This deep and wide-spread dissatisfaction was not allowed to appear in the Press, but it found very free expression in the manuscript literature and in conversation.  In almost every house—­I mean, of course, among the educated classes—­words were spoken which a few months before would have seemed treasonable, if not blasphemous.  Philippics and satires in prose and verse were written by the dozen, and circulated in hundreds of copies.  A pasquil on the Commander in Chief, or a tirade against the Government, was sure to be eagerly read and warmly approved of.  As a specimen of this kind of literature, and an illustration of the public opinion of the time, I may translate here one of those metrical tirades.  Though it was never printed, it obtained a wide circulation: 

“‘God has placed me over Russia,’ said the Tsar to us, ’and you must bow down before me, for my throne is His altar.  Trouble not yourselves with public affairs, for I think for you and watch over you every hour.  My watchful eye detects internal evils and the machinations of foreign enemies; and I have no need of counsel, for God inspires me with wisdom.  Be proud, therefore, of being my slaves, O Russians, and regard my will as your law.’

“We listened to these words with deep reverence, and gave a tacit consent; and what was the result?  Under mountains of official papers real interests were forgotten.  The letter of the law was observed, but negligence and crime were allowed to go unpunished.  While grovelling in the dust before ministers and directors of departments in the hope of receiving tchins and decorations, the officials stole unblushingly; and theft became so common that he who stole the most was the most respected.  The merits of officers were decided at reviews; and he who obtained the rank of General was supposed capable of becoming at once an able governor, an excellent engineer, or a most wise senator.  Those who were appointed governors were for the most part genuine satraps, the scourges of the provinces entrusted to their care.  The other offices were filled up with as little attention to the merits of the candidates.  A stable-boy became Press censor! an Imperial fool became admiral!  Kleinmichel became a count!  In a word, the country was handed over to the tender mercies of a band of robbers.

“And what did we Russians do all this time?

“We Russians slept!  With groans the peasant paid his yearly dues; with groans the proprietor mortgaged the second half of his estate; groaning, we all paid our heavy tribute to the officials.  Occasionally, with a grave shaking of the head, we remarked in a whisper that it was a shame and a disgrace—­that there was no justice in the courts—­that millions were squandered on Imperial tours, kiosks, and pavilions—­that everything was wrong; and then, with an easy conscience, we sat down to our rubber, praised the acting of Rachel, criticised the singing of Frezzolini, bowed low to venal magnates,