CHAPTER I

TRAVELLING IN RUSSIA

Railways--State Interference--River Communications--Russian "Grand

Tour"--The Volga--Kazan--Zhigulinskiya Gori--Finns and Tartars--The

Don--Difficulties of Navigation--Discomforts--Rats--Hotels and

Their Peculiar Customs--Roads--Hibernian Phraseology

Explained--Bridges--Posting--A Tarantass--Requisites for

Travelling--Travelling in Winter--Frostbitten--Disagreeable

Episodes--Scene at a Post-Station.

CHAPTER II

IN THE NORTHERN FORESTS

Bird's-eye View of Russia--The Northern Forests--Purpose of

my Journey--Negotiations--The Road--A Village--A Peasant's

House--Vapour-Baths--Curious Custom--Arrival.

CHAPTER III

VOLUNTARY EXILE

Ivanofka--History of the Place--The Steward of the Estate--Slav and

Teutonic Natures--A German's View of the Emancipation--Justices of the

Peace--New School of Morals--The Russian Language--Linguistic Talent of

the Russians--My Teacher--A Big Dose of Current History.

CHAPTER IV

THE VILLAGE PRIEST

Priests' Names--Clerical Marriages--The White and the Black Clergy--Why

the People do not Respect the Parish Priests--History of the White

Clergy--The Parish Priest and the Protestant Pastor--In What Sense

the Russian People are Religious--Icons--The Clergy and Popular

Education--Ecclesiastical Reform--Premonitory Symptoms of Change--Two

Typical Specimens of the Parochial Clergy of the Present Day.

CHAPTER V

A MEDICAL CONSULTATION

Unexpected Illness--A Village Doctor--Siberian Plague--My

Studies--Russian Historians--A Russian Imitator of Dickens--A ci-devant

Domestic Serf--Medicine and Witchcraft--A Remnant of Paganism--Credulity

of the Peasantry--Absurd Rumours--A Mysterious Visit from St.

Barbara--Cholera on Board a Steamer--Hospitals--Lunatic Asylums--Amongst

Maniacs.

CHAPTER VI

A PEASANT FAMILY OF THE OLD TYPE

Ivan Petroff--His Past Life--Co-operative Associations--Constitution of

a Peasant's Household--Predominance of Economic Conceptions over those

of Blood-relationship--Peasant Marriages--Advantages of Living in Large

Families--Its Defects--Family Disruptions and their Consequences.

CHAPTER VII

THE PEASANTRY OF THE NORTH

Communal Land--System of Agriculture--Parish Fetes--Fasting--Winter

Occupations--Yearly Migrations--Domestic Industries--Influence

of Capital and Wholesale Enterprise--The State

Peasants--Serf-dues--Buckle's "History of Civilisation"--A precocious

Yamstchik--"People Who Play Pranks"--A Midnight Alarm--The Far North.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MIR, OR VILLAGE COMMUNITY

Social and Political Importance of the Mir--The Mir and the Family

Compared--Theory of the Communal System--Practical Deviations from the

Theory--The Mir a Good Specimen of Constitutional Government of the

Extreme Democratic Type--The Village Assembly--Female Members--The

Elections--Distribution of the Communal Land.

CHAPTER IX

HOW THE COMMUNE HAS BEEN PRESERVED, AND WHAT IT IS TO EFFECT IN THE

FUTURE

Sweeping Reforms after the Crimean War--Protest Against the Laissez

Faire Principle--Fear of the Proletariat--English and Russian Methods of

Legislation Contrasted--Sanguine Expectations--Evil Consequences of

the Communal System--The Commune of the Future--Proletariat of the

Towns--The Present State of Things Merely Temporary.

CHAPTER X

FINNISH AND TARTAR VILLAGES

A Finnish Tribe--Finnish Villages--Various Stages of

Russification--Finnish Women--Finnish Religions--Method of "Laying"

Ghosts--Curious Mixture of Christianity and Paganism--Conversion of

the Finns--A Tartar Village--A Russian Peasant's Conception of

Mahometanism--A Mahometan's View of Christianity--Propaganda--The

Russian Colonist--Migrations of Peoples During the Dark Ages.

CHAPTER XI

LORD NOVGOROD THE GREAT

Departure from Ivanofka and Arrival at Novgorod--The Eastern Half of

the Town--The Kremlin--An Old Legend--The Armed Men of Rus--The

Northmen--Popular Liberty in Novgorod--The Prince and the Popular

Assembly--Civil Dissensions and Faction-fights--The Commercial Republic

Conquered by the Muscovite Tsars--Ivan the Terrible--Present Condition

of the Town--Provincial Society--Card-playing--Periodicals--"Eternal

Stillness."

CHAPTER XII

THE TOWNS AND THE MERCANTILE CLASSES

General Character of Russian Towns--Scarcity of Towns in Russia--Why

the Urban Element in the Population is so Small--History of

Russian Municipal Institutions--Unsuccessful Efforts to Create a

Tiers-etat--Merchants, Burghers, and Artisans--Town Council--A Rich

Merchant--His House--His Love of Ostentation--His Conception of

Aristocracy--Official Decorations--Ignorance and Dishonesty of the

Commercial Classes--Symptoms of Change.

CHAPTER XIII

THE PASTORAL TRIBES OF THE STEPPE

A Journey to the Steppe Region of the Southeast--The Volga--Town

and Province of Samara--Farther Eastward--Appearance of the

Villages--Characteristic Incident--Peasant Mendacity--Explanation of the

Phenomenon--I Awake in Asia--A Bashkir Aoul--Diner la Tartare--Kumyss--A

Bashkir Troubadour--Honest Mehemet Zian--Actual Economic Condition of

the Bashkirs Throws Light on a Well-known Philosophical Theory--Why

a Pastoral Race Adopts Agriculture--The Genuine Steppe--The

Kirghiz--Letter from Genghis Khan--The Kalmyks--Nogai Tartars--Struggle

between Nomadic Hordes and Agricultural Colonists.

CHAPTER XIV

THE MONGOL DOMINATION

The Conquest--Genghis Khan and his People--Creation and Rapid

Disintegration of the Mongol Empire--The Golden Horde--The Real

Character of the Mongol Domination--Religious Toleration--Mongol System

of Government--Grand Princes--The Princes of Moscow--Influence of the

Mongol Domination--Practical Importance of the Subject.

CHAPTER XV

THE COSSACKS

Lawlessness on the Steppe--Slave-markets of the Crimea--The Military

Cordon and the Free Cossacks--The Zaporovian Commonwealth Compared with

Sparta and with the Mediaeval Military Orders--The Cossacks of the Don,

of the Volga, and of the Ural--Border Warfare--The Modern Cossacks--Land

Tenure among the Cossacks of the Don--The Transition from Pastoral to

Agriculture Life--"Universal Law" of Social Development--Communal versus

Private Property--Flogging as a Means of Land-registration.

CHAPTER XVI

FOREIGN COLONISTS ON THE STEPPE

The Steppe--Variety of Races, Languages, and Religions--The German

Colonists--In What Sense the Russians are an Imitative

People--The Mennonites--Climate and Arboriculture--Bulgarian

Colonists--Tartar-Speaking Greeks--Jewish

Agriculturists--Russification--A Circassian Scotchman--Numerical

Strength of the Foreign Element.

CHAPTER XVII

AMONG THE HERETICS

The Molokanye--My Method of Investigation--Alexandrof-Hai--An Unexpected

Theological Discussion--Doctrines and Ecclesiastical Organisation of

the Molokanye--Moral Supervision and Mutual Assistance--History of the

Sect--A False Prophet--Utilitarian Christianity--Classification of

the Fantastic Sects--The "Khlysti"--Policy of the Government towards

Sectarianism--Two Kinds of Heresy--Probable Future of the Heretical

Sects--Political Disaffection.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE DISSENTERS

Dissenters not to be Confounded with Heretics--Extreme Importance

Attached to Ritual Observances--The Raskol, or Great Schism in the

Seventeenth Century--Antichrist Appears!--Policy of Peter the Great

and Catherine II.--Present Ingenious Method of Securing Religious

Toleration--Internal Development of the Raskol--Schism among the

Schismatics--The Old Ritualists--The Priestless People--Cooling of the

Fanatical Enthusiasm and Formation of New Sects--Recent Policy of

the Government towards the Sectarians--Numerical Force and Political

Significance of Sectarianism.

CHAPTER XIX

CHURCH AND STATE

The Russian Orthodox Church--Russia Outside of the Mediaeval Papal

Commonwealth--Influence of the Greek Church--Ecclesiastical History of

Russia--Relations between Church and State--Eastern Orthodoxy and the

Russian National Church--The Synod--Ecclesiastical Grumbling--Local

Ecclesiastical Administration--The Black Clergy and the Monasteries--The

Character of the Eastern Church Reflected in the History of Religious

Art--Practical Consequences--The Union Scheme.

CHAPTER XX

THE NOBLESSE

The Nobles In Early Times--The Mongol Domination--The Tsardom of

Muscovy--Family Dignity--Reforms of Peter the Great--The Nobles Adopt

West-European Conceptions--Abolition of Obligatory Service--Influence of

Catherine II.--The Russian Dvoryanstvo Compared with the French Noblesse

and the English Aristocracy--Russian Titles--Probable Future of the

Russian Noblesse.

