CHAPTER L.
We found the road much better after leaving the government of Perm and entering that of Viatka. The yemshicks we took in this region were “Votiaks,” descendants of the Finnish races that dwelt there before the Russian conquest. They had the dark physiognomy of the Finns, and spoke a mixture of their own language and Russian. They have been generally baptized and brought into the Greek churches, though they still adhere to some of their ancient forms of worship. They pay taxes to the crown, but their local administration is left to themselves.
Approaching Malmouish we had a sullen driver who insisted upon going slowly, even while descending hills. Indignantly I suggested giving the fellow a kick for his drink money. The doctor attempted to be stern and reproved the delinquent, but ended with giving him five copecks and an injunction to do better in future. I opposed making undeserved gratuities, and after this occurrence determined to say no more about rewards to drivers during the rest of the journey.
Memorandum for travelers making the Siberian tour:
An irritable disposition, (like mine,) should not be placed with an amiable one, (like the doctor’s.) If misery loves company, so does anger; and a petulant man should have an associate whocanbe ruffled.
After leaving the Votiaks, we entered the country of the Tartars, the descendants of the followers of Genghis Khan, who carried the Mongol standard into Central Europe. Russia remained long under their yoke, and the Tartars of the present day live as a distinct people in various parts of the empire. They are nearly all Mohammedans, and the conversion of one of them to Christianity is a very rare occurrence. My attention was called to their mosques in the villages we passed, the construction being quite unlike that of the Russian churches. A tall spire or minaret, somewhat like the steeple of an American church, rises in the center of a Tartar mosque and generally overlooks the whole village. No bells are used, the people being called to prayer by the voice of a crier.
These Tartars have none of the warlike spirit of their ancestors, and are among the most peaceful subjects of the Russian emperor. They are industrious and enterprising, and manage to live comfortably. Their reputation for shrewdness doubtless gave rise to the story of the difficulty of catching a Tartar.
At the stations we generally found Russian smotretals with Tartar attendants. Blacksmiths, looking for jobs, carefully examined our sleighs. One found my shafts badly chafed where they touched the runners, and offered to iron the weak points for sixty copecks. I objected to the delay for preparing the irons. “Grotovey, Grotovey; piet minute” said the man, producing the ready prepared irons from one pocket and a hammer and nails from another. By the time the horses were led out the job was completed. I should have been better satisfied if one iron had not come off within two hours, and left the shaft as bare as ever.
The Tartars speak Russian very fairly, but use the Mongol language among themselves. They dress like the Russians, or very nearly so, the most distinguishing feature being a sort of skull cap like that worn by the Chinese. Their hair is cut like a prize fighter’s, excepting a little tuft on the crown. Out of doors they wore the Russian cap over their Mohammedan one—unconsciously symbolizing their subjection to Muscovite rule.
These Tartars drove horses of the same race as those in the Baraba steppe. They carried us finely where the road permitted, and I had equal admiration for the powers of the horses and the skill of their drivers.
In the night, after passing Malmouish, the weather became warm. I laid aside my dehar only a half hour before the thermometer fell, and set me shivering. About daybreak it was warmer, and the increasing temperature ushered in a violent storm. It snowed and it blowed, and it was cold, frosty weather all day and all night. We closed the sleigh and attempted to exclude the snow, but our efforts were vain. The little crevices admitted enough to cover us in a short time, and we very soon concluded to let the wind have its own way. The road was filled, and in many places we had hard work to get through. How the yemshicks found the way was a mystery. Once at a station, when the smotretal announced “gotovey,” I was actually unable to find the sleigh, though it stood not twenty feet from the door. The yemshicks said they were guided by the telegraph posts, which followed the line of road.
We were four hours making twenty-five versts to the last station before reaching Kazan. We took a hearty supper of soup, eggs, and bread, under a suspicion that we might remain out all night. Once the mammoth sleigh came up with us in the dark, and its shafts nearly ran us through. Collisions of this kind happened occasionally on the road, but were rarely as forcible as this one. We were twice on our beam ends and nearly overturned, and on several occasions stuck in the snow. By good luck we managed to arrive at Kazan about 2 A. M. On reaching the hotel, we were confronted by what I thought a snow statue, but which proved to be thedvornik, or watchman. Our baggage was taken up stairs, while we shook the snow from our furs. The samovar shortened our visages and filled our stomachs with tea. We retired to rest upon sofas and did not rise until a late hour.
