Russia in 1839 -Empire of the Czar: A Journey Through Eternal Russia
Page 71
A RUSSIAN IX HIS LIBRARY.101
the Russians, whose soft and imperceptible cant'äène at first deceives us. As soon as they begin to talk carelessly, to relate a story, or to minutely describe a personal impression, the illusion ceases and the deception is discovered. But they are the cleverest people in the world for concealing their deficiencies: in intimate society this diplomatic talent is wearisome.
A Russian showed me yesterday, in his cabinet, a little portable library, which struck me as a model of good taste. I approached the collection to open a volume the appearance of which had attracted me ; it was an Arabic manuscript, bound in old parchment. " You arc greatly to be envied; you understand Arabic?" I said to the master of the house. " No," he answered; " but I always have every kind of book around me: it sets off a room, yon know."
Scarcely had this ingenuous confession escaped him than the involuntary expression of my face caused him to perceive that he had forgotten himself; whereupon, feeling very sure of my ignorance, he set about translating to me a few pretended passages of the manuscript, and did it with a volubility, a fluency, and an address, which would have deceived me, had not his previous dissimulation, and the embarrassment which he betrayed on my first perceiving it, put me on my guard. I clearly saw that he wished to obliterate the effect of his frank avowal, and to impress me with the idea, without his actually stating it, that in making such confession he had only been joking. The artifice, skilful as it was, failed in its object.
These are the childish stratagems of a people whose f 3
102
THE TARANDASSE.
restless self-love urges them to a rivalry with the civilisation of more ancient nations.
There is no kind of artifice or falsehood of which their devouring vanity is not capable, in the hope that we shall be induced to say, on returning to our several countries, " It is a great mistake to call those people the barbarians of the north." This appellation is never out of their heads; they remind strangers of it on every occasion with an ironical humility; and they do not perceive that their very susceptibility on the point furnishes their detractors with arms against them.
I have hired one of the carriages of the country to travel in to Nijni, in order to save my own : but this species of tarandasse on springs* is scarcely more substantial than my calèche. This was the remark of a person who has just been to aid me in expediting my departure. "You alarm me,:'I replied; "fori am tired of breaking down at every stage."
" For a long journey I should advise you to get another, if, at least, one could be found in Moscow at the present season : but the trip is so short that this will serve your purpose."
This short trip, including the return, and the detour that I propose making by Troïtza and Yarowslaw, is one of four hundred leagues, of which I am told 150 are detestable roads, with logs and stumps of trees buried in the mud, deep sands full of loose stones, &c. &c. By the manner in which the Russians
* The real tarandasse is the body of a ealèehe placed, without springs, on two shafts, which join together the axletrees of the front and hind wheels.
NOBLE TRAIT IN RUSSIAN CHARACTER. 103
speak of distances, it is easy to perceive they inhabit a land large as Europe, and of which Siberia is a part.
One of the most attractive traits in their character, at least in my opinion, is their dislike to objections: they will recognise neither difficulties nor obstacles.
The common people participate in this, it may be, a little gasconading humour, of the nobility. With his hatchet, which he never lays aside, a Russian peasant triumphs over accidents and predicaments that would altogether stop the villagers of our provinces ; and he answers " yes," to everything that is demanded of him.
F 4
104ROADS IN THE INTERIOR.
CHAP. XXX*.
ROADS IN THE INTERIOR. — FARMS AND COUNTRY MANSIONS. —
MONOTONY THE GREAT CHARACTERISTIC OF THE LAND. PAS
TORAL LIFE OF THE PEASANTS.BEAUTY OF THE WOMEN AND
OLD MEN. POLICY ATTRIBUTED TO THE POLES. A NIGHT AT
THE CONVENT OF TROÏTZA.PESTALOZZI ON PERSONAL CLEAN
LINESS. INTERIOR OF THE CONVENT. PILGRIMS. — SAINT
SERGIUS. — HISTORY OF THE CONVENT.ITS TOMBS AND TREA
SURES. INCONVENIENCES OF A JOURNEY IN RUSSIA. BAD
QUALITY OF THE WATER. WANT OF PROBITY A NATIONAL
CHARACTERISTIC.
If we are to believe the Russians, all their roads are good during the summer season, even those that are not the great highways. I find them all bad. A road full of inequalities, sometimes as broad as a field, sometimes extremely narrow, passes through beds of sand in which the horses plunge above their knees, lose their wind, break their traces, and refuse to draw at every twenty yards; if these are passed, you soon plunge into pools of mud which conceal large stones and enormous stumps of trees, that are very destructive to the carriages. Such are the roads of this country, except during seasons when they become absolutely impassable, when the extreme of cold renders travelling dangerous, when storms of snow bury the country, or when floods, produced
* Written at the convent of Troïtza, twenty leagues from Moscow, 17th of August.
