Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine.Departure of Exiles for Siberia—The Russian Howard—Vast Exercise House—Tartar Mosque—The Sparrow Hills—Burning of Moscow—Magnificent View of the City—Ennobling of Merchants—The Schoolmaster in Russia—Decay of the Old Nobility—The Donskoy Convent—Russian Monks—Their Interpreter—Palace of Petrofsky—Encampment near Moscow—Preparations for the Coronation Fête—Public Gardens—Zingari Singers.Early on Sunday morning our travellers left then hotel to witness a painful though interesting sight, the departure of the convicts condemned to exile in Siberia from the Ragoshky Gate of the city, where they bid farewell to their relatives and friends. They are first collected from all parts of the neighbouring country in a large prison near the city, till they amount to a sufficient number to form a caravan. Our friends met the melancholy band; clanking their chains, they moved along at a slow pace through the city. Numbers of people, chiefly of the lower orders, rushed out of their houses, and presented them with loaves of bread, biscuits, tobacco, sugar, money, and other things likely to comfort them on their dreary pilgrimage. After they had been thus exhibited to the public, they stopped at a wooden shed, where they were to rest before taking their final departure. There were about fifty of them, old men and youths, and even women, some of them young, poor creatures, looking miserable, heart-broken, and forlorn.The men were dressed in coarse linen shirts and trousers, and the high boots generally worn by peasants. Half the head was shaved, and few wore hat or cap to conceal the sign of their disgrace. Most of them were heavily manacled, some few only being free of irons.In the centre of the building was a platform, on which were piled up the prisoners’ knapsacks and bags of provisions. Round it the gang stood grouped. While they were there, many persons entered to bring them offerings of money and food. At one end of the platform was spread out a large handkerchief, on which the gifts were placed. As each person, after bowing to the saint which hung in front of the doorway, deposited his or her piece of money or loaf of bread on the handkerchief, one of the prisoners, who seemed to take the lead, cried out with a loud voice, “Unhappy ones, thank the donors!” The whole party then bent their heads at the same time, and replied, “Thanks be to you, kind and benevolent sir,” or “mother” if a matron was their benefactor. After this, the visitors being requested to leave the shed, the gang was marshalled by the man in command, who spoke in a savage voice to the prisoners, and by his significant gestures was evidently in the habit of striking them.The escort consisted of six mounted lancers and about thirty foot-soldiers. At a sign they stepped out together, and, while many a sob and groan was heard from the crowd, they commenced their six months’ dreary march towards Siberia at the rate of about twenty versts a day.Russia has not been without its Howard; indeed, perhaps that great man infused his spirit into the bosom of the benevolent Dr Haaz. He, like Howard, devoted his means, his talents, and energies to ameliorating the condition of the unhappy prisoners. He had frequently urged on the authorities that the manacles employed were too heavy for persons of ordinary strength, but they would not listen to him. At length, the better to be able to explain the suffering inflicted on the poor wretches, he had them put on his own limbs, and trudged the whole of the first day’s march alongside the party of exiles. The state to which even this one day’s march reduced him was so strong an argument in favour of his assertion, that he won his cause; and after that the chains, except of the greater criminals, were much lightened.A few carts, containing stores and some prisoners who were unable to walk, followed the melancholy cortege.“In England many guilty ones escape punishment, but in this country many innocent ones suffer, I fear,” observed Cousin Giles as they returned to their hotel, very tired after their morning’s walk.The travellers were told, that persons of rank condemned for political offences are carried off secretly by the police in closed carriages, without the power of communicating with their friends; that frequently they thus disappear, and no one knows whither they are gone. A small dark carriage, with thick blinds, may be seen, strongly guarded by horse-soldiers, proceeding towards Siberia, but no one knows whom it contains.The travellers attended the service in the British chapel, where Mr Gray officiates, and they were surprised to find it so well filled. There were several persons in Russian uniforms—Englishmen, or the sons of Englishmen, in either the military or civil service of the Czar, who are allowed to worship God after the mode of their fathers. By the laws of Russia no Russian may change his religious profession, but any stranger entering the country may worship according to his belief—as may his descendants, although they become naturalised Russians. If, however, a stranger marries a Russian woman, the children of the marriage must belong to the Greek Church. Laws, however, cannot change the mind; and not only has the Greek Church been split into numerous bodies of sectarians, but there are many who totally dissent from it, an account of whom our friends afterwards heard.Sunday they made a day of rest.Monday morning they again commenced sight-seeing. The first place they visited was the building near the Kremlin having the most extensive roof without arches in the world, and in which the Emperor is accustomed to manoeuvre several regiments of cavalry and infantry together. People at the farther end look like pigmies. The ground was now covered with lamps, in preparation for the illumination. Their next excursion was to the Tartar quarter of the city, where there is a Tartar mosque. The Tartar dwellings are low cottages in wide courtyards. The mosque was of much the same character, only there was a pigsty at one side of the yard. In their search for the mosque they entered several courtyards, where the women, old and young, in striped dressing-gown-looking robes, hurried away to hide themselves from the strangers. At the usual early hour the muezzin mounted to the roof of the mosque, and in a loud voice summoned the faithful to prayer.“It is sad,” observed Fred, “to find people in the centre of what is called a Christian land who are totally ignorant of a Saviour.”“Very sad indeed,” replied Cousin Giles; “but if we look at home we shall find sights still more sad. In London itself there exist thousands of Englishmen who not only have never heard of the Saviour, but do not know of the existence of a God. Every year is indeed working a change, and diminishing their numbers, through the exertions of christian and philanthropic men; but when you grow older it will be a subject worthy of your attention, and you should not rest till all in your native land have the gospel preached to them.”On their way back they bought some of the rush shoes worn by the peasants. They are made of rushes which grow on the banks of the Volga. They are more like sandals than shoes, being fastened on with thongs round the ankles. Their cost is about twopence a pair.After dinner they drove to the Sparrow Hills, about five miles west of the city. The road was execrable, full of ruts and holes. They passed the palace of the Empress-Mother, which has some handsome gardens. They saw also an asylum for the widows and children of decayed merchants. It is a wide, extended building, with a church in the centre. Russia contains numerous charitable asylums, generally well conducted. They are, however, not to be compared to the numberless ostentatious charities of which our beloved country, with all her shortcomings, may justly boast. Their carriage took the travellers to the top of the Sparrow Hills, which are of no great elevation. They slope steeply down to the Moscowa, which, after passing the city, takes a sharp bend close to their base, and then runs back again towards the southern end of it. The view was indeed superb. Below them, on the plain across the river, was the Donskoy Convent, with its red walls and lofty towers, several other convents being scattered about here and there. To the right, on the wooded and sloping banks of the Moscowa, were the Emperor’s villa and many other handsome buildings; and before them the Holy City itself, its numberless golden and silver domes glittering brightly in the sunshine, like a mighty pile of precious jewels from the far-famed mines of Gokonda. On the left, on a wide-extended down, were seen the white tents of fifty thousand of the choicest troops of Russia, assembled to do honour to the Emperor at his coronation, or to signify to the people the power by which he rules.“I should very much like to go and look through that camp,” exclaimed Fred; “I want to see if all they say about the Russian troops is true.”“We will make a point of going there to-morrow,” replied Cousin Giles. “I have no doubt the visit will be an interesting one; but, for my part, I do not expect to be so interested as I am at present. The whole of Russia cannot, perhaps, afford a sight more beautiful than the one before us. Here it was that Napoleon, after marching across Europe, first beheld the superb city which he hoped in a few hours to make his own—the bourn he so eagerly sought—the prize of all his toils! How grievously, yet how righteously, was he disappointed! As he, swelling with pride and elated with triumph, was gazing at the city from the west, the Russian army, having already devoted their beloved capital to destruction, were marching out on the opposite side. In a short time the city in which he trusted to find shelter for his troops during the winter burst forth into flames, and a very few days saw him defeated and a fugitive, and his magnificent army a prey to the rigours of the climate and the remorseless Cossacks. History cannot afford a more dreadful picture than the retreat of the French from Moscow, or a clearer example of the retributive justice of Heaven. Not many years afterwards the Russians, as allies of the English, paid a visit, as conquerors, to Paris. The French, united with the English, were lately on the point of returning the compliment, by looking in on Saint Petersburg. Heaven grant that neither of them may ever come to London in any guise but that of friends. To commemorate the retreat from Moscow, the Russians are now building the Church of Saint Saviour, whose golden domes we see so conspicuous not far from the towers of the Kremlin,” observed Cousin Giles, pointing it out with his stick.After gazing on the interesting scene for some time, the travellers returned to their carriage.In the evening a German gentleman, long resident in Russia, to whom they had been introduced, gave them several important pieces of information.“The late Emperor Nicholas was well aware,” he told them, “that his power rested on very precarious ground, and that, though a despot in name, he knew that he was in the power of his own nobles. To liberate himself, he endeavoured to weaken, if not to destroy, the old nobility—first by leading them into all sorts of extravagance, and then by creating a new order between nobles and peasants, who should feel that they owed their elevation entirely to him.“For this purpose he created what he called the Guild of Honourable Merchants. Every merchant of the first guild who had paid a tax of 150 per annum for ten years without failure was eligible to belong to it. The Honourable Merchants are free from all imposts, conscriptions, etcetera, and pay no taxes. Another mode Nicholas took of ruining the old nobility was to establish a pawn bank, where they could at all times pledge then property. By encouraging their extravagance, many were unable to redeem it, and, being put up for sale, it was bought up by the Honourable Merchants and other members of the trading community. The late Emperor also wished to encourage education. By an ukase he ordered that all children throughout the country should be educated. To effect this object every priest is bound to have a school attached to his parish church. In consequence, a considerable number of children do learn to read; but the ukase cannot make them go to school, and in many instances the priests are so ignorant and careless that these schools are of very little use. The present Emperor, it is said, wishes to encourage liberal institutions. He has erected municipalities in the towns. In the courts of law three officers are chosen by the Crown, and three by the municipality, with a president who acts as judge. He is anxious also to abolish serfdom; but to do so at once, without violence, is dangerous. He is, however, effecting his object, which his father also entertained, by slow degrees. When an estate is sold, all the serfs become free, and in this way a considerable number have been liberated. No serfs can now be sold: a person may inherit an estate and the serfs on it. (See Note 1.) Many of the great nobles would willingly get rid of their serfs if they could. On one of their estates, perhaps, they are overcrowded, on another they have not a sufficient number to till the ground or to work their mines; yet they have no power to remove the serfs of one estate to another, while they must find means for their support on the spot where they were born. If the peasants were free, they could literally have more power over them, because they could then turn them off their estates, and compel them to seek for employment where it is to be found. Nicholas, by several of his enactments, has enabled his son to rule with less difficulty than would otherwise have been the case. By the ruin of some of the principal nobles he has saved him from the worst enemies of his ancestors, who so frequently proved their destroyers; and by the creation of a wealthy middle class, every day improving in education and numbers, he has formed a strong body who find that it is their interest to support him. When it is no longer their interest so to do, the whole fabric of Russian government will crumble to the dust.”The first excursion our friends made the next morning was to the Donskoy Convent. It stands on a flat near the Moscowa, and is surrounded with high brick walls, flanked by lofty towers, all of bright red-brick. It has entirely the character of an ancient fortress, erected to withstand the rapid incursions of an enemy’s cavalry, though unfit to hold out against a regular attack. The church, standing in the centre of a wide, open space, is a lofty pile, with the usual gilt dome; but the residences of the monks are low, unpretending buildings, on one floor.A young monk, in a long dark robe, a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat, and dishevelled locks hanging over his shoulders, came forth, and politely offered to guide the travellers about the convent. Cousin Giles had engaged a young Englishman to act as their interpreter, and he very much increased the interest of the scenes they visited, and their means of acquiring information.The monk led them into the interior of the church, which consisted of a vaulted chamber divided into two parts by a large wooden screen. The carpenters and gilders and painters were busily at work, painting and furbishing up the ornaments; but the scene brought forcibly to the minds of the travellers the preparations for a new play at a theatre. The monk told them that the large church was so cold in winter that it was shut up, and that there was a small one, well warmed with stoves, where they could at that season worship in comfort. He then led them through the burial-ground, which they found crowded with the tombs of noble families, and other inhabitants of Moscow and its neighbourhood. This is the most fashionable burying-place of that part of Russia, and consequently people are very anxious to have the remains of their friends placed there, so