It happened to be New Year’s, and the fashionable society of Kazan was doing its congratulations. I drove through the principal part of the city and found an animated scene. Numberless and numbered droskies were darting through the streets, carrying gayly dressed officers making their ceremonious calls. Soldiers were parading with bands of music, and the lower classes were out in large numbers. The storm had ceased, the weather was warm, and everything was propitious for out-door exercise.
The soldiers were the first I had seen since entering Europe, and impressed me favorably with the Russian army. They wore grey uniforms, like those I saw in Siberia, and marched with a regular and steady stride. It was not till I had reached St. Petersburg that I saw theeliteof the Emperor’s military forces. The reforms of Alexander have not left the army untouched. Great improvements have been made in the last twelve or fifteen years. More attention has been paid to the private soldiers than heretofore, their pay being increased and time of service lessened. The Imperial family preserves its military character, and the present Emperor allows no laxity of discipline in his efforts to elevate the men in the ranks.
It is said of the grand duke Michel, uncle of Alexander II., that he was a most rigid disciplinarian. His great delight was in parades, and he never overlooked the least irregularity. Not a button, not a moustache even, escaped his notice, and whoever was noten reglewas certain to be punished. He is reported to have said,—
“I detest war. It breaks the ranks, deranges the soldiers, and soils their uniforms.”[F]
[F]
The land forces of Russia are formed of two descriptions of troops—the regular troops properly so called, and the feudal militia of the Cossacks and similar tribes.The regular army is recruited from the classes of peasants and artisans partly and principally by means of a conscription, partly by the adoption of the sons of soldiers, and partly by voluntary enlistment. Every individual belonging to these classes is, with a few exceptions, liable to compulsory service, provided he be of the proper age and stature. The nominal strength of the Russian army, according to the returns of the ministry of War, is as follows:1.Regular Army.Peace-footing.War-footing.Infantry364,422694,511Cavalry38,30649,183Artillery41,83148,773Engineers13,41316,203--------------------Total457,875808,6702.Army of First Reserve.Troops of the line80,45574,561Garrison in regiments80,45523,470Garrison in battalions19,83029,862--------------------Total100,285127,9253.Army of Second Reserve.Troops of all arms254,036199,380----------------------General total812,0961,135,975Among the irregular troops of Russia, the most important are the Cossacks. The country of the Don Cossacks contains from 600,000 to 700,000 inhabitants. In case of necessity, every Cossack, from 15 to 60 years, is bound to render military service. The usual regular military force, however, consists of 54 cavalry regiments, each numbering 1,044 men, making a total of 56,376. The Cossacks are reckoned in round numbers as follows:Heads.In Militaryservice.On the Black Sea125,00018,000Great Russian Cossacks on the Caucasian Line150,00018,000Don Cossacks440,00066,000Ural Cossacks50,0008,000Orenburg Cossacks60,00010,000Siberian Cossacks50,0009,000--------------------Total875,000129,000The Russian navy consists of two great divisions—the fleet of the Baltic and that of the Black Sea. Each of these two fleets is again subdivided into sections, of which three are in or near the Baltic and three in or near the Black Sea, to which must be added the small squadrons of galleys, gunboats, and similar vessels.According to an official report, the Russian fleet consisted last year of 290 steamers, having 38,000 horse power, with 2,205 guns, besides 29 sailing vessels, with 65 guns. The greater and more formidable part of this navy was stationed in the Baltic. The Black Sea fleet numbered 43; the Caspian, 39; the Siberian or Pacific, 30; and the Lake Aral or Turkistan squadron, 11 vessels. The rest of the ships were either stationed at Kronstadt and Sweaborg or engaged in cruising in European waters.The iron-clad fleet of war consisted, at the commencement of 1868, of 24 vessels, with an aggregate of 149 guns, as follows:2Frigates, one of 18, and one of 24 guns42 guns.3Floating Batteries of 14, 16, and 27 guns57 guns.2Corvettes of 8 guns16 guns.6Monitors of 2 guns each12 guns.11Turret ships of 2 guns each22 guns.---------------Total, 24iron-clads with149 guns.The Imperial navy was manned at the beginning of 1868 by 60,230 sailors and marines, under the command of 3,791 officers, among whom are 119 admirals and generals.
