The Russian walls have more than ears: the whole country is, in fact, a Dionysian Ear; so perfect is the system of espionage established by Count Benckendorf. This power is as much dreaded as the horrors of the Inquisition, to which, in some respects, it may safely be compared. By his rules, suspicion is so nearly allied to actual guilt, that innocence can hardly escape the penalties of crime. Society is mined; and an unguarded remark may cause the explosion, which will seal the fate of the unconscious delinquent, and consign him at once to an unknown doom; or, if a foreigner, expel him from the country at twenty-four hours' notice. The remarks I have made in this letter would bring me within the latter category.'-p. 149.

The police, who constitute the agents of this system, are amongst the most worthless members of a degraded community. Their ignorance and brutality know no bounds, and the terror they inspire is as yet sufficient to insure unquestioning obedience to their pleasure. Referring to this class, Mr. Thompson tells us :

Protruding on the pavement, in most of the public thoroughfares, stands a small chequer-painted wooden house, about twelve feet square, which is, at the same time, the residence and post of three policemen, one of whom is always on guard at the door, carrying a huge, longhandled axe as an emblem of his authority. Dressed in a uniform of dirty grey, and fed at the expense of the government, his life may be said to be passed like that of a dog chained to its kennel. They are a worthless race; and, as their miserable pay does not exceed one pound a year, they live notoriously on the public by exactions and crime. They take toll of every wood-cart that passes them, by extracting several billets, and exact money from the dvorniks, or yard-servants of their district, by threatening to report them for neglect in sweeping the streets. In solitary spots it is not always safe to pass within their reach, as murder and robbery are deeds perfectly familiar to them. A notorious culprit of this class was discovered in one who had his post on one of the canal bridges, and who coolly acknowledged, on one murder being traced home to him, that he had committed twelve others. Acting up to the letter of their instructions, au pied de la lettre, when placed on any particular duty, their brutal ignorance, added to the fear of using the slightest discretion under any extraordinary circumstances, lead them to the exercise of the most absurd and tyrannous authority. Stationed at particular outlets of the quai, while the frozen surface of the river is considered unsafe, and before the bridges are replaced, they are ordered to allow no one to pass. Some venturesome individual, cut off from his home, or whose pressing business may require him on the other side, passes over from some unguarded spot, and attempts to land: but no, he is thrust back; for the order must be obeyed, although it meant that no one should pass the policemen to gain the river. Thus a fresh danger must be incurred by recrossing, or a desperate dash be made at some more fortunate and less guarded spot. When the ice has acquired some degree of consistency, a platform of boards is laid across

the river for the accommodation of the public; but it is not allowed to be crowded; and even that regulation is as usual a cause of useless oppression and tyrannical authority. A funeral with its few attendants (it was that of a poor man) sought the passage, on its way to the cemetery; but its progress was prohibited. The party carried their melancholy load to a further distance down the river, beyond the presence of the police, and attempted to cross on the ice. It was unequal to their weight, and both the living and the dead found the same grave, and were carried beneath the ice. The risk was permissible, because the police were not directed to watch that quarter, and their duty limited them to prevent drowning only at particular spots; elsewhere, as in the instance mentioned, wholesale destruction might occur without an attempt at prevention. The absurdity, however, has been paralleled in the city of London, in the caging over the top of the

monument.

'But, independently of the natural villainy of these men, and their instigation to crime from poverty, they are led on in their career by the example of their superiors. In my own district a case recently occurred, which was a matter of public conversation, as far as people dared to give utterance to the tale. It appears that a rich Moscow merchant fell dead in the street, and was promptly carried to the police station, where, on being searched, a large sum, stated to be 80,000 roubles, was found upon him. His relations, on being apprised of his death, made every inquiry as to the money, which they knew he had with him, but in vain. At length a suspicion became attached to the major of the siège, from his having launched out into a more costly style of living; and eventually he was detected in paying into the bank some government bills, which were known to have belonged to the deceased. He was immediately suspended and placed under close arrest, in the full expectation of every one that a signal punishment awaited him; but, to the surprise of all, he was shortly reinstated, and the whole affair hushed up, which was doubtless effected by the payment of a handsome bribe to those under whom he held his office.'-p. 132-133.

