KAZAN TO PETERSBURG.
When, far on in the afternoon, we saw no prospect of effecting a
crossing of the Volga that day, we were glad to pack our traps into
the first sledge that offered, and make our way back to Kazan. We
were not the only disappointed ones, but the other westward-bound
travellers, having more practical knowledge than ourselves, took the
precaution to drive down in a town sledge, without their baggage,
to reconnoitre the ferry. With our bulky _impedimenta_, we were
in a condition eminently favourable for being victimised by the
rapacious rascals who repaired to the spot with horses and sledges,
attracted thither by the same instinct that brings the eagles to
the carcase. In the first instance, we had been charged the fare
for fourteen versts, for a stage that was acknowledged to be only
seven--no better reason being alleged for the charge than that it
was "necessary." The sledge had been sent back to the post-station,
after being discharged of our persons and appurtenances, and at
the end of the day we found ourselves at the mercy of a set of
wide-mouthed moujiks, with the most exalted ideas of the value of
their services.
The hotel "Ryazin," where we took up our quarters, had the
reputation of being one of the most fashionable in Kazan, as was
made apparent to us by the thick atmosphere of stale tobacco-smoke
that pervaded the long narrow corridors, and close pent-up rooms.
Deeming ourselves to have entered a country so far civilised that
we could get anything for money, and feeling greatly in need of
consolation under the defeat we had sustained, we mustered courage
to order a bottle of wine with our dinner. We had carefully eschewed
liquor at the hotels in Siberia, not expecting great things there,
and from a desire to discourage a taste which we should rarely
have the means of gratifying. In old Kazan we had more confidence,
and the classical names and aristocratic prices on the "wine card"
of the Ryazin gave promise of something good. But we were only
tantalised--the wine was not only of no recognisable species, but
positively nauseous. We did get good fresh butter, however, an
article, strange to say, scarce in Siberia, notwithstanding the
abundance of milk. It is worth notice that the Russians have but one
word, _maslo_, to signify butter, cart-grease, and oil in general.
Can it be possible that the confusion of ideas frequently caused by
this circumstance has given rise to the exaggerated, but generally
believed, reports of the foul feeding of the Russians?
A diorama was being exhibited in a distant part of the huge building
of the hotel. The pictures were mostly copies of originals in the
Hermitage at St. Petersburg, and their merits were extolled after
the usual fashion by the exhibitor in French and Russian. The
attendance was fair, but the entertainment very so-so. The only
impression I carried away was that the Russians of Kazan were easily
amused.
On the following morning we again proceeded to the Volga to try our
luck. The river had totally changed its appearance during the night.
The thick masses of conglomerated ice and snow had disappeared.
The open water had shifted from the right to the left bank, and
the middle of the river was covered with a thin sheet of new ice,
floating downwards. A boat was soon loaded by ourselves and a
few other passengers, and half-a-dozen lusty moujiks tracked us
slowly up the stream by means of a rope. Sometimes a towing path
on the high bank was used, and sometimes a path was extemporised
on the margin of solid ice, which in places was piled up in high
sharp peaks that entangled the towing-rope. The master of the boat
urged on his team, familiarly addressing them as "dogs," which
I am bound in charity to consider as a term of endearment, when
applied to Russian moujiks. When we had gained a position whence
we could cross the river easily, the crew was brought on board,
and the boat launched into mid-stream. The thin ice was easily
broken up by poles and boat-hooks, and no great difficulty was
experienced in effecting this passage. The Russian ferrymen have a
very inconvenient habit of stopping to cross themselves, and mutter
invocations to the saints while in the most critical situation.
They do this sometimes at starting, but invariably when in the
middle of the river. I frequently felt that we were put in peril
by this ultra-superstitious practice, for often at the moment when
the greatest care is needed to pilot the boat through treacherous
ice-fields, the whole crew lay down their oars, take off their hats,
and perform the ceremony. The Chinese sailors beat gongs and burn
joss paper to ensure good luck on their voyage, but they are too
sensible to endanger themselves by such superstitious observances,
and on the whole, show less confidence in supernatural aid than in
the appliances within their own control. "Prayer and provender never
hinder a journey," is an excellent maxim within reasonable limits,
but the practice of Russian ferrymen shows how the best of rules may
be abused.
