gress of the Emperor, delegates are commanded to appear from every peasant community, and materials requisitioned for the reception and welcome of the Tsar.
The enthusiasm of the crowd is for the most part artificially prepared by those who require it, and the degree of enthusiasm exhibited by the crowd is only a clue to the refinements in the art of those who organise such exhibitions. The art has been practised for long, hence the specialists in it have acquired great adroitness in its preparation.
When Alexander II. was still heir apparent, and commanded, as is usual, the Préobajensky Regiment, he once paid an after dinner visit to the regiment, which was in camp at the time.
As soon as his calèche came in sight, the soldiers, who were only in their shirts at the time, ran out to welcome their "august commander," as the phrase is, with such enthusiasm, that they all followed the carriage, and many, while running, made the sign of the cross, gazing upon the prince. All who witnessed this reception were deeply moved by this simple attachment of the Russian soldier to the Tsar and his son, and by the genuinely religious, and evidently spontaneous, enthusiasm expressed in their faces, movements, and especially by the signing of the cross.
And yet all this had been artificially prepared in the following manner:—
After a review on the previous day the Prince told the commander of the brigade that he would revisit the regiment on the following day.
"When are we to expect your Imperial Highness?"
"Probably in the evening, only, pray, do not expect me: and let there be no preparation."
As soon as the Prince was gone, the commander of the brigade called all the captains of companies together, and gave orders that on the following day all the men should have clean shirts, and the moment the Prince's carriage should come in sight (special signalmen were to be sent out to give warning of it) everyone should run to meet it, and with shouts of "Hurrah!" run after it, and, moreover, that every tenth man in each company should cross himself whilst running. The colour-sergeants drew up the companies, and told off every tenth man to cross himself, "One, two, three, . . . . eight, nine, ten. Sidorenko, you are to cross yourself. One, two, three . . . . Ivanoff, to cross yourself."