that, though they could not enjoy good company when they were alive, they might at all events after their death have such satisfaction as it might afford.The ground was laid out with walks; the tombstones were of every possible strange device, and crowded together in a way which would have been far from pleasing to some of the more aristocratic inhabitants in their lifetime; but the monkish sexton in his own graveyard read the lesson to visitors, often uttered before, that death is a leveller of all ranks, and no respecter of persons.When the travellers thanked the young moppy-haired monk for his attention, he replied that it was his duty, as it was his pleasure, to show his convent, and seemed in no way to expect any remuneration. The Imperial family, it is said, have no affection for the monkish orders; indeed, the feeling of dislike is mutual. They predicted the overthrow of the Russian armies in the Crimea, and the death of the Emperor—the wish probably being the father of the prophecy.In their way through the city the travellers entered an Armenian church. It was ornamented with pictures of saints, like those of a Roman Catholic place of worship; but the pulpit was in a conspicuous place, as if preaching was not altogether neglected; and there were chairs inside the altar railings for the Patriarch and other ecclesiastical functionaries.The style of ornaments about the church showed that the Armenian community were either not wealthy or not disposed to spend much money on the edifice. It, however, spoke of a purer faith than that of the Greek Church.After dining, our friends set out, and drove along the high road to Saint Petersburg, towards the Petrofsky Palace. Every part of the way, from the Kremlin to the Gate of Triumph at the entrance of the city, was lined with scaffolding and seats, in preparation for the coronation, to enable the lieges “to see great Caesar pass that way” from his palace of Petrofsky, where he was to reside three days before entering the Holy City to undergo the ceremony of his coronation.The Gate of Triumph, which forms the northern entrance to the city, is built of stone, after the model of one at Rome, but with a taste which would make a Roman stare. All the statues and ornaments about it are painted of every variety of colour, so that it has the appearance of a wooden structure put up by the rustic inhabitants of some country village to welcome the lord of the estate.The Palace of Petrofsky is itself a curious sight. It is a huge pile, of a bright red colour, intermingled with white, and covered with every conceivable device in the way of ornament. It has circular walls projecting out in front from the main building, in shape and colour very like lobsters’ claws, and there are the brightest green roofs, and numberless domes, and cupolas, and minarets, and towers, and spires, covered with burnished gold, which make one suppose that a very rich man must live within. On a wide, open space in front of the palace, wonderfully grand preparations were making for a fête which was to be given to the people on the occasion of the coronation.At a short distance before the palace stood a magnificent pavilion, intended to hold the Imperial family. A little of the woodwork yet unpainted showed that it was not a solid structure of stone. No people can equal the Russians in making the false pass for the real. On either side of the pavilion were others, each of a different style of architecture, for the use of the chief nobility of the realm. Before them, at some little distance, were two theatres, in comparison with which the magnificence of the old fair-going booth of Richardson would have grown dim. They might be called theatres, but they were only the semi-part of the theatre; the open common, with the blue sky overhead, was the space intended for the audience. Then there were several Montagnes Russe, but, instead of being made of ice and snow, they were built of wood. They consist of high elevations, facing each other, with a slope between them; people ascend to the top by steps, where they find cars of wood. They place themselves in the cars, and then are sent sliding down one slope with such force that they are propelled up the opposite slope.But this was only a small part of the entertainment prepared for the people. There were fountains which, instead of throwing up jets of cold, insipid water, were to spout forth incessantly into huge tanks a stream of the much-loved vodka, from which all around might draw forth and drink to their hearts’ content.What more perfect idea of a terrestrial paradise would a thirsty mujick seek for than did these preparations afford him? How munificent and kind must he have considered the Emperor who could provide such an entertainment for him, especially when near to the fountains of vodka there were spread out long tables and benches, covering some acres of ground, which it was said were to be loaded with provisions, of which all-comers of humble rank might partake!The travellers had to drive in and out among the tables, and they pictured to themselves the jovial, happy crowd who would soon be assembled around them, enjoying themselves, and drinking long life and prosperity to their Czar—a perfect picture of an Arcadian banquet. Farther on were large booths, containing the kitchens where the provisions for the vast multitudes were to be cooked; and there were also other sheds, where the bread, and meat, and grain of all sorts were to be stored. All this feasting and amusement was to last three days, and no one seemed to be able to estimate how many thousands of persons would attend the rural banquet.“Alas!” exclaimed Cousin Giles, “this may be a certain way of winning the momentary applause of an ignorant mob, but it is a miserable way of gaining the love of a people, of improving their character, of instructing them in their duties, by thus pandering to their lowest tastes. I suspect that it will not even secure the object desired. What a contrast does it afford to the way our own enlightened sovereign takes to win the affections of her people!”“We had the fireworks at the peace,” observed Fred; “they were only to please the mob.”“Yes, to be sure,” said Cousin Giles; “that was an old-fashioned way of letting the people know that peace was concluded. They could in days of yore, when newspapers were rare, have scarcely known it without; now such a proceeding is quite unnecessary. A large sum was squandered which would have been much better spent in enabling our artisans in the dockyards, thrown out of employment by the peace, to emigrate; besides which, it was said that numbers of people were kept working on several Sundays to get them finished in time. If such was the case, a national sin was added to a national folly.”Cousin Giles’ conjectures with regard to the uselessness of the feast prepared for the mujicks were realised. No sooner each day were the tables covered, than the mob rushed forward and bore off whatever they could lay hands on, so that the later comers had nothing to eat; while fountains of vodka refused to supply sufficient liquid to quench the thirst of the vast multitudes which thronged round them. There was, therefore, far more complaint and grumbling, than love or gratitude exhibited towards the supposed provider of the entertainment—the Czar.About half a mile farther, in front of this scene of barbaric festivity, across the plain, over fields which had been beaten down to supply an open space of sufficient extent, was seen a sea of white tents, forming an encampment which at that time contained fifty thousand men, to whom many more were afterwards added.Before them was a line of artillery, the muzzles of the guns turned towards the spot where the mujicks were expected to assemble—significant, as a cynical friend of Cousin Giles observed, of the way in which people in the parts there are governed. He may, however, have been wrong in his conjecture.The travellers drove towards the tents, in front of which they found the bands of all the regiments practising together. They made a great deal of noise, but the music was not so good as they expected.They got out of their carriage, and walked into the encampment without let or hindrance. They felt a curious sensation as they found themselves among the troops of those with whom their countrymen had so lately been engaged in deadly strife. Not only were they secure from receiving any insult, but they were treated everywhere with the greatest courtesy.One thing is certain, that although a large amount of barbarism remains in Russia, the army, in certain respects, has attained a high state of civilisation. The younger officers are invariably well educated, and generally polished in their manners. The material comforts of the men are much attended to in many regiments, though not perhaps in all, and they have been brought into a good state of discipline.The tents were arranged in long lines, with broad, well-gravelled roads at intervals between them, with a drained footpath on either side. The encampment, it must be confessed, looked very far neater and cleaner than that at Aldershot. Why should we refuse to give our late enemies their due, or to acknowledge our own shortcomings? It is far better that the rising generation should know that Englishmen are not perfect, and endeavour to correct the national faults, than to go on blindly fancying that we are superior in all things to all other nations on earth.Our friends, with their guide, first walked into a sergeant’s tent. He and his comrade were very civil, and begged them to take a seat. His regiment had not been in the Crimea, but they had heard what brave people the English were. Even those who had been opposed to them felt no enmity towards them; very much the contrary—they had learnt to respect them.The Russian officers who had been in the Crimea, it was said, whenever they met with any English officers who had been there also, were more than usually kind and attentive to them. The men’s abodes, into which the travellers went, contained sixteen persons, and very close packing they must have found it in hot weather. In cold weather they are thus kept warmer, and, if called to stand to their arms on a sudden attack, a large body of men can be instantly brought together. The soldiers were generally fine-looking, intelligent fellows; many of them as fair, and quite as clean-looking, as Englishmen. Some of the regiments, raised in northern latitudes, were composed of fine, dark-bearded men, while the officers were generally good-looking and gentlemanly. These, however, were crack troops, and were certainly very different from the slouching, loutish-looking recruits to be seen when no public exhibition is intended.Highly pleased with this visit to the camp, they drove back to the city. On their way they stopped at some public gardens, where their guide told them a celebrated band of gipsies were going to sing. Harry declared that the place was called Waxhauloff. Certainly the name did not sound unlike that word. There was a garden, brilliantly lighted up with coloured lamps, and at one end there were scenic preparations, probably for a desperate sea-fight on a pond, for there was a lighthouse in the foreground and some ships in the distance; and the bills signified that this was to be followed by a superb display of fireworks. There was also a large music hall, where a number of people were collected, listening to a very good instrumental band. The object of the travellers, however, was to meet with the civilised specimens of the race of Zingari or gipsies, whom they would find there. They were not long in discovering them as they moved about among the crowd. There was the same swarthy hue, black, burning eyes, and cunning, quick expression of countenance which distinguish them in every part of the world. The women were somewhat fancifully, but not fantastically dressed. This costume varied little from that common in Europe. It is only on festive occasions that they wear the dress of their people. The men had on surtouts, with belts round their waists, and light-coloured trousers. They were remarkable for their small well-formed heads and sharp Jewish countenances. Cousin Giles said he should call them Arab Jews. One of the women, who was fairer than the rest, and somewhat picturesquely dressed in a red mantle, seemed to attract some attention, though when her features were seen near they bore the gipsy characteristics.After some time the interpreter succeeded in finding the chief of the gipsies, and in drawing him aside to where Cousin Giles was standing. The interpreter told the gipsy chief that Cousin Giles was an Englishman who took great interest in the gipsies of all countries, and that he would like to hear about his tribe. The gipsy replied that he was much flattered; that he was the chief only of forty or fifty people, but that they were all well off; that they lived in comfortable houses, and had conformed to the religion of the country; that he had been offered a sum equivalent to a thousand pounds to each of his band to go to Paris to sing in public, but that they were well off in Russia, and did not wish to move. Some of his people at times became very wealthy, and some of the women, who had fine voices, went on the stage, while others married men of rank. There were many tribes of gipsies in Russia who were altogether of an inferior grade. They still lived in tents, and wandered about the country, and were chiefly horse and cattle-dealers. A few followed still less creditable occupations. His tribe, however, held no communication whatever with them.It occurred to Cousin Giles that the life of the wandering gipsy was perhaps more creditable than that of his brethren in the city. The conversation was brought to a close by the gipsy and his band being summoned to the platform.The band consisted of fifteen women and eight men. The women were seated in a semicircle; the leader and another man, with guitars in their hands, stood in front of them; the rest stood behind. Some of the women had guitars. One of the girls sang a solo very well, the rest of the band joining in an extravagantly wild, fantastic chorus; the leader, meantime, skipping and turning and twisting about in the most absurd and inelegant manner. They sang several songs in the same style, some more wild and extraordinary than the first, certainly not suited to a refined taste. Yet this place was evidently a fashionable resort; the entrance-money was very high,—a silver rouble and a quarter,—and the company were all well-dressed, well-behaved people, evidently ladies and gentlemen, chiefly the residents of the neighbourhood, a fashionable suburb of Moscow.The houses in the neighbourhood were evidently built only for summer use, for they were all, though differing in shape, of a Swiss-cottage style. The travellers had been so busily engaged all day, that, having satisfied their curiosity by seeing the gipsies, they had no inclination to remain for the pyrotechnic display, and therefore, going in search of their carriage, they drove back to Moscow.They had now seen a good deal of the outside of the city—not all, perhaps, that was to be seen, but enough to give them a very fair general idea of it. There were many convents, and churches, and colleges, and hospitals, and other public institutions, which they had not had time to visit; and then there was the great event which was to take place in a few weeks, the coronation of the Emperor, at which it was expected that the representatives of all the nations of Europe would attend; but our friends preferred seeing somewhat of the interior of the country to waiting for it, and they therefore resolved on setting off at once, and returning, if possible, in time for the occasion.Since the period spoken of the serfs have been emancipated, and these laws are no longer in force. The peasantry are, however, subject to the fearful conscription, and are liable to be torn from their homes to serve in the armies of the Emperor.

