expensive one, for wood is entirely too valuable a commodity to be used
for such a purpose, but in this northern region the forests are so
boundless and the inhabitants so few that the latter do not make any
great inroad upon the former.
The agricultural year in this region begins in April, with the melting
snows. Nature which has been lying dormant for some six months, now
awakes and endeavors to make up for lost time. No sooner does the snow
disappear than the grass immediately sprouts forth and the shrubs and
trees begin to bud. The rapidity of this transition from winter to
spring certainly astonished the majority of us, accustomed as we were
to more temperate climes.
On the Russian St. George’s Day, April 23rd, according to the old
Russian calendar, or two weeks later according to our calendar, the
cattle are brought forth from their winter hibernation and sprinkled
with holy water by the priest. They are never very fat at any time of
the year but at this particular period of the year their appearance is
almost pitiful. During the winter they are kept cooped up in a shed,
usually one adjoining the house or under the porch of same with very
little, if any, light or ventilation, and fed almostly exclusively on
straw. It is quite remarkable that there is one iota of life left in
them for when they are thus turned out in the spring they look like
mere ghosts of their former selves. With the horses it is a different
matter for it is during the winter months in this region that the
peasants do most of their traveling and the horse is constantly exposed
to the opposite extreme of exposure and the bleak wind and cold, but is
well fed.
Meanwhile the peasants are impatient to begin the field labor—it is an
old Russian proverb known to all which says: “Sow in mud and you will
be a prince,” and true to this wisdom they always act accordingly. As
soon as it is possible to plough they begin to prepare the land for the
summer grain and this labor occupies them probably till the end of May.
Then comes the work of carting out manure, etc., and preparing the
fallow field for the winter grain which will last until about the
latter part of June when the early hay making generally begins. After
the hay making comes the harvest which is by far the busiest time of
the year. From the middle of July—especially from St. Elijah’s day
about the middle of July, when the Saint according to the Russian
superstition, may be heard rumbling along the heavens in his chariot of
fire—until the end of August or early September the peasant may work
day and night and yet find that he has barely time to get all his work
done. During the summer months the sun in this region scarcely ever
sets below the horizon and the peasant may often be found in the fields
as late as twelve o’clock at night trying to complete the day’s work.
In a little more than a month from this time he has to reap and stack
his grain, oats, rye and whatever else he may have sown, and to sow his
winter grain for the next, year. To add to the difficulty both grains
often ripen about the same time and then it requires almost superhuman
efforts on his part to complete his task before the first snow flies.
When one considers that all this work is done by hand—the planting,
plowing, reaping, threshing, etc., in the majority of cases by home
made instruments, it is really a more remarkable thing that the Russian
peasant accomplishes so much in such a short space of time. About the
end of September, however, the field labor is finished and on the first
day of October the harvest festival begins. At this particular season
of the year our troops on the Vaga river were operating far below
Shenkursk in the vicinity of Rovdinskaya and it was our good fortune to
witness a typical parish fete—celebrated in true Russian style. While
it is true during the winter months that the peasant lives a very,
frugal and simple life, it is not in my opinion on account of his
desire so to do but more a matter of necessity. During the harvest
festivals the principal occupation of the peasant seems to be that of
eating and drinking. In each household large quantities of _braga_ or
home brewed beer is prepared and a plentiful supply of meat pies are
constantly on hand. There is also another delectable dish, which I am
sure did not appeal to our troops to the fullest extent. It was a kind
of pie composed of cabbage and salt fish, but unless one was quite
accustomed to the odor, he could not summon up sufficient courage to
attack this viand. It, however, was a very popular dish among the
peasants.
After a week or so of this preparation the fete day finally arrives and
the morning finds the entire village attending a long service in the
village church. All are dressed in their very best and the finest
linens and brightest colors are very much in evidence. After the
service they repair to their different homes—of course many of the
poorer ones go to the homes of the more well to do where they are very
hospitably received and entertained. All sit down to a common table and
the eating begins. I attended a dinner in a well-to-do peasant’s house
that day and before the meal was one-third through I was ready to
desist. The landlord was very much displeased and I was informed
confidentially by one of the Russian officers who had invited me that
the landlord would take great offense at the first to give up the
contest—and that as a matter of fact instead of being a sign of poor
breeding, on the contrary it was considered quite the thing to stuff
one’s self until he could eat no more. As the meal progressed great
bowls of _braga_ and now and then a glass of vodka were brought in to
help along the repast. After an almost interminable time the guests all
rose in a body and facing the icon crossed themselves—then bowing to
the host—made certain remarks which I afterward found out meant,
“Thanks for your bread and salt”—to which the host replied, “Do not be
displeased, sit down once more for goodluck,” whereupon all hands fell
to again and had it not been for a mounted messenger galloping in with
important messages, I am of the opinion that we would probably have
spent the balance of the day trying not to displease our host.
