Before, however, dealing further with the Russian police of to-day, it will be interesting, for purposes of comparison, to look back for a moment into some of the less recent stories of police proceedings. Travellers who visited the country fifty years ago or more give it as their deliberate opinion that the Russian police was "more stupid, more dishonest and corrupt than can well be conceived." Even in those days they had enormous powers; everything was submitted to their superintendence, and they carried out their orders just as seemed good to them. Their too literal interpretation of the letter of the law was often productive of the most serious consequences. Thus it was a strict rule that no one might pass the Neva when the breaking up of the ice had set in, and police were stationed on the banks to insist upon its observance. But the rule was also made to apply to any unfortunate persons who were already on the ice when the thaw began; no one was allowed to cross, and therefore no one could be allowed to land. The humane intention of saving life was thus set at naught by the intense stupidity of subordinates, and many accidents happened. A worse case occurred at the burning of the Lehmann Theatre, about 1840, during the Carnival, a period of great festivity known as Maslinizza. At the time in question the most popular of the many entertainments was that of a German pantomime company, which performed in a temporary theatre erected upon the Admiralty Square, St. Petersburg. This pantomime was the rage, and the theatre was constantly crammed. At one morning performance the alarm of fire was raised, almost instantly flames burst out from behind the scenes, and the whole edifice, of wood, was in a blaze. The audience, wild with terror, rushed to the doors, and found exit altogether forbidden. These doors opened inwards, and the pressure of the frantic crowd closed them as effectually as if they had been barred. A workman, who was on the far side, and who had assisted in the erection of the theatre, called for an axe, saying that he knew what was wrong, and that a way must be cut open for the crowd. But there was a policeman on duty, and he refused to allow any steps to be taken without superior authority. When, at last, his fatal obstinacy was overcome, and admission was gained, it was found to be too late. The whole of the densely packed audience, men, women, and children, were dead; they had been stifled by the smoke that filled the building, and not a single soul was saved.