Departure of Exiles for Siberia—The Russian Howard—Vast Exercise House—Tartar Mosque—The Sparrow Hills—Burning of Moscow—Magnificent View of the City—Ennobling of Merchants—The Schoolmaster in Russia—Decay of the Old Nobility—The Donskoy Convent—Russian Monks—Their Interpreter—Palace of Petrofsky—Encampment near Moscow—Preparations for the Coronation Fête—Public Gardens—Zingari Singers.

Departure of Exiles for Siberia—The Russian Howard—Vast Exercise House—Tartar Mosque—The Sparrow Hills—Burning of Moscow—Magnificent View of the City—Ennobling of Merchants—The Schoolmaster in Russia—Decay of the Old Nobility—The Donskoy Convent—Russian Monks—Their Interpreter—Palace of Petrofsky—Encampment near Moscow—Preparations for the Coronation Fête—Public Gardens—Zingari Singers.

Early on Sunday morning our travellers left then hotel to witness a painful though interesting sight, the departure of the convicts condemned to exile in Siberia from the Ragoshky Gate of the city, where they bid farewell to their relatives and friends. They are first collected from all parts of the neighbouring country in a large prison near the city, till they amount to a sufficient number to form a caravan. Our friends met the melancholy band; clanking their chains, they moved along at a slow pace through the city. Numbers of people, chiefly of the lower orders, rushed out of their houses, and presented them with loaves of bread, biscuits, tobacco, sugar, money, and other things likely to comfort them on their dreary pilgrimage. After they had been thus exhibited to the public, they stopped at a wooden shed, where they were to rest before taking their final departure. There were about fifty of them, old men and youths, and even women, some of them young, poor creatures, looking miserable, heart-broken, and forlorn.

The men were dressed in coarse linen shirts and trousers, and the high boots generally worn by peasants. Half the head was shaved, and few wore hat or cap to conceal the sign of their disgrace. Most of them were heavily manacled, some few only being free of irons.

In the centre of the building was a platform, on which were piled up the prisoners’ knapsacks and bags of provisions. Round it the gang stood grouped. While they were there, many persons entered to bring them offerings of money and food. At one end of the platform was spread out a large handkerchief, on which the gifts were placed. As each person, after bowing to the saint which hung in front of the doorway, deposited his or her piece of money or loaf of bread on the handkerchief, one of the prisoners, who seemed to take the lead, cried out with a loud voice, “Unhappy ones, thank the donors!” The whole party then bent their heads at the same time, and replied, “Thanks be to you, kind and benevolent sir,” or “mother” if a matron was their benefactor. After this, the visitors being requested to leave the shed, the gang was marshalled by the man in command, who spoke in a savage voice to the prisoners, and by his significant gestures was evidently in the habit of striking them.

The escort consisted of six mounted lancers and about thirty foot-soldiers. At a sign they stepped out together, and, while many a sob and groan was heard from the crowd, they commenced their six months’ dreary march towards Siberia at the rate of about twenty versts a day.

Russia has not been without its Howard; indeed, perhaps that great man infused his spirit into the bosom of the benevolent Dr Haaz. He, like Howard, devoted his means, his talents, and energies to ameliorating the condition of the unhappy prisoners. He had frequently urged on the authorities that the manacles employed were too heavy for persons of ordinary strength, but they would not listen to him. At length, the better to be able to explain the suffering inflicted on the poor wretches, he had them put on his own limbs, and trudged the whole of the first day’s march alongside the party of exiles. The state to which even this one day’s march reduced him was so strong an argument in favour of his assertion, that he won his cause; and after that the chains, except of the greater criminals, were much lightened.

A few carts, containing stores and some prisoners who were unable to walk, followed the melancholy cortege.

“In England many guilty ones escape punishment, but in this country many innocent ones suffer, I fear,” observed Cousin Giles as they returned to their hotel, very tired after their morning’s walk.

The travellers were told, that persons of rank condemned for political offences are carried off secretly by the police in closed carriages, without the power of communicating with their friends; that frequently they thus disappear, and no one knows whither they are gone. A small dark carriage, with thick blinds, may be seen, strongly guarded by horse-soldiers, proceeding towards Siberia, but no one knows whom it contains.

The travellers attended the service in the British chapel, where Mr Gray officiates, and they were surprised to find it so well filled. There were several persons in Russian uniforms—Englishmen, or the sons of Englishmen, in either the military or civil service of the Czar, who are allowed to worship God after the mode of their fathers. By the laws of Russia no Russian may change his religious profession, but any stranger entering the country may worship according to his belief—as may his descendants, although they become naturalised Russians. If, however, a stranger marries a Russian woman, the children of the marriage must belong to the Greek Church. Laws, however, cannot change the mind; and not only has the Greek Church been split into numerous bodies of sectarians, but there are many who totally dissent from it, an account of whom our friends afterwards heard.

Sunday they made a day of rest.

Monday morning they again commenced sight-seeing. The first place they visited was the building near the Kremlin having the most extensive roof without arches in the world, and in which the Emperor is accustomed to manoeuvre several regiments of cavalry and infantry together. People at the farther end look like pigmies. The ground was now covered with lamps, in preparation for the illumination. Their next excursion was to the Tartar quarter of the city, where there is a Tartar mosque. The Tartar dwellings are low cottages in wide courtyards. The mosque was of much the same character, only there was a pigsty at one side of the yard. In their search for the mosque they entered several courtyards, where the women, old and young, in striped dressing-gown-looking robes, hurried away to hide themselves from the strangers. At the usual early hour the muezzin mounted to the roof of the mosque, and in a loud voice summoned the faithful to prayer.

“It is sad,” observed Fred, “to find people in the centre of what is called a Christian land who are totally ignorant of a Saviour.”

“Very sad indeed,” replied Cousin Giles; “but if we look at home we shall find sights still more sad. In London itself there exist thousands of Englishmen who not only have never heard of the Saviour, but do not know of the existence of a God. Every year is indeed working a change, and diminishing their numbers, through the exertions of christian and philanthropic men; but when you grow older it will be a subject worthy of your attention, and you should not rest till all in your native land have the gospel preached to them.”

On their way back they bought some of the rush shoes worn by the peasants. They are made of rushes which grow on the banks of the Volga. They are more like sandals than shoes, being fastened on with thongs round the ankles. Their cost is about twopence a pair.

After dinner they drove to the Sparrow Hills, about five miles west of the city. The road was execrable, full of ruts and holes. They passed the palace of the Empress-Mother, which has some handsome gardens. They saw also an asylum for the widows and children of decayed merchants. It is a wide, extended building, with a church in the centre. Russia contains numerous charitable asylums, generally well conducted. They are, however, not to be compared to the numberless ostentatious charities of which our beloved country, with all her shortcomings, may justly boast. Their carriage took the travellers to the top of the Sparrow Hills, which are of no great elevation. They slope steeply down to the Moscowa, which, after passing the city, takes a sharp bend close to their base, and then runs back again towards the southern end of it. The view was indeed superb. Below them, on the plain across the river, was the Donskoy Convent, with its red walls and lofty towers, several other convents being scattered about here and there. To the right, on the wooded and sloping banks of the Moscowa, were the Emperor’s villa and many other handsome buildings; and before them the Holy City itself, its numberless golden and silver domes glittering brightly in the sunshine, like a mighty pile of precious jewels from the far-famed mines of Gokonda. On the left, on a wide-extended down, were seen the white tents of fifty thousand of the choicest troops of Russia, assembled to do honour to the Emperor at his coronation, or to signify to the people the power by which he rules.

“I should very much like to go and look through that camp,” exclaimed Fred; “I want to see if all they say about the Russian troops is true.”

“We will make a point of going there to-morrow,” replied Cousin Giles. “I have no doubt the visit will be an interesting one; but, for my part, I do not expect to be so interested as I am at present. The whole of Russia cannot, perhaps, afford a sight more beautiful than the one before us. Here it was that Napoleon, after marching across Europe, first beheld the superb city which he hoped in a few hours to make his own—the bourn he so eagerly sought—the prize of all his toils! How grievously, yet how righteously, was he disappointed! As he, swelling with pride and elated with triumph, was gazing at the city from the west, the Russian army, having already devoted their beloved capital to destruction, were marching out on the opposite side. In a short time the city in which he trusted to find shelter for his troops during the winter burst forth into flames, and a very few days saw him defeated and a fugitive, and his magnificent army a prey to the rigours of the climate and the remorseless Cossacks. History cannot afford a more dreadful picture than the retreat of the French from Moscow, or a clearer example of the retributive justice of Heaven. Not many years afterwards the Russians, as allies of the English, paid a visit, as conquerors, to Paris. The French, united with the English, were lately on the point of returning the compliment, by looking in on Saint Petersburg. Heaven grant that neither of them may ever come to London in any guise but that of friends. To commemorate the retreat from Moscow, the Russians are now building the Church of Saint Saviour, whose golden domes we see so conspicuous not far from the towers of the Kremlin,” observed Cousin Giles, pointing it out with his stick.

After gazing on the interesting scene for some time, the travellers returned to their carriage.

In the evening a German gentleman, long resident in Russia, to whom they had been introduced, gave them several important pieces of information.

“The late Emperor Nicholas was well aware,” he told them, “that his power rested on very precarious ground, and that, though a despot in name, he knew that he was in the power of his own nobles. To liberate himself, he endeavoured to weaken, if not to destroy, the old nobility—first by leading them into all sorts of extravagance, and then by creating a new order between nobles and peasants, who should feel that they owed their elevation entirely to him.