If the Russian peasant’s food were always as good and plentiful as at
this season of the year, he would have little reason to complain, but
this is by no means the case. Beef, mutton, pork and the like are
entirely too expensive to be considered as a common article of food and
consequently the average peasant is more or less of a vegetarian,
living on cabbage, cabbage soup, potatoes, turnips and black bread the
entire winter—varied now and then with a portion of salt fish.
From the festival time until the following spring there is no
possibility of doing any agricultural work for the ground is as hard as
iron and covered with snow. The male peasants do very little work
during these winter months and spend most of their time lying idly upon
the huge brick stoves. Some of them, it is true, have some handicraft
that occupies their winter hours; others will take their guns and a
little parcel of provisions and wander about in the trackless forests
for days at a time. If successful, he may bring home a number of
valuable skins—such as ermine, fox and the like. Sometimes a number of
them associate for the purpose of deep sea fishing, in which case they
usually start out on foot for Kem on the shores of the White Sea or for
the far away Kola on the Murmansk Coast. Here they must charter a boat
and often times after a month or two of this fishing they will be in
debt to the boat owner and are forced to return with an empty pocket.
While we were there we gave them all plenty to do—village after village
being occupied in the grim task of making barb wire entanglements,
etc., building block houses, hauling logs, and driving convoys. This
was of course quite outside their usual occupation and I am of the
impression that they were none to favorably impressed—perhaps some of
them are explaining to the Bolo Commissars just how they happened to be
engaged in these particular pursuits.
For the female part of the population, however, the winter is a very
busy and well occupied time. For it is during these long months that
the spinning and weaving is done and cloth manufactured for clothing
and other purposes. Many of them are otherwise engaged in plaiting a
kind of rude shoe—called _lapty_, which is worn throughout the summer
by a great number of the peasants—and I have seen some of them worn in
extremely cold weather with heavy stockings and rags wrapped around the
feet. This was probably due to the fact, however, that leather shoes
and boots were almost a thing of the past at that time, for it must be
remembered that Russia had been practically shut off from the rest of
the world for almost four years during the period of the war. The
evenings are often devoted to _besedys_—a kind of ladies’ guild
meeting, where all assemble and engage in talking over village gossip,
playing games and other innocent amusements, or spinning thread from
flax.
Before closing this chapter, I wish to comment upon an article that I
read some months ago regarding what the writer thought to be a
surprising abundance of evidence disproving the common idea of
illiteracy among the Russian peasants. It is admitted that the peasants
of this region are above the average in the way of education and
ability, but as I have later learned they are not an average type of
the millions of peasants located in the interior and the south of
Russia, whose fathers and forefathers and many of themselves spent the
greater part of their lives as serfs. While the peasants of this region
nominally may have come under the heading of serfs, yet when they were
first driven into this country for the purpose of colonization and
settlement by Peter the Great, they were given far greater liberties
than any of the peasants of the south enjoyed. They were settled on
State domains and those that lived on the land of landlords scarcely
ever realized the fact, inasmuch as few of the landed aristocracy ever
spent any portion of their time in the province of Archangel unless
compelled to do so. In addition to this liberty and freedom, there was
also the stimulating effect of the cold, rigorous climate and therefore
it is more readily understood why the peasants of this region are more
energetic, more intelligent, more independent and better educated than
the inhabitants of the interior to the south.
After becoming somewhat acquainted with the family life of the
peasantry, and no one living with them as intimately as we did, could
have failed to have become more than ordinarily acquainted, we turned
our attention to the local village government or so-called Mir. We had
early learned that the chief personage in a Russian village was the
_starosta_, or village elder, and that all important communal affairs
were regulated by the _Selski Skhod_ or village assembly. We were also
well acquainted with the fact that the land in the vicinity of the
village belonged to the commune, and was distributed periodically among
the members in such a way that every able bodied man possessed a share
sufficient for his maintenance, or nearly so. Beyond this, however, few
of us knew little or nothing more. We were fortunate in having with us
a great number of Russian born men, who of course were our
interpreters, one of whom, by the way, Private Cwenk, was killed on
January 19th, 1919, in the attack of Nijni Gora when he refused to quit
his post, though mortally injured, until it was too late for him to
make his escape.