The personal character of the Emperor is drawn more favourably than that of his people. He is said to affect, in many things, an imitation of Buonaparte. His cabinet is unadorned, and has the appearance of the office of a man of business. His apparel is plain, his form herculean, and his power of enduring toil and privation is prodigious. He superintends everything, and by the celerity of his movements, and his untiring vigilance, seems to possess a power of ubiquity. Perfectly unattended, he is either dashing through the streets in a little two-horsed droshky, or walking through the crowded thoroughfares, visiting the dockyards, barracks, hospitals, and other government establishments.' It is not uncommon for the emperor to stop and speak to persons in the street, but a heavy penalty is usually paid for the honour, for no sooner is his majesty out of sight than the arrest of the person so distin

guished generally takes place, and an incarceration of some days is the penalty exacted. A celebrated French actor, who had been ill, was thus accosted, and the ordinary result followed. His case, however, was by some means brought before the emperor, who ordered his release, and asked, as a reparation, in what he could oblige him. In nothing, sire,' was the reply, but that your majesty will never condescend to speak to me in the street again.' The domestic relationships of the autocrat appear to be honourably sustained, and some of the facts mentioned by Mr. Thompson indicate that the softer and more humane qualities of the heart, however overlaid by the stern despotism wielded, are not wholly destroyed:

The succession to the throne,' says our author, 'has been strengthened by the birth of a son, to the great joy of the Emperor, who is most tenderly attached to his family, and seeks relaxation in domestic happiness. I have seen him nurse this child, and carry it to the window of the palace at Peterhof, to show it to the crowd collected to celebrate the Empress's anniversary. I want nothing more than such a scene as this to assure me of the real benevolence of heart and affection of the Emperor; for, although doubtless acted, and the impression it was to create felt, yet it could not have been premeditated, but was rather the spontaneous action of the man, arising from the circumstance of the moment, and from his constant desire to keep up the part he has set himself to perform. The slightest acts of such a man are construed into a meaning; and it is not the least part of his policy to take care that they shall be construed rightly, and that when he treads the stage, his performance shall be marked and perfect. The whole empire is a living witness that kindness of heart in him is a natural attribute; for, despot though he be, he stops short of the tyrant: when the two characters might not only be combined from disposition, as was the case in Paul, but might become so from the knowledge and exercise of unlimited power. His affection for the Empress is admitted by all; and her great influence over him corroborates the fact: the Emperor also sinks into the father, in seeking to secure the happiness of his daughters rather than to sacrifice them to the interests of state policy, by permitting them to make their own selection in marriage, instead of following the example of other powers by wedding them without consulting their affections. Honour to him for the deed! It is one of the brightest jewels in his crown, and certainly enhances his popularity.'— p. 179.

Such is the man, whose name throughout liberal Europe is a synonyme for absolute and heartless tyranny. To his children he is apparently kind and indulgent, to his wife truthful and confiding, but to the growing intellect of his empire he is an imperial dictator, who brooks no questioning of his power, and heeds not the wretchedness and heart-breakings by which

his iron sway is maintained. So incongruous may be the elements which inhere in the same mind, so strange the compound which our nature sometimes exhibits. One would like to seewere it not for the suffering involved-how far the redeeming virtues of his domestic character would maintain their sway, if they came into conflict with the system he administers.