“For this purpose he created what he called the Guild of Honourable Merchants. Every merchant of the first guild who had paid a tax of 150 per annum for ten years without failure was eligible to belong to it. The Honourable Merchants are free from all imposts, conscriptions, etcetera, and pay no taxes. Another mode Nicholas took of ruining the old nobility was to establish a pawn bank, where they could at all times pledge then property. By encouraging their extravagance, many were unable to redeem it, and, being put up for sale, it was bought up by the Honourable Merchants and other members of the trading community. The late Emperor also wished to encourage education. By an ukase he ordered that all children throughout the country should be educated. To effect this object every priest is bound to have a school attached to his parish church. In consequence, a considerable number of children do learn to read; but the ukase cannot make them go to school, and in many instances the priests are so ignorant and careless that these schools are of very little use. The present Emperor, it is said, wishes to encourage liberal institutions. He has erected municipalities in the towns. In the courts of law three officers are chosen by the Crown, and three by the municipality, with a president who acts as judge. He is anxious also to abolish serfdom; but to do so at once, without violence, is dangerous. He is, however, effecting his object, which his father also entertained, by slow degrees. When an estate is sold, all the serfs become free, and in this way a considerable number have been liberated. No serfs can now be sold: a person may inherit an estate and the serfs on it. (See Note 1.) Many of the great nobles would willingly get rid of their serfs if they could. On one of their estates, perhaps, they are overcrowded, on another they have not a sufficient number to till the ground or to work their mines; yet they have no power to remove the serfs of one estate to another, while they must find means for their support on the spot where they were born. If the peasants were free, they could literally have more power over them, because they could then turn them off their estates, and compel them to seek for employment where it is to be found. Nicholas, by several of his enactments, has enabled his son to rule with less difficulty than would otherwise have been the case. By the ruin of some of the principal nobles he has saved him from the worst enemies of his ancestors, who so frequently proved their destroyers; and by the creation of a wealthy middle class, every day improving in education and numbers, he has formed a strong body who find that it is their interest to support him. When it is no longer their interest so to do, the whole fabric of Russian government will crumble to the dust.”

The first excursion our friends made the next morning was to the Donskoy Convent. It stands on a flat near the Moscowa, and is surrounded with high brick walls, flanked by lofty towers, all of bright red-brick. It has entirely the character of an ancient fortress, erected to withstand the rapid incursions of an enemy’s cavalry, though unfit to hold out against a regular attack. The church, standing in the centre of a wide, open space, is a lofty pile, with the usual gilt dome; but the residences of the monks are low, unpretending buildings, on one floor.

A young monk, in a long dark robe, a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat, and dishevelled locks hanging over his shoulders, came forth, and politely offered to guide the travellers about the convent. Cousin Giles had engaged a young Englishman to act as their interpreter, and he very much increased the interest of the scenes they visited, and their means of acquiring information.

The monk led them into the interior of the church, which consisted of a vaulted chamber divided into two parts by a large wooden screen. The carpenters and gilders and painters were busily at work, painting and furbishing up the ornaments; but the scene brought forcibly to the minds of the travellers the preparations for a new play at a theatre. The monk told them that the large church was so cold in winter that it was shut up, and that there was a small one, well warmed with stoves, where they could at that season worship in comfort. He then led them through the burial-ground, which they found crowded with the tombs of noble families, and other inhabitants of Moscow and its neighbourhood. This is the most fashionable burying-place of that part of Russia, and consequently people are very anxious to have the remains of their friends placed there, so that, though they could not enjoy good company when they were alive, they might at all events after their death have such satisfaction as it might afford.

The ground was laid out with walks; the tombstones were of every possible strange device, and crowded together in a way which would have been far from pleasing to some of the more aristocratic inhabitants in their lifetime; but the monkish sexton in his own graveyard read the lesson to visitors, often uttered before, that death is a leveller of all ranks, and no respecter of persons.

When the travellers thanked the young moppy-haired monk for his attention, he replied that it was his duty, as it was his pleasure, to show his convent, and seemed in no way to expect any remuneration. The Imperial family, it is said, have no affection for the monkish orders; indeed, the feeling of dislike is mutual. They predicted the overthrow of the Russian armies in the Crimea, and the death of the Emperor—the wish probably being the father of the prophecy.

In their way through the city the travellers entered an Armenian church. It was ornamented with pictures of saints, like those of a Roman Catholic place of worship; but the pulpit was in a conspicuous place, as if preaching was not altogether neglected; and there were chairs inside the altar railings for the Patriarch and other ecclesiastical functionaries.

The style of ornaments about the church showed that the Armenian community were either not wealthy or not disposed to spend much money on the edifice. It, however, spoke of a purer faith than that of the Greek Church.

After dining, our friends set out, and drove along the high road to Saint Petersburg, towards the Petrofsky Palace. Every part of the way, from the Kremlin to the Gate of Triumph at the entrance of the city, was lined with scaffolding and seats, in preparation for the coronation, to enable the lieges “to see great Caesar pass that way” from his palace of Petrofsky, where he was to reside three days before entering the Holy City to undergo the ceremony of his coronation.

The Gate of Triumph, which forms the northern entrance to the city, is built of stone, after the model of one at Rome, but with a taste which would make a Roman stare. All the statues and ornaments about it are painted of every variety of colour, so that it has the appearance of a wooden structure put up by the rustic inhabitants of some country village to welcome the lord of the estate.

The Palace of Petrofsky is itself a curious sight. It is a huge pile, of a bright red colour, intermingled with white, and covered with every conceivable device in the way of ornament. It has circular walls projecting out in front from the main building, in shape and colour very like lobsters’ claws, and there are the brightest green roofs, and numberless domes, and cupolas, and minarets, and towers, and spires, covered with burnished gold, which make one suppose that a very rich man must live within. On a wide, open space in front of the palace, wonderfully grand preparations were making for a fête which was to be given to the people on the occasion of the coronation.

At a short distance before the palace stood a magnificent pavilion, intended to hold the Imperial family. A little of the woodwork yet unpainted showed that it was not a solid structure of stone. No people can equal the Russians in making the false pass for the real. On either side of the pavilion were others, each of a different style of architecture, for the use of the chief nobility of the realm. Before them, at some little distance, were two theatres, in comparison with which the magnificence of the old fair-going booth of Richardson would have grown dim. They might be called theatres, but they were only the semi-part of the theatre; the open common, with the blue sky overhead, was the space intended for the audience. Then there were several Montagnes Russe, but, instead of being made of ice and snow, they were built of wood. They consist of high elevations, facing each other, with a slope between them; people ascend to the top by steps, where they find cars of wood. They place themselves in the cars, and then are sent sliding down one slope with such force that they are propelled up the opposite slope.

But this was only a small part of the entertainment prepared for the people. There were fountains which, instead of throwing up jets of cold, insipid water, were to spout forth incessantly into huge tanks a stream of the much-loved vodka, from which all around might draw forth and drink to their hearts’ content.

What more perfect idea of a terrestrial paradise would a thirsty mujick seek for than did these preparations afford him? How munificent and kind must he have considered the Emperor who could provide such an entertainment for him, especially when near to the fountains of vodka there were spread out long tables and benches, covering some acres of ground, which it was said were to be loaded with provisions, of which all-comers of humble rank might partake!

The travellers had to drive in and out among the tables, and they pictured to themselves the jovial, happy crowd who would soon be assembled around them, enjoying themselves, and drinking long life and prosperity to their Czar—a perfect picture of an Arcadian banquet. Farther on were large booths, containing the kitchens where the provisions for the vast multitudes were to be cooked; and there were also other sheds, where the bread, and meat, and grain of all sorts were to be stored. All this feasting and amusement was to last three days, and no one seemed to be able to estimate how many thousands of persons would attend the rural banquet.

“Alas!” exclaimed Cousin Giles, “this may be a certain way of winning the momentary applause of an ignorant mob, but it is a miserable way of gaining the love of a people, of improving their character, of instructing them in their duties, by thus pandering to their lowest tastes. I suspect that it will not even secure the object desired. What a contrast does it afford to the way our own enlightened sovereign takes to win the affections of her people!”

“We had the fireworks at the peace,” observed Fred; “they were only to please the mob.”

“Yes, to be sure,” said Cousin Giles; “that was an old-fashioned way of letting the people know that peace was concluded. They could in days of yore, when newspapers were rare, have scarcely known it without; now such a proceeding is quite unnecessary. A large sum was squandered which would have been much better spent in enabling our artisans in the dockyards, thrown out of employment by the peace, to emigrate; besides which, it was said that numbers of people were kept working on several Sundays to get them finished in time. If such was the case, a national sin was added to a national folly.”

Cousin Giles’ conjectures with regard to the uselessness of the feast prepared for the mujicks were realised. No sooner each day were the tables covered, than the mob rushed forward and bore off whatever they could lay hands on, so that the later comers had nothing to eat; while fountains of vodka refused to supply sufficient liquid to quench the thirst of the vast multitudes which thronged round them. There was, therefore, far more complaint and grumbling, than love or gratitude exhibited towards the supposed provider of the entertainment—the Czar.

About half a mile farther, in front of this scene of barbaric festivity, across the plain, over fields which had been beaten down to supply an open space of sufficient extent, was seen a sea of white tents, forming an encampment which at that time contained fifty thousand men, to whom many more were afterwards added.

Before them was a line of artillery, the muzzles of the guns turned towards the spot where the mujicks were expected to assemble—significant, as a cynical friend of Cousin Giles observed, of the way in which people in the parts there are governed. He may, however, have been wrong in his conjecture.

The travellers drove towards the tents, in front of which they found the bands of all the regiments practising together. They made a great deal of noise, but the music was not so good as they expected.

They got out of their carriage, and walked into the encampment without let or hindrance. They felt a curious sensation as they found themselves among the troops of those with whom their countrymen had so lately been engaged in deadly strife. Not only were they secure from receiving any insult, but they were treated everywhere with the greatest courtesy.

One thing is certain, that although a large amount of barbarism remains in Russia, the army, in certain respects, has attained a high state of civilisation. The younger officers are invariably well educated, and generally polished in their manners. The material comforts of the men are much attended to in many regiments, though not perhaps in all, and they have been brought into a good state of discipline.

The tents were arranged in long lines, with broad, well-gravelled roads at intervals between them, with a drained footpath on either side. The encampment, it must be confessed, looked very far neater and cleaner than that at Aldershot. Why should we refuse to give our late enemies their due, or to acknowledge our own shortcomings? It is far better that the rising generation should know that Englishmen are not perfect, and endeavour to correct the national faults, than to go on blindly fancying that we are superior in all things to all other nations on earth.

Our friends, with their guide, first walked into a sergeant’s tent. He and his comrade were very civil, and begged them to take a seat. His regiment had not been in the Crimea, but they had heard what brave people the English were. Even those who had been opposed to them felt no enmity towards them; very much the contrary—they had learnt to respect them.

