THE JOURNEY TO MOSCOW.
"I think it is absolutely villanous to let that little pauper go down
the Volga, when there are so many of us who pay our bills, that wish
to go," said De Forrest, angrily, when it was rumored that the first
division of the students, with the Volga party would start that day for
Moscow.
"Well, he was fairly elected, I suppose," replied Beckwith.
"Elected!" sneered De Forrest. "Scott elected him. When he takes snuff,
all the fellows in the steerage sneeze."
"I thought you were going to get up a petition to the principal to have
the old method of giving out the offices restored, and have this voting
business done with."
"I talked with some of the fellows about it, but most of them said they
wouldn't sign."
"Why not?"
"Some of them said they rather liked the fun and excitement of the
election; others said they had gone in for the thing, and didn't like
to take the back track. I shouldn't wonder if they had joined the
Bangwhangers. Between you and me, Beckwith, I am getting a little
tired of the ship."
"Tired of it? I thought you considered it the biggest thing in the
world."
"Well, I did; but it is about played out. I worked hard to be captain,
but never got higher than third lieutenant; now I'm only a purser."
"You didn't work very hard last month," suggested Beckwith.
"I didn't think it was any use when I saw such fellows as Cantwell,
Sheridan, and Murray getting in ahead of me, in spite of all I could
do. No matter for that; Russia is a big country."
"That's so."
"A fellow could easily get lost in it, for none of us speak a word of
Russian, and most of us not much French or German," added De Forrest,
dropping his voice down to a whisper.
Beckwith looked at him, and tried to comprehend his meaning.
"Those fellows that ran away in Sweden, pretending they couldn't find
the ship, got off easy," added the purser.
"Not one of them has been punished, except Stockwell, who was only
deprived of his position as coxswain of the second cutter," replied
Beckwith, beginning to understand his friend. "All of them have been
allowed to go on shore with the rest."
"I should like to take just such an excursion on the same terms,"
continued De Forrest.
"But those fellows owned up, made a clean breast of it, and promised to
be good boys. The penalty hung over them for a week, and only their
good behavior saved them."
"Do you want to go down the Volga, Beck?"
"Of course I do. I would buy out any fellow's chance if I could."
"Perhaps we may go yet," replied De Forrest, with a wink.
"How?"
"Never mind it now. We are both in the first division, and shall go
to Moscow with the others. We will talk about it when we get there.
I expect to drop into the steerage next month, and I had as lief be
hanged for an old sheep as a lamb. Don't say anything."
"Of course not; but you don't mean to run away--do you?"
"Dry up!"
"Nobody is near us."
"I never was so disgusted with anything in my life as I am with this
election business. If I say anything, the fellows tell me it is a
chicken of my own hatching. Now, Cantwell pretends to be one of the
chaplain's lambs, affects a gentlemanly bearing, and studies seamanship
when all of us are on shore. Then he gave that Billy Bobstay a hundred
rubles, and the fellows all cheered him for it. I am so mad, I can
hardly hold in. I would rather be in a slave ship than here. I'm nobody
now."
De Forrest's schemes for his personal advancement had been utterly
defeated, and this fact was the key to his disgust. Though he had
been a wild boy on shore, he had done very well on board of the ship,
stimulated by the hope of promotion, and by the enjoyment of his
position in the cabin. His fall from the rank of lieutenant had a bad
effect upon him, for instead of working to recover his lost position,
he permitted evil thoughts to take possession of his mind, and chose to
regard himself as an abused individual. Like many men in public life,
he had frittered away whatever influence he had by laboring for self,
instead of the general good. The students of the Academy "saw through
him," and realized that he acted only from selfish considerations, just
as the sensible people penetrate the motives of the politicians. If he
was "nobody" now, it was clearly his own fault.
"What are you going to do, De Forrest?" asked Beckwith.
"We won't talk about it now, for there will be plenty of time to
consider that matter when we get to Moscow. Do you know who will have
charge of our party?"
"I heard some one mention the chaplain."
"Good!" exclaimed De Forrest. "He is not particularly sharp."
"But Dr. Winstock will go to Moscow with us, and accompany the Volga
party to Kazan."
"All right; he will leave us in a day or two," replied the purser, with
a significant smile, as though the arrangement just suited him. "How
much money have you, Beckwith?"
"I drew twenty pounds in St. Petersburg the other day, and I changed
my money in Stockholm into Russian paper. I have nearly two hundred
rubles."
"Is that all you have?"
"I thought that was a pretty big pile."
"I have a letter of credit for a hundred pounds, upon which I can draw
in any city of Europe," added the purser.