FAEMS AND COUNTRY MANSIONS.105
by the thaw, transform, for about three months in the year, the low plains into lakes; namely for about six weeks after summer, and for as many after the winter season ; the rest of the year they continue marshes. The landscape remains the same. The villages still present the same double line of small wood houses, more or less ornamented with painted earvings, with their gable always facing the street, and flanked with a kind of enclosed court, or large shed open on one side. The country still continues the same monotonous though undulating plain, sometimes marshy, sometimes sandy; a few fields, wide pasture-ranges bounded by forests of fir, now at a distance, now close upon the road, sometimes well grown, more frequently scattered and stunted: sueh is the as-peet of all those vast regions. Here and there is to be seen a country-house, or large and mansion-like farm, to which an avenue of birch-trees forms the approach. These are the manor-houses, or residences of the proprietors of the land; and the traveller welcomes them on the road as he would an oasis in the desert.
In some provinces the cottages are built of elay ; in which case their appearance is more miserable, though still similar in general character: but from one end of the empire to the other, the greater number of the rustic dwellings are constructed of long
оо
and thick beams, earelessly hewn, but carefully eaulked with moss and resin. The Crimea, a country altogether southern, is an exception ; but, as compared to the whole empire, this country is but a point lost in immensity.
Monotony is the divinity of Russia; yet even this f 5
106 PASTOEAL LIFE OF THE PEASANTS.
monotony has a certain charm for minds capable of enjoying solitude : the silence is profound in these unvarying scenes ; and sometimes it becomes sublime on a desert plain, whose only boundaries are those of our power of vision.
The distant forest, it is true, presents no variety ; it is not beautiful: but who can fathom it ? When we remember that its only boundary is the wall of China, we feel a kind of reverence. Nature, like music, draws a part of her potent charm from repetitions. Singular mystery! — by means of uniformity she multiplies impressions. In seeking for too much novelty and variety there is clanger of finding only the insipid and the clumsy, as may be seen in the case of modern musicians devoid of genius ; but on the contrary, when the artist braves the danger of simplicity, art becomes as sublime as nature. The classic style—I use the word in its ancient acceptation
—had little variety.
Pastoral life has always a peculiar charm. Its calm and regular occupations accord with the primitive character of men, and for a long time preserve the youth of races. The herdsmen, who never leave their native districts, are unquestionably the least unhappy of the Russians. Their beauty alone, which becomes more
striking as I approach the government of Yarovslaw, speaks well of their mode of life.
I have met — which is a novelty to me in Russia
—several extremely pretty peasant-girls, with golden
hair, excessively delicate and scarcely coloured com
plexions, and eyes, which though of a light blue, are
expressive, owing to their Asiatic form and their lan
guishing glances. If these young virgins, with fea-·
BEAUTY OP THE WOMEN AND OLD MEN. 107
tures similar to those of Greek madonnas, had the tournure and the vivacity of movement observable in the Spanish women, they would be the most seductive creatures upon earth. Many of the females in this district are handsomely dressed. They wear over the petticoat a little habit or pelisse bordered with fur, wliich reaches to the knee, sits well to the shape, and imparts a grace to the whole person.
In no country have I seen so many beatitifnl bald heads and silver hairs as in this part of Russia. The heads of Jehovah, those chef-d'œuvres of the first pupil of Leonardo da Vinci, are not such entirely ideal conceptions as I imagined when I admired the frescoes of Luini at Lainate, Lugano, and Milan. These heads may be here recognised, living. Seated in the thresholds of their cabins, I have beheld old men, with fresh complexions, unwrinkled cheeks, blue and sparkling eyes, calm countenances, and silver beards glistening in the sun round mouths the peaceful and benevolent smile of which they heighten, who appear like so many protecting deities placed at the entrance of the villages. The traveller, as he passes, is saluted by these noble figures, majestically seated on the earth which saw them born. Truly antique statues, emblems of hospitality which a Pagan would have worshipped, and which Christians nnist admire with an involuntary respect: for in old age beauty is no longer physical; it is the depicted triumph of the soul after victory.
We must go among the Russian peasants to find the pure image of patriarchal society; and to thank God for the happy existence he has dispensed, notwithstanding the faults of governments, to these in-P 6
108POLICY ATTRIBUTED
offensive beings, whose birth and death are only separated by a long series of years of innocence.
May the angel or demon of industry and of modern enlightened views, pardon me!—but I cannot help finding a great eharm in ignorance, when I see its fruits in the celestial countenances of the old Russian peasants.
The modem patriarchs, labourers whose work is no longer a compulsory task, seat themselves, with dignity, towards the close of the day, in the threshold of the cottage which they themselves have, perhaps, rebuilt several times ; for under this severe climate the house of man does not last so long as his life. Were I to cany back from my Russian journey no other recollection than that of these old men, with quiet consciences legible on their faces, leaning against doors that want no bolt, I should not regret the trouble I had taken to come and gaze upon beings so different from any other peasants in the world. The majesty of the cottage will always inspire me with profound respect.
Every fixed government, however bad it may be in some respects, has its good results; and every governed people have something wherewith to console themselves for the sacrifices they make to social life.
And yet, at the bottom of this calm which I so much admire, and which I feel so contagious, what disorder! what violence ! what false security !
I had written thus much, when an individual of my acquaintance, in whose woi`ds I place confidence, having left Moscow a few hours after me, arrived at Troïtza, and, knowing that I was going to pass the
TO THE POLES.
