The Mammoth Book of Travel in Dangerous Places

by John Keay

  In company with some carters I resumed my journey; and depositing my knapsack in one of their vehicles, entered into conversation as well as my scanty knowledge of German would allow me.

  As we proceeded, there suddenly rose to the south-east a tremendous blaze, the cause of which it seemed difficult to conjecture. At first I imagined it might be, as I had often seen in England, a blazing bonfire, with a group of mirthful rustics revelling round it. But the scene grew soon too terrific to allow of so simple a solution, the flame rising to a prodigious height, and the smoke rolling into a beautiful dark arch on the clear sky. Immense masses of fire, and sparks at intervals, exploded and separated like a rocket.

  We continued to gaze as we advanced, till on reaching the beautiful town of Tzarsko Selo, the source was indeed but too apparent; it was the Emperor’s favourite palace wrapped in an inextinguishable flame. I had looked forward with hope to enjoy the survey of so celebrated an edifice, and had actually taken a letter of recommendation to Prince Theodore Galitzin, one of its principal inhabitants, that I might with the more facility have my desire gratified. It was midnight; parties of men surrounded the wasting pile. All, however, was order and regularity; not a voice was heard amid the thousands of people employed. The Emperor was present, evidently impressed with extreme regret, and all appeared powerfully to partake the sentiment. His Majesty, however, continued to give frequent directions with perfect coolness.

  Tzarsko Selo was the palace in which the Emperor and his brother Constantine had been brought up, and passed their earlier years; it was hither also that the Emperor was accustomed to retire, when the cares of state permitted him, to lose among its beauties the anxieties of a throne and the toils of so great a government. It had been greatly embellished by his Majesty, and was considered one of the most beautiful retreats in Europe. Years of time, and millions of money, I thought, must be expended, to make it what it was but yesterday morning.

  Capt. Thomas Dundas Cochrane, R.N. From Narrative of a Pedestrian Journey through Russia and Siberian Tartary, from the frontiers of China to the Frozen Sea and Kamchatka, London, 1825.

  Being excessively fatigued, and finding my individual exertions perfectly useless towards checking the progress of the flames, I retired to the gardens, where I passed a couple of restless hours on a bed of moss, amid herbs and flowers, whose sweet perfumes were as yet unvanquished by the fire of smoke. Some demon seemed to hover over me, and my dreams presented the probable incidents of my journey, in all the horrors which imagination could shadow forth. I arose, and returned to the scene of devastation, now evidently increasing, and appearing to defy the numerous engines pouring upon it from all sides.

  The dome of the church fell with a tremendous crash; and such was the immense mass of fire that fell with it, and so great the force of the rebound, that in its second descent, and assisted by the wind, it set fire to two other parts of the palace, until then considered safe. At this critical moment his Imperial Majesty gave a strong proof of steady collectedness. While the fire was raging from apartment to apartment, apparently mocking the resistance of man, the Emperor gave direction that the doors should be walled up with bricks. This was instantly done, and by such an expedient alone could the amber, the most valuable chamber, have been wrested from the general destruction.

  Portrait of Mrs Cochrane. From Narrative of a Pedestrian Journey.

  Having taken breakfast with Prince Theodore, and amused myself with the infantine prattle of his children, whether in the French, English, or German languages, for they seemed anxious to show off the proficiency they had made, I proceeded towards Tosna, where I arrived at seven in the evening. Young firs and birch border the road, which is good; though the country presents but little of interest, and seems to support but a slender population, considering its proximity to the capital.

  I passed the night in the cottage of a farmer, resigning myself to the attacks and annoyance of such vermin as generally haunt impoverished dwellings, and was therefore proportionably pleased in the morning to resume my journey. My route was towards Liubane, at about the ninth milestone from which I sat down, to smoke a cigar or pipe, as fancy might dictate; I was suddenly seized from behind by two ruffians, whose visages were as much concealed as the oddness of their dress would permit. One of them, who held an iron bar in his hand, dragged me by the collar towards the forest, while the other, with a bayoneted musket, pushed me on in such a manner as to make me move with more than ordinary celerity; a boy, auxiliary to these vagabonds, was stationed on the road-side to keep a look-out.

  We had got some sixty or seventy paces into the thickest part of the forest, when I was desired to undress, and having stripped off my trowsers and jacket, then my shirt, and, finally, my shoes and stockings, they proceeded to tie me to a tree. From this ceremony, and from the manner of it, I fully concluded that they intended to try the effect of a musket upon me, by firing at me as they would at a mark. I was, however, reserved for fresh scenes; the villains, with much sang froid, seated themselves at my feet, and rifled my knapsack and pockets, even cutting out the linings of the clothes in search of bank bills or some other valuable articles. They then compelled me to take at least a pound of black bread, and a glass of rum, poured from a small flask which had been suspended from my neck. Having appropriated my trowsers, shirts, stockings, and English shooting shoes, (the last of which I regretted most of all, as they were a present from Sir D. Bailey,) as also my spectacles, watch, compass, thermometer, and small pocket-sextant, with one hundred and sixty roubles, (about seven pounds,) they at length released me from the tree, and, at the point of a stiletto, made me swear that I would not inform against them – such, at least, I conjectured to be their meaning, though of their language I understood not a word.