A number of small steamers were frozen in on the right bank of the
Volga, as also a fleet of hulks elegantly fitted up with rooms
on deck. These were the floating steam-boat and other offices,
government offices, &c. In the season, when the navigation is open,
and passenger steamers, tugs, and barges are plying to and fro,
this part of the Volga must be a busy scene.
A sledge was sent for us at the farther side, and we were once
more _en route_. A tap-room, kept by a very low kind of Jew, is
conveniently situated near the ferry on the right bank. Here the
boatmen indulge themselves freely in liquor out of the proceeds of
the harvest they make while the ice is forming. We got slightly
warmed with tea in this house, but the publican objected to our
drinking our own brandy "on the premises." The law was on his side,
and we could say nothing, but the alternative of drinking the poison
which he was licensed to sell was too repulsive, even had our need
been greater than it was.
At Kazan and the Volga we observed that the Russian _pourboire_
changed from _na vodku_ ("for brandy") to _na tsai_ ("for tea"), the
latter being the common expression in Russia proper, and the former
the current phrase in Siberia. Tea drinking is considered a matter
of superlative importance in Russia. When a cab is hired for the
day, the driver will ask for a quarter of an hour "to drink tea,"
and a little money on account to provide the means of doing so.
People repair at stated times to a _trakteer_, or tavern, in Moscow
and Petersburg to drink tea. After the opera, parties retire for the
same purpose. It does not follow that tea is always the beverage
patronised on these occasions. The tea drinking at midnight is more
likely to consist of caviar, ryabchick, and champagne.
Our road lay parallel with the general line of the Volga,
occasionally approaching near to some of the elbows of the river.
The country is flat and marshy, but well cultivated, and farming
villages are numerous. The villages and small towns are built
on raised ground, whether naturally or artificially raised, I
am uncertain. The most remarkable feature in the towns is the
extraordinary number of churches. In one very small place I counted
eight.
Oaks are abundant in the country between Kazan and Nijni-Novgorod,
and the beech trees grow to a good size, and in beautiful form. The
forest has been cleared away to make room for agriculture, and the
bare flat is only relieved by the clumps of gnarled oak and the fine
avenues of birch, which are planted in double rows on each side of
the post-road. In winter, they looked handsome in their nakedness,
and in the summer heats they will afford a grateful shade to
travellers on the road for some hundreds of miles.
The roads were bad; but habit had inured us to that. The postal
arrangements were, however, worse than anything we had experienced.
The reason was obvious. This part of the road being only used for
a few weeks, between the closing of the Volga navigation and the
complete freezing of the river, no provision is made for the comfort
of travellers in the way of covered conveyances. Having parted
with our own sledge, we travelled _peracladnoi_, that is, changing
at every station. No covered sledges could be procured for love
or money, but so long as we could use sledges, the discomfort was
not intolerable, although the snow became gradually scantier as
we advanced westward. On the 28th, however, the little snow that
remained melted, and some rain and sleet fell. Sledge-travelling was
discontinued, and we had to resort to the _telega_, simply an open
cart without any springs. For the whole day we did dreadful penance
in these lumbering vehicles, over the most atrocious roads that
can be imagined. Our progress was, of course, slow in the extreme,
and to complete the catalogue of our miseries, a heavy shower of
sleet fell, which soaked our furs and wraps to such an extent that
we could hardly bear their weight. In this pitiable condition we
reached the last station before Nijni at 10 o'clock at night. We had
resolved to pass the night there, and get our clothes dried before
morning, deeming further exposure to the cold dangerous to our
health. The surly brute of a postmaster, whom it was our misfortune
to meet, put his veto on our intentions. I shall never forget his
face, nor his blue coat and brass buttons. He was one of those
slaves, dressed in a little brief authority, whose sole experience
had been the iron heel of tyranny planted on his neck, and whose
one idea, when not licking the dust himself, was to make others do
so if possible. It is a necessary result of a slavish education in
some minds, that they cannot conceive of any other relation in life,
than that of oppressor and oppressed. For the honour of Russian
postmasters in general, I am glad to say that such specimens as
the jack-in-office at Kstavo are rare. He refused us a fire, or a
room, or any means of making ourselves decently comfortable, so
after shivering for an hour we determined to resume our journey to
Nijni. A hard frost had set in, accompanied by a keen wind that cut
us to the bone. The misery we suffered during the last stage of our
journey, was beyond all description. Never was I more grateful than
when we gained admission to the hotel "Russia" at Nijni-Novgorod, at
four o'clock next morning. Under the genial influence of a warm room
and a dry bed, our miseries were soon forgotten, and the horrible
experiences of the night dissolved into a dream that helped to
intensify present enjoyment. "Sweet is pleasure after pain." There
is no rest without labour, and happiness itself would be insipid
without a seasoning of misery. Life, to be really enjoyed, must be
chequered with light and shadow. The bright passages remain vivid in
the memory, while the darker shades fade into forgetfulness.
