpassed off with no serious results. 

Entering the Mediterranean and passing through the Suez Canal, the finefleet under Rojestvensky, nearly sixty vessels strong, loitered on itsway with wearisome deliberation, dallying for a protracted interval inthe waters of the Indian Ocean and not passing Singapore on its journeynorth till April 12. It looked almost as if its commander feared thetask before him, six months having now passed since it left the Balticon its very deliberate cruise. 

The second Russian squadron, under Admiral Nebogatoff, did not passSingapore until May 5, it being the 13th before the two squadrons metand combined. On the 22d they were seen in the waters of the Philippinesheading northward. The news of this, flashed by cable from the far eastto the far west, put Europe and America on the _qui vive_, in eageranticipation of startling events quickly to follow. 

Meanwhile where was Admiral Togo and his fleet? For months he had beenengaged in the work of bottling up the Russian squadron at Port Arthur. Since the fall of the latter place and the destruction of the war-shipsin its harbor he had been lying in wait for the slow-coming Balticfleet, doubtless making every preparation for the desperate strugglebefore him, but doing this in so silent and secret a method that theworld outside knew next to nothing of what was going on. The astuteauthorities of Japan had no fancy for heralding their work to the world, and not a hint of the movements or whereabouts of the fleet reachedmen's ears. 

As the days passed on and the Russian ships steamed still northward, theanxious curiosity as to the location of the Japanese fleet grewpainfully intense. The expected intention to waylay Rojestvensky in thesouthern straits had not been realized, and as the Russians left thePhilippines in their rear, the question, Where is Togo? grew moreinsistent still. With extraordinary skill he had lain long in ambush, not a whisper as to the location of his fleet being permitted to makeits way to the western world; and when Rojestvensky ventured into theyawning jaws of the Korean Strait he was in utter ignorance of thelurking-place of his grimly waiting foes. 

Before Rojestvensky lay two routes to choose between, the more directone to Vladivostok through the narrow Korean Strait, or the longer oneeastward of the great island of Honshu. Which he would take was in doubtand in which Togo awaited him no one knew. The skilled admiral of Japankept his counsel well, doubtless satisfied in his own mind that theRussians would follow the more direct route, and quietly but watchfullyawaiting their approach. 

It was on May 22, as we have said, that the Russian fleet appeared offthe Philippines, the greatest naval force that the mighty Muscoviteempire had ever sent to sea, the utmost it could muster after itsterrible losses at Port Arthur. Five days afterwards, on the morning ofSaturday, May 27, this proud array of men-of-war steamed into the openthroat of the Straits of Korea, steering for victory and Vladivostok. Onthe morning of Monday, the 29th, a few battered fragments of this grandfleet were fleeing for life from their swift pursuers. The remainderlay, with their drowned crews, on the sea-bottom, or were being takeninto the ports of victorious Japan. In those two days had been fought toa finish the greatest naval battle of recent times, and Japan had wonthe position of one of the leading naval powers of the world. 

On that Saturday morning no dream of such a destiny troubled the soulsof those in the Russian fleet. They were passing into the throat of thechannel between Japan and Korea, but as yet no sign of a foeman hadappeared, and it may be that numbers on board the fleet weredisappointed, for doubtless the hope of battle and victory filled manyardent souls on the Russian ships. The sun rose on the new day and sentits level beams across the seas, on which as yet no hostile ship hadappeared. The billowing waters spread broad and open before them and itbegan to look as if those who hoped for a fight would be disappointed, those who desired a clear sea and an open passage would be gratified. 

No sails were visible on the waters except those of small craft, whichscudded hastily for shore on seeing the great array of war-ships on thehorizon. Fishing-craft most of these, though doubtless among them werethe scout-boats which the watchful Togo had on patrol with orders tosignal the approach of the enemy's fleet. But as the day moved on thescene changed. A great ship loomed up, steering into the channel, thenanother and another, the vanguard of a battle-fleet, steaming straightsouthward. All doubt vanished. Togo had sprung from his ambush and thebattle was at hand. 

It was a rough sea, and the coming vessels dashed through heavy waves asthey drove onward to the fray. From the flag-ship of the fleet of Japanstreamed the admiral's signal, not unlike the famous signal of Nelson atTrafalgar, "The defense of our empire depends upon this action. You areexpected to do your utmost. "

Northward drove the Russians, drawn up in double column. The day movedon until noon was passed and the hour of two was reached. A few minuteslater the first shots came from the foremost Russian ships. They fellshort and the Japanese waited until they came nearer before replying. Then the roar of artillery began and from both sides came a hail of shotand shell, thundering on opposing hulls or rending the water into foam. From two o'clock on Saturday afternoon until two o'clock on Sundaymorning that iron storm kept on with little intermission, the hugetwelve-inch guns sending their monstrous shells hurtling through theair, the smaller guns raining projectiles on battle-ships and cruisers, until it seemed as if nothing that floated could live through thatterrible storm. 

