When we reached Riga, we learned that two hundred and forty peasants had been waiting on the dock two days, waiting and waiting for the ship from America. Not waiting for food, for Riga was not in a famine province, but waiting that they might not miss the opportunity and the honor of unloading the American ship that had brought food to their unfortunate brothers in the interior. As soon as they could get into the hold of the ship, one hundred and forty of them began the unloading. They worked night and day, without rest, determined to unload the entire cargo themselves without help. But on the third night our consul, Mr. Bornholdt, insisted on their having a relief of twelve hours, and when the twelve hours were up they were all in their places again, and remained until the cargo was out, declining to take any pay for their labor. Twelve women worked along with them, in the same spirit, in the ship and on the dock, with needles, sewing up the rents in the bags to prevent waste in handling.
Only a part of the “Tynehead’s” cargo was in bags; hence for convenience and economy in handling and the final distribution, we purchased in St. Petersburg and Riga 43,000 additional bags to sack the rest of the cargo, which in all amounted to nearly 117,000 bushels of shelled corn, 11,033 bags of flour and meal, besides small amounts of wheat, rye, bacon, canned goods, drugs, etc., requiring 307 Russian freight cars for its transportation. Some of this was reshipped on steamboats sent up the headwaters of the Volga, reshipped again on cars nearly to the foot of the Ural Mountains, a distance of 3,000 miles from Riga. Notwithstanding our declaration while in St. Petersburg that neither the Red Cross nor the American people desired any public ceremonies in the way of acknowledgments: dinners, excursions and public demonstrations and illuminations were planned, which we felt ourselves obliged to decline on the ground we had first taken, that any effort and any money proposed to be used in this manner would be most acceptable to all Americans if turned into food for the hungry, whom we had come to help.
At our hotel the Russian and American colors were crossed over the entrance; in the shop windows were the American colors, and in other places, where it seemed that these were not easily procured, title-pages of American sheet-music were displayed—such as “America,” “Hail Columbia,” “Yankee Doodle,” “Star-Spangled Banner,” etc, and little boys in the streets carried American flags of their own make. One little fellow had made the Russian flag on one side and the American on the other side of his device. The telephone office was kept open all night, to be ready for any possible want, and the locomotive with steam up for any possible service. The Custom House floated on its main staff only the American flag during the entire time of the unloading of the “Tynehead,” from Saturday morning until Tuesday noon—three days and a-half. When all was finished at Riga, the last train on its way, all had been so well planned, so well done in every particular that we felt there was not the least necessity for any further attention on our part in looking after this charge. But to the donors at home Russia was a long way off; they had no personal knowledge of the people they were trying to help, and some critics had circulated misgivings about the gifts reaching their intended destination. Hence, that we might be prepared to give a report from personal observation for the satisfaction and the gratification of the people at home, who had contributed these stores, it was decided to see how some of the final distributions were made.
Our first objective point in the famine district was the Province of Nijni Novgorod. But we must go by Moscow, where by the courtesy of Count Bobrinskoy a telegram was received, stating that his brother would pass through the city to the famine district, and his company could be made available, if desired. Such an opportunity was not to be lost, and our course is changed to the south, first by rail to Bogorodizk, thence by droschky to Michailovskoi, to the house of Shestoparoff, manager of the beet sugar mills of the Bobrinskoys. Here the home taste and appearance of everything inside make one feel as if he were in his own New England home, although not a word of English is heard. After breakfast the next morning we go to the distributing station, which is supported by the Bobrinskoy family in one of the sugar mill buildings. Here we find the doctor, the baker, the soupmaker, several of the first ladies of the place, great cauldrons of excellent soup, tea, milk, Nestle’s food, rye and corn bread—the tea and milk are for the sick and for the children—and the doctor, who is familiar with every family, directs who shall receive and what. The bread and the soup are served on regular account, the houses and families all having been visited and the condition of each carefully recorded. As soon as one is able in part to care for himself the bread is sold at a moderate price.
A number of villages are supplied from this bakery and kitchen, and this is but one of nine carried on by this family entirely at their own expense. In the afternoon we visit different villages, some twenty houses or more. We find two Red Cross nurses from Moscow, who are at work and have their home with the peasants. In four months one has lost but four cases; the other but two; and the average number of sick in the past four months by the doctor’s report is three hundred. The peasants say they would rather do without the doctor than be without the nurses in the village.
The peasants’ home consists of one or two square rooms, built of logs, stone, or mud bricks, with floor of earth, and furniture of boards. One quarter of the room is given up to the brick oven, which is so constructed that it serves not only for a stove, oven, cupboard, and bed in cold weather, but the chickens and small animals find protection from the cold underneath during the severe cold weather. Usually a large horizontal pipe of terra cotta passes overhead and out through a thatched roof of straw, which is often two feet thick. The fuel may be wood, straw, or dry dung; fuel is scarce. A deep cellar, well covered, outside, may hold potatoes, roots, etc. The cattle and other animals find shelter in a room adjoining the family. At Bogorodizk another royal family, in addition to work similar to the above named, supplied the peasants with raw material for spinning, weaving and making of native goods and garments both for themselves and for the market, which the countess found either at home or by sending them to the larger cities. Through letters of introduction we had the good fortune to find Count Tolstoi on his estate at Yasnia Polonia.
When the count was asked his opinion of the cause of the existing conditions, he said the government might not like to have him say that the peasants should have more land and own it themselves—that now they have only enough in the best seasons to give barely food for their support, and when a year of scarcity comes, they cannot help being destitute. When asked if there had been improvement in their conditions since the emancipation, he said if that meant in the way of property, financially, no, but mentally there had been progress and development.
One of the first questions Count Tolstoi asked was, “What do you think of most? I would excuse him for such a question; but he always liked to get into sympathy with the person he was talking with and to know how to understand him. What subjects occupied my mind most when going to sleep?” etc.
At night I slept in the library surrounded by English and American books and magazines.
When asked about the demoralizing effect of giving free help to the peasants, as said by many, he thought that an excuse of those who did not want to help. The peasant was never so unhappy as when out of work and had nothing to do. Even a day’s idleness was tiresome to him, and he did not think that a people who had been worked to their full endurance for a generation were going to be demoralized by giving them soup when they were hungry.