A whole body must necessarily take precedence of a few drops of blood. Hence, a few drops of the veritable blood of John the Baptist, after he was beheaded, are little regarded, although set in gold, with diamond rays like the centre of a star. One would think that the blood of John the Baptist was immeasurably dearer to Christendom than that of this royal child ; but in Russia the Christian religion is every where overshadowed by the liussian. The pictures of Paid, Peter and the other apostles, are seldom found, either in the churches or private houses ; whereas, St. Vladimirs, Demetriuses, Nicholases, and Gregorys meet us hourly. Even the Saviour and Mary his mother must take a Greek or Russian title before they enjoy meet reverence. The Iberian Boshia Mater, and she of Kasan, are quite other godheads from the suffering Virgin Mary.
The Czars, down to Peter the Great (since whom the sovereigns have been buried in the fortress of Peter and Paul, at St. Petersburg), lie here. Their portraits, as large as life, are painted alfresco round the walls, each, wrapped in a white mantle, by his own tomb, as if watching it. These portraits are probably no more like the originals than is that of the Recleemer, with which St. Sergius blessed Demetrius Donskoi when he marched ag-ainst Memai, and which is also shown here. They are all evidently made after one pattern, and that no very choice one. The tombs are nothing better than heaps of brick whitened over. On the walls and cover of the sarcophagi are inscribed the names and paternal names of the Czars, the years of their birth and death, in the following style: — " In the year of the world 7092, and in the year after Christ 1 584, in the month of March, on the 19th day, departed the orthodox and Christ -loving Lord, the Lord Czar and Grand-Duke Feodor, the son of John, Ruler and General of all the Russians." While I was looking at them, one of the ecclesiastical officials, pointing to a small chapel near the altar, called out to me, " There lies the ' Terrible,' and his murdered son." The yoimg priest led me into the chapel of the " Terrible," and related word for word how Ivan had slain his own son with his fatal iron-pointed staff. It is said that this staff, with which in his tyrant fury Ivan pinned to the ground the foot of the unhappy messenger who brought the news of the Sheremetieff's having deserted to the Poles, leaning upon it while he read the letter, is to be seen in the armory of the Kremlin. Elsewhere I asked in vain about this story ; the answer was, " We know nothing of the weapon nor of the deed," while in the church no secret was made of the fact. This " orthodox and Christ-loving Czar and Father Jonas," (the name Ivan assumed, when, in his last hour, according to his pious wish, the monks had arrayed him in his robes,) now lies by his slaughtered son, as if nothing but love and tenderness had ever existed between them.
I was very sorry that my young guide to the grave of " Father Jonas" had not been with me before, as I found in him a most original specimen of the Russian clergy ; he seemed mightily rejoiced to have found in me his equal as he thought, i. e., a learned man. He made me acquainted with his whole curriculum vitcB ; where he had studied, and how he might hope to rise from Diatschok to Diakon, to Pope, and Protopope. He insisted upon speaking Latin, although he heard that I spoke Russian. When he heard the name of my native city, he knew that it had a republican constitution, and he also showed that he could distinguish gold from silver and wood from iron ; for as he showed me the pictures of the saints, he said half in Russian and half in Latin " etto aurum, etto argentum, etto ferreum. etto ligneum.^^ To this acquaintance with a Russian classical scholar, I owed that of the chapel of the Shuiski, which I should probably have missed otherwise. " Dicas mihi rogo" I said, " ubi famosa familia Shuiscorum quiescat? Enraptm-ed with my learning, he ran off with the speed of one possessed, and came back directly Avith a great bunch of keys. " Ibi, domine, claustra tibi apporto pro Shuiscorum ecclesia, qucc non multam ab hie distaty On my turning the wrong way, however, he broke out immediately into his Russian patois " Niets ! dcs ! sdes ss' " (Here! here, sir).