  Having received my promise, I was again treated to bread and rum, and once more fastened to the tree, in which condition they finally abandoned me. Not long after a boy who was passing heard my cries, and set me at liberty. I did not doubt he was sent by my late companions upon so considerate an errand, and felt so far grateful; though it might require something more than common charity to forgive their depriving me of my shirt and trowsers, and leaving me almost as naked as I came into the world.

  To pursue my route, or return to Tzarsko Selo, would indeed be alike indecent and ridiculous, but there being no remedy, I made therefore “forward” the order of the day; and having first, with the remnant of my apparel, rigged myself à l’Ecossoise, I resumed my route. I had still left me a blue jacket, a flannel waistcoat, and a spare one, which I tied round my waist in such a manner that it reached down to the knees; my empty knapsack was restored to its old place, and I trotted on with even a merry heart.

  Within a few miles I passed betwixt files of soldiers employed in making a new road, under the orders of General Woronoff, upon whom I waited to report the situation in which I was placed. The servant, perhaps naturally enough, refused to let me pass without first acquainting his excellency with my business; I, however, steadily persisted in my determination; and at length, hearing the noise and scuffle of turning me out, the general appeared, and listened to my mournful tale. The good heart of his excellency suggested the necessity of first administering me food; some clothes were then offered to me, which I declined, considering my then dress as peculiarly, as well as nationally, becoming. The general then sent an officer with two men back to the village, to make inquiries concerning the robbery. These were, however, fruitless, and I quitted, with many thanks to his excellency, in his own carriage, which was directed to take me to the first station. I soon discovered that carriage-riding was too cold, and therefore preferred walking, barefooted as I was; and on the following morning I reached Tschduvo, a low and uncultivated waste, a hundred miles from St. Petersburg. Thence to Podberezie, and thence to Novgorod. I had passed on the road many populous and neat villages, and numerous tents belonging to the military workmen, which gave additional interest to a fertile and picturesque scenery. To the left was the
river Volkhoff, on which Novgorod stands. The approach is grand, and the numerous spires and steeples of the churches and convents, with their gilded and silvered casements glittering in the sun, recalled for a moment the memory of its ancient splendour. Crossing the bridge, I entered at two o’clock, and immediately waited on the governor. He would have provided me with clothing on the instant; I was, however, hungry, and requested food. The governor smiled, but assented, I then accepted a shirt and trowsers.

  I was recommended by his excellency to stop at Novgorod a few days, under the promise that he would apprehend the robbers. I told him I felt no doubt they would be discovered; but before that time I should have reached the heart of Siberia. Good quarters were, meantime, provided me in the habitation of a Russian merchant, to whom I had a letter of recommendation from St. Petersburg. He had also the kind consideration to provide me a complete refit; and though this must have been at an expense of thirty or forty roubles, he positively refused my offer of reimbursement – an offer I was enabled to make through the delicate kindness of his excellency the Governor Gerebzoff.

  This ancient and celebrated city, which in former days was characterised by the proverb, “Who can resist the Gods and the great Novgorod?” is now only the capital of a province of its own name. In its former glory it was the metropolis of a great republic, with four hundred thousand souls within its walls. The population is now reduced to a fortieth part. Its immense trade had been gradually declining since the cruelties of Ivan Vassilich II., and was completely annihilated by the removal of the seat of government, by Peter the Great, from Moscow to the Gulf of Finland. Many handsome edifices, now in ruins, are lamentable proofs of its former grandeur and present decay. Its archiepiscopal cathedral, small, but very ancient, is filled with superstitious relics, and the ashes of several Russian Grand Dukes.

  The steeples of Novgorod present a monument of considerable pride in the estimation of its inhabitants. Their distinction is in the cross at the top standing alone, unaccompanied by the crescent; and this is an emblem, intimating that the Tartars, in all their invasions, never succeeded so far as to enter this city. A distinction which universally holds in Russia; the reconquered cities bearing the crescent, but surmounted by the cross.

  The following day, being that of Pentecost, I attended the service in the cathedral; and though I understood nothing of the language, yet was I forcibly struck with the primitive appearance of the clergy in their long beards, longer tresses, and still longer robes. They certainly carried all the appearance of devout ministers of religion.

  I had intended, from Novgorod, a visit to Mr. Glenny, at his establishment, eight miles distant, on the banks of the Veshora. Not finding him, however, I put up at a farm-house for the night, having previously drunk kuass at a convent, paid a rouble for charity, and received a blessing upon entering Muscovy – not without a hope that I should find better treatment here than in Esthonia. Next day, passing over a wild dreary waste to Zaitzova, a pleasant town, of fifteen hundred inhabitants, I put up at a civil house, if the admission of both sexes, and of all ranks and dispositions, may deserve such a term; the variety was indeed ludicrous enough, but the conduct and conversation were not of such a nature as to merit description.