CHAPTER XXI

LANDED PROPRIETORS OF THE OLD SCHOOL

Russian Hospitality--A Country-House--Its Owner Described--His Life,

Past and Present--Winter Evenings--Books---Connection with the Outer

World--The Crimean War and the Emancipation--A Drunken, Dissolute

Proprietor--An Old General and his Wife--"Name Days"--A Legendary

Monster--A Retired Judge--A Clever Scribe--Social Leniency--Cause of

Demoralisation.

CHAPTER XXII

PROPRIETORS OF THE MODERN SCHOOL

A Russian Petit Maitre--His House and Surroundings--Abortive Attempts

to Improve Agriculture and the Condition of the Serfs--A Comparison--A

"Liberal" Tchinovnik--His Idea of Progress--A Justice of the Peace--His

Opinion of Russian Literature, Tchinovniks, and Petits Maitres--His

Supposed and Real Character--An Extreme Radical--Disorders in

the Universities--Administrative Procedure--Russia's Capacity for

Accomplishing Political and Social Evolutions--A Court Dignitary in his

Country House.

CHAPTER XXIII

SOCIAL CLASSES

Do Social Classes or Castes Exist in Russia?--Well-marked Social

Types--Classes Recognised by the Legislation and the Official

Statistics--Origin and Gradual Formation of these Classes--Peculiarity

in the Historical Development of Russia--Political Life and Political

Parties.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE IMPERIAL ADMINISTRATION AND THE OFFICIALS

The Officials in Norgorod Assist Me in My Studies--The Modern Imperial

Administration Created by Peter the Great, and Developed by his

Successors--A Slavophil's View of the Administration--The Administration

Briefly Described--The Tchinovniks, or Officials--Official Titles, and

Their Real Significance--What the Administration Has Done for Russia in

the Past--Its Character Determined by the Peculiar Relation between

the Government and the People--Its Radical Vices--Bureaucratic

Remedies--Complicated Formal Procedure--The Gendarmerie: My Personal

Relations with this Branch of the Administration; Arrest and Release--A

Strong, Healthy Public Opinion the Only Effectual Remedy for Bad

Administration.

CHAPTER XXV

MOSCOW AND THE SLAVOPHILS

Two Ancient Cities--Kief Not a Good Point for Studying Old Russian

National Life--Great Russians and Little Russians--Moscow--Easter Eve

in the Kremlin--Curious Custom--Anecdote of the Emperor

Nicholas--Domiciliary Visits of the Iberian Madonna--The Streets of

Moscow--Recent Changes in the Character of the City--Vulgar Conception

of the Slavophils--Opinion Founded on Personal Acquaintance--Slavophil

Sentiment a Century Ago--Origin and Development of the Slavophil

Doctrine--Slavophilism Essentially Muscovite--The Panslavist

Element--The Slavophils and the Emancipation.

CHAPTER XXVI

ST. PETERSBURG AND EUROPEAN INFLUENCE

St. Petersburg and Berlin--Big Houses--The "Lions"--Peter the Great--His

Aims and Policy--The German Regime--Nationalist Reaction--French

Influence--Consequent Intellectual Sterility--Influence of the

Sentimental School--Hostility to Foreign Influences--A New Period of

Literary Importation--Secret Societies--The Catastrophe--The Age of

Nicholas--A Terrible War on Parnassus--Decline of Romanticism and

Transcendentalism--Gogol--The Revolutionary Agitation of 1848--New

Reaction--Conclusion.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE CRIMEAN WAR AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

The Emperor Nicholas and his System--The Men with Aspirations and the

Apathetically Contented--National Humiliation--Popular Discontent

and the Manuscript Literature--Death of Nicholas--Alexander II.--New

Spirit--Reform Enthusiasm--Change in the Periodical Literature--The

Kolokol--The Conservatives--The Tchinovniks--First Specific

Proposals--Joint-Stock Companies--The Serf Question Comes to the Front.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SERFS

The Rural Population in Ancient Times--The Peasantry in the Eighteenth

Century--How Was This Change Effected?--The Common Explanation

Inaccurate--Serfage the Result of Permanent Economic and Political

Causes--Origin of the Adscriptio Glebae--Its Consequences--Serf

Insurrection--Turning-point in the History of Serfage--Serfage in

Russia and in Western Europe--State Peasants--Numbers and Geographical

Distribution of the Serf Population--Serf Dues--Legal and Actual Power

of the Proprietors--The Serfs' Means of Defence--Fugitives--Domestic

Serfs--Strange Advertisements in the Moscow Gazette--Moral Influence of

Serfage.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE EMANCIPATION OF THE SERFS

The Question Raised--Chief Committee--The Nobles of the Lithuanian

Provinces--The Tsar's Broad Hint to the Noblesse--Enthusiasm in the

Press--The Proprietors--Political Aspirations--No Opposition--The

Government--Public Opinion--Fear of the Proletariat--The Provincial

Committees--The Elaboration Commission--The Question Ripens--Provincial

Deputies--Discontent and Demonstrations--The Manifesto--Fundamental

Principles of the Law--Illusions and Disappointment of the

Serfs--Arbiters of the Peace--A Characteristic Incident--Redemption--Who

Effected the Emancipation?

CHAPTER XXX

THE LANDED PROPRIETORS SINCE THE EMANCIPATION

Two Opposite Opinions--Difficulties of Investigation--The Problem

Simplified--Direct and Indirect Compensation--The Direct Compensation

Inadequate--What the Proprietors Have Done with the Remainder of

Their Estates--Immediate Moral Effect of the Abolition of Serfage--The

Economic Problem--The Ideal Solution and the Difficulty of Realising

It--More Primitive Arrangements--The Northern Agricultural Zone--The

Black-earth Zone--The Labour Difficulty--The Impoverishment of

the Noblesse Not a New Phenomenon--Mortgaging of Estates--Gradual

Expropriation of the Noblesse-Rapid Increase in the Production and

Export of Grain--How Far this Has Benefited the Landed Proprietors.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE EMANCIPATED PEASANTRY

The Effects of Liberty--Difficulty of Obtaining Accurate

Information--Pessimist Testimony of the Proprietors--Vague Replies of

the Peasants--My Conclusions in 1877--Necessity of Revising Them--My

Investigations Renewed in 1903--Recent Researches by Native Political

Economists--Peasant Impoverishment Universally Recognised--Various

Explanations Suggested--Demoralisation of the Common People--Peasant

Self-government--Communal System of Land Tenure--Heavy

Taxation--Disruption of Peasant Families--Natural Increase of

Population--Remedies Proposed--Migration--Reclamation of Waste

Land--Land-purchase by Peasantry--Manufacturing Industry--Improvement of

Agricultural Methods--Indications of Progress.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE ZEMSTVO AND THE LOCAL SELF-GOVERNMENT

Necessity of Reorganising the Provincial Administration--Zemstvo Created

in 1864--My First Acquaintance with the Institution--District and

Provincial Assemblies--The Leading Members--Great Expectations Created

by the Institution--These Expectations Not Realised--Suspicions and

Hostility of the Bureaucracy--Zemstvo Brought More Under Control of the

Centralised Administration--What It Has Really Done--Why It Has Not

Done More---Rapid Increase of the Rates--How Far the Expenditure

Is Judicious--Why the Impoverishment of the Peasantry Was

Neglected--Unpractical, Pedantic Spirit--Evil Consequences--Chinese and

Russian Formalism--Local Self-Government of Russia Contrasted with That

of England--Zemstvo Better than Its Predecessors--Its Future.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE NEW LAW COURTS

Judicial Procedure in the Olden Times--Defects and Abuses--Radical

Reform--The New System--Justices of the Peace and Monthly Sessions--The

Regular Tribunals--Court of Revision--Modification of the Original

Plan--How Does the System Work?--Rapid Acclimatisation--The Bench--The

Jury--Acquittal of Criminals Who Confess Their Crimes--Peasants,

Merchants, and Nobles as Jurymen--Independence and Political

Significance of the New Courts.

CHAPTER XXXIV

REVOLUTIONARY NIHILISM AND THE REACTION

The Reform-enthusiasm Becomes Unpractical and Culminates in

Nihilism--Nihilism, the Distorted Reflection of Academic Western

Socialism--Russia Well Prepared for Reception of Ultra-Socialist

Virus--Social Reorganisation According to Latest Results of

Science--Positivist Theory--Leniency of Press-censure--Chief

Representatives of New Movement--Government Becomes Alarmed--Repressive

Measures--Reaction in the Public--The Term Nihilist Invented--The

Nihilist and His Theory--Further Repressive Measures--Attitude of Landed

Proprietors--Foundation of a Liberal Party--Liberalism Checked by Polish

Insurrection--Practical Reform Continued--An Attempt at Regicide Forms

a Turning-point of Government's Policy--Change in Educational

System--Decline of Nihilism.

