like, the very walls have ears, and it is only on a more intimate acquaintance that he can catch the accent of these universal curses, "not loud but deep." The conquered nobility may therefore now be considered harmlessly inimical to the imperial crown.

The second class-the nobility of office-raised in the very hotbed of corruption and venality, and divested not only of all public virtue, but of all private honesty, may be considered incapable of a patriotic idea, and can be animated by none but the most selfish feelings, which would naturally lead them to side with the strongest party in the event of any national commotion. And the inferior ranks of this class which constitute the great bulk of it, have been brought up traditionally to regard the imperial power as the most solid and unshakeable of human institutions.

The third of these three great classes into which the Russian nation may be naturally divided-many times more numerous than the other two united-constitutes the bulk, the power, and the nerve of the Muscovite people. It is composed of a peasantry on whom civilization has yet made no impression, and knowledge thrown no ray of light. For, that a few can read, who are now allowed to read nothing but those prayers which were formerly read to them, and that they are now acquainted with the use of sugar and tabacco, will scarcely invalidate the assertion which we boldly venture to make-that they are as barbarous now as previous to the days of the first Peter-that they are, in fact, identically the same as a century and a half agoin ideas, in manners and costume; as blindly superstitious, as servilely devoted as then, and have only transferred this feeling from their patriarchs and boyars to the person of a single ruler.

Counting its millions, as this class does, to the thousands of the preceding two, and animated as it is by the blind zeal of barbarism, it lies a ready and tremendous instrument of good or evil, in the hands of one man, to execute his commands with a reckless and fanatical devotion. This man is the Emperor Nicholas.

If we patiently exhaust the records of the world's past history, maturely and deliberately comparing the position of Nicholas with that of any sovereign who has at any time preceded him, we shall not in any age find a parallel to the fearful elements of power which lie at his disposal. A population of forty millions of Muscovite peasants look upon him as their "God upon earth;" such being the title by which they designate him in their prayers to that Being in whose eyes he is no more than the lowliest of his slaves.

If we could even suppose that, in the less densely peopled world of bygone centuries, any barbarian despot had ever ruled over any thing like a similar number of devoted followers, blindly obedient to one single leader, no leader in those remote ages, or of those barbarous followers, possessed the same advantages-the mechanism and administration of modern civilization-which the progress of other lands has given the Russian Tsar, whereby to render available the unwieldy strength of these inert masses.

To exercise so immediate an influence on the destiny of sixty millions of human beings for whose cultivation, happiness, and comfort, so much remains to be done, is assuredly the greatest and most noble

task that was ever allotted to humanity! for we must admit that the words of the poet,

How few the ills which kings can cause or cure,

are little applicable here.

Having indicated on the one hand, the causes which would tend to invest a Russian autocrat with apparently stupendous power, it now remains to point out circumstances arising partly from historical causes, partly from the policy of preceding reigns-which partially neutralize it, and render any rapid or real progress towards power or civilization so difficult, as to require for its accomplishment that such a man should unite in his character to the will to do good, with a degree of firmness, perspicuity, and talent, which unfortunately the world has seldom seen united in the hands of uncontrolled power.

Let us first give some account of the man, to whom Providence has intrusted this exalted mission. Nicolai Paulovitch, or "Nicholas the son of Paul," according to the universal habit of Russian nomenclatures, is now in the prime of life. He is of commanding stature, and presents not only the most imposing aspect of any living sovereign, but, as perfect as he is colossal in the proportions of his form, he may really be ranked among the handsomest men of Europe. When the whole of his guard, consisting of sixty thousand of the picked men of his empire, is reviewed by him in the Champ de Mars, the eye of the spectator may vainly wander over its ranks to find any one worthy of comparison with him for figure, for manly beauty, or for majesty of mien. When he gives the word of command, the deep and sonorous tones of his voice thrill, distinctly audible over the vast plain where an army is manœuvring or a crowd looking on, as different from the voices of his numerous commanders, as the notes of an organ from the treble of a child. He is seen, however, to more advantage on foot than on horseback, because, being a stiff and it is said a very timid rider, the chargers he rides in public have always been "manèged" into the rocking-horse canter of the pitiable beasts which figure in the theatrical circus; so that in the eyes of an Englishman this circumstance qualifies very materially the admiration his splendid equestrian figure would otherwise excite.