Never in the history of naval warfare had so frightful a cannonade beenseen. Its effect on the opposing fleets was very different. For monthsTogo had kept his gunners in training and their shell-fire was accurateand deadly, hundreds of their projectiles hitting the mark and workingdire havoc to the Russian ships and crews; while to judge from thelittle damage done, the return fire would seem to have been wild and atrandom. Either the work of training his gunners had been neglected bythe Russian admiral, or they were demoralized by the projectiles fromthe rapid-fire guns of the Japanese, which swept their decks and moweddown the gunners at their posts. 

This fierce and telling fire soon had its effect. Ninety minutes afterit began, the Russian armored cruiser "Admiral Nakhimoff" went reelingto the bottom with the greater part of her crew of six hundred men. Nextto succumb was the repair-ship "Kamchatka. " Badly hurt early in thebattle, her steering-gear was later disabled, then a shell put herengines out of service, and shortly after her bow rose in the air andher stern sank, and with a tremendous roar she followed the "Nakhimoff"to the depths. 

Around the "Borodino, " one of the largest of the Russian battle-ships, clustered five of the Japanese, pouring in their fire so fiercely thatflames soon rose from her deck and the wounded monster seemed in soredistress. This was Rojestvensky's flag-ship, and the enemy made it oneof their chief targets, sweeping its decks until the great ship became averitable shambles. Admiral Rojestvensky, wounded and his ship slowlysettling under him, was transferred in haste to a torpedo-boatdestroyer, and as evening came on the huge ship, still fightingdesperately, turned turtle and vanished beneath the waves. As for theadmiral, the destroyer which bore him was taken and he fell a prisonerinto Japanese hands. 

Previous to this three other battle-ships, the "Lessoi, " the "Veliky, "and the "Oslabya, " had met with a similar fate, and shortly aftersundown the "Navarin" followed its sister ships to the yawning depths. The fiery assault had quickly thrown the whole Russian array intodisorder, while the Japanese skilfully manoeuvred to press theRussians from side and rear, forcing them towards the coast, where theywere attacked by the Japanese column there advancing. In this way thefleet was nearly surrounded, the torpedo-boat flotilla being thrown outto intercept those vessels that sought to break through the deadly net. 

With the coming on of darkness the firing from the great guns ceased, the Russian fleet being by this time hopelessly beaten. But thetorpedo-boats now came actively into action, keeping up their firethrough most of the night. When Sunday morning dawned the shatteredremnants of the Russian fleet were in full flight for safety, hotlypursued by the Japanese, who were bent on preventing the escape of asingle ship. The roar of guns began again about nine o'clock and waskept up at intervals during the day, new ships being bagged from time totime by Togo's victorious fleet, while others, shot through and through, followed their brothers of the day before to the ocean depths. 

The most notable event of this day's fight was the bringing to bay offLiancourt Island of a squadron of five battle-ships, comprising thedivision of Admiral Nebogatoff. Togo, in the battle-ship "Mikasa, "commanded the pursuing squadron, which overtook and surrounded theRussian ships, pouring in a terrible fire which soon threw them intohopeless confusion. Not a shot came back in reply and Togo, seeing theirhelpless plight, signalled a demand for their surrender. In response theJapanese flag was run up over the Russian standard, and these five shipsfell into the hands of the islanders without an effort at defense. Theconfusion and dismay on board was such that an attempt to fight couldhave led only to their being sent to the bottom with their crews. 

It was a miserable remnant of the proud Russian fleet that escaped, including only the cruiser "Almez" and a few torpedo-boats that camelimping into the harbor of Vladivostok with the news of the disaster, and the cruisers "Oleg, " "Aurora, " and "Jemchug, " under Rear-admiralEnquist, that straggled in a damaged condition into Manila harbor a weekafter the great fight. Aside from these the Russian fleet wasannihilated, its ships destroyed or captured; the total loss, accordingto Admiral Togo's report, being eight battle-ships, three armoredcruisers, three coast-defense ships, and an unenumerated multitude ofsmaller vessels, while the loss in men was four thousand prisoners andprobably twice that number slain or drowned. 

The most astonishing part of the report was that the total losses of theJapanese were three torpedo-boats, no other ships being seriouslydamaged, while the loss in killed and wounded was not over eight hundredmen. It was a fight that paralleled, in all respects except that ofdimensions of the battling fleets, the naval fights at Manila andSantiago in the Spanish-American war. 

What followed this stupendous victory needs not many words to tell. Onland and sea the Russians had been fought to a finish. To protract thewar would have been but to add to their disasters. Peace was imperativeand it came in the following September, the chief result being that theRussian career of conquest in Eastern Asia was stayed and Japan becamethe master spirit in that region of the globe. 

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: See Historical Tales: France. ]