In short, the old Muscovite Tsars practised a hand-to-mouth policy, destroying whatever caused temporary inconvenience, and giving little heed to what did not force itself upon their attention.  Hence, under their rule the administration presented not only territorial peculiarities, but also an ill-assorted combination of different systems in the same district—­a conglomeration of institutions belonging to different epochs, like a fleet composed of triremes, three-deckers, and iron-clads.

This irregular system, or rather want of system, seemed highly unsatisfactory to the logical mind of Peter the Great, and he conceived the grand design of sweeping it away, and putting in its place a symmetrical bureaucratic machine.  It is scarcely necessary to say that this magnificent project, so foreign to the traditional ideas and customs of the people, was not easily realised.  Imagine a man, without technical knowledge, without skilled workmen, without good tools, and with no better material than soft, crumbling sandstone, endeavouring to build a palace on a marsh!  The undertaking would seem to reasonable minds utterly absurd, and yet it must be admitted that Peter’s project was scarcely more feasible.  He had neither technical knowledge, nor the requisite materials, nor a firm foundation to build on.  With his usual Titanic energy he demolished the old structure, but his attempts to construct were little more than a series of failures.  In his numerous ukazes he has left us a graphic description of his efforts, and it is at once instructive and pathetic to watch the great worker toiling indefatigably at his self-imposed task.  His instruments are constantly breaking in his hands.  The foundations of the building are continually giving way, and the lower tiers crumbling under the superincumbent weight.  Now and then a whole section is found to be unsuitable, and is ruthlessly pulled down, or falls of its own accord.  And yet the builder toils on, with a perseverance and an energy of purpose that compel admiration, frankly confessing his mistakes and failures, and patiently seeking the means of remedying them, never allowing a word of despondency to escape him, and never despairing of ultimate success.  And at length death comes, and the mighty builder is snatched away suddenly in the midst of his unfinished labours, bequeathing to his successors the task of carrying on the great work.

None of these successors possessed Peter’s genius and energy—­with the exception perhaps of Catherine II.—­but they were all compelled by the force of circumstances to adopt his plans.  A return to the old rough-and-ready rule of time local Voyevods was impossible.  As the Autocratic Power became more and more imbued with Western ideas, it felt more and more the need of new means for carrying them out, and accordingly it strove to systematise and centralise the administration.