Travellers in Russia-False impressions-Civilization in the Czar's dominions-Public roads-Morasses and forests-The Vologda road-Wretched horses-Rough roads-The crown peasants-Aspect of the villages-Civilization of the people-Vanity of the Russians-Provincial towns-The churches-The postmasters-The yemstchicks, or drivers-Personal appearance of the peasantry-Their costumes-Crossing the Dwina-Pleasing scene-Village burying-ground.
The generality of travellers in Russia, at least of those tourists who have obliged the world with 'Winters in St. Petersburg' and 'Journeys to Moscow,' containing the most flourishing accounts of the state of the roads, the high civilization, the rapid strides to excellence, &c., of the Czar's dominions, are unfortunately limited to a class who, having a few months' leisure, and being desirous of change, take the voyage to Russia as one promising more novelty than the hackneyed roads of France and Switzerland. Their ordinary plan is, to take the steamer to St. Petersburg, and after a stay of a short time take a "run" to Moscow, whence they return in time for the "boat," and hasten back at the rate of ten or twelve knots an hour, carrying away with them the most erroneous and false ideas of the real state of things, the mere surface of which they have scarcely had time to skim. Had they remained a few years among the Russians, not living, as the most part of the English do, in little colonies by themselves, but mixing with the people, and had they travelled a few thousand miles over the cross-country roads, they would soon have had "the gilding taken off the gingerbread" of Muscovite civilization. In fact, the excessive exterior polish always reminded me of a woman with her face painted, who hopes by factitious bloom on her cheeks to hide her ugliness. Moscow and St. Petersburg are certainly fine cities; the former may be regarded as the true Russian capital, the latter is merely a handsome imitation of other European great towns. Having seen them, the stranger has seen all that is civilized in the empire. In illustration of what I have said, I may remark that, excepting the chaussée from the western to the inland capital, and from the former to Warsaw, there are really no roads; those fine macadamised highways so much lauded by travellers, and deservedly so, extend but a few miles beyond the towns: farther on the route lies through immense plains of sand, endless morasses, and interminable forests in the north, and steppes in the south, across which the post-road has been cut; but this post-road scarcely deserves the name, for, generally, it is merely a cleared space cut through the woods, with boughs of trees laid down here and there where there are spots that would be otherwise impassable. There is little enough to vary the monotony of the journey; the miserable villages with their wretched inhabitants scarcely serve to enliven the scene.
The whole of the distance between Archangel and Vologda, comprising several hundred miles, with the exception of the two pretty towns Vycavajai and Velsk, is composed of those desolate features which, indeed, characterise nearly all the north of Russia. Sometimes we had to be dragged through sand so deep that our carriage-wheels sank a foot or two, and the eight ragged-looking brutes-they were scarcely worthy of the name of horses-would suddenly stand stock still, and thus confess their utter inability to fulfil their engagement of taking us to the next post-station. Whenever this happened, there was nothing for it but to descend from the carriage in order to lighten the weight, and to stand patiently until some peasants had been procured from a neighbouring village, who, by the aid of poles inserted between the spokes of the wheels, and by loud barbarous cries, aroused the energies of our gallant team to make further efforts and extricate us from this dilemma. After the usual number of Slavo Bogens (thank God) had been uttered by the wild-looking, long-bearded boors, and after being again seated comfortably, with every reason for congratulating ourselves that we were progressing, although at a snail's pace, perhaps I would be tempted to take a little nap, being convinced that I should lose nothing of the prospect, for I might be pretty sure of seeing the same endless forests of fir if I were to awake the next day. With this assurance I begin to nod, and, perhaps, by some unaccountable delusion am dreaming of the smooth highways and green hedges of merry England, when bump we come against something, the shock giving me such a rap on the head that it effectually dispels all visions and fantasies. I look out and find we are splashing gaily through a morass which hides in its bosom sly stones and stocks, and which seems as interminable as the sandy plains from which we have just escaped, and of which we shall have many repetitions before the journey is over. Of course, as every one knows, there are no inns on the cross-roads, and places whereat to rest at night are altogether unknown. Even on the great chaussées it is better to travel day and night and remain in the carriage, for he must be a bold man who would be willing to face the vermin of all kinds, even for a single night, in a wayside hotel. The better class of Russian travellers know well how they are peopled, and avoid them accordingly. As for the lower class, they are too much accustomed to such company to care in the least. A Russian lady whom I know once spoke to her peasants on the subject of cleanliness, and especially concerning the vermin. Their reply would have done honour to a Gentoo: "Ah, Sudarina, it is a sin to kill them, because God has given them to us!"