CHAPTER XXXV

SOCIALIST PROPAGANDA, REVOLUTIONARY AGITATION, AND TERRORISM

Closer Relations with Western Socialism--Attempts to Influence

the Masses--Bakunin and Lavroff--"Going in among the People"--The

Missionaries of Revolutionary Socialism--Distinction between Propaganda

and Agitation--Revolutionary Pamphlets for the Common People--Aims

and Motives of the Propagandists--Failure of Propaganda--Energetic

Repression--Fruitless Attempts at Agitation--Proposal to Combine

with Liberals--Genesis of Terrorism--My Personal Relations with the

Revolutionists--Shadowers and Shadowed--A Series of Terrorist Crimes--A

Revolutionist Congress--Unsuccessful Attempts to Assassinate

the Tsar--Ineffectual Attempt at Conciliation by Loris

Melikof--Assassination of Alexander II.--The Executive Committee

Shows Itself Unpractical--Widespread Indignation and Severe

Repression--Temporary Collapse of the Revolutionary Movement--A New

Revolutionary Movement in Sight.

CHAPTER XXXVI

INDUSTRIAL PROGRESS AND THE PROLETARIAT

Russia till Lately a Peasant Empire--Early Efforts to Introduce Arts and

Crafts--Peter the Great and His Successors--Manufacturing Industry

Long Remains an Exotic--The Cotton Industry--The Reforms of Alexander

II.--Protectionists and Free Trade--Progress under High Tariffs--M.

Witte's Policy--How Capital Was Obtained--Increase of Exports--Foreign

Firms Cross the Customs Frontier--Rapid Development of Iron Industry--A

Commercial Crisis--M. Witte's Position Undermined by Agrarians and

Doctrinaires--M. Plehve a Formidable Opponent--His Apprehensions of

Revolution--Fall of M. Witte--The Industrial Proletariat

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE REVOLUTIONARY MOVEMENT IN ITS LATEST PHASE

Influence of Capitalism and Proletariat on the Revolutionary

Movement--What is to be Done?--Reply of Plekhanof--A New Departure--Karl

Marx's Theories Applied to Russia--Beginnings of a Social Democratic

Movement--The Labour Troubles of 1894-96 in St. Petersburg--The Social

Democrats' Plan of Campaign--Schism in the Party--Trade-unionism and

Political Agitation--The Labour Troubles of 1902--How the Revolutionary

Groups are Differentiated from Each Other--Social Democracy and

Constitutionalism--Terrorism--The Socialist Revolutionaries--The

Militant Organisation--Attitude of the Government--Factory

Legislation--Government's Scheme for Undermining Social

Democracy--Father Gapon and His Labour Association--The Great Strike in

St. Petersburg--Father Gapon goes over to the Revolutionaries.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

TERRITORIAL EXPANSION AND FOREIGN POLICY

Rapid Growth of Russia--Expansive Tendency of Agricultural Peoples--The

Russo-Slavonians--The Northern Forest and the Steppe--Colonisation--The

Part of the Government in the Process of Expansion--Expansion towards

the West--Growth of the Empire Represented in a Tabular Form--Commercial

Motive for Expansion--The Expansive Force in the Future--Possibilities

of Expansion in Europe--Persia, Afghanistan, and India--Trans-Siberian

Railway and Weltpolitik--A Grandiose Scheme--Determined Opposition of

Japan--Negotiations and War--Russia's Imprudence Explained--Conclusion.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE PRESENT SITUATION

Reform or Revolution?--Reigns of Alexander II. and Nicholas II.

Compared and Contrasted--The Present Opposition--Various Groups--The

Constitutionalists--Zemski Sobors--The Young Tsar Dispels

Illusions--Liberal Frondeurs--Plehve's Repressive Policy--Discontent

Increased by the War--Relaxation and Wavering under Prince

Mirski--Reform Enthusiasm--The Constitutionalists Formulate their

Demands--The Social Democrats--Father Gapon's Demonstration--The

Socialist-Revolutionaries--The Agrarian Agitators--The

Subject-Nationalities--Numerical Strength of the Various Groups--All

United on One Point--Their Different Aims--Possible Solutions of the

Crisis--Difficulties of Introducing Constitutional Regime--A Strong Man

Wanted--Uncertainty of the Future.

PREFACE

The first edition of this work, published early in January, 1877,

contained the concentrated results of my studies during an uninterrupted

residence of six years in Russia--from the beginning of 1870 to the end

of 1875. Since that time I have spent in the European and Central Asian

provinces, at different periods, nearly two years more; and in the

intervals I have endeavoured to keep in touch with the progress of

events. My observations thus extend over a period of thirty-five years.

When I began, a few months ago, to prepare for publication the results

of my more recent observations and researches, my intention was to

write an entirely new work under the title of "Russia in the Twentieth

Century," but I soon perceived that it would be impossible to explain

clearly the present state of things without referring constantly to

events of the past, and that I should be obliged to embody in the new

work a large portion of the old one. The portion to be embodied grew

rapidly to such proportions that, in the course of a few weeks, I

began to ask myself whether it would not be better simply to recast

and complete my old material. With a view to deciding the question I

prepared a list of the principal changes which had taken place during

the last quarter of a century, and when I had marshalled them in logical

order, I recognised that they were neither so numerous nor so important

as I had supposed. Certainly there had been much progress, but it had

been nearly all on the old lines. Everywhere I perceived continuity and

evolution; nowhere could I discover radical changes and new departures.

In the central and local administration the reactionary policy of the

latter half of Alexander II.'s reign had been steadily maintained;

the revolutionary movement had waxed and waned, but its aims were

essentially the same as of old; the Church had remained in its usual

somnolent condition; a grave agricultural crisis affecting landed

proprietors and peasants had begun, but it was merely a development of

a state of things which I had previously described; the manufacturing

industry had made gigantic strides, but they were all in the direction

which the most competent observers had predicted; in foreign policy the

old principles of guiding the natural expansive forces along the lines

of least resistance, seeking to reach warm-water ports, and pegging out

territorial claims for the future were persistently followed. No doubt

there were pretty clear indications of more radical changes to come, but

these changes must belong to the future, and it is merely with the past

and the present that a writer who has no pretensions to being a prophet

has to deal.

Under these circumstances it seemed to me advisable to adopt a middle

course. Instead of writing an entirely new work I determined to prepare

a much extended and amplified edition of the old one, retaining such

information about the past as seemed to me of permanent value, and at

the same time meeting as far as possible the requirements of those who

wish to know the present condition of the country.

In accordance with this view I have revised, rearranged, and

supplemented the old material in the light of subsequent events, and

I have added five entirely new chapters--three on the revolutionary

movement, which has come into prominence since 1877; one on the

industrial progress, with which the latest phase of the movement is

closely connected; and one on the main lines of the present situation as

it appears to me at the moment of going to press.

During the many years which I have devoted to the study of Russia, I

have received unstinted assistance from many different quarters. Of the

friends who originally facilitated my task, and to whom I expressed my

gratitude in the preface and notes of the early editions, only three

survive--Mme. de Novikoff, M. E. I. Yakushkin, and Dr. Asher. To the

numerous friends who have kindly assisted me in the present edition I

must express my thanks collectively, but there are two who stand out

from the group so prominently that I may be allowed to mention them

personally: these are Prince Alexander Grigorievitch Stcherbatof, who

supplied me with voluminous materials regarding the agrarian question

generally and the present condition of the peasantry in particular,

and M. Albert Brockhaus, who placed at my disposal the gigantic Russian

Encyclopaedia recently published by his firm (Entsiklopeditcheski

Slovar, Leipzig and St. Petersburg, 1890-1904). This monumental work,

in forty-one volumes, is an inexhaustible storehouse of accurate and

well-digested information on all subjects connected with the Russian

Empire, and it has often been of great use to me in matters of detail.

With regard to the last chapter of this edition I must claim the

reader's indulgence, because the meaning of the title, "the present

situation," changes from day to day, and I cannot foresee what further

changes may occur before the work reaches the hands of the public.

LONDON, 22nd May, 1905.

RUSSIA

CHAPTER I

TRAVELLING IN RUSSIA

Railways--State Interference--River Communications--Russian "Grand

Tour"--The Volga--Kazan--Zhigulinskiya Gori--Finns and Tartars--The

Don--Difficulties of Navigation--Discomforts--Rats--Hotels and

Their Peculiar Customs--Roads--Hibernian Phraseology

Explained--Bridges--Posting--A Tarantass--Requisites for

Travelling--Travelling in Winter--Frostbitten--Disagreeable

Episodes--Scene at a Post-Station.

Of course travelling in Russia is no longer what it was. During the last

half century a vast network of railways has been constructed, and one

can now travel in a comfortable first-class carriage from Berlin to St.

Petersburg or Moscow, and thence to Odessa, Sebastopol, the Lower Volga,

the Caucasus, Central Asia, or Eastern Siberia. Until the outbreak of

the war there was a train twice a week, with through carriages, from

Moscow to Port Arthur. And it must be admitted that on the main lines

the passengers have not much to complain of. The carriages are decidedly

better than in England, and in winter they are kept warm by small iron

stoves, assisted by double windows and double doors--a very necessary

precaution in a land where the thermometer often descends to 30

degrees below zero. The train never attains, it is true, a high rate

of speed--so at least English and Americans think--but then we must

remember that Russians are rarely in a hurry, and like to have frequent

opportunities of eating and drinking. In Russia time is not money; if

it were, nearly all the subjects of the Tsar would always have a large

stock of ready money on hand, and would often have great difficulty in

spending it. In reality, be it parenthetically remarked, a Russian with

a superabundance of ready money is a phenomenon rarely met with in real

life.