The time to see Nijni-Novgorod is during the great fair which is
held in July, and which attracts to the spot people of every race
and language. The Nijni fair is one of the great commercial events
in Russia. Goods are brought to it from vast distances, and as
much business is done there in a few days as in many months in the
larger cities. There are several other great fairs still held in
Russia, such as the one at Irbit, in the west of Siberia. They
are relics of an unsettled state of society, and will no doubt
gradually give way before modern civilisation. The enormous cost of
transport necessarily incurred in bringing merchandise to the fair,
and in carrying it away again to its destination, does not equal
the guild dues, and other charges, which the traders would have to
bear, in order to do the same business in Moscow or Petersburg. The
consuming population are, therefore, taxed out of all reason, with
no advantage to the merchants, or to the government revenue. One
merchant may, for example, take his wares from Moscow or Kiev to
the fair at Nijni, and sell them to another, who carries them back
to the point whence they were originally despatched, and the double
expense of carriage may still be less than the cost of transacting
the same business in the towns.[24] It cannot be that such a state of
affairs can long withstand the inevitable march of enlightenment.
[24] "Russ. Shores of the Black Sea."--L. Oliphant.
We of course saw Nijni-Novgorod at a disadvantage. The town was
comparatively empty; the steam traffic which keeps the neighbourhood
alive during the summer was all over for the season, and the
rivers Volga and Oka looked deserted. The snow was melting fast,
and the streets were a mass of slush. This, with a leaden sky and
drizzling rain, rendered the town as miserable as can be imagined.
The Oka joins the Volga at Nijni, and the town is situated on a
high peninsula between the two rivers. The suburb in which the
great fair is held is opposite the town, on the other side of the
Oka, and there also is the terminus of the railway. At the time
we passed, there was but one train a day to Moscow. It started at
about four o'clock in the afternoon, and was calculated to arrive at
Moscow--three hundred miles--about six or seven next morning.
Our journey virtually terminated with our joining the railway, for
though still some 2500 miles from London, we had no more hardships
to look forward to, no toilsome days, or sleepless nights, no hard
fare, and no struggles with the elements. It was hard to realise
the superlative comfort of a railway carriage in our shaken and
shattered condition. It seemed too good to be true. The varied
incidents of our four months of travel crowded on the memory, and
we soon dropped into a delicious sleep amid confused visions of
drunken yemschiks, broken wheels, diabolical roads, icebergs, and
ferry-boats, with deserts and strings of camels dimly shadowed in
the back ground. In the grey of the morning, we found ourselves in
Moscow the Holy, and were soon comfortably settled in M. Billet's
hotel. Our progress towards civilised comfort culminated here,
and the luxury of bed and board at M. Billet's seemed a full
compensation for the miseries of the road.
To do justice to the delights of Moscow would require a higher
inspiration than I am blessed with, and all I could say about the
Kremlin, its palaces and churches, the theatres, operas, &c., has
been much better said already. The few days spent there seemed
very short. Should I ever be tempted to revisit the fine old
city, however, I hope the municipal council will have made some
arrangement for lighting the streets with gas. In this respect
they are sadly behind the age; and in a gay population like that
of Moscow, which lives mostly at night, it is surprising that
illumination has not before now been demanded by the popular voice.
The portable gas which is carted about the streets in hogsheads, is
a wretched makeshift. The sudden exhaustion of the supply of light
frequently causes a theatrical performance to be interrupted until
another hogshead of gas is procured; and during the interregnum
young Russia delights in electrifying the audience by yelling and
whistling, as if they would bring the house down.
A large building on the outskirts of Moscow was pointed out to us as
the foundling hospital, a great institution in Russia, one of whose
chief uses seems to be to rear ballet-girls, and most efficiently
does it perform its functions.