The Russian officers who had been in the Crimea, it was said, whenever they met with any English officers who had been there also, were more than usually kind and attentive to them. The men’s abodes, into which the travellers went, contained sixteen persons, and very close packing they must have found it in hot weather. In cold weather they are thus kept warmer, and, if called to stand to their arms on a sudden attack, a large body of men can be instantly brought together. The soldiers were generally fine-looking, intelligent fellows; many of them as fair, and quite as clean-looking, as Englishmen. Some of the regiments, raised in northern latitudes, were composed of fine, dark-bearded men, while the officers were generally good-looking and gentlemanly. These, however, were crack troops, and were certainly very different from the slouching, loutish-looking recruits to be seen when no public exhibition is intended.

Highly pleased with this visit to the camp, they drove back to the city. On their way they stopped at some public gardens, where their guide told them a celebrated band of gipsies were going to sing. Harry declared that the place was called Waxhauloff. Certainly the name did not sound unlike that word. There was a garden, brilliantly lighted up with coloured lamps, and at one end there were scenic preparations, probably for a desperate sea-fight on a pond, for there was a lighthouse in the foreground and some ships in the distance; and the bills signified that this was to be followed by a superb display of fireworks. There was also a large music hall, where a number of people were collected, listening to a very good instrumental band. The object of the travellers, however, was to meet with the civilised specimens of the race of Zingari or gipsies, whom they would find there. They were not long in discovering them as they moved about among the crowd. There was the same swarthy hue, black, burning eyes, and cunning, quick expression of countenance which distinguish them in every part of the world. The women were somewhat fancifully, but not fantastically dressed. This costume varied little from that common in Europe. It is only on festive occasions that they wear the dress of their people. The men had on surtouts, with belts round their waists, and light-coloured trousers. They were remarkable for their small well-formed heads and sharp Jewish countenances. Cousin Giles said he should call them Arab Jews. One of the women, who was fairer than the rest, and somewhat picturesquely dressed in a red mantle, seemed to attract some attention, though when her features were seen near they bore the gipsy characteristics.

After some time the interpreter succeeded in finding the chief of the gipsies, and in drawing him aside to where Cousin Giles was standing. The interpreter told the gipsy chief that Cousin Giles was an Englishman who took great interest in the gipsies of all countries, and that he would like to hear about his tribe. The gipsy replied that he was much flattered; that he was the chief only of forty or fifty people, but that they were all well off; that they lived in comfortable houses, and had conformed to the religion of the country; that he had been offered a sum equivalent to a thousand pounds to each of his band to go to Paris to sing in public, but that they were well off in Russia, and did not wish to move. Some of his people at times became very wealthy, and some of the women, who had fine voices, went on the stage, while others married men of rank. There were many tribes of gipsies in Russia who were altogether of an inferior grade. They still lived in tents, and wandered about the country, and were chiefly horse and cattle-dealers. A few followed still less creditable occupations. His tribe, however, held no communication whatever with them.

It occurred to Cousin Giles that the life of the wandering gipsy was perhaps more creditable than that of his brethren in the city. The conversation was brought to a close by the gipsy and his band being summoned to the platform.

The band consisted of fifteen women and eight men. The women were seated in a semicircle; the leader and another man, with guitars in their hands, stood in front of them; the rest stood behind. Some of the women had guitars. One of the girls sang a solo very well, the rest of the band joining in an extravagantly wild, fantastic chorus; the leader, meantime, skipping and turning and twisting about in the most absurd and inelegant manner. They sang several songs in the same style, some more wild and extraordinary than the first, certainly not suited to a refined taste. Yet this place was evidently a fashionable resort; the entrance-money was very high,—a silver rouble and a quarter,—and the company were all well-dressed, well-behaved people, evidently ladies and gentlemen, chiefly the residents of the neighbourhood, a fashionable suburb of Moscow.

The houses in the neighbourhood were evidently built only for summer use, for they were all, though differing in shape, of a Swiss-cottage style. The travellers had been so busily engaged all day, that, having satisfied their curiosity by seeing the gipsies, they had no inclination to remain for the pyrotechnic display, and therefore, going in search of their carriage, they drove back to Moscow.

They had now seen a good deal of the outside of the city—not all, perhaps, that was to be seen, but enough to give them a very fair general idea of it. There were many convents, and churches, and colleges, and hospitals, and other public institutions, which they had not had time to visit; and then there was the great event which was to take place in a few weeks, the coronation of the Emperor, at which it was expected that the representatives of all the nations of Europe would attend; but our friends preferred seeing somewhat of the interior of the country to waiting for it, and they therefore resolved on setting off at once, and returning, if possible, in time for the occasion.

Since the period spoken of the serfs have been emancipated, and these laws are no longer in force. The peasantry are, however, subject to the fearful conscription, and are liable to be torn from their homes to serve in the armies of the Emperor.