We are not surprised to find that the civil despotism of Russia is associated with a spurious form of religion, and that the people are, in consequence, grossly superstitious. This is accordant with universal fact, and affords additional proofs, if such were needed, of the danger accruing from the association of civil and sacred things. Kings and priests play into each other's hands, and the victims of their conjoined policy become ignorant, brutal, and slavish. The Greek Church prevails throughout Russia, and by the childishness and multiplicity of its ceremonies, the imposing array of its priesthood, its spurious dogmas and servile spirit, is a fit machine for the working out of autocratic ends. Protestant Europe has been in conflict with the Papacy, and the Greek Church has, therefore, remained unknown. We have not been in collision with it, and have, consequently, remained in ignorance of its constitution and effects. It bears, however, the visible marks of apostacy, is alien from the genius and divine simplicity of the gospel, and debases the human spirit to the lowest and most grovelling superstition. As such, it is a fitting instrument for the civil despotism which prevails throughout the dominions of the Czar. În their most imposing ceremonies-as for instance, the blessing of the waters on the first of January and of August-religious feeling has no existence. They partake of the character of the darkest superstition, and tend to chill the best feelings of the heart. Our author relates, that he was present at the funeral of a major, whose deceased body, in full uniform, lay exposed in the church. One of the officiating priests, in the course of the ceremony unbuttoned the coat of the dead, and deposited beneath it a printed paper. Our countryman naturally asked for an explanation, and was informed, he tells us, 'in a tone which indicated surprise at my ignorance and want of faith, that it was the passport to St. Peter, to open the gates of heaven to the deceased.' What may not despotism achieve when it has at its command a form of religion, which has reduced a people to place confidence in such puerilities? The following extract is illustrative of another phase of the same great evil :

The whole period of Lent is kept so rigidly as a fast, that not an atom of animal substance enters into the food used at that time; vegetable oil, not of the best quality, being substituted for butter: I have

This

known a person have recourse to an emetic, after having incautiously eaten something of which an egg had formed an ingredient. lengthened mortification is borne with the most exemplary fortitude: but, unhappily, that is the only virtue attached to so praiseworthy a self-denial; for the moment the hour of midnight, on Easter eve, announces, with the roar of artillery and the ringing of bells, the glad tidings of release to the anxious multitudes, the city is blazing with festivity, the eating-houses are thronged, and dissipation, and the grossest epicurism, reign with unbridled license. The churches up to this moment are densely thronged, especially the Kazan cathedral, around which a numerous body of priests, bearing banners and torches, and followed by crowds of people, wind in procession, seeking the body of the Saviour. They proclaim the search to have been unsuccessful, and commence from the altar, 'Cristos voskriss,' Christ is risen. A scene of general congratulation ensues: people embrace one another indiscriminately, and at least one good point is gained, out of the great mass of superstition and painful absurdity, in this grand display of 'brotherly love.' Piled up in the recesses of the church, and spread under the protecting interposition of the columns, are heaps of dishes with viands intended for the approaching banquets, after having received the blessing of the priest. It is difficult to say where devotion begins, or sensuality stops; if the service of the Creator be not altogether secondary to the gratification of the creature.

The fast, thus scrupulously observed, and riotously closed, is unproductive of the least moral good: instead of chastening the mind, and operating on its worldly tendencies, the sensual appetites, so long restrained, become impatient for its termination, and a scene of intolerable depravity and licentiousness ensues. A more complete exemplification of the parable of the unclean spirit, which, after walking through dry places, returned to its house, and found it swept and garnished, cannot be imagined. The temporal penalty is, however, in numerous instances soon paid; for, it is a well known fact, that more deaths ensue from the effects of this one debauch, than occur from like causes, throughout the empire, in a whole year.'

The character of the Russian is more than tinged with superstition: he is imbued with it: he yields to its influences implicity, and allows it to determine the most material actions of his life. The Russian is, besides, a fatalist; and thus, his superstitious fears, combined with the dread he feels at doing any thing which, in his opinion, may controvert the irrevocable decrees of fate, leave him to be tossed to and fro, the sport of idle terrors and groundless apprehensions, without decision or energy of purpose.'-p. 54-56.

The political condition of the people is as low as can consist with any semblance of civilization. The despotic rule of the Emperor is imitated in each subordinate grade of society, and the great mass of the people are without the rights of freemen. By a late census, the population of the empire is stated to be 53,500,000, of whom only 11,500,000 are free. The remaining 42,000,000 are serfs; 15,000,000 belonging to the crown, and