PASSAGE TO REVEL.
It was not without a feeling of regret that I took my departure from
St. Petersburg. Short as my visit to Russia had been, it was full of
interest. Not a single day had been idly or unprofitably spent.
Indeed, I know of no country that presents so many attractions to the
traveler who takes pleasure in novelties of character and
peculiarities of manners and customs. The lovers of picturesque
scenery will find little to gratify his taste in a mere railroad
excursion to Moscow; but with ample time and means at his disposal, a
journey to the Ural Mountains, or a voyage down the Volga to the
Caspian Sea, would doubtless be replete with interest. For my part,
much as I enjoy the natural beauties of a country through which I
travel, they never afford me as much pleasure as the study of a
peculiar race of people. Mere scenery, however beautiful, becomes
monotonous, unless it be associated with something that gives it a
varied and striking human interest. The mountains and lakes of
Scotland derive their chief attractions from the wild legends of
romance and chivalry so inseparably connected with them; and
Switzerland would be but a dreary desert of glaciers without its
history. In Russia, Nature has been less prodigal in her gifts; and
the real interest of the country centres in its public institutions,
the religious observances of the people, and the progress of
civilization under a despotic system of government. Of these I have
endeavored to give you such impressions as may be derived from a
sojourn of a few weeks in Moscow and St. Petersburg--necessarily
imperfect and superficial, but I trust not altogether destitute of
amusing features.
On a pleasant morning in August, I called for my "rechnung" at the
German gasthaus on the Wasseli-Ostrow. The bill was complicated in
proportion to its length. There was an extra charge of fifteen kopeks
a day for the room over and above the amount originally specified.
That was conscientious cheating, so I made no complaint. Then there
was a charge for two candles when I saw but one, and always went to
bed by daylight. That was customary cheating, and could not be
disputed. Next came an item for beefsteaks, when, to the best of my
knowledge and belief, nothing but veal cutlets, which were also duly
specified, ever passed my lips in any part of Russia. Upon that I
ventured a remonstrance, but gave in on the assurance that it was
Russian beefsteak. I was too glad to have any ground for believing
that it was not Russian dog. Next came an item for police commissions.
All that work I had done myself, and therefore was entitled to demur.
It appeared that a man was kept for that purpose, and when he was not
employed he expected remuneration for the disappointment. Then there
was an item for domestic service, when the only service rendered was
to black my boots, for which I had already paid. No matter; it was
customary, so I gave in. Then came sundry bottles of wine. I never
drink wine. "But," said the proprietor, "it was on the table." Not
being able to dispute that, I abandoned the question of wine. Various
ices were in the bill. I had asked for a lump of ice in a glass of
water on several occasions, supposing it to be a common article in a
country on the edge of the Arctic circle, but for every lump of ice
the charge was ten kopeks. Upon this principle, I suppose they attach
an exorbitant value to thawed water during six months of the year,
when the Neva is a solid block of ice. I find that ice is an
uncommonly costly luxury in Northern Europe, where there is a great
deal of it. In Germany it is ranked with fresh water and other deadly
poisons; in Russia it costs too much for general use; and in Norway
and Sweden, where the snow-capped mountains are always in sight, the
people seem to be unacquainted with the use of iced water, or, indeed,
any other kind of water as a beverage in summer. They drink brandy and
schnapps to keep themselves cool. However, I got through the bill at
last, without loss of temper, being satisfied it was very reasonable
for St. Petersburg. Having paid for every article real and imaginary;
paid each servant individually for looking at me; then paid for
domestic services generally; paid the proprietor for speaking his
native language, which was German, and the commissioner for wearing a
brass band on his cap, and bowing several times as I passed out, the
whole matter was amicably concluded, and, with my knapsack on my back,
I wended my way down to the steam-boat landing of the Wasseli-Ostrow.