Chapter Ten.Journey in a Tarantasse—Monotony of Scenery—Description of Population in Russia—The Mujicks or Peasants—Their Habitations and Mode of Life—The Religion of Russia—The Priests—The Landed Proprietors and their Habits and Characteristics—Civil Officers of Government—The Army and its Organisation—Russian Officers—A Breakdown—A Russian Inn—The City of Vladimir—Nishni-Novogorood—Its Great Fair—Addressed by a Stranger—His Mysterious Conduct.Away rattled the tarantasse, with our travellers inside, through the gates of the Holy City of Moscow towards the town of Nishni-Novogorood, where the great annual fair of Russia was then taking place. The rough vehicle bumped and thumped and jumbled along at a rapid rate over the uneven road, in a way to try the nerves and bones and tempers of those inside; but none of the tumblifications they endured had the effect of disturbing the equanimity of their tempers, or of dislocating their joints, each bump of unusual violence only making them laugh more heartily than ever. Once clear of Moscow, the road was tolerably smooth in most places, and the body of the carriage moved easily along between the two long poles to which it was slung. Such is the principle of the tarantasse. The body of the carriage may be of any form or size. It may have come out of Long Acre, or it may be a little waggon covered in with a tarpaulin. The important part is formed of the strongest and roughest materials, so that it is not likely to break, or, if it does, any peasant on the road can mend it. Cousin Giles had hired one of the common sort. It was, in truth, a little waggon with a tilt over it, and made very comfortable with a good supply of straw and leather cushions, for which the Russians are famous. All travellers carry them. They serve for their seats by day and their couches by night. Our friends had brought a supply of provisions with them, so that they were entirely independent of inns, which are very bad throughout the country.The party in the tarantasse consisted of Cousin Giles and his two young friends, of Mr Allwick, their interpreter, and of Mr Evergreen, who had begged leave to join them. Cousin Giles would rather have had a more sensible companion; but he was so good-natured and so ready to sacrifice his own convenience to that of others, while his quaint and simple observations afforded so much amusement, that he was more desirable than many persons with superior pretensions.The road was very unpicturesque, running chiefly between forests of birch and fir-trees, with few or no hills to vary its monotony. The journey, however, was far from uninteresting. They passed various parties of traders with their waggons going to the fair; also a group of exiles on their way to Siberia, already weary and footsore, though they had performed but a short portion of their long journey. There were woodcutters in the forests, and peasants in the few patches of cultivated ground which here and there appeared. Mr Allwick, too, had travelled over the greater part of Russia, and gave them much information about the country.“I divide the population of Russia into five classes,” said he, “with the Czar, forming a sixth, at their head. First come themujicksor peasants, who form the great mass of the population; then come thesvestchenniksor priests, who are mostly sprung from them, and are often looked upon as but slightly their superiors; the third class are thepameshtchiks, the landed proprietors and serf owners. In the fourth class may be included thechinovinksor civil functionaries; and thegrajdanunsor citizens; while in the fifth may be reckoned the military of all ranks.“Of the mujicks or peasants, upwards of two-thirds are serfs or slaves. The other portion have either purchased their liberty or have been liberated by their masters. They are completely under the control of their masters, who can flog them or imprison them, but may not take away their lives nor remove them from the land on which they were born. An owner may, however, let his serf out to some other master for hire. The greater number of servants in Saint Petersburg and Moscow are serfs belonging to landed proprietors, who receive a part of their wages. Many serfs follow trades, and some have become wealthy merchants. Some have purchased their freedom for large sums, but in other instances masters have refused to grant their serfs their freedom, who thus, though rolling in riches, remain with the chains of slavery round their necks, liable at any moment to be called back and compelled to do their lord’s bidding, even in the most menial capacity. They have the general faults of slaves, being cringing, cunning, and delighting in falsehood; but they are intelligent, kind-hearted, and merry, and honest when property is entrusted to their charge. Their dress consists of a cap, a long sheepskin coat in winter, and a cotton one in summer, a red-striped shirt, worn outside their very full breeches, and high leather boots on grand occasions; but usually they wear on their feet willow or birch-bark sandals, their legs being swathed in rags of all sorts. A vest and sash of some gay colour is also worn; so that altogether their costume is picturesque, though much less so than that of Swiss or Spanish peasants. Their cottages are built of logs of pine, laid one above the other, the ends being notched to fit into each other, exactly like the log-huts of Canada, and having always a porch in front. They are roofed with straw. They contain two apartments, with a huge stove of brick built into the dividing wall. In each room there is a very small window. In a conspicuous place is seen the picture of the saint worshipped by the family, hung against the wall, sometimes glazed, and always having a lamp burning before it. The first act of each person who enters the cottage is to salute the image; indeed, the same veneration is paid to it as was paid to the household gods of the ancients. The temperature of these abodes ranges, both in summer and winter, from 70 degrees to 80 degrees. They are lighted at night by a pine stick stuck into the wall. As the interstices between the logs are filled up with hemp and other combustible materials, fires are very common, and whole villages are frequently burnt down. In order to extinguish these conflagrations, each serf is bound to bring some particular implement—a ladder, a pail, or an axe; and, that he may not forget his duty, the implement he is charged to bring is painted on the board with his name, which is placed in front of his hut. Thus, as soon as the signal is given that a fire has broken out, so many serfs rush forth with ladders, so many with pails, and so many with axes, towards the scene of conflagration.“The serfs on an estate are allowed a certain portion of ground and materials for building their cottages. They labour three days in the week for their owners, and three days for themselves; so that, when the soil is good, they can easily provide themselves with the necessaries of life. But, at the same time, they are entirely in the power of unjust stewards or cruel masters, who can make their lives miserable, and quickly bring them to ruin. It must be owned that when serfs are well managed they are often contented and happy, and have no wish for freedom.“Some proprietors are anxious to free their serfs, so as to be able to move them from one estate to another, or to get rid altogether of the charge of keeping them. The well-known Count Sheremetieff, however, who owns some of the richest merchants and shopkeepers in Saint Petersburg, will not consent to emancipate any one of them, although some have offered him large sums for their freedom. He is content with a small annual payment as tribute. When he dies, however, if his successor is avaricious, their condition may be very much changed.“The Greek is the Established Church of Russia. The priests are as a class illiterate, and but little removed above the mujicks in their habits of life. A priest is expected to marry, but can only marry one wife. When she dies, he enters the monastic order. His sons enter the clerical seminaries, and his daughters marry priests, while another takes his vicarage. When a priest dies, or becomes a widower, and leaves a grown-up daughter, the living is generally given to some candidate for holy orders who pleases the young lady, and who is willing to marry her. Thus the clergy have become almost a separate class, the office descending from father to son. The value of livings is very small, seldom surpassing 15 pounds per annum. The priests are in general held in very little respect by all classes, even by the peasants, who, however, kiss their hands when they meet them, and often have a feeling of regard for them. There are numerous dissenters, who are frequently treated with the most bitter persecution by the orthodox Church.“ThePameshtchiksor landed proprietors may be divided into two classes,—those who have vast estates, and, honoured by titles, live chiefly at courts, while they commit their affairs to the charge of stewards; and those who reside on their property and look after it themselves. The former are generally polished in their manners, well-informed, and luxurious in their habits, and are courtiers, diplomatists, or naval or military commanders. Though they occasionally visit their estates, when they keep up considerable pomp and ceremony, they reside chiefly in the capital.“The landlord who lives entirely on his property is of a very different character, and thoroughly unlike an old English gentleman of the same social rank. Supremely indolent and unintellectual, he thinks of nothing but how he can most easily kill time. When he awakes in the morning, his attendant slave brings him his pipe, and he smokes till his first meal of tea and rusks is prepared; his bailiff then comes and makes his daily report, and serves as a vent for his ill-humour. Then he eats a substantial and somewhat greasy meal, which enables him to exist while he takes a drive round his estate till dinner-time. That meal is even more coarse and greasy than the former one. He then sleeps for a couple of hours, smokes, plays at cards, sups, and goes to bed,—not a satisfactory way for a person with a soul to spend his time. His wife spends her day much in the same way, smoking paper cigarettes instead of a pipe, and managing the female domestic serfs instead of the men. All matrimonial affairs come under the cognisance of thePameshtchik, as no serf can marry without his permission. This, however, is rarely withheld, as it is his interest to have as large a number of people as possible beneath his rule.“Owners often treat their serfs kindly, and make their lives happy, but a capricious or tyrannical master has the power of rendering every person on his estate miserable.“The above description refers to the Russian landowners as a class. There are undoubtedly exceptions, and many very excellent, intelligent men may be found, who, living entirely on their property, devote themselves to its improvement, and to the amelioration of the condition of those who have been placed in dependence on them.“The worst class in Russia are the Tchinovniks, or those employed in the civil service of the Government, of all grades, from the highest to the lowest. They are badly paid, and thus indemnify themselves by every description of peculation, and by endeavouring to wring bribes out of all with whom they come in contact. The Emperors have at times endeavoured to alter the system, but, although they have punished delinquents, when discovered, with the greatest severity, they have failed to put a stop to the evil.“The mercantile class are considered generally respectable. No person can trade unless he is a member of one of three guilds. The privileges belonging to the first guild are purchased by an annual tax, calculated on the declared capital, but which cannot be less than 150; and those of the other guilds by sums in proportion to the smaller facilities for trading which they afford.“The Russians are certainly not a warlike race, though their governors have endeavoured to make them so. The conscription presses most cruelly on the peasants, and it is with the most painful reluctance that its summons is obeyed. When they join, the officers may ill-treat them, pull their hair, and strike them with impunity. The officers have generally a fair supply of professional knowledge, and some are highly educated. The men have a larger amount of passive courage than of dashing bravery; yet they will usually follow where their officers lead them. The private has a possibility of rising to the rank of an officer after twelve years’ probation, and even sooner by some dashing act of bravery; and several even thus have become generals. There are numerous military colleges in which cadets are educated, but a commission may also be obtained by a youth of family by his serving two years in the ranks. No officer may appear on any occasion without his uniform, nor carry an umbrella. The cadets are exercised during the summer in camps, as, indeed, is the greater part of the army, to prepare them for actual warfare.”Mr Allwick had got thus far in his description of the people of Russia, when, as the horses were galloping along at a great rate, a crash was heard, and over went the carriage on its side;—one of the long poles of the tarantasse had broken. The travellers got out in dismay, not knowing how long this accident might delay them. As they looked out they saw some cottages ahead. A peasant standing at the door of one of them had observed the occurrence, and now came running up with his axe in his hand to ascertain the amount of the damage. Two or three other men followed. “Oh, it is nothing,” said they; “we will soon put this all right.” They were as good as their word. While the travellers stood at the roadside watching what they would do, they disappeared into the forest, out of which they speedily issued with a young fir-tree, which in an incredibly short space of time they stripped of its bark and fitted to the carriage. A rouble amply satisfied them for their trouble. They were merry fellows, evidently, for they laughed and joked or sung all the time they were at work, so that Fred and Harry were quite sorry that they could not understand what they were saying. The tarantasse was soon moving on as before. In the evening they stopped at a place with a name too difficult to pronounce, to take tea. The inn was an unclean, straggling-looking mansion, with a long whitewashed corridor, and whitewashed rooms, very scantily furnished, opening out of it. The whole place was redolent of an odour which appears to be a mixture of vodka, onions, or rather garlic, and stale tobacco smoke. No house in Russia seems to be without it, of high or low degree, its intensity only being greater in those of the lower orders. Evergreen complained bitterly of it. His consumption ofeau-de-Colognewas doubled, he said, and he declared that it alone would prevent him from ever willingly taking up his abode in Russia, irrespective of his dislike to the despotic system of government under which it was placed. The travellers were ushered by a waiter into a room with a straight-backed, leather-covered sofa, chairs with wooden seats, and an old card-table; while the walls were ornamented with some coloured prints of battles between the Circassians and Russians, in which a host of the mountaineers were flying before a handful of their enemies. The waiter would have astonished one of his brethren in England; for he wore jack-boots, into which were tucked his full Oriental breeches, a pink shirt, showing the tail outside, and a dirty, collarless, long coat, like a dressing-gown, fastened round his waist by a sash. “Tchai,tchai!” (tea, tea!), exclaimed Cousin Giles with as much dignity as if he was thorough master of the Russian language. “Si chasse, si chasse,” replied the jack-booted waiter, meaning thereby that he would bring it as suited his convenience. Mr Allwick, however, added a few persuasive words, and in a short time the hissingsamovarmade its appearance, with a teapot and cups. The tea, which would anywhere be considered excellent, the travellers had brought with them. The principle of thesamovaris very simple. In the centre of a common-shaped urn there is a cylinder with a grating at the bottom of it. The urn is filled with water, and the cylinder with charcoal. A brass chimney fits on to the top of the cylinder. A light is then applied to the lower end, which soon ignites the charcoal from the bottom to the top, and boils the water in three or four minutes. A frame fixes on to the top of the cylinder, on which the teapot is placed to keep it warm. There is a damper or cap, which can be placed on the top of the cylinder when it is required to put out the fire. There is no more convenient machine for travellers, as breakfast can thus be prepared in a very few minutes. A sum amounting to little more than a shilling was paid for the accommodation thus afforded. For a less sum they might have slept all night, but then they would have had to wrap themselves up in their cloaks and pick out a soft plank on the floor. In an hour fresh horses were procured, and once more the tarantasse was rattling along the road. About twenty-four hours after leaving Moscow, the travellers reached the ancient city of Vladimir, with the Golden Gate. It was once upon a time the capital of the Empire, and is still a city of considerable size. It is picturesquely situated on a hill, on which stand about twenty churches, overlooking a wide extent of wooded country, with a magnificent river flowing through it. The Golden Gate, which still rises in dignified solitude, a proud monument of the past, is not an ungraceful building. It is no longer used as a gate.The temptations held out by the hotel here did not induce our travellers to stop, but, ordering fresh horses, they pushed on towards Nishni. They were now entering a fertile tract of country; but, fertile as it is, the population is not more dense than that of the most barren districts of Scotland. Mile after mile of thick forest was passed through, varied occasionally, as they approached the river Okka, by large villages. These villages have a strong similarity to each other, the houses being built of logs, and the gable-ends being turned to the road, and being inhabited by people with a very great likeness to each other. At length the town of Nishni-Novogorood appeared before them. At most times of the year it contains but few inhabitants. It was now crowded by persons from all parts of Russia and the provinces to the south and east, who had assembled to dispose of the produce of their respective districts, or to make purchases for exportation. Here assemble merchants from all parts of Siberia, Tartars, Georgians, Persians, and Armenians, to meet Russians and Germans, and even English and French, from Saint Petersburg and Moscow, who come to buy their produce or exchange them for manufactures from the West. Nishni stands on a high promontory, whose base is washed on one side by the Volga, on the other by its tributary the Okka. The Kremlin, or Citadel, with its low, embattled walls, stands on the highest point, and overlooks a vast plain, through which, at the base of the hill, the Volga flows proudly past. On this plain, close to the banks of the river, was a whole city of booths of various styles of architecture—those for the tea merchants being in the shape of pagodas. Some of the booths are of considerable size, being, in fact, storehouses for a large amount of valuable merchandise. One of the most conspicuous buildings in this quarter is a mosque, whose tall, pointed spire, surmounted by a glittering crescent, towers above all others. This mosque is said to be the most northern Mohammedan temple, with the exception of the humble little structure at Moscow.Our friends found the hotel in the upper part of the town far more comfortable than they expected. The rooms and beds were tolerably clean, and the eatables contained no larger amount of grease and garlic than might reasonably be expected. Having refreshed themselves with a quantity of fresh-water, which somewhat astonished the Russian attendants, and partaken of a substantial meal, they sallied forth to visit the fair. Mr Allwick, who had been there before, acted as their guide. The upper part of the town presented no unusual bustle, but as they descended to the plain they found themselves among dense crowds of human beings in every variety of costume. Long-coated, long-bearded, and high-booted Russians predominated. By listening attentively, our friends thought they could distinguish very many different languages and dialects; and all were speaking in an earnest, energetic way, showing that they had met for business, and not for pleasure. There was, in truth, no gaiety either in their manner or their costume; for their dresses also were of somewhat grave, sombre colours, though here and there gay sashes, or caps, or vests, or turbans were to be seen. They walked up and down the long lanes of booths, in which the traders sat in state ready to dispose of their merchandise. But the more interesting part of their employment was the visit they paid to the various storehouses. In some were packages upon packages of tea, done up in skins, in which mode it is brought all the way from China by caravans; in another were piles of hides, in another heaps of dressed leather, in another bales of hemp and wool, brought by the Volga and its tributaries from far-off regions. There were also less bulky manufactured articles—leather work and embroidery, slippers and belts, from Kazan, shawls and cloths from Persia, and saddles from Tartary; indeed, it would be difficult to name one-half of the articles exposed for sale. There were no means of amusement, such as are to be seen at an English or German fair. No jugglers, or actors, or roundabouts, or swings, though there were eating and drinking booths in abundance, where the buyers and sellers and carriers might refresh themselves after the toils of the day. The mighty Volga, even here a fine river, presented an interesting scene. It was covered with a great variety of boats, some of considerable size, which had brought to market the produce enumerated above, and were ready to carry off what was taken in exchange for it. There were steamers also, some going much above Nishni, and others navigating from thence its whole length to its mouth.While the travellers had been moving about the fair, Cousin Giles, who had a great facility for remembering countenances, had observed a man in the costume of a mujick continually following them. His dress was dusty and travel-stained, but it was neither torn nor patched, nor had he the appearance of a poor man. His countenance was frank, open, and pleasant, though grave and somewhat careworn, so that it did not appear to Cousin Giles that he had any sinister motive for his conduct. Our friends were so much interested with all they saw, that quick-gathering darkness alone reminded them that it was time to return to their hotel. They had even then seen but a very small portion of the fair. Cousin Giles had before this lost sight of the mujick. They were on their way to the upper town, and were passing through a street, if so it might be called, with high walls on either side, when, coming from under a dark archway, the mujick presented himself before them.He walked up at once to Cousin Giles, and took his hand, which he pressed to his lips, and then spoke several sentences in a low, earnest tone; but as the language was Russian, Cousin Giles could not understand a word. Mr Allwick, however, came up to interpret.“He tells you,” said he, “that he knows some of our countrymen; that he has always found them honourable, kind, and religious, and able to sympathise with the afflicted; and that, after watching you, he feels that he may put perfect confidence in you and your companions.”“What does he want us to do?” asked Cousin Giles. “I shall be very happy to assist the poor man if a few roubles will be of consequence to him; but I do not see how otherwise I can help him.”“He says that, if you will let him call on you at the hotel in a short time, he will tell you what he has got to say, but that now he dare not remain longer talking to you, lest he should be observed. He says that he will not appear as he now does, and he hopes you will allow whoever asks for you to be admitted,” replied Mr Allwick.“Very mysterious,” said Cousin Giles. “It may perhaps be a device of the police to entrap us.”“I do not think that, sir,” replied Mr Allwick. “The man is, I believe, honest; at the same time I cannot advise you to have anything to do with him. In this country one cannot be too wary. With the best of intentions, we may easily be brought into trouble.”“Very shocking, indeed, to be taken up and sent off to Siberia,” observed Mr Evergreen. “Tell the good man that I will give him ten roubles if that will help him, but that I do not want to see his face again—in case of accident, you know. Tell him that.”“It is not pecuniary assistance that he requires,” said Mr Allwick, who had again been speaking with the stranger. “He says that he will explain everything by and by if he is allowed to visit us. He throws himself on our charity. He thinks the risk to us will be slight, and the gain to him great. He entreats that you will give him a reply, for he dare not remain longer.”Mr Evergreen’s curiosity was aroused, and he forgot his fears. After consulting a minute, Cousin Giles replied: “Tell him that I will see him if he thinks fit to call, but I cannot promise to help him.”Mr Allwick translated what had been said into Russian, and the stranger, bowing low, retired into the retreat from which he had come forth, while the travellers returned to their inn.