In conveying passengers at the rate of from fifteen to thirty miles an

hour, the railway companies do at least all that they promise; but in

one very important respect they do not always strictly fulfil their

engagements. The traveller takes a ticket for a certain town, and on

arriving at what he imagines to be his destination, he may find merely a

railway-station surrounded by fields. On making inquiries, he discovers,

to his disappointment, that the station is by no means identical with

the town bearing the same name, and that the railway has fallen several

miles short of fulfilling the bargain, as he understood the terms of

the contract. Indeed, it might almost be said that as a general rule

railways in Russia, like camel-drivers in certain Eastern countries,

studiously avoid the towns. This seems at first a strange fact. It is

possible to conceive that the Bedouin is so enamoured of tent life and

nomadic habits that he shuns a town as he would a man-trap; but surely

civil engineers and railway contractors have no such dread of brick and

mortar. The true reason, I suspect, is that land within or immediately

beyond the municipal barrier is relatively dear, and that the

railways, being completely beyond the invigorating influence of healthy

competition, can afford to look upon the comfort and convenience of

passengers as a secondary consideration. Gradually, it is true, this

state of things is being improved by private initiative. As the railways

refuse to come to the towns, the towns are extending towards the

railways, and already some prophets are found bold enough to predict

that in the course of time those long, new, straggling streets, without

an inhabited hinterland, which at present try so severely the springs of

the ricketty droshkis, will be properly paved and kept in decent repair.

For my own part, I confess I am a little sceptical with regard to this

prediction, and I can only use a favourite expression of the Russian

peasants--daï Bog! God grant it may be so!

It is but fair to state that in one celebrated instance neither

engineers nor railway contractors were directly to blame. From St.

Petersburg to Moscow the locomotive runs for a distance of 400 miles

almost as "the crow" is supposed to fly, turning neither to the right

hand nor to the left. For twelve weary hours the passenger in the

express train looks out on forest and morass, and rarely catches sight

of human habitation. Only once he perceives in the distance what may be

called a town; it is Tver which has been thus favoured, not because it

is a place of importance, but simply because it happened to be near

the bee-line. And why was the railway constructed in this extraordinary

fashion? For the best of all reasons--because the Tsar so ordered it.

When the preliminary survey was being made, Nicholas I. learned that the

officers entrusted with the task--and the Minister of Ways and Roads

in the number--were being influenced more by personal than technical

considerations, and he determined to cut the Gordian knot in true

Imperial style. When the Minister laid before him the map with the

intention of explaining the proposed route, he took a ruler, drew a

straight line from the one terminus to the other, and remarked in a tone

that precluded all discussion, "You will construct the line so!" And

the line was so constructed--remaining to all future ages, like St.

Petersburg and the Pyramids, a magnificent monument of autocratic power.

Formerly this well-known incident was often cited in whispered

philippics to illustrate the evils of the autocratic form of government.

Imperial whims, it was said, over-ride grave economic considerations.

In recent years, however, a change seems to have taken place in public

opinion, and some people now assert that this so-called Imperial whim

was an act of far-seeing policy. As by far the greater part of the goods

and passengers are carried the whole length of the line, it is well that

the line should be as short as possible, and that branch lines should be

constructed to the towns lying to the right and left. Evidently there is

a good deal to be said in favour of this view.

In the development of the railway system there has been another

disturbing cause, which is not likely to occur to the English mind. In

England, individuals and companies habitually act according to their

private interests, and the State interferes as little as possible;

private initiative does as it pleases, unless the authorities can prove

that important bad consequences will necessarily result. In Russia, the

onus probandi lies on the other side; private initiative is allowed

to do nothing until it gives guarantees against all possible bad

consequences. When any great enterprise is projected, the first question

is--"How will this new scheme affect the interests of the State?" Thus,

when the course of a new railway has to be determined, the military

authorities are among the first to be consulted, and their opinion has

a great influence on the ultimate decision. The natural consequence is

that the railway-map of Russia presents to the eye of the strategist

much that is quite unintelligible to the ordinary observer--a fact that

will become apparent even to the uninitiated as soon as a war breaks out

in Eastern Europe. Russia is no longer what she was in the days of the

Crimean War, when troops and stores had to be conveyed hundreds of miles

by the most primitive means of transport. At that time she had only

750 miles of railway; now she has over 36,000 miles, and every year new

lines are constructed.

The water-communication has likewise in recent years been greatly

improved. On the principal rivers there are now good steamers.

Unfortunately, the climate puts serious obstructions in the way of

navigation. For nearly half of the year the rivers are covered with ice,

and during a great part of the open season navigation is difficult. When

the ice and snow melt the rivers overflow their banks and lay a great

part of the low-lying country under water, so that many villages can

only be approached in boats; but very soon the flood subsides, and the

water falls so rapidly that by midsummer the larger steamers have

great difficulty in picking their way among the sandbanks. The Neva

alone--that queen of northern rivers--has at all times a plentiful

supply of water.

Besides the Neva, the rivers commonly visited by the tourist are the

Volga and the Don, which form part of what may be called the Russian

grand tour. Englishmen who wish to see something more than St.

Petersburg and Moscow generally go by rail to Nizhni-Novgorod, where

they visit the great fair, and then get on board one of the Volga

steamers. For those who have mastered the important fact that Russia

is not a country of fine scenery, the voyage down the river is pleasant

enough. The left bank is as flat as the banks of the Rhine below

Cologne, but the right bank is high, occasionally well wooded, and not

devoid of a certain tame picturesqueness. Early on the second day

the steamer reaches Kazan, once the capital of an independent Tartar

khanate, and still containing a considerable Tartar population. Several

metchets (as the Mahometan houses of prayer are here termed), with their

diminutive minarets in the lower part of the town, show that Islamism

still survives, though the khanate was annexed to Muscovy more than

three centuries ago; but the town, as a whole, has a European rather

than an Asiatic character. If any one visits it in the hope of getting

"a glimpse of the East," he will be grievously disappointed, unless,

indeed, he happens to be one of those imaginative tourists who always

discover what they wish to see. And yet it must be admitted that, of

all the towns on the route, Kazan is the most interesting. Though

not Oriental, it has a peculiar character of its own, whilst all the

others--Simbirsk, Samara, Saratof--are as uninteresting as Russian

provincial towns commonly are. The full force and solemnity of that

expression will be explained in the sequel.

Probably about sunrise on the third day something like a range of

mountains will appear on the horizon. It may be well to say at once, to

prevent disappointment, that in reality nothing worthy of the name

of mountain is to be found in that part of the country. The nearest

mountain-range in that direction is the Caucasus, which is hundreds of

miles distant, and consequently cannot by any possibility be seen from

the deck of a steamer. The elevations in question are simply a low range

of hills, called the Zhigulinskiya Gori. In Western Europe they would

not attract much attention, but "in the kingdom of the blind," as the

French proverb has it, "the one-eyed man is king"; and in a flat region

like Eastern Russia these hills form a prominent feature. Though they

have nothing of Alpine grandeur, yet their well-wooded slopes, coming

down to the water's edge--especially when covered with the delicate

tints of early spring, or the rich yellow and red of autumnal

foliage--leave an impression on the memory not easily effaced.

On the whole--with all due deference to the opinions of my patriotic

Russian friends--I must say that Volga scenery hardly repays the time,

trouble and expense which a voyage from Nizhni to Tsaritsin demands.

There are some pretty bits here and there, but they are "few and far

between." A glass of the most exquisite wine diluted with a gallon

of water makes a very insipid beverage. The deck of the steamer is

generally much more interesting than the banks of the river. There one

meets with curious travelling companions. The majority of the passengers

are probably Russian peasants, who are always ready to chat freely

without demanding a formal introduction, and to relate--with certain

restrictions--to a new acquaintance the simple story of their lives.

Often I have thus whiled away the weary hours both pleasantly and

profitably, and have always been impressed with the peasant's homely

common sense, good-natured kindliness, half-fatalistic resignation,

and strong desire to learn something about foreign countries. This

last peculiarity makes him question as well as communicate, and his

questions, though sometimes apparently childish, are generally to the

point.

