The Gulf of Finland runs from St. Petersburg in a due westerly direction, and it is exactly from that quarter that the heaviest storms always blow. The west wind naturally sweeps the waters up towards the city. If the gulf were broad at its termination, this would perhaps be of little consequence; but, unfortunately, the gulf narrows gradually to a point, and that point is St. Petersburg. When a gale, therefore, blows from the west, the waters of the gulf are blown into the Neva, and oppose the exit of those that come rolling down from the lake. Now the Delta of the Neva, into which the palaces of St. Petersburg have struck their roots, is flat and low, and there is scarcely a spot of ground in the capital that lies more than twelve or fourteen feet above the customary level of the sea. A rise of fifteen feet is, therefore, enough to put the whole city under wa-ter, and a rise of thirty or forty feet would be enough to drown nearly the whole population. The poor inhabitants are thus in constant danger, and can seldom be certain that within the next twenty-four hours, the whole 500,000 of them will not be swept at once into a watery grave.
All that is necessary to bring about such a calamity is that a storm from the w^est should arise just as the ice is breaking up, and that this should happen when the water in the river is at its highest. The masses of ice blown from the sea into the river would then meet those that would be coming down, and the struggle between these opposing powers would suffice to raze to the ground the whole city and all its proud palaces, and princes and beggars would be drowned promiscuously, like Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea. The matter is so serious, that I don't feel certain whether I ought to allow myself to speak so sportively about it. The people of St. Petersburg are quite aware of their danger, and many among them, when they reflect on it, feel their hearts heaving within them. Their only hope is that the three events, a westerly storm, high water, and Eisgang, are not likely to occur simultaneously. There are sixtyfour points of the compass, they say, and when it is high water, and the ice coming down, it is not very probable that an obstinate west wind should choose just that moment to blow in upon us to our destruction.
It is not the less true, however, that, during the spring, it does often blow from the west for many days together, when the swimming ice is still formidable enough to excite serious alarm. It is to be regretted that the Fins, the ancient inhabitants of the Delta of the Neva, should not have kept meteorological registers, from which we might calculate how often in a thousand years, or perhaps in ten thousand years, the dreaded junction of these three circumstances has usually occurred. As it is, we must not be surprised, if we read one of these days in the newspapers, that St. Petersburg, which rose so suddenly, like a brilliant meteor from the Finnish marshes, has sunk as suddenly, and been extinguished there like an ignis fatuus. May God have the city in his keeping.
Human aid can be of no avail. Little as Russian enterprise is disposed to be deterred by difficulties, it will scarcely undertake to dam off the ocean, or to give to a mighty river a new course. Canals to carry away the waters of the Neva, and moles to serve as ramparts against the sea, have sometimes been spoken of, but practical men have always rejected the proposed plans as impossible of execution. Nothing, therefore, has, as yet, been done, and St. Petersburg continues exposed to the mercy of the winds and waves. In many quarters of the town, inundations are of frequent occurrence, and come so suddenly, that the assembled guests at a party are not unfrequently unable to leave the hospitable roof under which they have been entertained. Water is quite as much dreaded in St. Petersburg as fire is in other cities, and measures are, therefore, taken to inform the inhabitants of their danger the moment the river begins to rise above its customary level. Wlien the extreme j)oints of the islands are under water, a cannon is fired from the Admiralty, and the water-flags are hoisted on every steeple, as a signal that the Nereids ha^e declared the city in a state of siege. This alarm-gun is repeated every hour, until the danger seems to be at an end. When the river rises sufficiently high to lay the lowest streets under water, the alarm-gun is fired every quarter of an hour. In proportion as the river rises, the artillery becomes louder and more importunate, till at last minute-guns are fired, and are undertsood as a cry of despair, calling upon ships and boats to hasten to the aid of a drowning population.