much more universal than amongst ourselves, and pretty little wooden houses, buried in small luxuriant gardens, usually abounding more in trees and bushes than in flowers, spring up in certain favored localities around the various towns, and though deserted in winter, are thronged in summer. or on the march. They are anything but tidy or neat in dress or person, and slouch about in a manner which is eminently Russian, perhaps, but which would excite the contempt of Tommy Atkins. But, nevertheless, they are not only men of fine physique, but much older and harderlooking than our own, and work uncomplainingly all day. An ordinary Russian regiment would look shabby beside one of our own, and its drill would be slacker; but in their powers of endurance, hard work, marching, and general contentment Ii.e., absence of all grumbling — we have much to learn from them. Their bravery is well known, even if it were not borne witness to by so many of our own officers who were through the Crimea. And their numbers almost a million on a peace footing, and nearly two millions and a quarter on a war footing! I saw some splendid looking regiments in the Circassian army, soldiers of whom any nation might have been proud, and I may say the same of some regiments of Cossacks of the Don. It is pleasant to see two peasants, though unaccompanied by their womenkind, courteously raise their caps to each other as they pass. The Russian peasant -the much-abused mujik—as a class always impressed me favorably; yet never lived in any family in which I did not hear expressed somewhat contemptuous reflections upon this class by their social superiors. These latter are frequently sensitive of a stranger's opinion of themselves and their country and customs, and are always ready to attribute any shortcomings they fancy one may find to the peasant class, of whom they speak in an apologetic way, as if deprecating your supposed harsher judgment. Yet I found the peasants everywhere pleasant and generally communicative, and I think about the most hopeful of any class in the country. They form the backbone of the empire, and without them neither czar, government, or people could do much, and when at length the government's efforts to improve their condition and to enlighten them have had more time to take effect, I believe that they will make a better and more effective use of the increased power which knowledge brings than has yet been made by the great middle and educated class, the student class, above them. These latter are the true malcontents of Russia, and are always rushing to extremes in their zeal to improve the universe, or do-district in which the school is. There are ing nothing but grumble bitterly. Moderate combination is unknown to them, and so they are always in trouble or in fear of trouble. If the present government is to be carried on at all, they almost must be treated as they are, as long as they keep up secret printing-presses, and issue writ ings abusive of government or planning its overthrow. I am not at all concerned to defend or approve the present government, but I do think it has no choice in its treat. ment of these men, who would do well to reflect sometimes that "il faut se soumettre ou se démettre." Nothing surprised me more than the physique and bearing of the Russian soldiers. They are devoted to their officers, and work cheerily and well, and may be heard singing and very well, too wherever they are in any numbers at work Another point which impressed me favorably was the gigantic system of education which has been introduced throughout the country. The school rates are exceedingly low, in some cases less than fifty roubles (about five guineas) in a year, and are open to all classes, and nearly all Russian children are compelled to attend unless especially exempted or unable to pay any fees. It is a curiously democratic system for a nation that is supposed to be the most autocratic in the world. All these schools are much alike; the majority of those attending them are children of the inhabitants of the town or also village schools under government supervision, at which the attendance of all peasant children for three winters (but not in the summer, as then the parents require their help in the fields) is obligatory. There is nothing in the country corresponding to what we understand by our public schools. Besides these schools there are no fewer than ten universities scattered throughout the Russian Empire. I said just now that whenever the Russians acquired a new town there shortly appeared a fort or a barrack and a church; I might have added that very commonly one of these great schools was also established with surprising and creditable rapidity. In regard to education I do not think that any one can deny that the Russian government has pursued an enlightened respects, at any | touch on the periodical literature. Russians them- towns have their local newspapers and far-seeing policy, as rate, their own subjects. selves often told me that the system of teaching adopted in these schools left much to be desired in many respects. But where is not this the case, more or less? The great point is that schools have been established throughout the whole country, and that attendance is practically obliga. tory. Even in small towns on the shore of the Sea of Azov and along the banks of rivers and in the Caucasus-i.e., in the most distant parts of European Russia such schools are found. It will surprise many people to hear that there is a university in Siberia - at Tomsk. We may, I think, confidently expect that as time shows more and more the benefit of the great wave of education which has passed over the country the system of education will improve. As indicative, however, of the not altogether unmixed good of these democratic schools, I may relate the following: In one family where I lived that of a colonel of artillery - the lady one day apologized for some boyish piece of illbehavior at table