"Well, I can get more when I write for it."
"You had better write, then, for you haven't enough left to last you
three weeks."
"I don't know where we are going next," said Beckwith.
"The squadron is going to Hamburg, I believe, and from there on a long
cruise, which may use up five or six weeks."
"You mean up the Mediterranean."
"Yes; and if I were you, I would have a letter of credit sent to me at
Constantinople."
"Perhaps I will; but what's up, De Forrest?"
"Don't say a word now. All our chances for a soft thing are gone in
this ship, and if you want to enjoy yourself for the rest of the
season, keep your weather eye open, and follow my lead--that's all for
the present."
At ten o'clock in the forenoon, the first division of the tourists,
with the Volga party, embarked in the steamer for St. Petersburg. Each
of the students had his pea-jacket and small bag. Mr. Agneau, the
chaplain, was in charge of the division, and the surgeon, of the Volga
party. On their arrival they took omnibuses for the Moscow station.
Tickets for the party were procured, with places in the _voiture au
lit_, or sleeping car. The distance to Moscow is six hundred and four
versts, or four hundred miles. The fare is nineteen rubles, first
class, and thirteen rubles, second class. The time is twenty hours by
the express train, and four or five more by ordinary trains. Twenty
miles an hour is rather slow for a fast train, but it is about the
usual rate in Russia.
"That's it; this is a Yankee invention," said Scott, as Dr. Winstock
handed him his ticket, which was precisely like those of the patented
system used on most of the American railroads. "This looks like home.
It is stamped with the date, and I suppose they have the machine for
doing it. Here, doctor; the date is wrong."
"Wrong?" replied the surgeon, glancing at his ticket. "June 2; that's
right."
"To-day is the 14th, sir."
"The 2d in Russia, my boy," laughed the doctor, hastening away to
distribute his tickets.
"I suppose you know what Old Style means, Scott--don't you?" said
Lincoln.
"Well, I have heard of such a thing, but I didn't suppose any nation
was insane enough to use it."
"The Russians are, and consequently are just twelve days behind the
times."
"More than that."
"Pope Gregory reformed the calendar, and for this reason the Russians
will not adopt the Gregorian system, but use the Julian, or Greek
calendar."
"I say, commodore, don't your head ache?"
"No; why should it?"
"Because it is so full. I couldn't carry so much useful knowledge
around with me, unless I had a basket to tote it in."
"I have looked the matter up since I came here. Have you drawn any
money in St. Petersburg."
"Unfortunately, I have before me the melancholy duty of spending
nearly two hundred of these yellow paper rubles. Sad--isn't it?"
"Have you your _bordereau_?" asked the commodore.
"My what?"
"Your _bordereau_."
"No, no; I haven't that. I ate it instead of pickled onions for my
dinner yesterday," replied Scott, gravely.
"Indeed!"
"Yes; and if you have one you had better eat it, for they are first
rate."
"Here is mine," added Lincoln, taking from his pocket the memorandum,
which the banker had given him, of the rate of exchange and amount of
money paid him. "You see the date is back in May, for I drew on the
10th of June."
"Just so; and that is a _bordereau_--is it?"
"Yes."
"Well, it looks like one."
"Would you like to eat it instead of pickled onions?"
"No; instead of _caviar_. But suppose we look into the cars," added
Scott, as they passed into the room from which passengers step upon the
trains.
They entered the second-class sleeping-car. It was altogether a
different affair from that used in the United States; but only two
rubles extra are charged for this accommodation, though that is all it
is worth. It was a large, clumsily-built carriage, with a door in the
middle of each side, and one at each end opening upon a platform. On
the top was a second story, which, however, was only about half the
size of the lower part. The side doors open into an apartment in the
middle of the car, furnished with one large arm-chair in a corner,
and seats on the sides. From this room a flight of steps ascends
to the second-story apartment. From this central corridor two long
passage-ways, on opposite sides of the car, lead to the ends. From
each of these passage-ways three or four compartments are entered,
each with two seats facing each other. The passengers lie upon these
seats at night, being provided with a pillow, but with no covering of
any kind. Each compartment has one or two swinging shelves, or berths,
besides, which are placed above the windows. Of course only three or
four passengers can be accommodated in each compartment. There is no
ventilation except at the windows; and if a Russian cannot sleep, he
lights a paper cigar every half hour, while a dozen others may be
smoking in their seats. There are conveniences at each end of the car,
which are hardly to be found on the trains of any other country in
Europe.