Among the passengers are probably also some representatives of the

various Finnish tribes inhabiting this part of the country; they may be

interesting to the ethnologist who loves to study physiognomy, but they

are far less sociable than the Russians. Nature seems to have made them

silent and morose, whilst their conditions of life have made them shy

and distrustful. The Tartar, on the other hand, is almost sure to be

a lively and amusing companion. Most probably he is a peddler or small

trader of some kind. The bundle on which he reclines contains his

stock-in-trade, composed, perhaps, of cotton printed goods and

especially bright-coloured cotton handkerchiefs. He himself is enveloped

in a capacious greasy khalát, or dressing-gown, and wears a fur cap,

though the thermometer may be at 90 degrees in the shade. The roguish

twinkle in his small piercing eyes contrasts strongly with the sombre,

stolid expression of the Finnish peasants sitting near him. He has much

to relate about St. Petersburg, Moscow, and perhaps Astrakhan; but, like

a genuine trader, he is very reticent regarding the mysteries of his own

craft. Towards sunset he retires with his companions to some quiet spot

on the deck to recite evening prayers. Here all the good Mahometans on

board assemble and stroke their beards, kneel on their little strips

of carpet and prostrate themselves, all keeping time as if they

were performing some new kind of drill under the eve of a severe

drill-sergeant.

If the voyage is made about the end of September, when the traders are

returning home from the fair at Nizhni-Novgorod, the ethnologist will

have a still better opportunity of study. He will then find not only

representatives of the Finnish and Tartar races, but also Armenians,

Circassians, Persians, Bokhariots, and other Orientals--a motley and

picturesque but decidedly unsavoury cargo.

However great the ethnographical variety on board may be, the traveller

will probably find that four days on the Volga are quite enough for all

practical and aesthetic purposes, and instead of going on to Astrakhan

he will quit the steamer at Tsaritsin. Here he will find a railway of

about fifty miles in length, connecting the Volga and the Don. I say

advisedly a railway, and not a train, because trains on this line are

not very frequent. When I first visited the locality, thirty years ago,

there were only two a week, so that if you inadvertently missed one

train you had to wait about three days for the next. Prudent, nervous

people preferred travelling by the road, for on the railway the strange

jolts and mysterious creakings were very alarming. On the other hand the

pace was so slow that running off the rails would have been merely an

amusing episode, and even a collision could scarcely have been attended

with serious consequences. Happily things are improving, even in this

outlying part of the country. Now there is one train daily, and it goes

at a less funereal pace.

From Kalatch, at the Don end of the line, a steamer starts for Rostoff,

which is situated near the mouth of the river. The navigation of the Don

is much more difficult than that of the Volga. The river is extremely

shallow, and the sand-banks are continually shifting, so that many times

in the course of the day the steamer runs aground. Sometimes she is got

off by simply reversing the engines, but not unfrequently she sticks so

fast that the engines have to be assisted. This is effected in a curious

way. The captain always gives a number of stalwart Cossacks a free

passage on condition that they will give him the assistance he requires;

and as soon as the ship sticks fast he orders them to jump overboard

with a stout hawser and haul her off! The task is not a pleasant one,

especially as the poor fellows cannot afterwards change their clothes;

but the order is always obeyed with alacrity and without grumbling.

Cossacks, it would seem, have no personal acquaintance with colds and

rheumatism.

In the most approved manuals of geography the Don figures as one of the

principal European rivers, and its length and breadth give it a right to

be considered as such; but its depth in many parts is ludicrously out

of proportion to its length and breadth. I remember one day seeing

the captain of a large, flat-bottomed steamer slacken speed, to avoid

running down a man on horseback who was attempting to cross his bows in

the middle of the stream. Another day a not less characteristic incident

happened. A Cossack passenger wished to be set down at a place where

there was no pier, and on being informed that there was no means of

landing him, coolly jumped overboard and walked ashore. This simple

method of disembarking cannot, of course, be recommended to those who

have no local knowledge regarding the exact position of sand-banks and

deep pools.

Good serviceable fellows are those Cossacks who drag the steamer off

the sand-banks, and are often entertaining companions. Many of them can

relate from their own experience, in plain, unvarnished style,

stirring episodes of irregular warfare, and if they happen to be in

a communicative mood they may divulge a few secrets regarding their

simple, primitive commissariat system. Whether they are confidential

or not, the traveller who knows the language will spend his time

more profitably and pleasantly in chatting with them than in gazing

listlessly at the uninteresting country through which he is passing.

Unfortunately, these Don steamers carry a large number of free

passengers of another and more objectionable kind, who do not confine

themselves to the deck, but unceremoniously find their way into the

cabin, and prevent thin-skinned travellers from sleeping. I know too

little of natural history to decide whether these agile, bloodthirsty

parasites are of the same species as those which in England assist

unofficially the Sanitary Commissioners by punishing uncleanliness;

but I may say that their function in the system of created things is

essentially the same, and they fulfil it with a zeal and energy beyond

all praise. Possessing for my own part a happy immunity from their

indelicate attentions, and being perfectly innocent of entomological

curiosity, I might, had I been alone, have overlooked their existence,

but I was constantly reminded of their presence by less happily

constituted mortals, and the complaints of the sufferers received a

curious official confirmation. On arriving at the end of the journey

I asked permission to spend the night on board, and I noticed that the

captain acceded to my request with more readiness and warmth than I

expected. Next morning the fact was fully explained. When I began

to express my thanks for having been allowed to pass the night in a

comfortable cabin, my host interrupted me with a good-natured laugh, and

assured me that, on the contrary, he was under obligations to me. "You

see," he said, assuming an air of mock gravity, "I have always on board

a large body of light cavalry, and when I have all this part of the ship

to myself they make a combined attack on me; whereas, when some one is

sleeping close by, they divide their forces!"

On certain steamers on the Sea of Azof the privacy of the sleeping-cabin

is disturbed by still more objectionable intruders; I mean rats. During

one short voyage which I made on board the Kertch, these disagreeable

visitors became so importunate in the lower regions of the vessel that

the ladies obtained permission to sleep in the deck-saloon. After this

arrangement had been made, we unfortunate male passengers received

redoubled attention from our tormentors. Awakened early one morning

by the sensation of something running over me as I lay in my berth, I

conceived a method of retaliation. It seemed to me possible that, in the

event of another visit, I might, by seizing the proper moment, kick the

rat up to the ceiling with such force as to produce concussion of the

brain and instant death. Very soon I had an opportunity of putting my

plan into execution. A significant shaking of the little curtain at the

foot of the berth showed that it was being used as a scaling-ladder. I

lay perfectly still, quite as much interested in the sport as if I had

been waiting, rifle in hand, for big game. Soon the intruder peeped

into my berth, looked cautiously around him, and then proceeded to walk

stealthily across my feet. In an instant he was shot upwards. First was

heard a sharp knock on the ceiling, and then a dull "thud" on the floor.

The precise extent of the injuries inflicted I never discovered, for

the victim had sufficient strength and presence of mind to effect his

escape; and the gentleman at the other side of the cabin, who had been

roused by the noise, protested against my repeating the experiment,

on the ground that, though he was willing to take his own share of the

intruders, he strongly objected to having other people's rats kicked

into his berth.

On such occasions it is of no use to complain to the authorities. When

I met the captain on deck I related to him what had happened,

and protested vigorously against passengers being exposed to such

annoyances. After listening to me patiently, he coolly replied, entirely

overlooking my protestations, "Ah! I did better than that this morning;

I allowed my rat to get under the blanket, and then smothered him!"

Railways and steamboats, even when their arrangements leave much to be

desired, invariably effect a salutary revolution in hotel accommodation;

but this revolution is of necessity gradual. Foreign hotelkeepers must

immigrate and give the example; suitable houses must be built; servants

must be properly trained; and, above all, the native travellers must

learn the usages of civilised society. In Russia this revolution is in

progress, but still far from being complete. The cities where foreigners

most do congregate--St. Petersburg, Moscow, Odessa--already possess

hotels that will bear comparison with those of Western Europe, and

some of the more important provincial towns can offer very respectable

accommodation; but there is still much to be done before the

West-European can travel with comfort even on the principal routes.

Cleanliness, the first and most essential element of comfort, as we

understand the term, is still a rare commodity, and often cannot be

procured at any price.

Even in good hotels, when they are of the genuine Russian type, there

are certain peculiarities which, though not in themselves objectionable,

strike a foreigner as peculiar. Thus, when you alight at such an hotel,

you are expected to examine a considerable number of rooms, and to

inquire about the respective prices. When you have fixed upon a suitable

apartment, you will do well, if you wish to practise economy, to

propose to the landlord considerably less than he demands; and you will

generally find, if you have a talent for bargaining, that the rooms

may be hired for somewhat less than the sum first stated. You must be

careful, however, to leave no possibility of doubt as to the terms of

the contract. Perhaps you assume that, as in taking a cab, a horse is

always supplied without special stipulation, so in hiring a bedroom

the bargain includes a bed and the necessary appurtenances. Such an

assumption will not always be justified. The landlord may perhaps give

you a bedstead without extra charge, but if he be uncorrupted by foreign

notions, he will certainly not spontaneously supply you with bed-linen,

pillows, blankets, and towels. On the contrary, he will assume that you

carry all these articles with you, and if you do not, you must pay for

them.

This ancient custom has produced among Russians of the old school a kind

of fastidiousness to which we are strangers. They strongly dislike

using sheets, blankets, and towels which are in a certain sense public

property, just as we should strongly object to putting on clothes which

had been already worn by other people. And the feeling may be developed

in people not Russian by birth. For my own part, I confess to having

been conscious of a certain disagreeable feeling on returning in this

respect to the usages of so-called civilised Europe.

