This section is from the book "St. Petersburg and Moscow - John L. Stoddard's Lectures", by John L. Stoddard. Also available from Amazon: John L. Stoddard's Lectures 13 Volume Set.
A Canal In St. Petersburg.
At first it is impossible to realize these facts, so massive and substantial does everything connected with the waterfront appear, and one is liable to forget what a stupendous undertaking this of Peter's was. The obstacles opposing him would have been insuperable to most men; but Peter was not easily dismayed. Were laborers needed ? He summoned hither multitudes of Russians, Tartars, Cossacks, Fins, and even two thousand criminals destined for Siberia, and ordered them to go to work. Was he in jest? They had no tools. It mattered not. The iron task-master said "work," and work they must. They, therefore, dug the soil with sticks or with their hands; and carried the earth away in their caps and aprons.
The Steamboat Landing.
Cronstadt Harbor.
As a result of this terrific energy, within the space of one short year there had arisen on these freezing marshes thirty thousand houses. Yet at what a cost! Beneath these buildings were the bones of nearly a hundred thousand wretched laborers, who, in those first twelve months from hunger and exposure, had perished in anguish and despair. But that was nothing to the reckless Tsar. "One must break eggs," he said, " to make an omelet." Nevertheless, the inquiry is natural, "How did the Tsar persuade his subjects to reside in St. Petersburg, after the town was built ? "
Persuade! Peter used not persuasions, but commands. Were citizens needed ? A word from him, and they came fast enough; for even this place was preferable to Siberia. Hundreds of merchants were forcibly transported here and ordered "to take root." Mechanics and artisans were gathered together from the farthest corners of the vast empire and brought here by thousands to swell the population and develop the industries of the new imperial city. Many wealthy families were required by an edict of the Tsar to take up their residence here, and to stay here in winter as well as summer. Even the building of stone houses elsewhere in Russia was forbidden, for stone houses and masons were wanted on the Neva. They told him there were no stones with which to build. No matter! Another edict from the Tsar was issued, and thenceforth every boat that entered this harbor had to bring a quantity of unhewn stones. St. Petersburg is, therefore, like the Pyramids, a most astounding specimen of autocratic power.
The City Of The Tsars.
Filled with these thoughts, I never tired of looking at the river Neva, apparently conquered and curbed by twenty miles of granite quays. But is it really conquered ? It still looks dangerous. No portion of the city is more than fifteen feet above the ocean level, and hence it bears within its own breast the elements of its possible destruction. No skill can avoid occasional inundations. The Tsar can far more easily subdue the Nihilists than the Neva. This corner of the Gulf of Finland is so narrow that, when the west wind blows a gale, the water is heaped up into enormous billows, and should an ocean storm occur, just when the ice is disappearing in the spring, a catastrophe might happen, similar to that of 1824, when thirteen hundred houses were destroyed and more than eight hundred persons were drowned. It is not beyond the range of possibility that this strange northern capital may some day disappear within the gloomy marshes from which it magically arose; for, viewed from any height, the whole stupendous mass seems to be floating unsteadily, like a huge vessel loaded to the water's edge with precious goods.
The Moiska Quay.
The enormous volume of its clear blue water makes the Neva one of the noblest rivers in Europe. Two hundred years ago, however, it was practically unknown. For centuries it had rolled through trackless forests, its shores resounding only to the shouts of savage fishermen. Now it is famed throughout the world and sweeps along in majesty to cast itself upon the bosom of the Baltic, and tell of the magnificence of the newborn city through which it has cleft its way.
 
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