Through continual conversations and various transactions with the
peasants (carried on of course through our interpreters) the writer
gradually learned much of the village communal life. While at first
glance there are many points of similarity between the family life and
the village life, yet there are also many points of difference which
will be more apparent as we continue. In both, there is a chief or
ruler, one called the _khozain_ or head of the house and the other as
above indicated, the _starosta_ or village elder. In both cases too
there is a certain amount of common property and a common
responsibility. On the other hand, the mutual relations are far from
being so closely interwoven as in the case of the household.
From these brief remarks it will be readily apparent that a Russian
village is quite a different thing from a provincial town or village in
America. While it is true in a sense that in our villages the citizens
are bound together in certain interests of the community, yet each
family, outside of a few individual friends, is more or less isolated
from the rest of the community—each family having little to interest it
in the affairs of the other. In a Russian village, however, such a
state of indifference and isolation is quite impossible. The heads of
households must often meet together and consult in the village assembly
and their daily duties and occupations are controlled by the communal
decrees. The individual cannot begin to mow the hay or plough the
fields until the assembly has decided the time for all to begin. If one
becomes a shirker or drunkard everyone in the village has a right to
complain and see that the matter is at once taken care of, not so much
out of interest for the welfare of the shirker, but from the plain
selfish motive that all the families are collectively responsible for
his taxes and also the fact that he is entitled to a share in the
communal harvest, which unless he does his share of the work, is taken
from the common property of the whole.
As heretofore stated on another page of this book, the land belonging
to each village is distributed among the individual families and for
which each is responsible. It might be of interest to know how this
distribution is made. In certain communities the old-fashioned method
of simply taking a census and distributing the property according to
same is still in use. This in a great many instances is quite unfair
and works a great hardship—where often the head of the household is a
widow with perhaps four or five girls on her hands and possibly one
boy. Obviously, she cannot hope to do as much as her neighbor, who,
perhaps, in addition to the father, may have three or four well-grown
boys to assist him. It might be logically suggested, then, that the
widow could rent the balance of her share of the land and thus take
care of same. If land were in demand in Russia, especially in the
Archangel region, as it is in the farming communities of this country,
it might be a simple matter—but in Russia often the possession of a
share of land is quite often not a privilege but a decided hardship.
Often the land is so poor that it cannot be rented at any price, and in
the old days it was quite often the case that even though it could be
rented, the rent would not be sufficient to pay the taxes on same.
Therefore, each family is quite well satisfied with his share of the
land and is not looking for more trouble and labor if they can avoid
it, and at the assembly meetings, when the land is distributed each
year, it is amusing to hear the thousand-and-one excuses for not taking
more land, as the following brief description will illustrate.
It is assembly day, we will imagine, and all the villagers are
assembled to do their best from having more land and its consequent
responsibilities thrust upon them. Nicholas is being asked how many
shares of the communal land he will take, and after due deliberation
and much scratching of the head to stir up the cerebral processes (at
least we will assume that is the function of this last movement) he
slowly replies that inasmuch as he has two sons he will take three
shares for his family to farm, or perhaps a little less as his health
is none too good, though as a matter of fact he may be one of the most
ruddy-faced and healthiest individuals present.
This last remark is the signal for an outburst of laughter and ridicule
by the others present and the arguments pro and con wax furious. Of a
sudden, a voice in the crowd cries out: “He is a rich moujik, and he
should have five shares of the land as his burden at the least.”
Nicholas, seeing that the wave is about to overwhelm him, then resorts
to entreaty and makes every possible explanation now why it will be
utterly impossible for him to take five shares, his point now being to
cut down this allotment if within his power. After considerable more
discussion the leader of the crowd then puts the question to the
assembly and inquires if it be their will that Nicholas take four
shares. There is an immediate storm of assent from all quarters and
this settles the question beyond further argument.
This native shrewdness and spirit of barter is quite typical of the
Russian peasant in all matters—large or small—and he greets the outcome
of every such combat with stoical indifference, in typical fatalist
fashion.
The writer recalls one experience in the village of Shegovari on the
occasion of our first occupation of this place. It was before the
rivers had frozen over and headquarters at Shenkursk was getting ready
to install the sledge convoy system which was our only means of
transportation during the long winter months. Shegovari being a large
and prosperous community and there being a plentiful supply of horses
there, we were accordingly dispatched to this place to take over the
town and buy up as many horses as could be commandeered in this
section. In company with a villainous looking detachment of Cossacks we
set out from Shenkursk on board an enormous barge being towed by the
river steamer “Tolstoy.” On our way we became pretty well acquainted
with Colonel Aristov, the commander of the Cossacks, who, through his
interpreter, filled our ears with the various deeds of valor of himself
and picked cohorts. He further informed us that the village where we
were going was hostile to the Allied troops, and that there was some
question just at that time as to whether it was not in fact occupied by
the enemy. Consequently he had devised a very clever scheme, so he
thought, for getting what we were after and incidentally putting horses
on the market at bargain rates.
