cting peasants." Masters and serfs were empowered to enter into
contracts,--the serf receiving freedom, the master receiving payment in
instalments.

It was a moderate innovation, _very_ moderate,--nothing more than the
first failure of the first Alexander. Yet, even here, that old timidity
of Nicholas nearly spoiled what little good was hidden in the ukase.
Notice after notice was given to the serf-owners that they were not to
be molested, that no emancipation was contemplated, and that the ukase
"contained nothing new."

The result was as feeble as the policy. A few serfs were emancipated,
and Nicholas halted. The revolutions of 1848 increased his fear of
innovation; and, finally, the war in the Crimea took from him the power
of innovation.

The great man died. We saw his cold, dead face, in the midst of crowns
and crosses,--very pale then, very powerless then. One might stare at
him then, as at a serf's corpse; for he who had scared Europe during
thirty years lay before us that day as a poor lump of chilled brain and
withered muscle.

And we stood by, when, amid chanting, and flare of torches, and roll of
cannon, his sons wrapped him in his shroud of gold-thread, and lowered
him into the tomb of his fathers.

But there was shown in those days far greater tribute than the prayers
of bishops or the reverence of ambassadors. Massed about the Winter
Palace, and the Fortress of Peter and Paul, stood thousands on thousands
who, in far-distant serf-huts, had put on their best, had toiled wearily
to the capital, to give their last mute thanks to one who for years had
stood between their welfare and their owners' greed. Sad that he had not
done more. Yet they knew that he had _wished_ their freedom,--that he
had loathed their wrongs: for _that_ came up the tribute of millions.

The new Emperor, Alexander II., had never been hoped for as one who
could light the nation from his brain: the only hope was that he might
warm the nation, somewhat, from his heart. He was said to be of a weak,
silken fibre. The strength of the family was said to be concentrated in
his younger brother Constantine.

But soon came a day when the young Tzar revealed to Europe not merely
kindliness, but strength.

While his father's corpse was yet lying within his palace, he received
the diplomatic body. As the Emperor entered the audience-room, he seemed
feeble indeed for such a crisis. That fearful legacy of war seemed to
weigh upon his heart;