The land forces of Russia are formed of two descriptions of troops—the regular troops properly so called, and the feudal militia of the Cossacks and similar tribes.
The regular army is recruited from the classes of peasants and artisans partly and principally by means of a conscription, partly by the adoption of the sons of soldiers, and partly by voluntary enlistment. Every individual belonging to these classes is, with a few exceptions, liable to compulsory service, provided he be of the proper age and stature. The nominal strength of the Russian army, according to the returns of the ministry of War, is as follows:
Among the irregular troops of Russia, the most important are the Cossacks. The country of the Don Cossacks contains from 600,000 to 700,000 inhabitants. In case of necessity, every Cossack, from 15 to 60 years, is bound to render military service. The usual regular military force, however, consists of 54 cavalry regiments, each numbering 1,044 men, making a total of 56,376. The Cossacks are reckoned in round numbers as follows:
The Russian navy consists of two great divisions—the fleet of the Baltic and that of the Black Sea. Each of these two fleets is again subdivided into sections, of which three are in or near the Baltic and three in or near the Black Sea, to which must be added the small squadrons of galleys, gunboats, and similar vessels.
According to an official report, the Russian fleet consisted last year of 290 steamers, having 38,000 horse power, with 2,205 guns, besides 29 sailing vessels, with 65 guns. The greater and more formidable part of this navy was stationed in the Baltic. The Black Sea fleet numbered 43; the Caspian, 39; the Siberian or Pacific, 30; and the Lake Aral or Turkistan squadron, 11 vessels. The rest of the ships were either stationed at Kronstadt and Sweaborg or engaged in cruising in European waters.
The iron-clad fleet of war consisted, at the commencement of 1868, of 24 vessels, with an aggregate of 149 guns, as follows:
The Imperial navy was manned at the beginning of 1868 by 60,230 sailors and marines, under the command of 3,791 officers, among whom are 119 admirals and generals.
I had a letter to Colonel Molostoff, the brother of a Siberian friend andcompagnon du voyage. I knew the colonel would not be at home on the first day of the year, as he had many relatives and friends to visit. So I sent the letter to his house, and accompanied Schmidt on a call upon Dr. Freeze, a prominent physician of Kazan. Madam Freeze was a native of Heidelburg, and evidently loved the Rhine better than the Volga. She gave me a letter to her brother in Moscow, where she promised me an introduction to a niece of the poet Goethe.
In the evening Colonel Molostoff called at the hotel and took me to the New Year’s ball of the nobility of Kazan. There was a maze of apartments belonging to the nobility club,—the dancing room being quite as elegant and as spacious as the large hall of the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I found files of English, French, and German papers in the reading-room, and spent a little while over the latest news from America. The male portion of the assemblage consisted of officers and civilians, the former in the majority. There was a perfect blaze of stars and gay uniforms, that quite outshone the evening dress of the civilians. As Kazan is old, populous, and wealthy, it is needless to add that the ladies were dressed just like those of St. Petersburg or Paris.
I was introduced to several officials, among them the governor, who had recently assumed command. Colonel Molostoff introduced me to three ladies who spoke English, but hardly had I opened conversation with the first before she was whisked away into the dance. The second and the third followed the same fate, and I began to look upon ball-room acquaintance as an uncertainty.
“Now,” said the colonel, “I will introduce you to one who is not young, but she is charming, and does not dance.” We went to seek her, but she was in the midst of a gay party just preparing for a visit to the lunch room.
