other
European nations, even under despots, were comparatively active and
energetic, his own people were sluggish and stagnant; that, although
great thoughts and great acts were towering in the West, there were in
Russia, after all his galvanizing, no great authors, or scholars, or
builders, or inventors, but only two main products of Russian
civilization, dissolute lords and abject serfs.

Nearly twenty years went by in this timid dropping of grains of salt
into a putrid sea. But at last, in 1842, Nicholas issued his ukase
creating the class of "contracting 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 and 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 th