THE "LITTLE WATER."
On the fundamental principles of association the intelligent reader
will at once comprehend how it came to pass that, of all the traits I
discovered in the Russian people, none impressed me so favorably as
their love of vodka, or native brandy, signifying the "little water."
I admired their long and filthy beards and matted heads of hair,
because there was much in them to remind me of my beloved Washoe; but
in nothing did I experience a greater fellowship with them than in
their constitutional thirst for intoxicating liquors. It was
absolutely refreshing, after a year's travel over the Continent of
Europe, to come across a genuine lover of the "tarantula"--to meet at
every corner of the street a great bearded fellow staggering along
blind drunk, or attempting to steady the town by hugging a post.
Rarely had I enjoyed such a sight since my arrival in the Old World.
In Germany I had seen a few cases of stupefaction arising from
overdoses of beer; in France the red nose of the _bon vivant_ is not
uncommon; in England some muddled heads are to be found; and in
Scotland there are temperance societies enough to give rise to the
suspicion that there is a cause for them; but, generally speaking, the
sight of an intoxicated man is somewhat rare in the principal cities
of the Continent. It will, therefore, be conceded that there was
something very congenial in the spectacle that greeted me on the very
first day of my arrival in Moscow. A great giant of a Mujik, with a
ferocious beard and the general aspect of a wild beast, came toward me
with a heel and a lurch to port that was very expressive of his
condition. As he staggered up and tried to balance himself, he blurted
out some unmeaning twaddle in his native language which I took to be a
species of greeting. His expression was absolutely inspiring--the
great blear eyes rolling foolishly in his head; his tongue lolling
helplessly from his mouth; his under jaw hanging down; his greasy cap
hung on one side on a tuft of dirty hair--all so familiar, so
characteristic of something I had seen before! Where could it have
been? What potent spell was there about this fellow to attract me? In
what was it that I, an embassador from Washoe, a citizen of
California, a resident of Oakland, could thus be drawn toward this
hideous wretch? A word in your ear, reader. It was all the effect of
association! The unbidden tears flowed to my eyes as I caught a whiff
of the fellow's breath. It was so like the free-lunch breaths of San
Francisco, and even suggested thoughts of the Legislative Assembly in
Sacramento. Only think what a genuine Californian must suffer in being
a whole year without a glass of whisky--nay, without as much as a
smell of it! How delightful it is to see a brother human downright
soggy drunk; drunk all over; drunk in the eyes, in the mouth, in the
small of his back, in his knees, in his boots, clear down to his toes!
How one's heart is drawn toward him by this common bond of human
infirmity! How it recalls the camp, the one-horse mining town, the
social gathering of the "boys" at Dan's, or Jim's, or Jack's; and the
clink of dimes and glasses at the bar; how distances are annihilated
and time set back! Of a verity, when I saw that man, with reason
dethroned and the garb of self-respect thrown aside, I was once again
in my own beloved state!
"What a beauty dwelt in each familiar face,
What music hung on every voice!"
[Illustration: VODKA.]
Since reading is not a very general accomplishment among the lower
classes, a system of signs answers in some degree as a substitute. The
irregularity of the streets would of itself present no very remarkable
feature but for the wonderful variety of small shops and the oddity of
the signs upon which their contents are pictured. What these symbols
of trade lack in artistic style they make up in grotesque effects.
Thus, the tobacco shops are ornamented outside with various
highly-colored pictures, drawn by artists of the most florid genius,
representing cigar-boxes, pipes, meerschaums, narghillas, bunches of
cigars, snuffboxes, plugs and twists of tobacco, and all that the most
fastidious smoker, chewer, or snuffer can expect to find in any
tobacco shop, besides a good many things that he never will find in
any of these shops. Prominent among these symbolical displays is the
counterfeit presentment of a jet-black Indian of African descent--his
woolly head adorned with a crown of pearls and feathers; in his right
hand an uplifted tomahawk, with which he is about to kill some
invisible enemy; in his left a meerschaum, supposed to be the pipe of
peace; a tobacco plantation in the background, and a group of warriors
smoking profusely around a camp-fire, located under one of the tobacco
plants; the whole having a very fine allegorical effect, fully
understood, no doubt, by the artist, but very difficult to explain
upon any known principle of art. The butchers' shops are equally
prolific in external adornments. On the sign-boards you see every
animal fit to be eaten, and many of questionable aspect, denuded of
their skins and reduced to every conceivable degree of butchery; so
that if you want a veal cutlet of any particular pattern, all you have
to do is to select your pattern, and the cutlet will be chopped
accordingly. The bakeries excel in their artistic displays. Here you
have painted bread from black-moon down to double-knotted twist;
cakes, biscuit, rolls, and crackers, and as many other varieties as
the genius of the artist may be capable of suggesting. The bakers of
Moscow are mostly French or German; and it is a notable fact that the
bread is quite equal to any made in France or Germany. The
wine-stores, of which there are many, are decorated with pictures of
bottles, and bas-reliefs of gilded grapes--a great improvement upon
the ordinary grape produced by nature.