The inconvenience of carrying about the essential articles of bedroom

furniture is by no means so great as might be supposed. Bedrooms in

Russia are always heated during cold weather, so that one light blanket,

which may be also used as a railway rug, is quite sufficient, whilst

sheets, pillow-cases, and towels take up little space in a portmanteau.

The most cumbrous object is the pillow, for air-cushions, having a

disagreeable odour, are not well suited for the purpose. But Russians

are accustomed to this encumbrance. In former days--as at the present

time in those parts of the country where there are neither railways

nor macadamised roads--people travelled in carts or carriages without

springs and in these instruments of torture a huge pile of cushions

or pillows is necessary to avoid contusions and dislocations. On the

railways the jolts and shaking are not deadly enough to require such

an antidote; but, even in unconservative Russia, customs outlive the

conditions that created them; and at every railway-station you may see

men and women carrying about their pillows with them as we carry wraps.

A genuine Russian merchant who loves comfort and respects tradition

may travel without a portmanteau, but he considers his pillow as an

indispensable article de voyage.

To return to the old-fashioned hotel. When you have completed the

negotiations with the landlord, you will notice that, unless you have a

servant with you, the waiter prepares to perform the duties of valet de

chambre. Do not be surprised at his officiousness, which seems founded

on the assumption that you are three-fourths paralysed. Formerly, every

well-born Russian had a valet always in attendance, and never dreamed

of doing for himself anything which could by any possibility be done

for him. You notice that there is no bell in the room, and no mechanical

means of communicating with the world below stairs. That is because the

attendant is supposed to be always within call, and it is so much easier

to shout than to get up and ring the bell.

In the good old times all this was quite natural. The well-born Russian

had commonly a superabundance of domestic serfs, and there was no reason

why one or two of them should not accompany their master when his Honour

undertook a journey. An additional person in the tarantass did not

increase the expense, and considerably diminished the little unavoidable

inconveniences of travel. But times have changed. In 1861 the domestic

serfs were emancipated by Imperial ukaz. Free servants demand wages; and

on railways or steamers a single ticket does not include an attendant.

The present generation must therefore get through life with a more

modest supply of valets, and must learn to do with its own hands much

that was formerly performed by serf labour. Still, a gentleman brought

up in the old conditions cannot be expected to dress himself without

assistance, and accordingly the waiter remains in your room to act as

valet. Perhaps, too, in the early morning you may learn in an unpleasant

way that other parts of the old system are not yet extinct. You may

hear, for instance, resounding along the corridors such an order

as--"Petrusha! Petrusha! Stakán vodý!" ("Little Peter, little Peter, a

glass of water!") shouted in a stentorian voice that would startle the

Seven Sleepers.

When the toilet operations are completed, and you order tea--one always

orders tea in Russia--you will be asked whether you have your own tea

and sugar with you. If you are an experienced traveller you will be able

to reply in the affirmative, for good tea can be bought only in certain

well-known shops, and can rarely be found in hotels. A huge, steaming

tea-urn, called a samovar--etymologically, a "self-boiler"--will be

brought in, and you will make your tea according to your taste. The

tumbler, you know of course, is to be used as a cup, and when using it

you must be careful not to cauterise the points of your fingers. If you

should happen to have anything eatable or drinkable in your travelling

basket, you need not hesitate to take it out at once, for the waiter

will not feel at all aggrieved or astonished at your doing nothing "for

the good of the house." The twenty or twenty-five kopeks that you pay

for the samovar--teapot, tumbler, saucer, spoon, and slop-basin being

included under the generic term pribor--frees you from all corkage and

similar dues.

These and other remnants of old customs are now rapidly disappearing,

and will, doubtless, in a very few years be things of the past--things

to be picked up in out-of-the-way corners, and chronicled by social

archaeology; but they are still to be found in towns not unknown to

Western Europe.

Many of these old customs, and especially the old method of travelling,

may be studied in their pristine purity throughout a great part of the

country. Though railway construction has been pushed forward with great

energy during the last forty years, there are still vast regions where

the ancient solitudes have never been disturbed by the shrill whistle

of the locomotive, and roads have remained in their primitive condition.

Even in the central provinces one may still travel hundreds of miles

without ever encountering anything that recalls the name of Macadam.

If popular rumour is to be trusted, there is somewhere in the Highlands

of Scotland, by the side of a turnpike, a large stone bearing the

following doggerel inscription:

"If you had seen this road before it was made, You'd lift up your hands

and bless General Wade."

Any educated Englishman reading this strange announcement would

naturally remark that the first line of the couplet contains a logical

contradiction, probably of Hibernian origin; but I have often thought,

during my wanderings in Russia, that the expression, if not logically

justifiable, might for the sake of vulgar convenience be legalised by a

Permissive Bill. The truth is that, as a Frenchman might say, "there

are roads and roads"--roads made and roads unmade, roads artificial

and roads natural. Now, in Russia, roads are nearly all of the unmade,

natural kind, and are so conservative in their nature that they have at

the present day precisely the same appearance as they had many centuries

ago. They have thus for imaginative minds something of what is called

"the charm of historical association." The only perceptible change that

takes place in them during a series of generations is that the ruts

shift their position. When these become so deep that fore-wheels can no

longer fathom them, it becomes necessary to begin making a new pair of

ruts to the right or left of the old ones; and as the roads are commonly

of gigantic breadth, there is no difficulty in finding a place for the

operation. How the old ones get filled up I cannot explain; but as

I have rarely seen in any part of the country, except perhaps in the

immediate vicinity of towns, a human being engaged in road repairing,

I assume that beneficent Nature somehow accomplishes the task without

human assistance, either by means of alluvial deposits, or by some other

cosmical action only known to physical geographers.

On the roads one occasionally encounters bridges; and here, again,

I have discovered in Russia a key to the mysteries of Hibernian

phraseology. An Irish member once declared to the House of Commons that

the Church was "the bridge that separated the two great sections of the

Irish people." As bridges commonly connect rather than separate, the

metaphor was received with roars of laughter. If the honourable members

who joined in the hilarious applause had travelled much in Russia, they

would have been more moderate in their merriment; for in that

country, despite the laudable activity of the modern system of local

administration created in the sixties, bridges often act still as a

barrier rather than a connecting link, and to cross a river by a

bridge may still be what is termed in popular phrase "a tempting of

Providence." The cautious driver will generally prefer to take to the

water, if there is a ford within a reasonable distance, though both he

and his human load may be obliged, in order to avoid getting wet feet,

to assume undignified postures that would afford admirable material for

the caricaturist. But this little bit of discomfort, even though the

luggage should be soaked in the process of fording, is as nothing

compared to the danger of crossing by the bridge. As I have no desire

to harrow unnecessarily the feelings of the reader, I refrain from all

description of ugly accidents, ending in bruises and fractures,

and shall simply explain in a few words how a successful passage is

effected.

When it is possible to approach the bridge without sinking up to the

knees in mud, it is better to avoid all risks by walking over and

waiting for the vehicle on the other side; and when this is impossible,

a preliminary survey is advisable. To your inquiries whether it is safe,

your yamstchik (post-boy) is sure to reply, "Nitchevo!"--a word which,

according to the dictionaries, means "nothing" but which has, in the

mouths of the peasantry, a great variety of meanings, as I may explain

at some future time. In the present case it may be roughly translated.

"There is no danger." "Nitchevo, Barin, proyedem" ("There is no danger,

sir; we shall get over"), he repeats. You may refer to the generally

rotten appearance of the structure, and point in particular to the great

holes sufficient to engulf half a post-horse. "Ne bos', Bog pomozhet"

("Do not fear. God will help"), replies coolly your phlegmatic Jehu. You

may have your doubts as to whether in this irreligious age Providence

will intervene specially for your benefit; but your yamstchik, who has

more faith or fatalism, leaves you little time to solve the problem.

Making hurriedly the sign of the cross, he gathers up his reins, waves

his little whip in the air, and, shouting lustily, urges on his team.

The operation is not wanting in excitement. First there is a short

descent; then the horses plunge wildly through a zone of deep mud;

next comes a fearful jolt, as the vehicle is jerked up on to the first

planks; then the transverse planks, which are but loosely held in their

places, rattle and rumble ominously, as the experienced, sagacious

animals pick their way cautiously and gingerly among the dangerous holes

and crevices; lastly, you plunge with a horrible jolt into a second

mud zone, and finally regain terra firma, conscious of that pleasant

sensation which a young officer may be supposed to feel after his first

cavalry charge in real warfare.

Of course here, as elsewhere, familiarity breeds indifference. When you

have successfully crossed without serious accident a few hundred bridges

of this kind you learn to be as cool and fatalistic as your yamstchik.

The reader who has heard of the gigantic reforms that have been

repeatedly imposed on Russia by a paternal Government may naturally

be astonished to learn that the roads are still in such a disgraceful

condition. But for this, as for everything else in the world, there is

a good and sufficient reason. The country is still, comparatively

speaking, thinly populated, and in many regions it is difficult, or

practically impossible, to procure in sufficient quantity stone of any

kind, and especially hard stone fit for road-making. Besides this, when

roads are made, the severity of the climate renders it difficult to keep

them in good repair.

