The police of Petersburgh is very good, and one may walk with great safety at any hour. Now and then a murder happens, but they are not frequent.
1805 ROBERT KER PORTER
Scottish historical painter Robert Ker Porter (1777–1842) was invited to Russia by Tsar Alexander I in 1805 to create a series of historical murals for the Admiralty, and fell in love with a Russian princess whom he married in 1812. In 1817–20 he travelled in Central Asia, and in 1826 was appointed British ambassador to Venezuela.
I am at a loss, my dear friend, where to commence a description of this splendid city. Every object excites admiration and those objects are so numerous, that I find it difficult to select what you might deem most interesting, from an assemblage of such, to me, equally prominent beauties. I, who have come direct from London, may perhaps view St Petersburgh with peculiar impressions. The plainness of our metropolis, the almost total neglect of all architectural graces in the structure of even the best houses, and the absolute deformity of many of the inferior sort; all these things strike the eye as forcibly, though in an opposite direction, as mine was with the magnificence of St Petersburgh. Such grandeur and symmetry in building, I never before beheld in any of the different capitals to which my fondness for travel has conducted me. Every house seems a palace, and every palace a city.…
I suppose no country can boast so long and uninterrupted a street as the Great and English Quay; the granite front and pavement of which are unparalleled. The canals are worthy of the same august hand; and the superb bridges which clasp them from side to side, rear their colossi pillars in all the majesty of immense magnificence.…
Turn where you will, rise immense fabrics of granite: and did you not know the history of the place, you might suppose that it had been founded on a vast plain of that rocky production; whence had been derived the stones of the buildings; and in the bosom of which had been dug the river and canals that intersect its surface. But it is from the quarries of Finland that the Russians dig these bodies of granite, and transport and place them here in lasting monuments of their own unwearied industry. That mass on which is erected the immortal statue of Peter the First, is one huge instance of their indefatigable labour; and the forest of columns in the new Metropolitan church, is not a less worthy proof of the vigour with which they pursue so meritorious a toil….
Many of the labourers employed on these buildings come some thousand versts from the interior: and when the frost sets in, they retire thither again, to await the more genial season which will allow them to recommence their toil.… All difficulties connected with their business, are overcome by human exertions alone. What in England would easily be performed by one horse, with a little mechanical aid, is here achieved by the united strength of numbers of men.… Frequently we see a hundred men, with ropes and hand-spikes, busied in accomplishing no more than one quarter of that number, with a few of our assisting inventions, would easily finish in half the time. Setting aside utility, these groups add to the picturesque of the scene; which is considerably lightened by their long beards, rugged sheepskins and uncouth attitudes. How strange it is to look on these apparently savage beings, and think that from their hands arise such elegant and classical structures! Indeed I never saw, in all its parts, so regularly built a city; nor in any place, so much attention to keep all in due order. The present emperor who, like its illustrious founder, has the perfecting of this residence at heart, leaves no suggestion unexecuted, which can increase its ornament, or the people’s convenience.…
I am sorry to say that the spirit of extortion is very common at St Petersburgh. And as shopkeepers, and others of the lower orders, make a practice of demanding double the worth of their commodities, travellers, who know not that they will be content with half the sum, are liable either to be defrauded, and leave the place under the impression of its exorbitant expense; or, when they discover the cheat, conceive no very favourable opinion of Russian honesty. But alas! I fear the passion for a hasty accumulation of riches is not peculiar to our northern neighbours. In an ignorant people, just emerging to civilization, we see covetousness without a veil. Eager to share in the good things which are opened to them on every side, they consider not, because they do not yet understand, the superior advantages of character. But are the people who have long enjoyed the privileges of education and polished society, are they exempt from this degrading vice? I am afraid not.
1836 R. B. PAUL
A British clergyman and fellow of an Oxford college, R. B. Paul (1798–1877) wrote an account of an eight-week journey to Russia in 1836, when he was particularly struck by St Petersburg’s ‘white nights’, and the Russian capacity for strong drink.
29 June Perhaps there is nothing that strikes a foreigner more, on his arrival at St Petersburg, than the silence of the streets, while the sun is yet high above the horizon. At first he is inclined to think that the inhabitants have all gone into the country, until looking at his watch he is reminded that it is actually the hour at which his own land shops are usually shut and the citizens retire to rest. I slept badly, or rather I believe not at all, the first night after my arrival, and amused myself with reading at the window a very closely printed book, which I found I could do without the least difficulty. There is in fact at this season of the year no night.
2 July Today is a fete. And ‘universal Russia getteth drunk’. It is really no exaggeration to say that out of every ten serfs we have seen today, nine have been drunk. The Russian peasant is no soaker like the Swede or Norwegian: for days together he will abstain from spirits, but it appears to me that on certain solemn occasions every man proceeds in a systematic and businesslike manner to deprive himself of his senses.
