Government employés, their servility—Baseness, and its fruits—Duty of the senate—Dishonesty, bribery, and poverty—New way to pay old debts—Mistrust—Conduct of the ladies—Duties of those in office—The railway serfs—Police-masters in Russia—The military officers and the soldiers—The wretched fare of the army—Peculations of the colonel—Army regulation—A colonel in the Caucasus—Why the people are created.
The most detestably mean class in Russia are certainly the government employés. There is no baseness too base, no dishonesty too dishonest, no cringing too low, no lie too barefaced, no time-serving too vile for them. “Do you see those men in their gold-laced coats, cocked-hats, swords, and ribbons?” said a governor’s lady to me one day; “they are all coming to congratulate my husband. There is not one but would think it an honour to wipe the dust off his shoes.” I fear, although severe, she spoke the truth, and knew well how to appreciate the character of her countrymen. There are, as far as we could learn, few exceptions to this servility, and unfortunately it seems to run through the whole of the different official ranks in Russia. It begins at the beginning: the ministers cringe to the Emperor, the heads of the departments to the ministers, the employés to their chiefs, and so on down to the very lowest writer or clerk receiving pay from the government; and, what is worse, every one has his price according to his rank. When I was staying at the house of a provincial governor, the Emperor paid a visit to the place, and walked up and down in front of the station talking to his Excellency. His Majesty had no sooner left the town than the heads of the departments, the military officers, police, and employés rushed in full dress to the governor’s to offer their congratulations on the occasion. If he had been promised the inheritance of the imperial crown itself, they could scarcely have magnified the honour more, or proffered a greater amount of flattery and adulation than they did on this event.
There were two of the employés in the province of which I speak who were exceptions to this: the governor respected them accordingly; they were almost daily at his house, and he esteemed them highly; they were the two principal adjutants, and were honourable men. Neither of these gentlemen came to congratulate the governor upon the occasion to which I have referred. One of them came in the evening, as usual, to take tea. He sat almost in silence, and seemed much out of spirits: at last he arose, and, complaining of a headache, asked if we would like to take a walk round the garden. Madame declined, but I arose and accompanied him. As soon as we had reached the broad avenue, I said,—
“I fear it is more than a headache that you are suffering from; you have been annoyed by something.”
“You are right, Madame,” answered he; “I am vexed and ashamed when I think that I am obliged to be the witness of such degrading baseness in my own country-people as was shown to-day. What a dreadful thing it is that men should so lower themselves, and vilify the image in which they have been created!” He stopped suddenly, and he seemed overwhelmed with sorrow.
“They will behave more nobly,” I said, “when more enlightened.”
“Never, never!” he exclaimed, “until a dreadful revolution has swept over the land and destroyed every vestige of the government now existing and of the corruption throughout every rank.”
“Hush! you must not talk so, Dmitri Ivanowitch; suppose any one should hear you.”
“I am quite glad,” he replied, “that I have had an opportunity of telling my feelings to some one: I know I am safe in speaking to an English person. You can sympathize in our cause of grief, as yours is a free nation.”
Poor man! such noble sentiments were almost a misfortune to one condemned to serve in Russia.