109
night here, asked to see me while his horses were changing: he confirmed to me news that I had already heard, of eighty villages having been just burnt, in the government of Sembirsk, in consec|uence of the revolt of the peasants. The Russians attribute these troubles to the intrigues of the Poles. "What interest have the Poles in burning Russia ?" I asked the person who related to me the fact. íC None/' he replied, " unless it be that they hope to draw upon themselves the wrath of the Russian government: their only fear is that they should be left in peace."
" You call to my recollection," I observed, £C the band of ineendiaries who, at the commencement of our first revolution, accused the aristocrats of burning their own chateaux." " You will not believe me," replied the Russian, " but I know, by close observation and by experience, that every time the Poles observe the emperor inclining towards clemency, they form new plots, send among us disguised emissaries, and even feign conspiracies when they cannot excite real ones ; all of which they do solely with a view of drawing upon their country the hate of Russia, and of provoking new sentences for themselves and their countrymen : in fact, they dread nothing so much as pardon, because the gentleness of the Russian government would change the feelings of their peasants, who would soon be induced even to love the enemy"
" This appears to me heroical macliiavelism," I replied, " but I cannot believe in it. If it be true, why do you not pardon them in order to punish them ? You would be then more adroit, as you are already more powerful, than they. But you hate them: and I am much inclined to believe that to
по
POLICY ATTRIBUTED
justify your rancour, you accuse the victims, and search, in every misfortune that happens to them, some pretext for laying your yoke more heavily upon adversaries whose ancient glory is an unpardonable crime; the more so, as it must be owned that Polish glory was not very modest."
" Not a wit more so than French glory," maliciously responded my friend, whom I had known in Paris.: ff but you judge unfairly of our policy, because you neither understand the Russians nor the Poles."
" This is always the burden of your countrymen's song whenever any one ventures to tell them unpleasant truths. The Poles are easily known ; they are always talking: I can trust in boasters better than in those who say nothing but what we do not care to know."
" You must, however, have a good deal of confidence in me !"
í( In you, personally, I have: but when I recollect that you are a Russian, even though I have known you ten years, I reproach myself with my imprudence — 1 mean my candour."
" I foresee that you will give a bad account of us, on your return home."
" If I write, I perhaps may; but, as you say, I do not know the Russians, and I shall take care not to speak at random of so impenetrable a nation."
" That will be the best course for you to pursue."
" No doubt: but do not forget, that when once known to dissimulate, the most reserved men are appreciated as if already unmasked."
TO THE POLES.
Ill
(c You are too satirical and discriminating for barbarians such as we."
Whereupon my old friend re-entered his carriage, and went off at full gallop.
I have already spoken of the care I take to conceal my papers, under a sense of the possibility of some secret, if not open means of discovering my thoughts being had recourse to. I place none of these papers in my éeritoire or portfolio ; hoping that, in the event of any such perquisitions, this might satisfy the inquisitors. I have, also, so arranged that the feld-jäger does not enter my room until having asked my permission through Antonio. An Italian may compete in finesse with even a Russian. The Italian in question has been for fifteen years my valet-de-chambre. He has the politic brain of the modern Romans, and the honourable heart of the ancient. Had I ventured in this land with an ordinary servant, I should have abstained from writing my thoughts; but Antonio, countermining the espionnage of the feldjäger, assures to me some degree of safety.
If it be necessary that I should offer excuses for repetition and monotony, it is equally necessary that I should apologise for travelling at all in Russia. The frequent recurrence of the same impressions is inevitable in all conscientious books of travels, and more especially of travels in this land. Wishing to give as exact an idea as possible of the country I survey, it is necessary that I should record precise
ly, and day by day, all that I am impressed with ; this is the only means of justifying my after-reflections.
112
A NIGHT AT THE
Troïtza is, after Kiew, the most famous and best frequented place of pilgrimage in Russia. This historical monastery, situated twenty leagues from Moscow, was, I thought, of sufficient interest to allow of my losing a day, and passing a night there, in order to visit the sanetuaries revered by the Russian Christians.
To acquit myself of the task required a strong effort of reason : after such a night as the one I have passed, curiosity beeomes extinguished, physieal disgust overcomes every other feeling.
I had been assured at Moscow that I should find at Troïtza a very tolerable lodging. In fact the building where strangers are accommodated, a kind of inn belonging to the eonvent, but situated beyond the sacred precinct, is a spacious structure, and contains chambers apparently very habitable. Nevertheless, I had scarcely retired to rest, when I found all my ordinary precautions inefficient. I had kept a candle burning as usual, and by its light I passed the night in making war with an army of vermin, black and brown, of every form, and, I believe, of every speeies. The death of one of them seemed to draw on me the vengeanee of the whole race, who rushed upon the place where the blood had flowed, and drove me almost to desperation. " They only want wings to make this plaee hell," was the exclamation which escaped me in my rage. These insects are the legaey of the pilgrims who repair to Troïtza from every part of the empire; they multiply under the shelter of the shrine of St. Sergius, the founder of the famous convent. The benediction of heaven seems to attend their increase which proceeds in this