  The women of Muscovy hitherto appear civil and cleanly dressed, though disfigured by the abominable custom of tying their breasts as low, flat, and tight as possible; they are not, however, quite so ludicrous as some of the creoles and slaves in the West Indies, who often suckle their children behind their backs. The men appear equally civil, obliging, and hospitable, but almost equally disguised by their swaddling coat of cloth or sheep-skin, coloured trowsers, and immense boots, sash round the body, a wide-rimmed hat, and long beard; a mode of dress which certainly gives them something of a ferocious appearance.

  On the road to Yedrova I received two roubles as charity from the master of a post-house, from whom also I had received refreshment gratis. Knowing, as I did, that assistance was at hand, I declined the money, although my then distressed state might have warranted my open acceptance of it. I continued my route; and, upon my arrival at the next station, I found the money in my cap. This is, indeed, real benevolence.

  The canals are observable to the east, and present a beautiful appearance from the neat town of Yedrova. Reached Vishney-Volotchok late at night, a large scattered but flourishing town, formerly an imperial village, but enfranchised by Catherine, with canals uniting the trades of the Caspian and Baltic seas. I had previously crossed the Valday hills, which are the only elevations between the two capitals. They are in the government of Novgorod, as is also the Valday lake, nine miles in circumference. It has an island in its centre, on which stands a handsome monastery, which, with its steeples glittering through the dark foliage of its intervening woods, forms a beautiful and interesting object. There is also a little town of the same name on its banks. The land here rises into gentle eminences, with a good deal of cultivation.

  Torjock was the next flourishing town which I reached, amid rain and thunder. This slight impediment, which broke up my travelling for the day, richly compensated the delay, by introducing me, first, to an excellent supper, gratis; and, secondly, to a beautiful and kind-hearted young widow, sister of the unfortunate Captain Golovnin, who was so inhumanly exposed in a cage at Japan. The master of the public house had civilly received me, and I was enjoying my own meditations, when Mrs. Golovnin entered my room, accosting me in German, French, Russian, and lastly in my native tongue. After the manner of her sex, she got all my secrets out of me – but one – and in return sent me some tea, proffering, at the same time, the assistance of her purse. Had she offered me her hand and heart, I certainly should have replied otherwise than I did, for I felt very affectionately and gratefully towards so kind and lovely a woman, and who although a widow, had yet scarcely passed her teens. Upon getting up in the morning, I discovered that my knapsack had been searched, and my small stock of linen had been taken out and washed; but of course not the smallest article was missing.

  I refreshed myself at the fount, (which is always at hand in a Russian cottage, with a tea-kettle or other spouted vessel hanging over it,) breakfasted, and, making my congé to the household gods in the near corner of the room, departed from Torjock. I had not proceeded far when I met a carriage, and immediately heard myself addressed in the English language – “How do you do, Captain Cochrane?” On my acknowledging the name, the carriage stopped, and the owner, who proved to be a Mr. Hippius, and had for some time been on the look-out for me, treated me very heartily to a biscuit and glass of wine. I then wished him a pleasant journey, and resumed mine, light as a lark at the unexpected pleasure of seeing English faces, and hearing my own tongue. Those who have been similarly situated, can readily conceive how happy I was to have met with a countryman in such a manner.

  My way lay over a country where the Tver is a wandering stream, and where numerous handsome seats and neat villages made their appearance. These, however, but too strongly reminded me of the effects of absenteeship in Ireland, being evidently in a rapid state of decay. I have no hesitation, however, in saying, that the condition of the peasantry here is far superior to that class in Ireland. In Russia provisions are plentiful, good, and cheap; while in Ireland they are scanty, poor, and dear, the best part being exported from the latter country, whilst the local impediments in the other render them not worth that expense. Good comfortable log-houses are here found in every village; immense droves of cattle are scattered over an unlimited pasture, and whole forests of fuel may be obtained for a trifle. With ordinary industry and economy the Russian peasant may become rich, especially those of the villages situated between the capitals, both of which might be supplied by them with butter and cheese; whereas at present not a dairy exists, the peasantry contenting themselves with the culture of as much land, and the breeding of as many cattle, as may be sufficient for their immediate wants. The women I have always found engaged in some employment; they make very good coarse wool
len cloths and linens, as well as knit stockings and spin thread. The whole work of the house is thrown upon them, while they also partake the labours of the field. I will not certainly recommend, for the adoption of any civilized countries, the treatment they receive from their lordly masters; although I have no doubt the like was the custom of England half a century ago, and may be still in the hard-working countries. Having mentioned Ireland in comparison with Russia, I may remark, that both countries may fairly vie with one another in the ancient savage virtue of hospitality.

  Reached Tver the following day, and put up at the habitation of a long-bearded merchant; where, after enjoying a good supper and sound sleep, I employed myself in perambulating the city. It is said to contain fifteen thousand inhabitants, being considerably larger, or at least more populous than Novgorod. Tver is situated at the junction of two small rivers, which empty themselves into the noble Volga; the latter hence taking an easterly course towards Nishney Novgorod, and fertilizing, in its course to the Caspian, some of the finest provinces in the Russian empire.