The first-class sleeping-car is precisely like the second, except that
it is fitted up in a little better style. The train also includes other
carriages, some like those in common use on the continent, and one or
two quite different. In one first-class there were two apartments,
one at each end, with seats at the sides, and containing a table for
card-playing. These rooms are sold at one hundred rubles the trip,
whether occupied by one or a dozen persons, for they will seat sixteen.
Between these apartments is one for general use, fitted up with stuffed
arm-chairs. When the private apartments are not taken by parties, a
ruble or two, given to the conductor, will procure admission to them
after the train has passed a certain station. The conductors generally
speak German, and some of them French.
The doctor, Lincoln, Billy Bobstay, and Scott, took one of the
compartments in the second-class sleeping-car. They made some
comparisons between the vehicle and those in use at home, and wondered
why the people of Europe insist upon making night travel by railroad
as uncomfortable as possible. At half past two the train started, and
the students were fully occupied for a time in observing the suburbs of
the city; but in half an hour there was nothing to be seen but the low,
level, marshy country, which is the same thing all the way to Moscow,
with hardly anything to vary its monotony.
"We haven't seen any of the triumphal arches of St. Petersburg," said
Dr. Winstock. "The Moscow Gate is one of them, and is a very elaborate
work of art."
"Where is it?" asked Lincoln.
"On the road to Moscow, just outside of the city. It was erected in
honor of the Russian armies that fought in Persia, Turkey, and Poland.
The Triumphal Arch of Narva, on the road to the Baltic provinces, is
also a beautiful work, and commemorates the victories of the Russian
troops, who returned in 1815."
"There's a village," said Lincoln.
"I should think it was a collection of pigsties," added Scott.
The houses were of the rudest construction, and looked more like
shanties than the abodes of human beings. They are built of logs
generally, some hewn and others just as they fell, with roofs of
boards, the ends in many instances not squared. There was nothing
like order in their location. After running over two hours the train
stopped at a station. Like all the others on the road, it was a large
and substantial brick structure, with everything about it kept in good
condition.
The trains stop from ten minutes to half an hour at these stations,
and most of the students got out of the cars, anxious to see what they
could of the place and the people. The principal room was a large
hall, in which was a table set for meals. At one end was a bar, and
in other places were minor stands for other refreshments. One was for
dispensing tea, which may be said to be the national beverage of the
Russians, though they drink _vodka_--a strong liquor, not unlike the
_finkel_ of the Swedes--to excess. A woman usually serves the tea in
the station. In front of her is an array of tumblers, in which the
people drink their tea, with a bowl filled with square lumps of sugar.
Little pitchers of milk are available, but the Russians seldom use this
article. There is also a plate of thinly sliced lemons. The traveller
takes one of the glasses, puts about three lumps of sugar in it, and
the woman fills it with the beverage, upon which is placed a slice
of lemon. The tea is quite yellow, and its flavor is excellent. It
is brought from China over land, and without doubt is the best to be
had in Europe. The Russians drink their tea very hot, and in enormous
quantities. In the course of his journey to Moscow, a passenger often
drinks half a dozen glasses of strong tea before he goes to sleep, and
then the mystery is, how he can go to sleep at all. The lemon is not
squeezed in the beverage, but is simply stirred about with the spoon.
One not skilled in the art of tea-drinking would hardly know that the
lemon had been added.
Coffee may be obtained at the same stand, but not one in twenty calls
for it. The tables are well supplied, and excellent roast beef is
served, with a variety of other simple dishes. At another station,
similar to the first, the students had their supper, or more properly
their dinner.
"Can we eat Russian provender?" asked Scott.
"Why not? It doesn't seem to be at all different from the diet of other
Europeans. Here is roast beef, and there are veal cutlets. The bread,
you perceive, is most excellent," replied Dr. Winstock. "Indeed, I
think the whitest and best bread in Europe is to be had in Russia."
"But I had an idea that the Russians ate strange messes," added Scott.
"There are peculiarly Russian dishes, but you do not find them to any
great extent in the restaurants on the railroads. _Kvas_ is a beverage
of fermented rye. From this they make an iced soup, into which they put
meat, chopped herring, and cucumbers."
"Whew!" whistled Scott, as the party seated themselves at the table.
"They have cabbage soups and fish soups, which we should call chowder.
The finest fish in Russia is the sterlet, which is very expensive. The
poor people live on buckwheat and other coarse grains, and among them
the common dish is cabbage soup thickened with buckwheat or barley
meal, with meat or fish when it can be afforded, which is not often
among the poorest."
"I shouldn't like that kind of grub."