As I was about to step on board the Russian steamer bound for
Revel--an eager crowd of passengers pressing in on the plankway from
all sides--I was forcibly seized by the arm. Supposing it to be an
arrest for some unconscious violation of the police regulations, a
ghastly vision of Siberia flashed upon my mind as I turned to demand
an explanation. But it was not a policeman who arrested me--it was
only my friend, Herr Batz, the rope-maker, who, with a flushed face
and starting eyes, gazed at me. "Where are you going?" said he. "To
Revel," said I. Almost breathless from his struggle to get at me, he
forcibly pulled me aside from the crowd, drew me close up to him, and
in a hoarse whisper uttered these remarkable words: "_Hempf is up!_ It
took a rise yesterday--_Zweimal zwey macht vier, und sechsmal vier
macht vier und zwanzig! verstehen sie?_" "Gott im Himmel!" said I,
"you don't say so?" "_Ya, freilich!_" groaned Herr Batz, hoarsely:
"_Zwey tausent rubles! verstehen sie? Sechs und dreissig, und acht und
vierzig._" "Ya! ya!" said I, grasping him cordially by the hand, for I
was afraid the steamer would leave--"_Adjeu, mein Herr! adjeu!_" and I
darted away into the crowd. The last I saw of the unfortunate
rope-maker, he was standing on the quay, waving his red cotton
handkerchief at me. As the lines were cast loose, and the steamer
swung out into the river, he put both hands to his mouth, and shouted
out something which the confusion of sounds prevented me from hearing
distinctly. I was certain, however, that the last word that fell upon
my ear was "_hempf_!"
The Neva at this season of the year presents a most animated and
picturesque appearance. A little above the landing-place of the Baltic
steamers, a magnificent bridge connects the Wasseli-Ostrow with the
main part of the city, embracing the Winter Palace, the Admiralty, and
the Nevskoi, generally known as the Bolshaia, or Great Side. Below
this bridge, as far as the eye can reach in the direction of the Gulf
of Finland, the glittering waters of the Neva are alive with various
kinds of shipping--merchant vessels from all parts of the world;
fishing smacks from Finland and Riga; lumber vessels from Tornea;
wood-boats from the interior; Russian and Prussian steamers;
row-boats, skiffs, and fancy colored canoes, with crews and passengers
representing many nations of the earth, are in perpetual motion; and
while the sight is bewildered by the variety of moving objects, the
ears are confounded by the strange medley of languages.
Through this confused web of obstacles, the little steamer in which I
had taken passage worked her way cautiously and systematically,
catching a rope here and there for a sudden swing to the right or to
the left, stopping and backing from time to time, and feeling with her
nose for the narrow channels of the river, till she was fairly out of
danger, when, with a blast of the whistle and a heavy pressure of
steam, she dashed forth into the open waters of the gulf.
As we gradually receded, I turned to take a last look at the mighty
Venice of the North. The gold-covered domes of the churches, rising
high above the massive ranges of palaces, were glittering brilliantly
in the sunlight; the variegated shipping of the Neva was growing dim
in the distance; the masses of foliage that crowned the islands were
of tropical luxuriance, and the whole city, with its palaces,
fortifications, and churches, seemed to rest upon the surface of the
waters. It was a sight not soon to be forgotten. I turned toward the
dark and stern fortresses of Cronstadt, now breaking in strong outline
through the golden haze of the morning, and thought of the grim old
Czar who had thus battled with Nature, and planted a mighty city in
the wilderness; and thus musing, sighed to think that such a man
should have lacked the warmth divine which sheds the only true and
enduring lustre upon human greatness.
After the usual detention at Cronstadt for the examination of
passports, the steamer once more started on her way, and in a few
hours nothing was in sight save the shores of the gulf dim on the
horizon, and the sails of distant vessels looming up in the haze.
I now, for the first time, had leisure to look at my
fellow-passengers.
A Russian steamer during the pleasure season is a floating Babel.
Here, within the limits of a few dozen feet, were the representatives
of almost every nation from the Arctic circle to the tropics--Finns
and Swedes, Norwegians and Danes, Tartars and Russians, Poles and
Germans, Frenchmen and Englishmen, South Americans, and--I was going
to say North Americans, of which, however, I was the sole
representative.