From Moscow to Petersburg by railway is a monotonous and
uninteresting journey, especially in winter. The country is flat
and bare; here and there a patch of winter wheat struggled through
the thin covering of snow, but the general aspect in the month of
December was that of a desert. The only town of note on the line is
Tver, on the Volga, where the railway crosses that river. In the
construction of the line, the convenience of the various small towns
has not been consulted. It was a purely imperial project to connect
Moscow with Petersburg. It is said that when the engineers, who were
engaged in the construction of the line, applied to the Emperor to
know what curves they should make so as to pass through the most
populous towns, he laid a ruler on the map, drew a straight line
from Petersburg to Moscow, and bade them follow it.
Railways, like all other public works in Russia, have been
constructed at enormous expense, from the peculations of the
officials who had to do with them. It is related of the Emperor
Nicholas, that when he had failed to impress certain Persian
ambassadors with the magnificence of his capital, he turned in
despair to Prince Menschikoff, and asked him whether there was
nothing that would astonish them. The prince suggested that they
might be shown the accounts of the Moscow railway.
We were not so favourably impressed with Petersburg, as a place of
residence, as we had been with Moscow. It is a magnificent city,
no doubt; its quays, bridges, "perspectives," palaces, and squares
present a faultless exterior, and leave an impression of grandeur
on the memory that makes other things small by comparison. But
the chill of officialism rests on the place; it was created out
of a swamp by the fiat of an emperor, and the imperial will is
all-pervading still; you cannot shake off the idea. Looking down
the "Nevsky," you take in at a glance miles of street laid out with
mathematical accuracy, and the effect is very striking; you admire
the magnificent Nicholas bridge that spans the Neva, a work that
made the fortune of others besides the architect; in short, you
admire everything separately and collectively about the capital, but
the reflection always crops up that this fine city and the glory
of it exists by the will of the emperor. Moscow is antiquated;
its streets are not so straight, nor so wide, nor so regular; its
buildings are not so imposing; but it is a natural and spontaneous
growth; there is a more homely and comfortable air about it than
Petersburg; and it was not built for the admiration of the world,
but because people wanted houses to live in. Petersburg lacks the
historical interest that invests the old capital, and it will be
long before it displaces the holy city in the affections of the
Russians, who one and all have a kind of superstitious reverence for
Moscow. The Czars also hold the old city in high esteem, and are
said to regard the Kremlin as the focus and ultimate asylum of their
power.
The season was late in Petersburg. Up to the middle of December the
little snow that fell melted. The temperature varied from a little
above to a little below the freezing point. Some days the Neva
brought down masses of floating ice from Lake Ladoga, and on other
days the river was quite clear. I fear the pork-butchers of the
interior were premature in sending in their supplies of frozen pigs,
for they seemed very likely to get thawed in the mild atmosphere
of Petersburg. The sky was constantly overcast, and the few hours
of daylight were consequently cut short at both ends. Everything
conspired to throw a gloom over the place, and the people were
longing for their snow roads and their sledges, their races and
games on the Neva, and the pleasures of their winter season. The
"Court" was at Tsarskoe-selo, writing despatches, while the Polish
insurrection, the proposed congress of Paris, and the financial
difficulties of the government, supplied food for gossip to all
circles in the city. The reply of the Emperor to the invitation of
his "good brother," as published in the _Journal_, excited universal
admiration. And as for the currency crisis, everyone had some
nostrum of his own which would infallibly put things right, but none
of them seemed to touch the essential point, the supply of bullion.
Great activity prevailed in the government dockyards, where a
number of iron-clads were being built. One of these building yards
was close to Miss Benson's, where I lived, and we got the full
benefit of the clanging of hammers, from a very early hour in the
morning, till the latest hour at night at which we happened to be
awake. I believe they worked day and night, as if busily preparing
for war. Some vessels had been hurried out of England unfinished,
and enormous quantities of iron-plating, and other materials, had
been imported from England for vessels to be constructed in Russia.
The yards we were shown through were all under the superintendence
of English firms, and Englishmen occupy responsible positions
in the admiralty. The number of iron-cased frigates in progress
at Petersburg and Kronstadt, is sufficient to account for the
abstraction of bullion from the government treasury in such amounts
as to derange the paper currency of the country.