We have no bad opportunity of observing this as immediately under our windows is a shop where the fiery liquor they distil from corn is sold. Our London abominations, the gin-shops, are more magnificent and are probably more frequented on ordinary days, but I doubt much whether any district of London can make such a display of beastly intoxication as we saw at least once a week in the Molnoy Moskoi Street at St Petersburg.
1839 MARQUIS DE CUSTINE
The Marquis de Custine (see page 201) travelled in Russia to observe the interaction between a modern state and traditional religion. However, he was equally concerned by officious bureaucrats.
For three or four days in the year the sun of Petersburg is insupportable. I arrived on one of these days. Our persecutors commenced by impounding us (not the Russians, but myself and the other foreigners) on the deck of our vessel. We were there, for a long time, exposed without any shelter to the powerful heat of the morning sun.…
At length I was summoned to appear before a new tribunal, assembled, like that of Kronstadt, in the cabin of our vessel. The same questions were addressed to me with the same politeness, and my answers were recorded with the same formalities.
‘What is your object in Russia?’
‘To see the country.’
‘That is not here a motive for travelling.’ (What humility in this objection!)
‘I have no other.’
‘Whom do you expect to see in Petersburg?’
‘Everyone with whom I may have an opportunity of making acquaintance.’
‘How long do you think of remaining in Russia?’
‘I do not know.’
‘But about how long?’
‘A few months.’
‘Have you a public diplomatic mission?’
‘No.’
‘A secret one?’
‘No.’
‘Any scientific object?
‘No.’
‘Are you employed by your government to examine the social and political state of this country?’
‘No.’
‘By any commercial association?’
‘No.’
‘You travel, then, from mere curiosity?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was it that induced you, under this motive, to select Russia?’
‘
I do not know,’ &c., &c., &c.
‘Have you letters of introduction to any people of this country?’
I had been forewarned of the inconvenience of replying too frankly to this question; I therefore spoke only of my banker.
At the termination of the session of this court of assize, I encountered several of my accomplices. These strangers had been sadly perplexed, owing to some irregularities that had been discovered in their passports.… The police permitted me to pass without searching my person; but when my baggage came to be unpacked before the custom-house officers, these new enemies instituted a most minute examination of my effects, more especially my books. The latter were seized en masse, and without any attention to my protestations, but an extraordinary politeness of manner was all the while maintained. A pair of pistols and an old portable clock were also taken from me, without my being able to ascertain the reason of the confiscation. All that I could get was the promise that they would be returned.…
Between nine and ten o’clock I found myself, personally, released from the fangs of the custom house, and entered Petersburg under the kind care of a German traveller, whom I met by chance on the quay. If a spy, he was at least a useful one, speaking both French and Russian, and undertaking to procure me a drowska [open carriage].… The obliging stranger found even a guide for me who could speak German.…
The too celebrated statue of Peter the Great, placed on its rock by the Empress Catherine, first attracted my attention. The equestrian figure is neither antique nor modern; it is a Roman of the time of Louis XV. To aid in supporting the horse, an enormous serpent has been placed at his feet; which is an ill-conceived idea, serving only to betray the impotence of the artist.
I stopped for one moment before the scaffolding of an edifice which, though not yet completed, is already famous in Europe, the church, namely, of St Isaac. I also saw the facade of the new Winter Palace; another mighty result of human will applying human physical powers in a struggle with the laws of nature. The end has been attained, for in one year this palace has risen from its ashes; and it is the largest, I believe, which exists, equalling the Louvre and the Tuileries together.
In order to complete the structure at the time appointed by the emperor, unheard-of efforts were necessary. The interior works were continued during the great frosts; 10,000 workmen were continually employed: of these a considerable number died daily, but the victims were instantly replaced by other champions brought forward to perish, in their turn, in this inglorious breach. And the sole end of all these sacrifices was to gratify the caprice of one man!
1902 CONSUELO VANDERBILT BALSAN
Consuelo Vanderbilt (1877–1964) was a wealthy American socialite married to the British 9th Duke of Marlborough, with whom she visited Russia in 1902. They divorced in 1921, after which she married the French aviator Jacques Balsan.
There were evenings when we drove in open sleighs to the islands on the frozen Neva and supped and danced to tzigane music. Russian days were short but their nights were endless and we rarely went to bed before the early hours of morning. At the opera the ballets were Tchaikovsky’s; Diaghileff had not yet revolutionized the classic dance. The danseuse-en-tête had been the Czar’s mistress, according to tradition, and others had been assigned to the Grand Dukes as part of their amorous education. As the intrigues and scandals of society became more familiar to us, we felt as if we had plunged into an eighteenth-century atmosphere, so different was it from the rigid Victorian morality of England.