The post-station is generally kept by a government official: a samovar or tea-urn can be obtained from him, for the use of which he expects a few copecks; and this, with the addition of black bread and salt, is all that can be procured during the whole route: it is therefore absolutely necessary to provide oneself with everything that is needful, such as bread, meat, tea, &c., and in very long journeys a cooking apparatus. If the traveller does not take spoons, cups, and plates, let him be very careful to wash those he finds at the station, or he may swallow some little animal and transgress the Gentoo laws, besides which entire confidence cannot be placed in the mode of their being purified. I remember taking tea at a certain monastery. There were many ladies and gentlemen at the abbot's party; and, to make it more pleasant, his reverence proposed our adjourning to a summerhouse in the garden to eat ices. The young monks or novices were to act as servitors, and they stood behind some bushes near the place where we sat. I confess my relish for the refreshment was somewhat taken away when I saw them lick the spoons and wipe them: I could not warn my friends, but I took good care not to make use of them myself. But in regard to travelling in Russia, I am sure that those who have done so in the summer time will well remember the miserable nights passed en route, the myriads of mosquitoes, rising like a brown cloud from the marshy grounds, allowing no rest, to which the excessive heat formed no agreeable addition. In Archangel the English sailors suffered so dreadfully from the bites of these insects that they were frequently obliged to go to the hospital: they used to declare that "it was worse than in the West Indies." The winter journeys, notwithstanding the extreme cold, are infinitely more pleasant.
The people at the post-stations are generally civil, and are much obliged for a small gratuity. As for the poor yemstchicks or drivers, they are overcome with gratitude at a trifling present of a few copecks at the end of each post.
I remarked that the inhabitants of the villages belonging to the crown, through which we passed, appeared more comfortably lodged and far more at their ease than those who were the property of private landowners: perhaps their less degraded look was owing to their enjoying upon the whole more freedom than those who are ground down to the dust by the tyranny of the petty noblesse. The crown peasants pay a poll-tax to the Emperor.
Some of the villages were in a most wretched condition, the houses dirty and dilapidated, without windows, and having only a little trap-door just large enough for a man to peep through, which shuts at pleasure to exclude the cold. Indeed the log-huts of the Russian peasants are very little better than the wigwams of the Red Indians, although sometimes the exterior is more ornamented. The inhabitants live in much the same manner as they did centuries before Peter the Great's reign. The people have not made a single forward step in the march of intellect, of which the admirers of Russia so madly rave. Scores of the Russians of the upper classes, I have heard, say the same thing, notwithstanding their own vanity, which so blinds their eyes that they imagine that by imitating the exterior polish of the French-although omitting the solid enlightenment of that nation-they have really become civilized, and many, I verily believe, think that they have even surpassed them. Perhaps the Czar would have done more towards the advancement of his people, and have benefited the cause of civilization more, had he spent his money in forming roads throughout his empire, and made the means of communication easier between the various towns, instead of playing the game of chess in Turkey, and sinking such enormous sums in the marshes of the Danube.
A short time since the Grand-Duke Alexander, the heir apparent to the throne, was at a banquet, when some one was remarking on the great advantage it would be to the country when the railway was finished between St. Petersburg and Warsaw. His Imperial Highness replied that it...
