few short months, that blessing will have curdled
into a curse. The emperor will be at war with
those he will then call his " rebellious vassals."
The kingdom will be deluged in blood. That
army will be divided against itself; and fellow-
soldier will deal death to fellow. But the blessing
is now to be bestowed; and none know, on that
glorious day of sunshine and glitter, how soon all
will be darkened by the deadly smoke of cannon.
From the draperied entry of the chapel, a long
flight of carpeted steps leads downwards to the
plain. That plain seems filled, as far as the eye can
reach, with military masses— artillery, cavalry,
and infantry of every arm— rank beyond rank—
and still rank beyond rank again. The glittering
flags, the pennons of the lancers, the sweeping
feathers are napping in the light breeze. Arms
and helmets are glancing brightly in the sunshine.
There is an ocean of splendour and varied colour
on the plain. The slope of the hill is covered
with myriads of human forms. No position can
be more propitious for the countless spectators
of the sight. Carriages and horses, in thick
masses, stretch along the ridge of the hill, upon
its summit. All the earth seems to have
congregated on that spot. I am made to leave my
droshka, and, by the interest of friends, and
incessant appeals to the hospitality due to the
foreigner, am pushed through crowded throngs,
hordes of police officials, ranks of guards, that
are terraced along the flight of steps, until I find
myself standing in front of a corps of young
cadets, and so close to the steps, as almost to be
able to touch the persons, shortly to be grouped
upon them. From this spot every part of the
review, every person engaged, could be distinctly
seen. Several successive discharges of cannon
now burst forth upon the air. They act like
electric shocks upon the masses. A buzz of
excitement pervades that enormous crowd. There
is but one thought, as every neck is stretched in
one direction— " The emperor is coming!" A
large body of horsemen gallop towards the foot
of the steps. The emperor is at its head. He
is easily recognised by the many well-known
portraits of him. He dashes forward, his plumes
waving in the air. He is followed by a brilliant
cortége of princes, generals, aides-de-camp, staff-
officers— all that is great, noble, or illustrious in
Poland. Shouts of greeting rend the air. The
regiments salute as he passes. The bands strike
up the customary hymn, and I am startled to
hear the inspiring strains of "God Save the King."
I learn, with surprise, that the air is constantly
used in Russia as the salute to the emperor, as
well as in many parts of Germany to other royal
personages, and called by its English name. The
emperor springs from his horse. Almost
immediately afterwards a brilliant train of equipages
sweeps up to the foot of the staircase. The
carriages contain the empress and her suite. The
emperor hands his imperial consort down, and
leads her up the steps: the rest of the court
follow. Before mounting many steps the empress
turns, as if impatient to see the brilliant
spectacle upon the plain, and pauses, spite of the
pressure of the hand that would hurry her
forwards, to look with a smile upon the myriads of
military vassals congregated below. When the
imperial pair reach the summit, the empress, with
her ladies, takes up her position in an outer
gallery, running round three sides of the pavilion
chapel; as the Greek Church does not allow
females to penetrate into the inner sanctuary
where the service is performed, and obliges them
to worship apart from the male devotees, and in
an inferior portion of the church. All kneel:
the emperor on the highest step, immediately in
front of the tented place of worship; below him,
the Grand-Duke Constantine, his brother; then
Prince Karl of Prussia, the brother of the
empress; still further below, according to their
rank, in thickest masses, the generals and officers
of the escort, to the last step touching the level
ground. Immediately below the imperial and
royal personages kneels Marshal Diebitsch, then
the lion of the day, with his Turkish laurels fresh
upon his brow— laurels hereafter to be withered
upon other heads. He is a little stout heavy-
looking man. Near him is Paskiewitz, the future
pacificator of Poland and Prince of Warsaw, who
was shortly to overshadow the renown, and win
away the favours of his then illustrious rival.
Below, a glittering band of military men, at that
time more or less known, in all the sparkling
variety of uniforms of a hundred various regiments.

At the head of each regiment is an altar— a
priest before it— and, at the instant the emperor
kneels, each individual of the countless mass
upon the plain prostrates himself. The electrical
effect of the thousands, who throng the space
before St. Peter's at Rome, when the papal head of
the Roman Catholic Church stretches forth his
hand to bless the world from the balcony at Easter,
is as nothing to that produced by this movement
of an army, at the moment that the head of the
so-called orthodox Greek Church himself, kneels
before the altar of his faith. It has a staggering
and bewildering effect. The Greek priests have
begun the service in the chapel pavilion.
Although every head is bowed in seeming devotion,
no one appears more absorbed in the exercise of
his religious duties, than the emperor. But, from
time to time, he gently turns his head to glance
at the lines of guards to the right and the left:
and it is easy to see, that there is more of acting
than reality in the attitude he assumes.

This is the first time I have seen the Emperor
Nicholas. I had several opportunities, during
my stay in Warsaw, and in after years, to look
upon that face again. I cannot but feel that the
portraits I have seen have never done justice to
his extraordinary beauty. His form, tall beyond
that of common men, seems perfect in its
symmetry. He looks a living copy of the Apollo
Belvedere. In after years, his legs shrank from
their full proportions, as his body swelled. Now
he appears faultless in modelling of limb. The
face is one of classical beauty. The features are
of the purest regularity. I stand long where I