Journey in a Tarantasse—Monotony of Scenery—Description of Population in Russia—The Mujicks or Peasants—Their Habitations and Mode of Life—The Religion of Russia—The Priests—The Landed Proprietors and their Habits and Characteristics—Civil Officers of Government—The Army and its Organisation—Russian Officers—A Breakdown—A Russian Inn—The City of Vladimir—Nishni-Novogorood—Its Great Fair—Addressed by a Stranger—His Mysterious Conduct.

Journey in a Tarantasse—Monotony of Scenery—Description of Population in Russia—The Mujicks or Peasants—Their Habitations and Mode of Life—The Religion of Russia—The Priests—The Landed Proprietors and their Habits and Characteristics—Civil Officers of Government—The Army and its Organisation—Russian Officers—A Breakdown—A Russian Inn—The City of Vladimir—Nishni-Novogorood—Its Great Fair—Addressed by a Stranger—His Mysterious Conduct.

Away rattled the tarantasse, with our travellers inside, through the gates of the Holy City of Moscow towards the town of Nishni-Novogorood, where the great annual fair of Russia was then taking place. The rough vehicle bumped and thumped and jumbled along at a rapid rate over the uneven road, in a way to try the nerves and bones and tempers of those inside; but none of the tumblifications they endured had the effect of disturbing the equanimity of their tempers, or of dislocating their joints, each bump of unusual violence only making them laugh more heartily than ever. Once clear of Moscow, the road was tolerably smooth in most places, and the body of the carriage moved easily along between the two long poles to which it was slung. Such is the principle of the tarantasse. The body of the carriage may be of any form or size. It may have come out of Long Acre, or it may be a little waggon covered in with a tarpaulin. The important part is formed of the strongest and roughest materials, so that it is not likely to break, or, if it does, any peasant on the road can mend it. Cousin Giles had hired one of the common sort. It was, in truth, a little waggon with a tilt over it, and made very comfortable with a good supply of straw and leather cushions, for which the Russians are famous. All travellers carry them. They serve for their seats by day and their couches by night. Our friends had brought a supply of provisions with them, so that they were entirely independent of inns, which are very bad throughout the country.

The party in the tarantasse consisted of Cousin Giles and his two young friends, of Mr Allwick, their interpreter, and of Mr Evergreen, who had begged leave to join them. Cousin Giles would rather have had a more sensible companion; but he was so good-natured and so ready to sacrifice his own convenience to that of others, while his quaint and simple observations afforded so much amusement, that he was more desirable than many persons with superior pretensions.

The road was very unpicturesque, running chiefly between forests of birch and fir-trees, with few or no hills to vary its monotony. The journey, however, was far from uninteresting. They passed various parties of traders with their waggons going to the fair; also a group of exiles on their way to Siberia, already weary and footsore, though they had performed but a short portion of their long journey. There were woodcutters in the forests, and peasants in the few patches of cultivated ground which here and there appeared. Mr Allwick, too, had travelled over the greater part of Russia, and gave them much information about the country.

“I divide the population of Russia into five classes,” said he, “with the Czar, forming a sixth, at their head. First come themujicksor peasants, who form the great mass of the population; then come thesvestchenniksor priests, who are mostly sprung from them, and are often looked upon as but slightly their superiors; the third class are thepameshtchiks, the landed proprietors and serf owners. In the fourth class may be included thechinovinksor civil functionaries; and thegrajdanunsor citizens; while in the fifth may be reckoned the military of all ranks.

“Of the mujicks or peasants, upwards of two-thirds are serfs or slaves. The other portion have either purchased their liberty or have been liberated by their masters. They are completely under the control of their masters, who can flog them or imprison them, but may not take away their lives nor remove them from the land on which they were born. An owner may, however, let his serf out to some other master for hire. The greater number of servants in Saint Petersburg and Moscow are serfs belonging to landed proprietors, who receive a part of their wages. Many serfs follow trades, and some have become wealthy merchants. Some have purchased their freedom for large sums, but in other instances masters have refused to grant their serfs their freedom, who thus, though rolling in riches, remain with the chains of slavery round their necks, liable at any moment to be called back and compelled to do their lord’s bidding, even in the most menial capacity. They have the general faults of slaves, being cringing, cunning, and delighting in falsehood; but they are intelligent, kind-hearted, and merry, and honest when property is entrusted to their charge. Their dress consists of a cap, a long sheepskin coat in winter, and a cotton one in summer, a red-striped shirt, worn outside their very full breeches, and high leather boots on grand occasions; but usually they wear on their feet willow or birch-bark sandals, their legs being swathed in rags of all sorts. A vest and sash of some gay colour is also worn; so that altogether their costume is picturesque, though much less so than that of Swiss or Spanish peasants. Their cottages are built of logs of pine, laid one above the other, the ends being notched to fit into each other, exactly like the log-huts of Canada, and having always a porch in front. They are roofed with straw. They contain two apartments, with a huge stove of brick built into the dividing wall. In each room there is a very small window. In a conspicuous place is seen the picture of the saint worshipped by the family, hung against the wall, sometimes glazed, and always having a lamp burning before it. The first act of each person who enters the cottage is to salute the image; indeed, the same veneration is paid to it as was paid to the household gods of the ancients. The temperature of these abodes ranges, both in summer and winter, from 70 degrees to 80 degrees. They are lighted at night by a pine stick stuck into the wall. As the interstices between the logs are filled up with hemp and other combustible materials, fires are very common, and whole villages are frequently burnt down. In order to extinguish these conflagrations, each serf is bound to bring some particular implement—a ladder, a pail, or an axe; and, that he may not forget his duty, the implement he is charged to bring is painted on the board with his name, which is placed in front of his hut. Thus, as soon as the signal is given that a fire has broken out, so many serfs rush forth with ladders, so many with pails, and so many with axes, towards the scene of conflagration.

“The serfs on an estate are allowed a certain portion of ground and materials for building their cottages. They labour three days in the week for their owners, and three days for themselves; so that, when the soil is good, they can easily provide themselves with the necessaries of life. But, at the same time, they are entirely in the power of unjust stewards or cruel masters, who can make their lives miserable, and quickly bring them to ruin. It must be owned that when serfs are well managed they are often contented and happy, and have no wish for freedom.

“Some proprietors are anxious to free their serfs, so as to be able to move them from one estate to another, or to get rid altogether of the charge of keeping them. The well-known Count Sheremetieff, however, who owns some of the richest merchants and shopkeepers in Saint Petersburg, will not consent to emancipate any one of them, although some have offered him large sums for their freedom. He is content with a small annual payment as tribute. When he dies, however, if his successor is avaricious, their condition may be very much changed.

“The Greek is the Established Church of Russia. The priests are as a class illiterate, and but little removed above the mujicks in their habits of life. A priest is expected to marry, but can only marry one wife. When she dies, he enters the monastic order. His sons enter the clerical seminaries, and his daughters marry priests, while another takes his vicarage. When a priest dies, or becomes a widower, and leaves a grown-up daughter, the living is generally given to some candidate for holy orders who pleases the young lady, and who is willing to marry her. Thus the clergy have become almost a separate class, the office descending from father to son. The value of livings is very small, seldom surpassing 15 pounds per annum. The priests are in general held in very little respect by all classes, even by the peasants, who, however, kiss their hands when they meet them, and often have a feeling of regard for them. There are numerous dissenters, who are frequently treated with the most bitter persecution by the orthodox Church.

“ThePameshtchiksor landed proprietors may be divided into two classes,—those who have vast estates, and, honoured by titles, live chiefly at courts, while they commit their affairs to the charge of stewards; and those who reside on their property and look after it themselves. The former are generally polished in their manners, well-informed, and luxurious in their habits, and are courtiers, diplomatists, or naval or military commanders. Though they occasionally visit their estates, when they keep up considerable pomp and ceremony, they reside chiefly in the capital.

“The landlord who lives entirely on his property is of a very different character, and thoroughly unlike an old English gentleman of the same social rank. Supremely indolent and unintellectual, he thinks of nothing but how he can most easily kill time. When he awakes in the morning, his attendant slave brings him his pipe, and he smokes till his first meal of tea and rusks is prepared; his bailiff then comes and makes his daily report, and serves as a vent for his ill-humour. Then he eats a substantial and somewhat greasy meal, which enables him to exist while he takes a drive round his estate till dinner-time. That meal is even more coarse and greasy than the former one. He then sleeps for a couple of hours, smokes, plays at cards, sups, and goes to bed,—not a satisfactory way for a person with a soul to spend his time. His wife spends her day much in the same way, smoking paper cigarettes instead of a pipe, and managing the female domestic serfs instead of the men. All matrimonial affairs come under the cognisance of thePameshtchik, as no serf can marry without his permission. This, however, is rarely withheld, as it is his interest to have as large a number of people as possible beneath his rule.

“Owners often treat their serfs kindly, and make their lives happy, but a capricious or tyrannical master has the power of rendering every person on his estate miserable.

“The above description refers to the Russian landowners as a class. There are undoubtedly exceptions, and many very excellent, intelligent men may be found, who, living entirely on their property, devote themselves to its improvement, and to the amelioration of the condition of those who have been placed in dependence on them.

“The worst class in Russia are the Tchinovniks, or those employed in the civil service of the Government, of all grades, from the highest to the lowest. They are badly paid, and thus indemnify themselves by every description of peculation, and by endeavouring to wring bribes out of all with whom they come in contact. The Emperors have at times endeavoured to alter the system, but, although they have punished delinquents, when discovered, with the greatest severity, they have failed to put a stop to the evil.