We were privileged to attend three glorious court functions. For the first, a great ball of three thousand guests which was given at the Winter Palace, Milly Sutherland and I donned our finest dresses. Mine of white satin was draped in lines of classic simplicity and had a tulle train held by a belt of real diamonds. A tiara of the same stones lightened the dark waves of my hair and cascades of pearls fell from my neck. I looked very young and slight in that shimmering whiteness and my maid delightedly exclaimed, ‘Comme Madame la Duchesse est belle.’…
At the Winter Palace the stairs were adorned by a magnificent display of gold plate fixed to the walls. There were hundreds of footmen in scarlet liveries and Cossack guards in flowing robes, who gave an impression of barbaric splendour. In the great ballroom innumerable chandeliers threw a glittering radiance on the handsome men and graceful women assembled there.…
With the entrance of the Imperial family to the inspiring air of the Russian anthem – the procession of Grand Dukes in splendid uniforms, the Grand Duchesses, lovely and bejewelled, the beautiful, remote Czarina and the Czar – the ball took on the aspect of a fairy tale. With the first strains of a mazurka, the Grand Duke Michael, the Czar’s younger brother and heir since the Czarevitch had not yet been born, invited me to dance. It was a very different affair from the mazurkas I had learned at Mr Dodsworth’s class. ‘Never mind,’ he said, when I demurred, ‘I’ll do the steps,’ and he proceeded to cavort around me until I was reminded of the courtship of birds. But he was young and gay and, carried away by the increasing tempo, I found myself treading the Russian measure with the best. He was killed by the Bolsheviks in 1918.
1932 CORLISS LAMONT
The young Soviet Union was an object of fascination for many Westerners in the 1920s and early 1930s, who felt either horror at its destructiveness, or fascination at its attempt to forge a new, more just society. One of the latter was American social activist Corliss Lamont (1902–1995) who spent a year there in 1932 and praised everything he saw.
One of our first impressions of Leningrad is that a considerable amount of begging is going on. We pass a ragged woman sitting on a house-step with a tiny baby in her arms and holding out her hand for alms. Our interpreter says that most of these beggars are people who are too lazy to work, since every Russian can get a job if he wants to: or they are peasants of the kulak class who have drifted into the city and find themselves temporarily stranded. A few may actually be men or women workers trying to supplement their wages through begging. In any case it must be remembered that there existed in pre-war Russia a million professional beggars as a normal part of the scheme of things.
It is clear that the beggar problem, like a number of other difficulties bequeathed by the Tsarist regime, cannot be completely eliminated all at once. Another of our first impressions is the crumbling appearance of the buildings in Leningrad. It is evident that little has been done since the Revolution in the way of repairing the exteriors, at least, of the houses and apartments.
The streets of Leningrad are remarkably clean. Everywhere men and women with hoses are washing away dust and dirt. This is quite in accord with the Soviet insistence on sanitation. But the flies are very bad, even in our hotel, and apparently no serious attempts are being made to deal with them. A Soviet doctor tells us they are not so great a menace as they seem, because there is very little disease for them to carry about. The flies will be attended to in time, however. In time: whenever you bring such a problem to the attention of a Russian, the answer invariably is that the Soviet is well aware of the situation, that it is doing its best to cope with it, but that time and energy have not yet been available to fully rectify the situation.
SAMARKAND
The ancient Silk Road city of Samarkand, capital of the Transoxiana region, was visited by Alexander the Great, who is said to have commented: ‘Everything I have heard about Samarkand is true, except that it is even more beautiful than I had imagined.’ It was rebuilt by the Mongol warlord Timur from 1370 as his capital, making it one of the great cultural centres of the world. He was buried in the Gur-i Amir mausoleum.
Ancient Samarkand retains a place in the Western imagination thanks in part to the 1913 poem ‘The Golden Road to Samarkand’ by James Elroy Flecker (1884–1915).
It became part of the Russian Empire in 1868, and of an independent Uzbekistan in 1991.
c.1404 RUY GONZÁLEZ DE CLAVIJO
The Spanish nobleman Ruy González de Clavijo (d. 1412) spent several months in Samark
and (1404) as the ambassador of Henry III of Castile. He was seeking an alliance following Timur’s recent victory over the Ottoman Turkish sultan Bayezid I at Ankara, but Timur’s illness and impending death made the alliance impossible.
Now I must describe Samarkand and all that Timur has done to embellish his capital. Samarkand stands in a plain and is surrounded by a wall of earth, with a deep ditch. The city itself is larger than Seville, but beyond are extensive suburbs. The township is surrounded by orchards and vineyards, extending a league and a half or even more beyond Samarkand. Between these orchards pass streets with open squares which are densely populated, and where all kinds of goods are on sale. The population outside the city is more numerous than the population within the walls. Among these orchards are found the most noble and beautiful houses, and Timur has his many palaces and pleasure grounds. Here the great men of the government also have estates and country houses, each within its orchard: and a traveller approaching the city sees only a mountainous height of trees and the houses among them remain invisible. Through the streets of Samarkand, as through its gardens, pass many water-conduits, and in these gardens are the melon beds and fields of cotton.
Great Cities Through Travelers' Eyes Page 30