“Any limbs broken?” said he.
“No.”
“Then, praise the Lord! There’s your box.”
Two days after this there was an immense thaw4 and the sledges5 gave way to wheeled carriages. On the Wednesday it had been a white city; on Thursday it was black and there was not a sledge to be seen. The sun had been getting hotter and winning its way each day, just a little, against the snow, and then suddenly one night a west wind swept in from Europe and the Atlantic, and with it a flood of rain. Winter was drowned. No one was sorry; for winter by all accounts had stayed too long. The Sunday was Palm Sunday, the day of branches. The Russians call it Verba, and it is a great festival in Moscow. Shura and Nicholas and I went to the Kremlin to enjoy the sights.
It was a day of ecstasy6. The sun shone as it had not done since I came to Moscow. It was suddenly full of promise, and one felt the promise in one’s blood. One’s fingers tingled7 with the desire to live, the eyes rested with envy upon the green branches that the people carried. In the Kremlin there was a din8 as of a carnival9. Ten thousand silly squeakers and hooters 110sounded in the air. Inflated10 pigs were expiring, ridiculous sausages were deflating and collapsing11, toy geese were quacking12, boys and girls were blowing whistles and trumpets13, and students also were blowing, and even staid old gentlemen. This day commemorated14 the triumphal entry into Jerusalem; it was also the triumphal entry of spring into Moscow, of life into death. The crowd huzzaing was delirious15 with the news that the winter was over. Even the rich people in their carriages, passing in solemn state into the Kremlin, seemed part of the new life. They were all in spring dresses—the women in purples and soft greens, and the men in light tweeds.
It seemed to me, however, that those on foot were having the gayer time. We were crushed as tightly as I have ever been in a London crowd. Everyone was laughing and chaffing, especially the girl students from the University, and the confetti was flying thick and fast.
Verba week was my last in Moscow. On Easter Sunday I left for the South.
Easter Eve came at last, the greatest night in the Russian holy year. At midnight we were all in the Kremlin, that is, I was there, and Nicholas and Shura, and everyone else in Moscow surely. Phrosia, the servant whom I had accompanied to the shrine16 at Sergievo, had taken a large sweet Easter loaf and a cake of sugar-cream, paskha, to be consecrated17 at church. 111I saw her in a yard outside the little monastery18 in the Petrovka. There were two or three hundred cakes waiting with hers, all set out on informal tables on trestles. In the centre of each cake a wax candle was burning. Each table was a little forest of candles, some long, some short, some just lit, and some burning out. Every now and then a priest came and took a cake into the church just as the candle was expiring. Phrosia had evidently just come, for the candle on her pashka was newly lit. The church was a casket, a precious case of gems19. The priests moving to and fro, the pale faces of the Ikons lit up by many candles seemed the glamour20 of a fairy tale. The cakes being brought in, the priest sprinkling holy water, seemed rites21 which I, a mortal, only saw by accident. Indeed, any Englishman would have found Easter Night strange and wonderful. It is one of the two occasions in the year when one can see again what is below the surface of Moscow life of to-day. One can see what Moscow was before it became so commercialised. At six o’clock on Easter Eve the electric trams cease to run; from that moment Moscow becomes the holy city of old time. The strange mystery and sacredness which must have enwrapped it in ancient days is again felt in the streets. The shops are all shut and dark, the churches are all open and bright. The thousand-and-one street temples are decorated with coloured lamps, the doors stand wide open, the sacred faces of the Ikons look out into the roads. Even the 112air is infected with church odours, and the multitudinous domes22 of purple and gold rest above the houses in enigmatical solemnity—they might be tents and pavilions of spirits from another world.
In the streets men and women are carrying lighted candles hither and thither23, and every now and then one sees a person carrying his paskha cake to church. Outside the Cathedral of the Annunciation a regiment24 of guards is drawn25 up and an officer is giving them instructions as to the duties for the night. Presently the rich and aristocratic families of Moscow will drive up one by one to do homage26 to the Ikons in the cathedral. At midnight the Kremlin is so thronged27 that it is difficult to move. All are waiting for the Resurrection, all are waiting for the booming forth28 of the great bell of St John’s Church, the largest bell of Moscow and of Russia, rung only once a year. That will signify that “Christ has risen.” The priests are praying before the Ikons and searching their hearts. Shortly after midnight they will rise from their knees and announce to the people, “We have found him. He is risen. Christos Voskrece.”
I wandered among the merry crowds to the tower of St John’s, and as I was passing the great cannon29, the Tsar of cannons30, I overheard someone speaking English. I directed my steps in that direction and found the people, two clean-shaven young men, in English clothes, high English collars and bowler31 hats—immaculately 113English. They were talking loudly, evidently taking it for granted that no one could understand them. I took up my stand quite close and listened. This is what I overheard. It was very small talk, but it sounded very strange to hear it in this Russian crowd.