on the part of her son, a lad of fourteen or fifteen, in these terms: "Please excuse him; but what can you expect, Mr. -? He is all day at his school, and may be sitting next some uneducated peasant's children most of the time, so small wonder if he acquires some of their habits and manners." I have already mentioned the general hospitality of the Russians; everywhere it seems the same, and they are (in spite of an inquisitiveness which at times seems puerile) always anxious to get you to eat and drink with them, and give you all the information they can. In fact, they are often quite as communicative as they are inquisitive, although they may be total strangers. I had ample proof of this throughout my travels. Again, though generally a poor people, they are usually charitable, and free with their money when they have any. Another small point which is very quickly and literally shaken into one is the wretched system of paving the streets of towns which prevails almost everywhere. They are commonly paved with small boulders about the size of a child's head, and the consequent jolting given by the springless and comfortless national conveyance, the drosky, rattling over such roads, is no less dreadful than the resultant din. Of the majority of country roads, the less said, the better. It is not possible to do more than just Most not so well got up as our own, and a good deal dearer. But the strict censorship exercised stifles any development or improvement in this direction, and tends to degrade the press. Cheap editions of the many excellent Russian authors are now beginning to come into general existence. That admirable and great "Russian apostle of truth," Count Leo Tolstoï, has done more than any man living to effect this great reform, both by example and precept. He is indeed the Russian "grand old man." There are a few fair weekly illustrated papers, but it is not yet possible to buy single numbers of any of the better-class ones, which is a great drawback and much curtails their circulation, for few people care to become yearly subscribers to a paper which may at any moment be suppressed by the censor. I was much impressed by the fact that the English papers I received often gave me details of occurrences which had taken place in Russia, but of which nothing was generally known in the country itself; such, for instance, as the banishment or dismissal of some officers of the army and of certain professors or students from universities, or the persecution of the Jews, or incidents connected with the marriage of a certain duke against the czar's orders, etc. I always found my Russian friends very keen to know the contents of my English papers, and on several occasions they wrote to inquire from persons at the places named if so and so was really true, and on each such occasion it was verified by the private replies received. This is not a little remarkable. Since my return to England I have regretted to find several Englishmen who have been in Russia and are friendly disposed towards that country inclined to show their friendship by abuse of our own, for the most part, admirably and impartially conducted newspapers, for publishing "all sorts of nonsense about Russia." This line is sure to be popular with many Russians, who are often childishly susceptible of the criticisms of a foreign press, and resent them with no less childish petulance in some of their own journals. I have always found though with warm feelings of sympathy for the Russians—that any such cases which they took the trouble to trace out were found to be based on facts, as indicated above. It is pleasant to note how frequent lectures about Russia are now becoming in England. Nothing but good can result from an increased knowledge of and in- | One may live a long time in Russia and hear little of Siberia. The Russians seemed to think it was a necessity of their political existence, and say that its horrors are for the most part a thing of the past. I never heard any very marked aversion expressed to the system of Siberian exile, and any attempt to elicit expression of their thoughts about it always seemed to lead them back to the two great grievances of the educated middleclass Russian, viz.: (1) the censorship of the press, and rigid prohibition of free public discussion of political or even social questions; and (2) the impossibility of having any popular or representative form of government. There is a deep, widespread conviction that these must come in time. It is, indeed, the teaching of the world's history. Happy for Russia if they come peacefully, as the princely gift of some future benignant Peter the Great, and not as the result of a gigantic upheaval of the whole social fabric and government of the country, causing a world-wide, devastating, blood - curdling revolution. A growing impression prevails that Siberia is a rich country, full of promise of future wealth to the empire, which the railway now being constructed will speedily develop. My sketch would not be complete without some reference to the very necessary pillar of Russian autocracy, the police, without which, indeed, it could not last a week in its present form. The ordinary police form a fine body of men, and of late years are for the most part fairly educated. Personally I have always found them as deserving of the name "the friendly policeman "when addressed or appealed to as in our own country, and have often had pleasant talks with some of them excellent conversational practice. There are, in addition to the ordinary police, whose officers are usually mili tary men, two other branches the gendarmerie or detectives, and the secret or political police. Both these latter are very unpopular ana held in great awe. Their duties may be expressed in one word, "espionage," and very well they do it, sometimes too well, indeed, as I learned to my cost. Their numbers are legion, and they are everywhere. No party of Russians, no society, feels secure from