Nicholas has also of late years adopted the habit of staring around him with an air of severity, apparently imagining that this sternness of aspect imposes, whereas, like every thing assumed, it has a contrary effect, and rather takes away from the awe which his majestic figure and features could not fail to excite. He is said by all who knew him previous to his accession to the throne, to have altered so favourably in his personal appearance, that no one, in the godlike-looking emperorthe crowned Apollo-could recognise the Grand-duke Nicholas. the portraits taken of him at that period, showing him tall, slender, and unformed, his features thin and sharp, corroborate this state

ment.

All

Of the extent of his general knowledge and acquirements few have the privilege of judging, but like most princes of the present day, and like all Russians of high rank, he speaks fluently and without accent, several languages. French and German are familiar to him as his mother-tongue; the English he has learned, like all the other members of the imperial family, in the past and present generation, from very

illiterate Scotch nurses and attendants, whose homely fidelity has always been appreciated in their nursery, and with whom Nicholas and his empress not unfrequently condescend to drink their tea. From these people the imperial family seem to derive many of their ideas of the English, and, including the emperor, are evidently grossly ignorant of the condition and he usages of British society. Thus the Grand-duke Michael, the emperor's brother, meets the clergyman of the British factory of St. Petersburg in the streets and addresses him in English, with " G-d- your eyes! how are you?" This is from no intention to insult, but only from his ignorance of the distinctions of society, which prevents his seeing the impropriety of thus expressing even the exuberance of his good humour towards a personage to whom in his character as a clergyman renders such expressions indecent from any man on earth.

Domestic and moderate in his habits, few princes have borne a more unblemished private character than the present emperor. A strict lover of justice, he has, for the first time since the reign of Peter I., endeavoured to enforce its rigid administration according to law-with what success will he shown hereafter. Apparently, earnestly desirous of improving the condition of his people and empire, and not contented like his brother Alexander, with the barren good wishes of an inactive philanthropy, whose indolence rendered the reign of the most benevolent of men sometimes as oppressive as that of his father Paul, Nicholas I. not only reigns, but undismayed by the laborious duties such an undertaking entails upon him, actually governs in person. On the other hand he seems to entertain the most exalted ideas of the sacredness of his high prerogative and divine right, and the first consideration that actuates him seems to be the maintenance of its integrity. Severe and vindictive, clemency has never shown itself amongst his virtues.

The character of Nicholas in all these particulars differs widely from that of his mild and liberal-minded predecessor, who appreciating the right and suffering the wrong, because the indolence of his disposition shrank from the task of clearing out the Augean stable, must have entailed upon himself only the more fearful responsibility.

Many instances are given, since the accession of the present emperor, of his unforgiving spirit, which even the completest triumph over his enemies does not apparently disarm: witness his treatment of those of the conspirators who disturbed the commencement of his reign, and who were banished to Siberia,-to whose condition, though years have elapsed, no alleviation has been allowed. This continuing to make the condemned suffer, where his sufferings can be no example, shows, at the least, a vindictive severity. Towards the Poles also, his conduct, always harsh, has been in some instances painfully severe. These, as well as all political offenders, who are classed with assassins, have been carefully excluded from the amnesties which on several important occasions have extended a pardon to felons.

Under all circumstances, after the subjugation of Poland, a generous disposition might have contented itself with treating her according to the stern laws of conquest, not as Nicholas has done, according to the sanguinary code which established authority arrogates to itself the right of applying to rebellion. For this was scarcely a rebellion crushed, but a country reconquered. Regular

armies fought regular armies, according to all the usages of international warfare; prisoners of war were made, and communications opened between the chiefs of the contending armies. The emperor himself received the delegates of his adversaries. When, however, he proved the strongest in the struggle, and the war was over, those prisoners who had fought as brave men in the field, who not submitting to a master, had surrendered on the faith of an exchange, and counting on a reciprocity of treatment, were, against their vows and wishes, made to serve their enemy, and drafted into condemned corps, where they were required to take the oath of allegiance to the emperor. Their condition in these particulars would of itself have been little preferable to that of British convicts; but their persecutor was not content with the misery of a hopeless servitude-a perpetual exile-thus inflicted on them; they were left the option between taking an oath against their conscience, which would render them participators in their own degradation, or the most fearful corporal sufferings. On refusing to take the oath, they were condemned to receive a number of lashes which alone would have been a fearful punishment for any offence; but still persisting as they did, one victim after another, each as resolute after as before his martyrdom-as determined in his refusal when he had seen his comrade expire under the lash as when first called out-was it not an unheard of barbarity to renew this torture at every fresh refusal, till death placed them beyond the power of human cruelty?