It was a motley assemblage--a hodge-podge of humanity, a kind of
living pot-pourri of dirty faces and dirty shirts, military uniforms,
slouched hats, blowses, and big boots. There was a Russian general,
who always stood at the cabin door to show himself to the rest of the
passengers. I don't know for the life of me what he was angry about,
but his face wore a perpetual frown of indignation, scorn, and
contempt; his black brows were constitutionally knit; his eyes seemed
to be always trying to overpower and knock somebody under; his lips
were firmly compressed, and his mustaches stood out like a dagger on
each side, with the handles wrapped in a bundle of dirty hair under
his nose. So tight was his uniform around the body and neck that it
forced all the blood up into his face, and wouldn't let it get back
again; and it seemed a miracle that the veins in his forehead did not
burst and carry away the top of his head, brains and all. Opposite to
this great man, in an attitude of profound humility, stood his
liveried servant--a very gentlemanly-looking person, with an
intellectual baldness covering the entire top of his cranium. This
deferential individual wore a coat beautifully variegated before and
behind with gold lace; a pair of plush knee-breeches, white stockings,
and white kid gloves; and was continually engaged in bowing to the
great man, and otherwise anticipating his wants. When the great man
looked at a trunk, or a carpet sack, or any thing else in the line of
baggage or traveling equipments, the liveried servant bowed very low,
looked nervously about him, and then darted off and seized hold of the
article in question, gave it a pull or a push, put it down again,
looked nervously around him, hurried back and bowed again to his
august master, who by that time was generally looking in some other
direction with an air of great indifference--as much as to say that he
was accustomed to that species of homage, and did not attach any
particular value to it. The passengers regarded him with profound awe
and admiration, and seemed to be very much afraid he would, upon some
trifling provocation, draw his sword and attack them. I was
determined, if ever he undertook such a demonstration of authority as
that, to resent it with the true spirit of a Californian, and cast
about me for some weapon of personal defense, but saw nothing likely
to be available in an emergency of that kind except a small bucket of
slush, with which, however, it would be practicable to "douse his
glim." This great man, with his attendant, was bound for the sea-baths
of Revel, where he would doubtless soon be buffeting the waves like a
porpoise--or possibly, in virtue of the commanding powers vested in
him by nature and the Czar of Russia, would sit down by the sea-shore
like Hardicanute the Dane, and order the waves to retire.
Then there was an old lady and her three daughters who sat on the
camp-stools by the step-ladder; the same fat old lady, bedizened with
finery, and the same three young ladies, with strong features and
dismal dresses, which the traveler encounters all over the Continent
of Europe. The old lady was in a state of chronic agony lest the young
ladies should be forcibly seized and carried away by some daring youth
of the male sex; and the young ladies were conscious that such was the
general purpose of mankind, and that they were in imminent danger of
being preyed upon in that way, and, consequently, must always hold
down their heads and look at the seams in the deck upon the approach
of any gallant-looking cavalier with a handsome face and a fine
figure, to say nothing of the expressive tenderness of his eyes and
the gracefulness of his manner, and many other fascinating features in
the young gentleman's appearance, of which they could not be otherwise
than entirely unconscious, since they had not taken the slightest
notice of him, and never contemplated encouraging his advances. The
old lady was a very discreet and proper old lady, and the young ladies
were very discreet and proper young ladies, and they were going to the
baths of Revel after their last winter's campaign in the fashionable
circles of St. Petersburg; and any body could see at a glance that
they were of a distinguished and fashionable family, because they had
a courier and two lapdogs, and carried a coat of arms on their trunks
and bandboxes, and were taken with violent headaches soon after
leaving Cronstadt, and used smelling-salts.
