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 who _can_ be
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 the _dvornik_, 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 the
_elite_ of 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 not _en regle_ was
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]
[Footnote 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.
Infantry 364,422 694,511
Cavalry 38,306 49,183
Artillery 41,831 48,773
Engineers 13,413 16,203
------- -------
Total 457,875 808,670
2. _Army of First Reserve._
Troops of the line 80,455 74,561
Garrison in regiments 80,455 23,470
Garrison in battalions 19,830 29,862
------- -------
Total 100,285 127,925
3. _Army of Second Reserve._
Troops of all arms 254,036 199,380
------- ---------
General total 812,096 1,135,975
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:
In Military
Heads. service.
On the Black Sea............................ 125,000 18,000
Great Russian Cossacks on the Caucasian Line 150,000 18,000
Don Cossacks................................ 440,000 66,000
Ural Cossacks............................... 50,000 8,000
Orenburg Cossacks........................... 60,000 10,000
Siberian Cossacks........................... 50,000 9,000
———- ———-
Total..................................... 875,000 129,000
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:
2 Frigates, one of 18, and one of 24 guns.... 42 guns.
3 Floating Batteries of 14, 16, and 27 guns.. 57 guns.
2 Corvettes of 8 guns........................ 16 guns.
6 Monitors of 2 guns each.................... 12 guns.
11 Turret ships of 2 guns each................ 22 guns.
— —-
Total, 24 iron-clads with............................ 149 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.]
I had a letter to Colonel Molostoff, the brother of a Siberian friend
and _compagnon 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, or _Katai 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 if _en 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 the _bureau 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.