“The Moscow people are very rough, they’ve no manners at all. They don’t care who they jostle or push as long as they get along.”
“Yes, I was going through one of the Kremlin gates yesterday and a fellow knocked my hat off. Of course it was very nice of him, but he didn’t stop to tell me why he did it. I thought he was mad, but they told me afterwards it was a sacred gate. I saw several people take off their hats as they went through. They say the sentry32 has orders to fire on anyone who does not lift his hat. I felt I wanted to apologise to someone. It’s a beautiful custom, and I hadn’t any intention of infringing33 the law. I believe in doing as Rome does in Rome. I wonder if the sentry would shoot. Nice row there’d be if they shot a British subject.”
“You’re right, but what’d they care. They’re a rotten lot. I’d like to pole-axe the Governor. By-the-bye, have you heard anything of White recently? He said he thought his firm was sending him out.”
“No.”
“Did you know him at all? He was a thorough gentleman.”
114“No, not much; he didn’t live my way, you know. I met him several times down the county ground.”
“Yes, he was fairly mad over Surrey, wasn’t he? We played many games together, he and I; he bowled an awfully34 tricky35 ball, a gentle lob-dob, nearly full pitch. You thought you were going to put it out of the ground for six, and then suddenly you found your wicket down.”
At this point a disreputable beggar interrupted them.
“What d’you make of him—a drunken monk36, eh?” said the cricketer. Both the Englishmen put on a look suggesting the principles of Political Economy, and signified by a frown that they did not encourage beggars. The “drunken monk,” however, did not budge37 for five minutes, he looked up at them and grinned. The people all round grinned also and turned to watch the scene. Then, suddenly, the beggar, after churning his mouth for some time, spat38 on the Harris overcoat of the cricketer’s companion and exclaimed:
“German pigs.”
“Beast,” said the Englishman, looking at his coat.
“They ought to be coming out soon. It’s only a short procession, they say—out of the church round the wall and back again; then the bells will begin. It’s after midnight now.”
I moved away at this point and left the cricketer putting his watch to his ear to see if it was going. I had promised to meet Shura and Nicholas and go up into the steeple with them. I found them on one of the 115stone galleries where the little bells of the church nestle together. They had a collection of squibs and crackers39 and coloured lights which they were letting off so as to allow girl students below to pretend to be terrified.
“The priests have come out,” said Nicholas, all at once pointing to a little procession just proceeding40 from the Uspensky. “Christos Voskrece, Christos Voskrece,” we heard all around us, and everyone was kissing one another. Then all the little bells of the churches began to tinkle41, first a few and then more and more in confused ecstatic jangling. Moscow bells do not sound in the least like English bells, the chime is not musical or solemn. Our bells chant, their bells cheer. On Easter Night it is ten thousand bells, the voice of a thousand churches praising God. A wild, astonishing clamour, and then suddenly came one sound greater in itself than all the little sounds put together, the appalling42 boom of the great bell of St John Veleeky:
“Ting a ling, ling, ling, ling,
Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong,
Ding, ding, dong a dong, ding,
Dang, dang, dang,
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding,
Suddenly Katia passed me—the girl I took to the theatre.
“Christos Voskrece,” said I, “Christ is risen.”
“Yes,” said she, “He is risen,” and threw a handful of confetti in my eyes.
116We all ate paskha cake together in the Kislovka room at three in the morning, and drank students’ champagne44, purchased by Shura at two shillings a bottle. so Easter Day dawned, my last at Moscow, the day of my parting with Nicholas, the day of my departure to the Caucasus.
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1
sledge
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| n.雪橇，大锤；v.用雪橇搬运，坐雪橇往 | |
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2
transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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3
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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5
sledges
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| n.雪橇，雪车( sledge的名词复数 )v.乘雪橇( sledge的第三人称单数 )；用雪橇运载 | |
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6
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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7
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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9
carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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10
inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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11
collapsing
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| 压扁[平]，毁坏，断裂 | |
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12
quacking
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| v.（鸭子）发出嘎嘎声( quack的现在分词 ) | |
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13
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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14
commemorated
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| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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16
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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17
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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18
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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19
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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20
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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21
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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22
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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23
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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24
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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25
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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26
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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27
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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29
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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30
cannons
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| n.加农炮，大炮，火炮( cannon的名词复数 ) | |
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31
bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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32
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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33
infringing
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| v.违反（规章等）( infringe的现在分词 )；侵犯（某人的权利）；侵害（某人的自由、权益等） | |
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34
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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35
tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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36
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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37
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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38
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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39
crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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40
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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41
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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42
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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43
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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44
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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