This is no exaggerated picture, no overstrained account of an occurrence which took place far in the interior; it is the plain narrative of what occurred on the termination of the Polish war, in the town of Cronstadt, not twenty miles from St. Petersburg, and precisely the point which holds most uninterrupted communication with western Europe. Several hundred Polish prisoners, employed in working at the fortifications, were required, and almost unanimously refused, to take the oath. They were then made successively "to run the gauntlet," but still in almost every instance they persisted in their refusal, with a resolution worthy of admiration in any cause. Time after time they were thus carried out from the hospital, still unwavering in their heroism, to undergo the same infliction, till life or all sensation had departed from the mangled mass of flesh, which was consigned to the burial-cart, or to linger for weeks in a hospital, till relieved by the tardy kindness of death, and in some few cases to recover in several months, crippled and maimed, to drag on a miserable existence, chained to felons and assassins.

The commission of these barbarities, perpetrated in view of all the inhabitants of Cronstadt, lasted many weeks, and could not have taken place without the imperial knowledge. Suppressing for a moment the feelings of indignant humanity, which this recital must arouse, let us even suppose these victims to have been utterly misguided men, and rebels against the most legitimate and lawful authority ;-did it not require the ferocity of times now happily gone by in the greatest part of Europe, to persecute to such inhuman extremes a pertinacity which proved not to be the dogged obstinacy of an individual mutineer, but which was evidently the generous, even had it been the erroneous conviction of a whole body, who preferred death and torture to dishonour? With regard to the personal courage of the Emperor, it is difficult to

judge from the facts one hears, whether one should form a very high estimate of it. There have been instances where he has undoubtedly displayed courage, and others where he has failed to show any. Of those who have seen much of him, some deny his possessing this quality; others attribute it to him in a high degree; we have heard the following circumstance cited in corroboration of both opinions:

The very commencement of Nicholas's reign was disturbed by an attempt at revolution. Constantine, on the death of Alexander, after the army had taken the oath of allegiance to him, abdicated the crown in favour of his brother Nicholas. In St. Petersburg, where the latter then was, the whole body of the imperial guards was called together by his order, to take a fresh oath of allegiance to himself; but by a fatal oversight, no preliminary explanation was given on a subject of great gravity to the Russian soldier, who considers his oath in such case not as a mere matter of form, but as entailing on him the most sacred obligations of fidelity. A party which had long been conspiring to introduce a constitutional form of government into Russia, and to whom Nicholas was particularly obnoxious, seized eagerly on this opportunity for effecting their purpose, and excluding him from the succession. The officers of several regiments of the guards, which it numbered in its ranks, taking advantage of the perplexity of the men, found in them unconscious instruments of their designs, by persuading them that Nicholas was usurping, and held his brother Constantine in confinement. Headed by their officers, these regiments marched to the St. Isaac's place-a vast plain which was described in a former number. Here they unhesitatingly proclaimed, as directed by their officers, "Constantine and the Constitution!"-Constantine, the emperor to whom they had sworn fidelity without having been released from their vow; and "Constitution," which, incredible as it may appear, they were told and believed meant Constantine's wife!

Other regiments of the guards had, however, taken the oath, and at the head of these the emperor made his appearance. Miloradovitch, the military governor of St. Petersburg, one of the most gallant old veterans of the Russian army, was sent up to parley with the mutineers, and persuade them to return to duty; but having in a previous instance deceived the troops, he found that the great influence he formerly possessed with them had departed; they were deaf to his arguments, the thread of which was cut short by the pistol of one of the conspirators, which ended his career in the midst of his exhortations. The artillery of the guard, which was also at the disposal of the emperor, was now immediately ordered to ply the refractory regiments with grape, and some of the faithful regiments were induced to use their small arms. The fire of the guns, directed at the most deadly distance, on an almost unresisting mass, was so deadly in its effects, that the insurgents were speedily mowed down or dispersed. The conspirators were apprehended, several were hanged, the rest reserved for a worse fate-perpetual banishment to Siberia.

The poor soldiers who survived the massacre, who could not be looked upon in any other light than as the victims of a fatal mistake and a misguided fidelity-who were tools, but could not by any argument be considered participators in the conspiracy-were, however,