Next was the man who belongs to no particular nation, speaks every
language, and knows every body--a shabby-genteel, middle-aged man, of
no ostensible occupation, but always occupied. "Sare," said he, "I
perceive you are an Englishman. I always very glad am to meet with
Englishmen. I two years spent in London." "Indeed!" said I; "you speak
English very well, considering you learned it in England!" "Yes,
sare--in London--I was in business there." "Mercantile?" said I. "No,
sare; I attended to mi-lor Granby's 'orses." "Oh! that indeed!" "Yes,
sare;" and so the conversation went on in a manner both entertaining
and instructive. In the course of it, I gathered that my
shabby-genteel friend was going to Revel to attend a 'orse-race.
Another conspicuous group on the deck soon after attracted my
attention--the hungry people. This group consisted of some six or
eight persons, male and female, of a very Jewish cast of features,
well-dressed and lively, evidently Germans, since they spoke in the
German language. Scarcely had the steamer cast loose from the quay
when they opened the pile of baskets, boxes, and packages by which
they were surrounded, and, taking out sundry loaves of bread, lumps of
cheese, sausages, and wine-bottles, began to eat and drink with a
voracity perfectly amazing. I was certain I had seen them a thousand
times before. Every feature was familiar; and even their
constitutional appetite was nothing new to me. I had never seen this
group, or their prototype, in any public conveyance, or in any part of
the world, without a feeling of envy at the extraordinary vigor of
their digestive functions. Here were pale, cadaverous-looking men, and
sallow women, who never stopped eating from morning till night, in
rough or calm weather, in sunshine or storm; ever hungry, ever
thirsty, ever cramming and guzzling with a degree of zest that the
sturdiest laborer in the field could never experience; and yet they
neither burst nor dropped down dead, nor suffered from sea-sickness.
Doubtless they had just breakfasted before they came aboard; but, to
make sure of it, they immediately breakfasted again. As soon as they
were through that, they lunched; then they dined; after dinner they
drank coffee and ate cakes; after coffee and cakes they lunched again;
then they ate a hearty supper, and after supper whetted their
appetites on tea and cakes; and before bedtime appeased the cravings
of hunger with a heavy meal of sausages, brown bread, and cheese,
which they washed down with several bottles of wine. I don't know how
many times they got up to eat in the night, but suppose it could not
have been more than twice or three times, since they were at it again
by daylight in the morning as vigorously as ever. I am inclined to
think that some people are physically so organized as to be insensible
to the difference between a pound of food and ten pounds, as others
are unconscious of the difference between wit and stupidity, sense and
nonsense; such, for instance, as the humorous group, who sit by the
companion-way, and keep themselves and every body around them in a
continued roar of laughter. It is good to be merry; but I must confess
it is not within the bounds of my capacity to discover a source of
merriment in such pranks of wit as these people enjoy. A young fellow
makes a face like an owl--every body roars laughing, the idea is so
exquisitely comical. Another pulls his comrades by the hair, and every
body shouts with uproarious merriment. One sly chap shoves another off
his seat and takes possession of it--a feat so humorous that the whole
crowd is convulsed. A bad orange, pitched across the deck, strikes an
elderly gentleman on the bald pate--well, I had to laugh at that
myself. By-and-by, a stout, florid young gentleman turns pale and
groans; three or four officious friends, with twinkling eyes, seize
him by the arms, and drag him over to the lee-scuppers, where he
manifests still more decided symptoms of sea-sickness. His friends
hold him, rub him, chafe him, and pat him on the back; one offers him
a meerschaum pipe to smoke; another, a bunch of cigars; a third, a
piece of fat meat; while a fourth tempts him with a bottle of some
wine, all of which is uncommon fun to every body but the unfortunate
victim. Thus the time passes away pleasantly enough, after all, taking
into view the variety of incidents and scenes which constantly occupy
the attention of a looker-on. I had taken a deck-passage for
cheapness, and made out to get through the night by bundling myself up
on a pile of baggage, and catching a few cat-naps whenever the noise
created by these lively young gentlemen would permit of such a feat.
By seven o'clock in the morning we were steering into the harbor of
Revel.