I was so utterly wearied after my long ride that conversation was a great effort, and I could hardly keep my eyes from closing. I had promised to join a supper party at three o’clock, but midnight found me just able to stand. Fearful that I might bring discredit upon America by going to sleep during the festivities, I begged an excuse and returned to my hotel. Five minutes after entering my room I was in the land of dreams.
In the treasury of the Kremlin of Moscow the royal crown of Kazan is preserved. The descendants of Genghis Khan founded the city and made it the seat of their European power. For three centuries it remained a menace to Russia, and held the princes of Muscovy in fear and dread. But as the Russians grew in strength Kazan became weaker, and ultimately fell under the Muscovite control. Ivan the Terrible determined to drive the Tartars from the banks of the Volga. After three severe and disastrous campaigns, and a siege in which assailant and assailed displayed prodigies of valor, Kazan was stormed and captured. The kingdom was overthrown, and the Russian power extended to the Urals. The cruelties of Ivan the Terrible were partially forgiven in return for his breaking the Tartar yoke.
A pyramidal monument marks the burial place of the Russians who fell at the capture of the city, and the positions of the besiegers are still pointed out; but I believe no traces of the circumvallation are visible. The walls of the Tartar fortress form a part of the present Kremlin, but have been so rebuilt and enlarged that their distinctive character is gone.
Nicholas called Kazan the third capital of his empire, and the city is generally admitted first in importance after St. Petersburg and Moscow. Its position is well chosen on the banks of a small river, the Kazanka, which joins the Volga six versts away. On a high bluff stretching into a plateau in the rear of the city and frowning defiantly toward the west, its position is a commanding one. On the edge of this bluff is the Kremlin, with its thick and high walls enclosing the governor’s palace and other public buildings, all overlooked by a lofty bell-tower. Every part of the city gives evidence of wealth.
The population is about sixty thousand, including, I presume, the military garrison. There are twelve or fifteen thousand Tartars, who live in a quarter of the city specially assigned them. They are said to be industrious and peaceful, and some of them have amassed great wealth. I saw a Tartar merchant at the ball on New Year’s eve, and was told that his fortune was one of the best in Kazan. I can testify personally to the energy of Tartar peddlers. On my first morning at the hotel I was visited by itinerant dealers in hats, boots, dressing gowns, and other articles of wear. The Tartars at Moscow are no less active than their brethren of Kazan, and very shrewd in their dealings. Every one of them appears to believe that strangers visit Russia for the sole purpose of buying dressing gowns.
I took a drive through the Tartar quarter, orKatai Gorod, of Kazan, and inspected (but did not read) the signs over the shops. The houses are little different from those in the Russian quarter, and the general appearance of the streets was the same. I glanced at several female faces in defiance of Mohammedan law, which forbids women unveiling before strangers. On one occasion when no Tartar men were visible, a young and pretty woman removed her veil and evidently desired to be looked at. I satisfied my curiosity, and expressed admiration in all the complimentary Russian adjectives I could remember.
As we passed a butcher’s shop, my isvoshchik intimated that horse meat was sold there. The Tartars are fond of equine flesh, and prefer it to beef. On the Kirghese steppes the horse is prominent in gastronomic festivities.
Kazan is famous throughout Russia for the extent and variety of its manufactures. Russians and Tartars are alike engaged in them, and the products of their industry bear a good reputation. The city has printing establishments on an extensive scale, one of them devoted to Tartar literature. Several editions of the Koran have been printed here for the faithful in Northern and Central Asia.
The University of Kazan is one of the most celebrated institutions of learning in Russia, and has an excellent board of professors. Special attention is devoted to the Asiatic languages and literature, but no other branch of knowledge is neglected. I met the Professor of Persian literature, and found him speaking English and French fluently. I was invited to look through the museum and cabinet attached to the university, but time did not permit. There is a ladies’ seminary in equally good reputation for its educational facilities.
One morning, about two weeks before my arrival at Kazan, the early risers passing this seminary discovered the body of a young man hanging upon the fence. It was clad only in a shirt, and no other clothing could be found. No one recognized the features of the individual, and the occupants of the seminary professed utter ignorance of the affair. As might be expected, great excitement followed the discovery. Visits of the sterner sex were absolutely forbidden, and the young maidens in the building were placed under surveillance. The gentleman who told me the story, said:
“It is very strange, especially as the public can learn nothing about the young man’s identity.”
