And we stood by, when, amid chanting, and flare of torches, and roll of cannon, his sons wrapped him in his shroud of gold-thread, and lowered him into the tomb of his fathers.

But there was shown in those days far greater tribute than the prayers of bishops or the reverence of ambassadors.  Massed about the Winter Palace, and the Fortress of Peter and Paul, stood thousands on thousands who, in far-distant serf-huts, had put on their best, had toiled wearily to the capital, to give their last mute thanks to one who for years had stood between their welfare and their owners’ greed.  Sad that he had not done more.  Yet they knew that he had wished their freedom,—­that he had loathed their wrongs:  for that came up the tribute of millions.

The new Emperor, Alexander II., had never been hoped for as one who could light the nation from his brain:  the only hope was that he might warm the nation, somewhat, from his heart.  He was said to be of a weak, silken fibre.  The strength of the family was said to be concentrated in his younger brother Constantine.

But soon came a day when the young Tzar revealed to Europe not merely kindliness, but strength.

While his father’s corpse was yet lying within his palace, he received the diplomatic body.  As the Emperor entered the audience-room, he seemed feeble indeed for such a crisis.  That fearful legacy of war seemed to weigh upon his heart; marks of plenteous tears were upon his face; Nesselrode, though old and bent and shrunk in stature, seemed stronger than his young master.

But, as he began his speech, it was seen that a strong man had mounted the throne.

With earnestness he declared that he sorrowed over the existing war,—­but that, if the Holy Alliance had been broken, it was not through the fault of Russia.  With bitterness he turned toward the Austrian Minister, Esterhazy, and hinted at Russian services in 1848 and Austrian ingratitude.  Calmly, then, not as one who spoke a part, but as one who announced a determination, he declared,—­“I am anxious for peace; but if the terms at the approaching congress are incompatible with the honor of my nation, I will put myself at the head of my faithful Russia and die sooner than yield."[J]

[Footnote J:  This sketch is given from notes taken at the audience.]

Strong as Alexander showed himself by these words, he showed himself stronger by acts.  A policy properly mingling firmness and conciliation brought peace to Europe, and showed him equal to his father; a policy mingling love of liberty with love of order brought the dawn of prosperity to Russia, and showed him the superior of his father.

The reforms now begun were not stinted, as of old, but free and hearty.  In rapid succession were swept away restrictions on telegraphic communication,—­on printing,—­on the use of the Imperial Library,—­on strangers entering the country,—­on Russians leaving the country.  A policy in public works was adopted which made Nicholas’s greatest efforts seem petty:  a vast net-work of railways was commenced.  A policy in commercial dealings with Western Europe was adopted, in which Alexander, though not apparently so imposing as Nicholas, was really far greater:  he dared advance toward freedom of trade.