Then, through this same influential friend, the Hermitage—­the second finest and the very richest museum in all Europe—­was opened for us, and—­well, I kept my head going through the show palaces in London, and Paris, and Berlin, and Dresden, and Potsdam, but I lost it completely in the Hermitage.  Then and there I absolutely went crazy.  A whole guide-book devoted simply to the Hermitage could give no sort of idea of the barbaric splendor of its belongings.  Its riches are beyond belief.  Even the presents given by the Emir of Bokhara to the Tzar are splendid enough to dazzle one like a realization of the Arabian Nights.  But to see the most valuable of all, which are kept in the Emperor’s private vaults, is to be reduced to a state of bewilderment bordering on idiocy.

It is astonishing enough, to one who has bought even one Russian belt set with turquoise enamel, to think of all the trappings of a horse—­bit, bridle, saddle-girth, saddlecloth, and all, made of cloth of gold and set in solid turquoise enamel; with the sword hilt, scabbard, belts, pistol handle and holster made of the same.  Well, these are there by the dozen.  Then you come to the private jewels, and you see all these same accoutrements made of precious stones—­one of solid diamonds; another of diamonds, emeralds, topazes, and rubies.  And the size of these stones!  Why, you never would believe me if I should tell you how large they are.  Many of them are uncut and badly set, from an English stand-point.  But in quantity and size—­well, I was glad to get back to my three-ruble-a-day room and to look at my one trunk, and to realize that my own humble life would go on just the same, and my letter of credit would not last any longer for all the splendors which exist for the Tzar of all the Russias.

The churches in St. Petersburg are so magnificent that they, too, go to your head.  We did nothing but go to mass on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, for although we spent our Christmas in Berlin, we arrived in St. Petersburg in time for the Russian Christmas, which comes twelve days later than ours.  St. Isaac’s, the Kazan, and Sts.  Peter and Paul dazed me.  The icons or images of the Virgin are set with diamonds and emeralds worth a king’s ransom.  They are only under glass, which is kept murky from the kisses which the people press upon the hands and feet.

The interiors of the cathedrals, with their hundreds of silver couronnes, and battle-flags, and trophies of conquests, look like great bazaars.  Every column is covered clear to the dome.  The tombs of the Tzars are always surrounded by people, and candles burn the year round.  Upon the tomb of Alexander II., under glass, is the exquisite laurel wreath placed there by President Faure.  It is of gold, and was made by Falize, one of the most famous carvers of gold in Europe.