their name is legion—­seemed frantically desirous of drowning its neighbour’s voice, the solemn boom of the great one overhead mingling curiously with the sharp, fussy “ting-a-ting-ting” of diminutive rivals.  If demons dwell in Moscow and dislike bell-ringing, as is generally supposed, then there must have been at that moment a general stampede of the powers of darkness such as is described by Milton in his poem on the Nativity, and as if this deafening din were not enough, big guns were fired in rapid succession from a battery of artillery close at hand!  The noise seemed to stimulate the religious enthusiasm, and the general excitement had a wonderful effect on a Russian friend who accompanied me.  When in his normal condition that gentleman was a quiet, undemonstrative person, devoted to science, an ardent adherent of Western civilisation in general and of Darwinism in particular, and a thorough sceptic with regard to all forms of religious belief; but the influence of the surroundings was too much for his philosophical equanimity.  For a moment his orthodox Muscovite soul awoke from its sceptical, cosmopolitan lethargy.  After crossing himself repeatedly—­an act of devotion which I had never before seen him perform—­he grasped my arm, and, pointing to the crowd, said in an exultant tone of voice, “Look there!  There is a sight that you can see nowhere but in the ’White-stone City.’* Are not the Russians a religious people?”

     Belokamenny, meaning “of white stone,” is one of the
     popular names of Moscow.

To this unexpected question I gave a monosyllabic assent, and refrained from disturbing my friend’s new-born enthusiasm by any discordant note; but I must confess that this sudden outburst of deafening noise and the dazzling light aroused in my heretical breast feelings of a warlike rather than a religious kind.  For a moment I could imagine myself in ancient Moscow, and could fancy the people being called out to repel a Tartar horde already thundering at the gates!

The service lasted two or three hours, and terminated with the curious ceremony of blessing the Easter cakes, which were ranged—­each one with a lighted taper stuck in it—­in long rows outside of the cathedral.  A not less curious custom practised at this season is that of exchanging kisses of fraternal love.  Theoretically one ought to embrace and be embraced by all present—­indicating thereby that all are brethren in Christ—­but the refinements of modern life have made innovations in the practice, and most people confine their salutations to their friends and acquaintances.  When two friends meet during that night or on the following day, the one says, “Christos voskres!” ("Christ hath risen!"); and the other replies, “Vo istine voskres!” ("In truth he hath risen!").  They then kiss each other three times on the right and left cheek alternately.  The custom is more or less observed in all classes of society, and the Emperor himself conforms to it.