When a long journey has to be undertaken through a region in which there

are no railways, there are several ways in which it may be effected.

In former days, when time was of still less value than at present, many

landed proprietors travelled with their own horses, and carried with

them, in one or more capacious, lumbering vehicles, all that was

required for the degree of civilisation which they had attained; and

their requirements were often considerable. The grand seigneur, for

instance, who spent the greater part of his life amidst the luxury of

the court society, naturally took with him all the portable elements of

civilisation. His baggage included, therefore, camp-beds, table-linen,

silver plate, a batterie de cuisine, and a French cook. The pioneers

and part of the commissariat force were sent on in advance, so that

his Excellency found at each halting-place everything prepared for his

arrival. The poor owner of a few dozen serfs dispensed, of course, with

the elaborate commissariat department, and contented himself with such

modest fare as could be packed in the holes and corners of a single

tarantass.

It will be well to explain here, parenthetically, what a tarantass

is, for I shall often have occasion to use the word. It may be briefly

defined as a phaeton without springs. The function of springs

is imperfectly fulfilled by two parallel wooden bars, placed

longitudinally, on which is fixed the body of the vehicle. It is

commonly drawn by three horses--a strong, fast trotter in the shafts,

flanked on each side by a light, loosely-attached horse that goes along

at a gallop. The points of the shafts are connected by the duga, which

looks like a gigantic, badly formed horseshoe rising high above

the collar of the trotter. To the top of the duga is attached the

bearing-rein, and underneath the highest part of it is fastened a big

bell--in the southern provinces I found two, and sometimes even three

bells--which, when the country is open and the atmosphere still, may be

heard a mile off. The use of the bell is variously explained. Some say

it is in order to frighten the wolves, and others that it is to avoid

collisions on the narrow forest-paths. But neither of these explanations

is entirely satisfactory. It is used chiefly in summer, when there is no

danger of an attack from wolves; and the number of bells is greater in

the south, where there are no forests. Perhaps the original intention

was--I throw out the hint for the benefit of a certain school of

archaeologists--to frighten away evil spirits; and the practice has been

retained partly from unreasoning conservatism, and partly with a view to

lessen the chances of collisions. As the roads are noiselessly soft,

and the drivers not always vigilant, the dangers of collision are

considerably diminished by the ceaseless peal.

Altogether, the tarantass is well adapted to the conditions in which it

is used. By the curious way in which the horses are harnessed it recalls

the war-chariot of ancient times. The horse in the shafts is compelled

by the bearing-rein to keep his head high and straight before

him--though the movement of his ears shows plainly that he would very

much like to put it somewhere farther away from the tongue of the

bell--but the side horses gallop freely, turning their heads outwards in

classical fashion. I believe that this position is assumed not from any

sympathy on the part of these animals for the remains of classical art,

but rather from the natural desire to keep a sharp eye on the driver.

Every movement of his right hand they watch with close attention, and as

soon as they discover any symptoms indicating an intention of using the

whip they immediately show a desire to quicken the pace.

Now that the reader has gained some idea of what a tarantass is, we may

return to the modes of travelling through the regions which are not yet

supplied with railways.

However enduring and long-winded horses may be, they must be allowed

sometimes, during a long journey, to rest and feed. Travelling long

distances with one's own horses is therefore necessarily a slow

operation, and is now quite antiquated. People who value their time

prefer to make use of the Imperial Post organisation. On all the

principal lines of communication there are regular post-stations, at

from ten to twenty miles apart, where a certain number of horses and

vehicles are kept for the convenience of travellers. To enjoy

the privilege of this arrangement, one has to apply to the proper

authorities for a podorozhnaya--a large sheet of paper stamped with the

Imperial Eagle, and bearing the name of the recipient, the destination,

and the number of horses to be supplied. In return, a small sum is paid

for imaginary road-repairs; the rest of the sum is paid by instalments

at the respective stations.

Armed with this document you go to the post-station and demand the

requisite number of horses. Three is the number generally used, but if

you travel lightly and are indifferent to appearances, you may content

yourself with a pair. The vehicle is a kind of tarantass, but not such

as I have just described. The essentials in both are the same, but those

which the Imperial Government provides resemble an enormous cradle on

wheels rather than a phaeton. An armful of hay spread over the bottom of

the wooden box is supposed to play the part of seats and cushions. You

are expected to sit under the arched covering, and extend your legs so

that the feet lie beneath the driver's seat; but it is advisable, unless

the rain happens to be coming down in torrents, to get this covering

unshipped, and travel without it. When used, it painfully curtails the

little freedom of movement that you enjoy, and when you are shot upwards

by some obstruction on the road it is apt to arrest your ascent by

giving you a violent blow on the top of the head.

It is to be hoped that you are in no hurry to start, otherwise your

patience may be sorely tried. The horses, when at last produced, may

seem to you the most miserable screws that it was ever your misfortune

to behold; but you had better refrain from expressing your feelings, for

if you use violent, uncomplimentary language, it may turn out that you

have been guilty of gross calumny. I have seen many a team composed of

animals which a third-class London costermonger would have spurned, and

in which it was barely possible to recognise the equine form, do their

duty in highly creditable style, and go along at the rate of ten or

twelve miles an hour, under no stronger incentive then the voice of the

yamstchik. Indeed, the capabilities of these lean, slouching, ungainly

quadrupeds are often astounding when they are under the guidance of a

man who knows how to drive them. Though such a man commonly carries a

little harmless whip, he rarely uses it except by waving it horizontally

in the air. His incitements are all oral. He talks to his cattle as he

would to animals of his own species--now encouraging them by tender,

caressing epithets, and now launching at them expressions of indignant

scorn. At one moment they are his "little doves," and at the next they

have been transformed into "cursed hounds." How far they understand and

appreciate this curious mixture of endearing cajolery and contemptuous

abuse it is difficult to say, but there is no doubt that it somehow has

upon them a strange and powerful influence.

Any one who undertakes a journey of this kind should possess a

well-knit, muscular frame and good tough sinews, capable of supporting

an unlimited amount of jolting and shaking; at the same time he should

be well inured to all the hardships and discomforts incidental to

what is vaguely termed "roughing it." When he wishes to sleep in a

post-station, he will find nothing softer than a wooden bench, unless he

can induce the keeper to put for him on the floor a bundle of hay, which

is perhaps softer, but on the whole more disagreeable than the deal

board. Sometimes he will not get even the wooden bench, for in ordinary

post-stations there is but one room for travellers, and the two

benches--there are rarely more--may be already occupied. When he

does obtain a bench, and succeeds in falling asleep, he must not be

astonished if he is disturbed once or twice during the night by people

who use the apartment as a waiting-room whilst the post-horses are being

changed. These passers-by may even order a samovar, and drink tea,

chat, laugh, smoke, and make themselves otherwise disagreeable, utterly

regardless of the sleepers. Then there are the other intruders, smaller

in size but equally objectionable, of which I have already spoken when

describing the steamers on the Don. Regarding them I desire to give

merely one word of advice: As you will have abundant occupation in the

work of self-defence, learn to distinguish between belligerents and

neutrals, and follow the simple principle of international law, that

neutrals should not be molested. They may be very ugly, but ugliness

does not justify assassination. If, for instance, you should happen

in awaking to notice a few black or brown beetles running about your

pillow, restrain your murderous hand! If you kill them you commit an act

of unnecessary bloodshed; for though they may playfully scamper around

you, they will do you no bodily harm.

Another requisite for a journey in unfrequented districts is a knowledge

of the language. It is popularly supposed that if you are familiar with

French and German you may travel anywhere in Russia. So far as the great

cities and chief lines of communication are concerned, this may be true,

but beyond that it is a delusion. The Russian has not, any more than

the West-European, received from Nature the gift of tongues. Educated

Russians often speak one or two foreign languages fluently, but the

peasants know no language but their own, and it is with the peasantry

that one comes in contact. And to converse freely with the peasant

requires a considerable familiarity with the language--far more than is

required for simply reading a book. Though there are few provincialisms,

and all classes of the people use the same words--except the words of

foreign origin, which are used only by the upper classes--the peasant

always speaks in a more laconic and more idiomatic way than the educated

man.

In the winter months travelling is in some respects pleasanter than in

summer, for snow and frost are great macadamisers. If the snow falls

evenly, there is for some time the most delightful road that can be

imagined. No jolts, no shaking, but a smooth, gliding motion, like

that of a boat in calm water, and the horses gallop along as if totally

unconscious of the sledge behind them. Unfortunately, this happy state

of things does not last all through the winter. The road soon gets cut

up, and deep transverse furrows (ukhaby) are formed. How these furrows

come into existence I have never been able clearly to comprehend, though

I have often heard the phenomenon explained by men who imagined they

understood it. Whatever the cause and mode of formation may be, certain

it is that little hills and valleys do get formed, and the sledge, as it

crosses over them, bobs up and down like a boat in a chopping sea, with

this important difference, that the boat falls into a yielding liquid,

whereas the sledge falls upon a solid substance, unyielding and

unelastic. The shaking and jolting which result may readily be imagined.