"Probably not; but you need not starve while you can get roast beef as
good as this, though it is a little tough."
"No, sir; but I should starve on another article I see here; that is,
_caviar_--the abominable fish spawn. I tried it in Sweden, and didn't
get the taste of it out of my mouth for three weeks."
"Yet it is esteemed a great delicacy in this country, and many
foreigners so regard it."
"Their mouths and stomachs must be lined with cast-iron," laughed Scott.
The party returned to the train, and the journey was continued. The
country was still level, with hardly anything like a hill to be seen.
Much of it was covered with pine and birch wood. A village of shanties
was occasionally passed, and around it were fields of grain, but there
were no fences. The view from the windows of the cars was ever the
same, and the travellers were soon weary of it. Scott wandered through
the carriage to see the passengers, for a few Russians had taken
places in it. He made a study of the conductor, who was certainly a
fine-looking fellow. He wore a Cossack cap, a short frock coat with a
belt, and large trousers stuffed into the top of his boots. At dark,
which was late in the evening in this high latitude, nearly ten, the
students tried to go to sleep, and most of them succeeded.
At five o'clock in the morning, nearly all of them were awake when the
train stopped at Tver, which is the head of steamboat navigation on the
Volga. Those who had their eyes open went into the station for a cup of
coffee and a roll.
"Now's our time," said De Forrest, in a low tone, as he finished his
coffee, and paid for it.
"What do you mean?" asked Beckwith, as he followed the purser to the
rear of the station, where no one observed them.
"Have you pluck enough to go with me?" replied De Forrest.
"Go where?"
"Down the Volga."
"Run away?"
"Yes."
"I don't know about that. It is played out."
"No, it isn't. We can have a good time, and not be under the nose of
any one. While the rest of them go to Moscow, we will go down to Nijni
and Kazan."
"But I want to see Moscow."
"We will see that by and by. We will go down the river, and keep out of
the way till all hands have returned to the ship. Then we will go it to
Berlin or Warsaw."
"I haven't money enough to go such a trip."
"I will lend you some when you are short."
De Forrest argued the matter until Beckwith yielded the point, but
rather reluctantly. They wore their pea-jackets, and had their bags in
their hands, for the purser said they would change their seats when
they returned to the train. Retreating from the station, they kept
out of sight till the cars had started, and then hastened to find
the steamer on the river. The captain was a Finn, and spoke a little
English, so that they had no difficulty in obtaining tickets and
places. As De Forrest had declared that they intended to change their
places, the two students with whom they had occupied a compartment in
the car, did not suspect that they had been left behind when the train
moved off, and they were not missed till the party arrived at Moscow,
at ten o'clock.
The students piled into the droskies,--two on the seat, and one with
the driver,--and were driven to the Hôtel d'Hambourg, which is kept by
Madame Billet, an English lady, in the Rue Lubianka, near the centre of
the city. The lady proprietor is a most excellent woman, very attentive
to her guests, able and willing to give all needed information in
regard to the city. Either she or her charming sister presides at the
table, and to an American or an Englishman there is no more home-like
establishment on the continent. When the roll of the first division
was called, in assigning rooms to the party, the absence of De Forrest
and Beckwith was discovered; but it was not supposed that they had
absconded, and a servant was sent back to the station to find them. The
chaplain was very much troubled; but the surgeon assured him that no
possible harm could have come to the absentees.
Lincoln, Scott, and Billy Bobstay were assigned to one room. It was in
no respect different from a chamber in an English hotel, except that a
large stove or furnace was set in the wall, the fire-door opening into
the hall. Every room was provided with this heating apparatus. Having
arranged their toilets, the party gathered again in the coffee-room for
breakfast. The meal was in English style, consisting of cold tongue,
cold chicken, and capital coffee. When it was finished, Dr. Winstock
gave a brief description and historical account of Moscow.
"Moscow was until 1720 the capital of the Russian empire," said he.
"This part of it was called Muscovy, and came to include Novgorod
and Tver, the two provinces, or governments, through which we passed
in coming from St. Petersburg. What is called Great Russia comprises
sixteen governments, among which are nearly all the ancient grand
dukedoms. It was founded in the middle of the twelfth century, and was
taken and plundered by Tamerlane in the fourteenth century; nearly
consumed by fire in 1536, and again in 1572, when it was fired by the
Tartars, and one hundred thousand people perished in the flames and by
the sword; the Poles fired it in 1611, and in 1812 it was burned by the
Russians to prevent the French from wintering in it. Moscow is the Holy
City of the Russians. It is a place of great commercial importance,
having a vast trade, extending into Asia, and it is also a large
manufacturing place. The emperors are crowned here, and on account
of its holy character and sacred associations, no Czar would dare to
neglect at least a semiannual visit; and custom requires that he should
present his oldest son and heir in this city soon after he becomes of
age.