“The mercantile class are considered generally respectable. No person can trade unless he is a member of one of three guilds. The privileges belonging to the first guild are purchased by an annual tax, calculated on the declared capital, but which cannot be less than 150; and those of the other guilds by sums in proportion to the smaller facilities for trading which they afford.

“The Russians are certainly not a warlike race, though their governors have endeavoured to make them so. The conscription presses most cruelly on the peasants, and it is with the most painful reluctance that its summons is obeyed. When they join, the officers may ill-treat them, pull their hair, and strike them with impunity. The officers have generally a fair supply of professional knowledge, and some are highly educated. The men have a larger amount of passive courage than of dashing bravery; yet they will usually follow where their officers lead them. The private has a possibility of rising to the rank of an officer after twelve years’ probation, and even sooner by some dashing act of bravery; and several even thus have become generals. There are numerous military colleges in which cadets are educated, but a commission may also be obtained by a youth of family by his serving two years in the ranks. No officer may appear on any occasion without his uniform, nor carry an umbrella. The cadets are exercised during the summer in camps, as, indeed, is the greater part of the army, to prepare them for actual warfare.”

Mr Allwick had got thus far in his description of the people of Russia, when, as the horses were galloping along at a great rate, a crash was heard, and over went the carriage on its side;—one of the long poles of the tarantasse had broken. The travellers got out in dismay, not knowing how long this accident might delay them. As they looked out they saw some cottages ahead. A peasant standing at the door of one of them had observed the occurrence, and now came running up with his axe in his hand to ascertain the amount of the damage. Two or three other men followed. “Oh, it is nothing,” said they; “we will soon put this all right.” They were as good as their word. While the travellers stood at the roadside watching what they would do, they disappeared into the forest, out of which they speedily issued with a young fir-tree, which in an incredibly short space of time they stripped of its bark and fitted to the carriage. A rouble amply satisfied them for their trouble. They were merry fellows, evidently, for they laughed and joked or sung all the time they were at work, so that Fred and Harry were quite sorry that they could not understand what they were saying. The tarantasse was soon moving on as before. In the evening they stopped at a place with a name too difficult to pronounce, to take tea. The inn was an unclean, straggling-looking mansion, with a long whitewashed corridor, and whitewashed rooms, very scantily furnished, opening out of it. The whole place was redolent of an odour which appears to be a mixture of vodka, onions, or rather garlic, and stale tobacco smoke. No house in Russia seems to be without it, of high or low degree, its intensity only being greater in those of the lower orders. Evergreen complained bitterly of it. His consumption ofeau-de-Colognewas doubled, he said, and he declared that it alone would prevent him from ever willingly taking up his abode in Russia, irrespective of his dislike to the despotic system of government under which it was placed. The travellers were ushered by a waiter into a room with a straight-backed, leather-covered sofa, chairs with wooden seats, and an old card-table; while the walls were ornamented with some coloured prints of battles between the Circassians and Russians, in which a host of the mountaineers were flying before a handful of their enemies. The waiter would have astonished one of his brethren in England; for he wore jack-boots, into which were tucked his full Oriental breeches, a pink shirt, showing the tail outside, and a dirty, collarless, long coat, like a dressing-gown, fastened round his waist by a sash. “Tchai,tchai!” (tea, tea!), exclaimed Cousin Giles with as much dignity as if he was thorough master of the Russian language. “Si chasse, si chasse,” replied the jack-booted waiter, meaning thereby that he would bring it as suited his convenience. Mr Allwick, however, added a few persuasive words, and in a short time the hissingsamovarmade its appearance, with a teapot and cups. The tea, which would anywhere be considered excellent, the travellers had brought with them. The principle of thesamovaris very simple. In the centre of a common-shaped urn there is a cylinder with a grating at the bottom of it. The urn is filled with water, and the cylinder with charcoal. A brass chimney fits on to the top of the cylinder. A light is then applied to the lower end, which soon ignites the charcoal from the bottom to the top, and boils the water in three or four minutes. A frame fixes on to the top of the cylinder, on which the teapot is placed to keep it warm. There is a damper or cap, which can be placed on the top of the cylinder when it is required to put out the fire. There is no more convenient machine for travellers, as breakfast can thus be prepared in a very few minutes. A sum amounting to little more than a shilling was paid for the accommodation thus afforded. For a less sum they might have slept all night, but then they would have had to wrap themselves up in their cloaks and pick out a soft plank on the floor. In an hour fresh horses were procured, and once more the tarantasse was rattling along the road. About twenty-four hours after leaving Moscow, the travellers reached the ancient city of Vladimir, with the Golden Gate. It was once upon a time the capital of the Empire, and is still a city of considerable size. It is picturesquely situated on a hill, on which stand about twenty churches, overlooking a wide extent of wooded country, with a magnificent river flowing through it. The Golden Gate, which still rises in dignified solitude, a proud monument of the past, is not an ungraceful building. It is no longer used as a gate.

The temptations held out by the hotel here did not induce our travellers to stop, but, ordering fresh horses, they pushed on towards Nishni. They were now entering a fertile tract of country; but, fertile as it is, the population is not more dense than that of the most barren districts of Scotland. Mile after mile of thick forest was passed through, varied occasionally, as they approached the river Okka, by large villages. These villages have a strong similarity to each other, the houses being built of logs, and the gable-ends being turned to the road, and being inhabited by people with a very great likeness to each other. At length the town of Nishni-Novogorood appeared before them. At most times of the year it contains but few inhabitants. It was now crowded by persons from all parts of Russia and the provinces to the south and east, who had assembled to dispose of the produce of their respective districts, or to make purchases for exportation. Here assemble merchants from all parts of Siberia, Tartars, Georgians, Persians, and Armenians, to meet Russians and Germans, and even English and French, from Saint Petersburg and Moscow, who come to buy their produce or exchange them for manufactures from the West. Nishni stands on a high promontory, whose base is washed on one side by the Volga, on the other by its tributary the Okka. The Kremlin, or Citadel, with its low, embattled walls, stands on the highest point, and overlooks a vast plain, through which, at the base of the hill, the Volga flows proudly past. On this plain, close to the banks of the river, was a whole city of booths of various styles of architecture—those for the tea merchants being in the shape of pagodas. Some of the booths are of considerable size, being, in fact, storehouses for a large amount of valuable merchandise. One of the most conspicuous buildings in this quarter is a mosque, whose tall, pointed spire, surmounted by a glittering crescent, towers above all others. This mosque is said to be the most northern Mohammedan temple, with the exception of the humble little structure at Moscow.

Our friends found the hotel in the upper part of the town far more comfortable than they expected. The rooms and beds were tolerably clean, and the eatables contained no larger amount of grease and garlic than might reasonably be expected. Having refreshed themselves with a quantity of fresh-water, which somewhat astonished the Russian attendants, and partaken of a substantial meal, they sallied forth to visit the fair. Mr Allwick, who had been there before, acted as their guide. The upper part of the town presented no unusual bustle, but as they descended to the plain they found themselves among dense crowds of human beings in every variety of costume. Long-coated, long-bearded, and high-booted Russians predominated. By listening attentively, our friends thought they could distinguish very many different languages and dialects; and all were speaking in an earnest, energetic way, showing that they had met for business, and not for pleasure. There was, in truth, no gaiety either in their manner or their costume; for their dresses also were of somewhat grave, sombre colours, though here and there gay sashes, or caps, or vests, or turbans were to be seen. They walked up and down the long lanes of booths, in which the traders sat in state ready to dispose of their merchandise. But the more interesting part of their employment was the visit they paid to the various storehouses. In some were packages upon packages of tea, done up in skins, in which mode it is brought all the way from China by caravans; in another were piles of hides, in another heaps of dressed leather, in another bales of hemp and wool, brought by the Volga and its tributaries from far-off regions. There were also less bulky manufactured articles—leather work and embroidery, slippers and belts, from Kazan, shawls and cloths from Persia, and saddles from Tartary; indeed, it would be difficult to name one-half of the articles exposed for sale. There were no means of amusement, such as are to be seen at an English or German fair. No jugglers, or actors, or roundabouts, or swings, though there were eating and drinking booths in abundance, where the buyers and sellers and carriers might refresh themselves after the toils of the day. The mighty Volga, even here a fine river, presented an interesting scene. It was covered with a great variety of boats, some of considerable size, which had brought to market the produce enumerated above, and were ready to carry off what was taken in exchange for it. There were steamers also, some going much above Nishni, and others navigating from thence its whole length to its mouth.

While the travellers had been moving about the fair, Cousin Giles, who had a great facility for remembering countenances, had observed a man in the costume of a mujick continually following them. His dress was dusty and travel-stained, but it was neither torn nor patched, nor had he the appearance of a poor man. His countenance was frank, open, and pleasant, though grave and somewhat careworn, so that it did not appear to Cousin Giles that he had any sinister motive for his conduct. Our friends were so much interested with all they saw, that quick-gathering darkness alone reminded them that it was time to return to their hotel. They had even then seen but a very small portion of the fair. Cousin Giles had before this lost sight of the mujick. They were on their way to the upper town, and were passing through a street, if so it might be called, with high walls on either side, when, coming from under a dark archway, the mujick presented himself before them.

He walked up at once to Cousin Giles, and took his hand, which he pressed to his lips, and then spoke several sentences in a low, earnest tone; but as the language was Russian, Cousin Giles could not understand a word. Mr Allwick, however, came up to interpret.

“He tells you,” said he, “that he knows some of our countrymen; that he has always found them honourable, kind, and religious, and able to sympathise with the afflicted; and that, after watching you, he feels that he may put perfect confidence in you and your companions.”

“What does he want us to do?” asked Cousin Giles. “I shall be very happy to assist the poor man if a few roubles will be of consequence to him; but I do not see how otherwise I can help him.”

“He says that, if you will let him call on you at the hotel in a short time, he will tell you what he has got to say, but that now he dare not remain longer talking to you, lest he should be observed. He says that he will not appear as he now does, and he hopes you will allow whoever asks for you to be admitted,” replied Mr Allwick.

“Very mysterious,” said Cousin Giles. “It may perhaps be a device of the police to entrap us.”

“I do not think that, sir,” replied Mr Allwick. “The man is, I believe, honest; at the same time I cannot advise you to have anything to do with him. In this country one cannot be too wary. With the best of intentions, we may easily be brought into trouble.”

“Very shocking, indeed, to be taken up and sent off to Siberia,” observed Mr Evergreen. “Tell the good man that I will give him ten roubles if that will help him, but that I do not want to see his face again—in case of accident, you know. Tell him that.”

“It is not pecuniary assistance that he requires,” said Mr Allwick, who had again been speaking with the stranger. “He says that he will explain everything by and by if he is allowed to visit us. He throws himself on our charity. He thinks the risk to us will be slight, and the gain to him great. He entreats that you will give him a reply, for he dare not remain longer.”

Mr Evergreen’s curiosity was aroused, and he forgot his fears. After consulting a minute, Cousin Giles replied: “Tell him that I will see him if he thinks fit to call, but I cannot promise to help him.”

Mr Allwick translated what had been said into Russian, and the stranger, bowing low, retired into the retreat from which he had come forth, while the travellers returned to their inn.

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