While conversing with a high official at Nijne Novgorod, a few days later, I referred to this affair and expressed my surprise that the police could not trace it out.
“That is to say,” he replied, with a shrug of the shoulders, “that the police have suppressed the particulars. It is a scandalous occurrence that may as well be kept from the public.”
One thing was quite certain: if the police thought proper to conceal the details of this affair, there was no likelihood of their publication. In Russia the police exercise a power much greater than in the United States. Those who have visited France and Austria can form a pretty correct idea of the Russian system, the three countries being nearly alike in this respect. The police has supervision over the people in a variety of ways; controls the fire department, looks after the general health, and provides for the well-being of society. Every man, woman, and child is considered under its surveillance, and accounted for by some member of the force. Passports are examined by the police, and ifen regle, the owners are not likely to be troubled. Taxes are collected, quarrels adjusted, and debts paid through its agency.
Almost everybody has heard of the secret police of Russia, and many questions have been asked me about it. I cannot throw much light upon it, and if I could it would not be a secret police. I never knowingly came in contact with the shadow, neither did I have the slightest reason to fear it. If my letters were opened and read, those familiar with my manuscript will agree that the police had a hard time of it. If anybody dogged my steps or drew me into conversation to report my opinions at thebureau secret, I never knew it. The servants who brought my cutlets and tea, the woman who washed my linen, or the dvornik who guarded the door, may have been spies upon me; but, if so, I didn’t see it. Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise.
People talk politics in Russia with apparent freedom, more so than I expected to find. Men and women expressed their opinions with candor (as I believe,) and criticised what they saw wrong in their government. The Russian journals possess more freedom than those of Paris, and the theatres can play pretty nearly what they like. Official tyranny or dishonesty can be shown up by the press or satirized on the stage more freely and safely than in the country of Napoleon Third, with all its boasted freedom.
I once read a story in which an Englishman in Austria is represented saying to his companion, “No gentleman meddles with the politics of the countries he visits.” I made it my rule in Russia never to start the subject of politics in conversation with anybody. Very often it was started, and I then spoke as freely as I would have spoken in New York. If my opinion was asked upon any point, I gave it frankly, but never volunteered it. I believe the Golden Rule a good one for a traveler. We Americans would think it very rude for a foreigner to come here and point out to us our faults. But for all that, a great many of us visit Europe and have no hesitation in telling the subjects of the various monarchies a variety of impolite truths. During the reign of Nicholas, the secret police was much more extensive than at present. The occurrences of 1825 and subsequent years led to a close surveillance of men in all stations of life. It was said under Nicholas that when three men were assembled, one was a spy and another might be. Doubtless the espionage was rigid, but I never heard that it affected those who said or did nothing objectionable. Under Alexander II. the stability of the throne hardly requires the aid of a detective force, and, if what I was told be true, it receives very little.
The police have a standing order to arrest any person who speaks to the Emperor in the promenade at the Public Garden. One day Nicholas recognized in the crowd a favorite comedian, and accosted him with a few words of encouragement. The actor thanked his majesty for his approval, and the two separated. A stupid policeman arrested the actor, and hurried him to prison on the charge of violating the law.
“But the emperor spoke to me first,” was the apology.
“No matter,” replied the policeman; “you spoke to the emperor, and must be arrested.”
At the theatre that evening Nicholas was in the imperial box, utterly ignorant of what had occurred to his favorite. The performance was delayed, the audience impatient, manager frantic, and the emperor finally sent to know the cause of the curtain remaining down. The actor did not come, and after waiting some time, His Majesty went home. Next morning the prisoner was released, and during the day the emperor learned what had occurred. Sending for the victim of police stupidity, he asked what reparation could be made for his night in prison.
“I beg your majesty,” was the frank request, “never to speak to me again in the Public Garden.”
Nicholas promised compliance. He also made a pecuniary testimonial at the comedian’s next benefit.