We were to bivouac for the night some ten miles or so above the town
and at early dawn we would steam down the river on our gunboat. If
there were any signs of hostility we were at once to open up on the
village with the pom pom mounted on board our cruiser, and the infantry
were to follow up with an attack on land. The colonel’s idea was that a
little demonstration of arms would thoroughly cow the native villagers
and therefore they would be willing to meet any terms offered by him
for the purchase of their horses. Fortunately or unfortunately (which
side one considers) the plan failed to materialize, for when we
anchored alongside the village the peasants were busily occupied in
getting their supply of salt fish for the winter and merely took our
arrival as one of the usual unfortunate visitations of Providence. The
colonel at once sent for the _starosta_ (the village elder as
heretofore explained) who immediately presented himself with much
bowing and scraping, probably wondering what further ill-luck was to
befall him. The colonel with a great display of pomp and gesticulating
firmly impressed the _starosta_ that on the following day all the
peasants were to bring to this village their horses, prepared to sell
them for the good of the cause. ... The following morning the streets
were lined up with horses and owners, and they could be seen corning
from all directions. At about ten o’clock the parade began. Each
peasant would lead his horse by the colonel, who would look them over
carefully and then ask what the owner would take for his horse. Usually
he would be met with a bow and downcast eyes as the owner replied: “As
your excellency decides.” “Very well, then, you will receive nine
hundred roubles or some such amount.” Instantly the air of
submissiveness and meekness disappears and a torrent of words pours
forth, eulogizing the virtues of this steed and the enormous sacrifice
it would be to allow his horse to go at that price. After the usual
haggling the bargain would be closed—sometimes at a greater figure and
sometimes at a lesser.
Now the amusing part of this transaction to me was that with my
interpreter we moved around amongst the crowd and got their own values
as to some of these horses. What was our amazement some moments later
to see them pass before the colonel who in a number of cases offered
them more than their estimates previously given to myself, whereupon
they immediately went through the maneuvers above described and in some
cases actually obtained increases over the colonel’s first hazard.
This lesson later stood us in good stead, for some weeks later it
devolved upon us to purchase harnesses and sleds for these very horses
and the reader may be sure that such haggling and bargaining (all
through an interpreter) was never seen before in this part of the
country. Somehow the word got around that the Amerikanskis who were
buying the sleds and harness had gotten acquainted with the horse
dealing method of some weeks past and therefore it was an especial
event to witness the sale and purchase of these various articles, and,
needless to say, there was always an enthusiastic crowd of spectators
present to cheer and jibe at the various contestants. All these various
transactions must have resulted with the balance decidedly in favor of
the villagers, for they were extremely pleasant and hospitable to us
during our entire stay here and instead of being hostile were exactly
the opposite, actually putting themselves to a great amount of trouble
time after time to meet with our many demands for logs and laborers,
although they were in no way bound to do these things.
In our dealings with the community here, as elsewhere, all transactions
were carried on with the _starosta_ or village head. We naturally
figured that this officer was one of the highest and most honored men
of the village, probably corresponding to the mayor of one of our own
cities, but we were later disillusioned in this particular. It seems
that each male member of the community must “do time” some time during
his career as village elder, and each one tried to postpone the task
just as long as it was in his power to do so. True it is that the
_starosta_ is the leader of his community during his regime, but
therein is the difficulty, for coupled with this power is the further
detail of keeping a strict and accurate account of all the business
transactions of the year, all the moneys, wages, etc., due the various
members for labors performed and services rendered. This, of course, is
due to the fact that everything is owned in common by the community:
Land, food products, wood, in short, practically all tangible property.
Imagine, then, the _starosta_ who, we will say, at eight or nine
o’clock on a cold winter’s night is called upon to have a dozen or more
drivers ready the next morning at six o’clock to conduct a sledge
convoy through to the next town, another group of fifty or a hundred
workmen to go into the forests and cut and haul logs for
fortifications, and still others for as many different duties as one
could imagine during time of war. He must furthermore see, for example,
that the same drivers are properly called in turn, for it is the
occasion of another prolonged verbal battle in case one is called out
of his turn. During the day he is probably busily occupied in
commandeering oats and hay for the convoy horses and when night comes
he certainly has earned his day’s repose, but his day does not end at
nightfall as in the case of the other members of the commune.