"Moscow is one of the most irregularly built cities in the world. The
Kremlin is in the centre. Half a mile from it there is a series of
streets nearly encircling it, on the site of which was formerly the
moat of the castle. A mile and a half distant there is another series
of avenues, which form a complete circle. Within this line the map of
the city looks very much like a well-constructed cobweb; but the town
extends far beyond this line, and has a circumference of twenty miles.
The Moscow river, a branch of the Oka, runs through the city, with a
great bend extending up to the Kremlin."
"What is the Kremlin, sir?" asked a student.
"It was originally the citadel or fortress of the city. It was first
enclosed with oak walls, and afterwards with stone. It is in the form
of a triangle, with a perimeter of about a mile, and contains the
palace, the holiest churches, and many other public buildings. Moscow
has between three and four hundred churches, the number being variously
estimated, for some writers include several in one establishment, while
others count all as one. A monastery may have two or three churches
within its walls. Now we will walk to the Kremlin, and ascend the Tower
of Ivan Veliki, or John the Great, from which you will obtain a fine
view of the whole city."
In Moscow it is difficult, if not impossible, to obtain a guide who
speaks English; but a German was procured, and the students left the
hotel under his direction. The walk through the streets was full of
interest, and there was no lack of variety. There is not a straight
avenue in the city, and there seems to be no fixed line upon which the
houses are erected. Now the street is narrow, and then it suddenly
doubles its width for a short distance, and some of them are nearly
in the shape of a wedge. They twist about even worse than in Boston,
where the tradition is that the early fathers followed the cow-paths
when they laid out the streets. They are paved with irregular stones,
and there seem to be no particular localities in which the wealthier
class erect their elegant residences, for next to a lofty and beautiful
mansion may be the humble low house of the poor man. The buildings are
painted or colored in nearly all the hues of the rainbow.
One cannot walk far without coming to a church, either small or large,
and at least a dozen domes are always in sight--gold, green, and blue.
The signs in the streets, too, are peculiar, and more intelligible than
in most Russian cities, for pictorial effects seem to be the fashion,
and the butcher, baker, grocer, and other merchants cover all the
available space in front of their shops with representations of their
various wares.
In many of the open spaces there are drosky stands and several new
varieties of carriages were presented to the students. Most of the
droskies have hoods, or covers, like a chaise, and are wider than those
of St. Petersburg. One kind of vehicle consists of a board, covered and
stuffed, extending from the forward to the hind axletree. The drivers
are dressed as in other Russian cities, and carry their white gloves,
while waiting for a job, in their belt. These men are very polite, and
take off their hats when they solicit employment.
"There is the Kremlin," said the doctor, as he pointed to the high
walls, upon which, at intervals are several elaborate towers. "You will
enter by the 'Sacred Gate,' or 'Porta Triumphalis.' Be sure and take
off your caps, and do not put them on till you have passed entirely
through the archway."
This opening was under a Gothic tower, and is sometimes called the
"Redeemer's Gate," from the picture of the Redeemer, of Smolensk,
which is placed above it. It is held in the highest reverence by the
Russians, who believe that the Tartars were driven back by it, and that
miraculous clouds concealed the defenders of the fortress, who sought
its protection from the eyes of the enemy. It is in a glass case, and
a huge lamp, raised and lowered by a large chain over a pulley, is
always burning before it. It is said that the French, supposing the
frame to be of gold, wished to plunder it, but every ladder planted
beneath instantly broke in twain. The invaders then loaded a cannon
to batter down the wall, but the powder would not burn till they
made a great fire of coals over the vent, and then it went off the
wrong way, blowing out the breech of the gun, and killing some of the
artillerists. The Frenchmen then acknowledged the miraculous character
of the picture, and retired, leaving it unharmed. It was borne in the
battle-field by the armies of Pojarski, and the Poles fled before it.
On account of the signal service it has thus rendered, every one must
bare his head as he passes through the gate, be he Czar or peasant,
Greek or Christian. At the entrance stood a soldier with a drawn sabre
in his hand, who enforced this behest of custom. Umbrellas must be
closed, and care is taken to prevent dogs from entering the enclosure
by this gate. The students uncovered, and passed through. The Russians
bowed, knelt, and crossed themselves repeatedly, as they did so.