But the financial disturbance is of some years' standing, although
it has gradually been getting worse. It dates from the Crimean war,
which drained the resources of Russia, both in men and treasure,
to an extent which the government has been reluctant to admit.
The difficulty was met at the time by the increased issue of
paper-money, which government has never been able to redeem. The
crisis was not much felt until the Polish insurrection again taxed
the energies of the government, while it was still languishing
under the effects of the Crimean war, and unprepared for this fresh
demand on its resources. This was probably the real reason why the
government was so slow to meet the emergency in Poland with adequate
means. More paper-money had to be issued, unrepresented by bullion,
and unconvertible. The paper currency became depreciated twelve to
fifteen per cent. below its ostensible value, and in the uncertainty
that prevailed as to the future, business was for a time brought
almost to a stand. All the financiers of Russia have been labouring
to restore the equilibrium, but as yet their best laid schemes have
failed, for none of them has discovered the means of replenishing
the bank treasury.
The most casual observer cannot fail to mark the respect in which
all classes in Russia hold the Emperor. In the most distant
provinces, indeed, the peasants regard the Czar as a kind of
demi-god who, if he could only be informed of their grievances,
would set all to rights. But in Petersburg, where his majesty may
be seen any day in the street, divested of ethereal attributes,
the people love him. The contrast between the reign of the
present emperor and that of his father is very striking. Formerly
the interests of agriculture, manufactures, and commerce were
sacrificed to the ambitious schemes of the Czar. The military
glory of the empire, and the imperial projects of aggrandisement
absorbed the energies of government; and to promote these ends the
substance of the country was wasted. That is all changed now. The
Emperor Alexander II. from the time of his accession has devoted
his energies to the amelioration of the condition of the people,
to the encouragement of native industry, to the economising of
the national resources, and to promoting the efficiency of the
executive. Reforms have been set on foot in all departments of the
state,--military, legislative, financial, and social. Success has
attended many of these new measures; many are still in progress;
but the great work is only begun. It is an important step gained,
however, that the government has become alive to the need of
administrative reform, and if the life of the present monarch be
spared to the age of his father, he will have left his country a
century in advance of where he found it.
The Russian soldier is now smart and well equipped, well armed,
well fed, and well treated. Military discipline has been greatly
improved, and the men have now to go through regular courses of
gymnastics. The army is undergoing a transformation. Recruiting is
more regular. The term of service has been reduced to fifteen years,
but practically it is much less. The soldiers begin to look like
civilised beings, and to acquire self-respect.
Important reforms in the legislature of Russia have also been
introduced. The term of penal servitude has been greatly reduced.
A project of law-reform which will include trial by jury is under
deliberation. This, if carried, will be a startling innovation in
Russia; and will no doubt be the precursor of many other popular
measures.
A budget is now published yearly, which, though it is not of much
practical utility, is nevertheless in some sort a recognition of the
political rights of the people.
The police, customs, and the navy are all being subjected to
improvements more or less important; in short, the spirit of reform
has been so active, that its influence pervades every institution,
except perhaps the Church. Some evils have necessarily attended
the recent changes. For example, the abolition of the brandy farm,
and the substitution of a system of excise, by reducing the cost,
has increased the consumption of spirits among the peasantry. The
fatal consequences of excess threatened to be alarming in some
parts of the country, and I heard great complaints in Siberia of the
increase of drunkenness. But as a financial measure it has been very
successful. The excise duty on spirits in 1863 gave the government
117,000,000 silver (_i.e._, paper) roubles, which is more than
one-third of its gross annual revenue.
The revenues of the Russian government are still susceptible of
great development. The system of corruption that prevailed so
long that it had become almost respectable, has been attacked,
but it must be rooted up before the government can reap the full
harvest of its own financial resources. This is not a matter of
easy accomplishment, however, as the men from whom the Emperor is
entitled to look for support are themselves directly interested in
the continuance of the old system of universal peculation. The vast
extent of territory also over which the government executive is
diffused, adds greatly to the difficulty of the radical reform of
time-honoured abuses.
No annoyance of any kind, either about passports or luggage was
experienced by us in arriving at, or departing from Petersburg; but
the pleasantest impression the Czarish capital left on my mind was
that of the kindness and hospitality of my own countrymen, and of
all others whom I happened to meet there.