their mysterious presence. It was my misfortune to see a good deal more of these two latter services, which are, though quite distinct, closely united and dependent the one on the other, than I at all wished. Indeed, had it not been so, I doubt if I should have heard much of them. I am quite sure that their suspicions never fell on a more perfectly innocent subject than myself, yet I only just escaped being unceremoniously bundled out of the empire with a very few hours' notice thanks to the energetic and prompt intervention of the English consul and his vice-consul, with both of whom I was fortunately acquainted and able to communicate before being expelled. That intervention obtained for me as a great concession permission to stay five or six days longer in the town I was in at the time, when I had to quit, but might go on to another part of Russia, and not, as first ordered, be conducted to the German frontier. This was the most that could be allowed. The English consul wished to report the case to our government, but kindly consented not to do so at my earnest request, as I feared I should be recalled to London to give explanations, etc., and so lose the opportunity of seeing the country as I wished to do, and be put to considerable extra expense. It is, however, too long a story to be told in detail here, so I will simply say that the Russian authorities appear to have got it into their heads how or why I know not that I was a German spy. Many of my letters were stopped, and I was interviewed, followed everywhere by from one to three detectives, and the people with whom I had then lived (three families) visited and questioned about my movements, habits, objects, character, etc., for a period of nearly two months, culminating in an order, received at eleven o'clock at night, to leave that place for the German frontier by the first train the next day, as just related. Í devoted the last three months of my stay in the country to travelling about, principally in the south of Russia, in the Crimea, and in the Caucasus. The river travelling is exceedingly pleasant, and provided that one is a good sailor, no doubt the sea travelling also, for some of the Black Sea steamers are very comfortable, and the Caspian steamers very fair. Those on the Sea of Azov are small, and it is a somewhat dreary and uninteresting coast all round. Of the Crimea, with its historic battle-fields, I will say little, as they have so often been described, but this was, perhaps, the most interesting part of my travels. The Alma is an awkward place to get at, for the battle-field is some eighteen miles from the railwaystation of the name, and no conveyance can be got nearer than Simferopol, which is therefore the best point to start from. Considering how flat the greater part of this country is, one is the more struck by the very broken, rugged nature of the ground, especially around where the battle of Inkerman was fought. The easiest and pleasantest way to visit this locality is to row up to the end of the "Great Bay," a beautiful trip; and from there to walk over the different points of interest. To the sequestered little village of Balaclava -only eight or nine miles from Sevastopol - nestling to one side of the pretty, small, peaceful, land-locked bay, with its steep cliffs, and also to the cemeteries (except the Russian and Jewish cemeteries, which lie on the north side of the Great Bay, which should be crossed by boat, and then walking), and to the Malakhov and the Redan, it is best to drive, and then to examine them on foot with a guide. Sevastopol, in spite of its surrounding dry, burnt-uplooking hills, is a pretty place, with its admirable harbor, comfortable hotels, a fair though small public garden, some good buildings, and an interesting military museum. But the most beautiful place in the Crimea is the little seaside town of Yalta, now a fashionable health-resort. Its appearance from the sea as you enter the picturesque little semicircular harbor is exceedingly pleasing. Behind the town rises a striking-looking steep hill, here and there luxuriantly wooded, with lesser elevations on each side running down to the sea. There are several excellent hotels and a pretty public garden. Behind the main street, and extending far up the hillsides, nearly every house seems to have some kind of a garden, or trees, or vineyard about it, and the general effect is indescribably pretty as viewed from the harbor. There are some beautiful walks and drives in the neighborhood, and very fair conveyances or carriages. It is an ideal place for a honeymoon. Leaving the Crimea I spent ten days at different places along the coast of the Sea of Azov. Taganrog is the principal town, and both this and Berdiansk have fine large public gardens. The most noticeable thing about Taganrog is that, in July at all events, the ladies wear no hats. In Russia people generally dine between three and five, and usually go out after this meal, and it was then quite the exception to meet any lady with a hat on, though a few threw light shawls over their heads. The general effect was very pleasing. I must hasten on to that country of wild hill beauty, the Caucasus, where I spent about six weeks on one side or the other, or in the midst of the great mountain range of that name, between Vladikavkaz, Tiflis, and Baku. If we ever have the misfortune to have to fight Russia, it is on the Caucasus that we could most effectively make impression; and alike in pleasantness of climate, in fertility of soil, and abundance of mineral and natural wealth, in vulnerability to attack, in its distance from the heart of the empire, and, lastly, in the absence of any feeling among the many different tribes inhabiting the mountain range of love or loyalty to Russia, in all these there seem reasons for regarding the Caucasus as a future and much more decisively successful "Crimea." If by any effort we could wrest that rich province from Russia, we should then indeed "command the highroad to India;" the Russian Asiatic army, numbering more than one hundred and thirty thousand men, that which threatens India, would be cut off in rear, with the Caspian Sea between us and them; while Persia would have nothing more to fear from her northern neighbor. If we, assisted by the Turks or other ally, could concentrate our attention on the northern part of the Caucasus, from Ekaterinodar to Vladikavkaz (the former being connected by rail with the small Black Sea port of Novorossiski, fifty miles distant, as well as with Vladikavkaz), to guard the entrance to the great highroad across the mountain range to Tiflis, while the Turks, assisted by us, attacked the Tiflis or southern side, and our fleet cut off all supplies from the Black Sea, I believe we should effectually settle the Eastern question to our satisfaction and the world's gain, and acquire a most beautiful and rich country. This would be an object worth fighting for. The grand road across the great chain of the Caucasus from Vladikavkaz to Tiflis is nearly one hundred and forty the Caspian Sea, Baku is the windiest, miles long, and rises to a height of about sandiest, most unpleasantly odoriferous eight thousand feet above the sea-level. town that I have ever visited. The name, From time immemorial this has been the I believe, means "a blow of the wind," great highway of communication between and is most apt. The surrounding counEurope and Asia, and the present road is try consists for the most part of bare sanda striking instance of engineering triumph hillocks or plains, and nothing but a keen over great natural difficulties, and abounds desire to see how the naphtha is worked at every turn with magnificent scenery and could induce one to linger long in it. relics of past history. Here and there along the road are some excellent mineral springs. A very small but powerful fort at one part of it commands the pass on both sides; indeed, I think the pass or road in the hands of the Russians would be impregnable at any point, or very easily made so, from any foe, until the hearty co-operation of the mountaineers had been secured, but it could be closed at both ends and its defenders starved out with little difficulty as long as we commanded both Tiflis and Vladikavkaz. The road passes within a few miles of that splendid and majestic mountain (over sixteen thousand five hundred feet high), Kazbek, which is said to be about the height of Mont Blanc. I attempted its ascent twice, but the local inhabitants say that no one has ever quite succeeded in reaching the summit. Just below the great mountain and about fifteen hundred feet above the halting station (where there is a fair inn, as all along this road at intervals of from nine to sixteen miles), on the summit of a curious hill, stands a church of unknown antiquity, but said to be the oldest Christian church known still standing. It is, though small, very striking both from its unique position and its curiously massive architecture. The local inhabitants are mostly Gruzins, one of the largest tribes inhabiting the Caucasus, whose Christianity is a curious mixture of Mahomedanism and Christianity. To them this church belongs. But the Caucasus abounds in interest and traces of the remotest antiquity, far beyond the scope of a single magazine article to deal with, and I therefore hasten on to Tiflis. This city of gardens, with its unattractive and dirty river and its teeming mixture of races, is more picturesque than pleasant, at any rate in August, when the heat is very considerable; grapes abound everywhere, and may be bought at about three half-pence a pound in August, and the poorest peasants may be seen everywhere eating this excellent fruit. The country between Tiflis and Baku grows less and less attractive as you near the latter town and the hills recede from the view. Situated on the shore of From Baku to Astrakhan is about two days by steamer, stopping en route at Derband and Petrovsk, both pretty places; but the Caspian Sea lacks good harbors, and its commerce is comparatively insignificant. The trip up the Volga from Astrakhan to Nijni Novgorod is interesting; the steamers plying up and down are innumerable, and many of them are simply luxurious in point of accommodation and food. The scenery is nothing to speak of, but the towns are interesting, and some of them, as Nijni Novgorod, are very pretty as viewed from the steamer. They do not, however, as a rule, improve in this respect on closer inspection. But, indeed, in every town or village throughout the country the church or churches add much to their picturesque appearance. They are often made more conspicuous by the prevalence of gilt, sometimes entirely covering the large central dome and spire of the building, and they generally occupy the most prominent situations in the town; others, again, have bright blue or green colored domes, perhaps dotted with gilt points or stars, and often beautiful pictures of saints or Bible scenes are painted outside at the entrance to the building. The churches, too, have very fine peals of bells of a size rarely seen in other countries, and of exceedingly sweet tone. To a West European eye, however, all this bright coloring, and the general construction of the building, with its dome and surrounding minarets, seem more Oriental than Occidental. The great fair was going on when I was at Nijni Novgorod, and like every one else who has visited it of late years, I was disappointed with it. From this point my travels lay through the larger central cities of the empire, which are too well known to require mention. Very great has been the interest to me of seeing this country and its various types of inhabitants, and I cannot be too thankful that I utilized the last three months of my sojourn in the country to travel about as much as possible. The Caucasus alone richly repays the trouble and expense of a visit. I have seen many parts of the globe - from the East to the |