There are other discomforts, too, in winter travelling. So long as

the air is perfectly still, the cold may be very intense without being

disagreeable; but if a strong head wind is blowing, and the thermometer

ever so many degrees below zero, driving in an open sledge is a very

disagreeable operation, and noses may get frostbitten without their

owners perceiving the fact in time to take preventive measures. Then why

not take covered sledges on such occasions? For the simple reason that

they are not to be had; and if they could be procured, it would be well

to avoid using them, for they are apt to produce something very like

seasickness. Besides this, when the sledge gets overturned, it is

pleasanter to be shot out on to the clean, refreshing snow than to be

buried ignominiously under a pile of miscellaneous baggage.

The chief requisite for winter travelling in these icy regions is a

plentiful supply of warm furs. An Englishman is very apt to be imprudent

in this respect, and to trust too much to his natural power of resisting

cold. To a certain extent this confidence is justifiable, for an

Englishman often feels quite comfortable in an ordinary great coat when

his Russian friends consider it necessary to envelop themselves in furs

of the warmest kind; but it may be carried too far, in which case severe

punishment is sure to follow, as I once learned by experience. I may

relate the incident as a warning to others:

One day in mid-winter I started from Novgorod, with the intention of

visiting some friends at a cavalry barracks situated about ten miles

from the town. As the sun was shining brightly, and the distance to

be traversed was short, I considered that a light fur and a bashlyk--a

cloth hood which protects the ears--would be quite sufficient to keep

out the cold, and foolishly disregarded the warnings of a Russian friend

who happened to call as I was about to start. Our route lay along the

river due northward, right in the teeth of a strong north wind. A wintry

north wind is always and everywhere a disagreeable enemy to face; let

the reader try to imagine what it is when the Fahrenheit thermometer

is at 30 degrees below zero--or rather let him refrain from such an

attempt, for the sensation produced cannot be imagined by those who have

not experienced it. Of course I ought to have turned back--at least,

as soon as a sensation of faintness warned me that the circulation was

being seriously impeded--but I did not wish to confess my imprudence to

the friend who accompanied me. When we had driven about three-fourths of

the way we met a peasant-woman, who gesticulated violently, and shouted

something to us as we passed. I did not hear what she said, but my

friend turned to me and said in an alarming tone--we had been

speaking German--"Mein Gott! Ihre Nase ist abgefroren!" Now the word

"abgefroren," as the reader will understand, seemed to indicate that

my nose was frozen off, so I put up my hand in some alarm to discover

whether I had inadvertently lost the whole or part of the member

referred to. It was still in situ and entire, but as hard and insensible

as a bit of wood.

"You may still save it," said my companion, "if you get out at once and

rub it vigorously with snow."

I got out as directed, but was too faint to do anything vigorously. My

fur cloak flew open, the cold seemed to grasp me in the region of the

heart, and I fell insensible.

How long I remained unconscious I know not. When I awoke I found myself

in a strange room, surrounded by dragoon officers in uniform, and the

first words I heard were, "He is out of danger now, but he will have a

fever."

These words were spoken, as I afterwards discovered, by a very competent

surgeon; but the prophecy was not fulfilled. The promised fever never

came. The only bad consequences were that for some days my right hand

remained stiff, and for a week or two I had to conceal my nose from

public view.

If this little incident justifies me in drawing a general conclusion, I

should say that exposure to extreme cold is an almost painless form

of death; but that the process of being resuscitated is very painful

indeed--so painful, that the patient may be excused for momentarily

regretting that officious people prevented the temporary insensibility

from becoming "the sleep that knows no waking."

Between the alternate reigns of winter and summer there is always a

short interregnum, during which travelling in Russia by road is

almost impossible. Woe to the ill-fated mortal who has to make a long

road-journey immediately after the winter snow has melted; or, worse

still, at the beginning of winter, when the autumn mud has been

petrified by the frost, and not yet levelled by the snow!

At all seasons the monotony of a journey is pretty sure to be broken by

little unforeseen episodes of a more or less disagreeable kind. An axle

breaks, or a wheel comes off, or there is a difficulty in procuring

horses. As an illustration of the graver episodes which may occur, I

shall make here a quotation from my note-book:

Early in the morning we arrived at Maikop, a small town commanding the

entrance to one of the valleys which run up towards the main range

of the Caucasus. On alighting at the post-station, we at once ordered

horses for the next stage, and received the laconic reply, "There are no

horses."

"And when will there be some?"

"To-morrow!"

This last reply we took for a piece of playful exaggeration, and

demanded the book in which, according to law, the departure of horses

is duly inscribed, and from which it is easy to calculate when the first

team should be ready to start. A short calculation proved that we

ought to get horses by four o'clock in the afternoon, so we showed the

station-keeper various documents signed by the Minister of the

Interior and other influential personages, and advised him to avoid all

contravention of the postal regulations.

These documents, which proved that we enjoyed the special protection

of the authorities, had generally been of great service to us in our

dealings with rascally station-keepers; but this station-keeper was not

one of the ordinary type. He was a Cossack, of herculean proportions,

with a bullet-shaped head, short-cropped bristly hair, shaggy eyebrows,

an enormous pendent moustache, a defiant air, and a peculiar expression

of countenance which plainly indicated "an ugly customer." Though it was

still early in the day, he had evidently already imbibed a considerable

quantity of alcohol, and his whole demeanour showed clearly enough that

he was not of those who are "pleasant in their liquor." After glancing

superciliously at the documents, as if to intimate he could read them

were he so disposed, he threw them down on the table, and, thrusting his

gigantic paws into his capacious trouser-pockets, remarked slowly and

decisively, in something deeper than a double-bass voice, "You'll have

horses to-morrow morning."

Wishing to avoid a quarrel we tried to hire horses in the village, and

when our efforts in that direction proved fruitless, we applied to the

head of the rural police. He came and used all his influence with the

refractory station-keeper, but in vain. Hercules was not in a mood to

listen to officials any more than to ordinary mortals. At last, after

considerable trouble to himself, our friend of the police contrived to

find horses for us, and we contented ourselves with entering an account

of the circumstances in the Complaint Book, but our difficulties were by

no means at an end. As soon as Hercules perceived that we had obtained

horses without his assistance, and that he had thereby lost his

opportunity of blackmailing us, he offered us one of his own teams, and

insisted on detaining us until we should cancel the complaint against

him. This we refused to do, and our relations with him became what is

called in diplomatic language "extremement tendues." Again we had to

apply to the police.

My friend mounted guard over the baggage whilst I went to the police

office. I was not long absent, but I found, on my return, that important

events had taken place in the interval. A crowd had collected round

the post-station, and on the steps stood the keeper and his post-boys,

declaring that the traveller inside had attempted to shoot them! I

rushed in and soon perceived, by the smell of gunpowder, that firearms

had been used, but found no trace of casualties. My friend was tramping

up and down the little room, and evidently for the moment there was an

armistice.

In a very short time the local authorities had assembled, a candle had

been lit, two armed Cossacks stood as sentries at the door, and the

preliminary investigation had begun. The Chief of Police sat at the

table and wrote rapidly on a sheet of foolscap. The investigation showed

that two shots had been fired from a revolver, and two bullets were

found imbedded in the wall. All those who had been present, and some who

knew nothing of the incident except by hearsay, were duly examined. Our

opponents always assumed that my friend had been the assailant, in

spite of his protestations to the contrary, and more than once the

words pokyshenie na ubiistvo (attempt to murder) were pronounced. Things

looked very black indeed. We had the prospect of being detained for days

and weeks in the miserable place, till the insatiable demon of official

formality had been propitiated. And then?

When things were thus at their blackest they suddenly took an unexpected

turn, and the deus ex machinâ appeared precisely at the right moment,

just as if we had all been puppets in a sensation novel. There was

the usual momentary silence, and then, mixed with the sound of an

approaching tarantass, a confused murmur: "There he is! He is coming!"

The "he" thus vaguely and mysteriously indicated turned out to be an

official of the judicial administration, who had reason to visit the

village for an entirely different affair. As soon as he had been told

briefly what had happened he took the matter in hand and showed himself

equal to the occasion. Unlike the majority of Russian officials he

disliked lengthy procedure, and succeeded in making the case quite clear

in a very short time. There had been, he perceived, no attempt to murder

or anything of the kind. The station-keeper and his two post-boys, who

had no right to be in the traveller's room, had entered with threatening

mien, and when they refused to retire peaceably, my friend had fired

two shots in order to frighten them and bring assistance. The falsity of

their statement that he had fired at them as they entered the room was

proved by the fact that the bullets were lodged near the ceiling in the

wall farthest away from the door.

I must confess that I was agreeably surprised by this unexpected turn

of affairs. The conclusions arrived at were nothing more than a simple

statement of what had taken place; but I was surprised at the fact that

a man who was at once a lawyer and a Russian official should have been

able to take such a plain, commonsense view of the case.

Before midnight we were once more free men, driving rapidly in the

clear moonlight to the next station, under the escort of a fully-armed

Circassian Cossack; but the idea that we might have been detained for

weeks in that miserable place haunted us like a nightmare.