punishment, and had been jealous of their honour, not as gentlemen or descendants of Boyars, but as Brigadiers, College Assessors, or Privy Counsellors.  Their dignity had rested not on the grace of God, but on the will of the Tsar.  Under these circumstances even the proudest magnate of Catherine’s Court, though he might speak French as fluently as his mother tongue, could not be very deeply penetrated with the conception of noble blood, the sacred character of nobility, and the numerous feudal ideas interwoven with these conceptions.  And in adopting the outward forms of a foreign culture the nobles did not, it seems, gain much in true dignity.  “The old pride of the nobles has fallen!” exclaims one who had more genuine aristocratic feeling than his fellows.* “There are no longer any honourable families; but merely official rank and personal merits.  All seek official rank, and as all cannot render direct services, distinctions are sought by every possible means—­by flattering the Monarch and toadying the important personages.”  There was considerable truth in this complaint, but the voice of this solitary aristocrat was as of one crying in the wilderness.  The whole of the educated classes—­men of old family and parvenus alike—­were, with few exceptions, too much engrossed with place-hunting to attend to such sentimental wailing.

     * Prince Shtcherbatof.

If the Russian Noblesse was thus in its new form but a very imperfect imitation of its French model, it was still more unlike the English aristocracy.  Notwithstanding the liberal phrases in which Catherine habitually indulged, she never had the least intention of ceding one jot or tittle of her autocratic power, and the Noblesse as a class never obtained even a shadow of political influence.  There was no real independence under the new airs of dignity and hauteur.  In all their acts and openly expressed opinions the courtiers were guided by the real or supposed wishes of the Sovereign, and much of their political sagacity was employed in endeavouring to discover what would please her.  “People never talk politics in the salons,” says a contemporary witness,* “not even to praise the Government.  Fear has produced habits of prudence, and the Frondeurs of the Capital express their opinions only in the confidence of intimate friendship or in a relationship still more confidential.  Those who cannot bear this constraint retire to Moscow, which cannot be called the centre of opposition, for there is no such thing as opposition in a country with an autocratic Government, but which is the capital of the discontented.”  And even there the discontent did not venture to show itself in the Imperial presence.  “In Moscow,” says another witness, accustomed to the obsequiousness of Versailles, “you might believe yourself to be among republicans who have just thrown off the yoke of a tyrant, but as soon as the Court arrives you see nothing but abject slaves."**

     * Segur, long Ambassador of France at the Court of
     Catherine.