The Land of Thor

by J. Ross Browne

Through this confused web of obstacles, the little steamer in which I had taken passage worked her way cautiously and systematically, catching a rope here and there for a sudden swing to the right or to the left, stopping and backing from time to time, and feeling with her nose for the narrow channels of the river, till she was fairly out of danger, when, with a blast of the whistle and a heavy pressure of steam, she dashed forth into the open waters of the gulf.

As we gradually receded, I turned to take a last look at the mighty Venice of the North. The gold-covered domes of the churches, rising high above the massive ranges of palaces, were glittering brilliantly in the sunlight; the variegated shipping of the Neva was growing dim in the distance; the masses of foliage that crowned the islands were of tropical luxuriance, and the whole city, with its palaces, fortifications, and churches, seemed to rest upon the surface of the waters. It was a sight not soon to be forgotten. I turned toward the dark and stern fortresses of Cronstadt, now breaking in strong outline through the golden haze of the morning, and thought of the grim old Czar who had thus battled with Nature, and planted a mighty city in the wilderness; and thus musing, sighed to think that such a man should have lacked the warmth divine which sheds the only true and enduring lustre upon human greatness.

After the usual detention at Cronstadt for the examination of passports, the steamer once more started on her way, and in a few hours nothing was in sight save the shores of the gulf dim on the horizon, and the sails of distant vessels looming up in the haze.

I now, for the first time, had leisure to look at my fellow-passengers.

A Russian steamer during the pleasure season is a floating Babel. Here, within the limits of a few dozen feet, were the representatives of almost every nation from the Arctic circle to the tropics—Finns and Swedes, Norwegians and Danes, Tartars and Russians, Poles and Germans, Frenchmen and Englishmen, South Americans, and—I was going to say North Americans, of which, however, I was the sole representative.

It was a motley assemblage—a hodge-podge of humanity, a kind of living pot-pourri of dirty faces and dirty shirts, military uniforms, slouched hats, blowses, and big boots. There was a Russian general, who always stood at the cabin door to show himself to the rest of the passengers. I don’t know for the life of me what he was angry about, but his face wore a perpetual frown of indignation, scorn, and contempt; his black brows were constitutionally knit; his eyes seemed to be always trying to overpower and knock somebody under; his lips were firmly compressed, and his mustaches stood out like a dagger on each side, with the handles wrapped in a bundle of dirty hair under his nose. So tight was his uniform around the body and neck that it forced all the blood up into his face, and wouldn’t let it get back again; and it seemed a miracle that the veins in his forehead did not burst and carry away the top of his head, brains and all. Opposite to this great man, in an attitude of profound humility, stood his liveried servant—a very gentlemanly-looking person, with an intellectual baldness covering the entire top of his cranium. This deferential individual wore a coat beautifully variegated before and behind with gold lace; a pair of plush knee-breeches, white stockings, and white kid gloves; and was continually engaged in bowing to the great man, and otherwise anticipating his wants. When the great man looked at a trunk, or a carpet sack, or any thing else in the line of baggage or traveling equipments, the liveried servant bowed very low, looked nervously about him, and then darted off and seized hold of the article in question, gave it a pull or a push, put it down again, looked nervously around him, hurried back and bowed again to his august master, who by that time was generally looking in some other direction with an air of great indifference—as much as to say that he was accustomed to that species of homage, and did not attach any particular value to it. The passengers regarded him with profound awe and admiration, and seemed to be very much afraid he would, upon some trifling provocation, draw his sword and attack them. I was determined, if ever he undertook such a demonstration of authority as that, to resent it with the true spirit of a Californian, and cast about me for some weapon of personal defense, but saw nothing likely to be available in an emergency of that kind except a small bucket of slush, with which, however, it would be practicable to “douse his glim.” This great man, with his attendant, was bound for the sea-baths of Revel, where he would doubtless soon be buffeting the waves like a porpoise—or possibly, in virtue of the commanding powers vested in him by nature and the Czar of Russia, would sit down by the sea-shore like Hardicanute the Dane, and order the waves to retire.

Then there was an old lady and her three daughters who sat on the camp-stools by the step-ladder; the same fat old lady, bedizened with finery, and the same three young ladies, with strong features and dismal dresses, which the traveler encounters all over the Continent of Europe. The old lady was in a state of chronic agony lest the young ladies should be forcibly seized and carried away by some daring youth of the male sex; and the young ladies were conscious that such was the general purpose of mankind, and that they were in imminent danger of being preyed upon in that way, and, consequently, must always hold down their heads and look at the seams in the deck upon the approach of any gallant-looking cavalier with a handsome face and a fine figure, to say nothing of the expressive tenderness of his eyes and the gracefulness of his manner, and many other fascinating features in the young gentleman’s appearance, of which they could not be otherwise than entirely unconscious, since they had not taken the slightest notice of him, and never contemplated encouraging his advances. The old lady was a very discreet and proper old lady, and the young ladies were very discreet and proper young ladies, and they were going to the baths of Revel after their last winter’s campaign in the fashionable circles of St. Petersburg; and any body could see at a glance that they were of a distinguished and fashionable family, because they had a courier and two lapdogs, and carried a coat of arms on their trunks and bandboxes, and were taken with violent headaches soon after leaving Cronstadt, and used smelling-salts.

Next was the man who belongs to no particular nation, speaks every language, and knows every body—a shabby-genteel, middle-aged man, of no ostensible occupation, but always occupied. “Sare,” said he, “I perceive you are an Englishman. I always very glad am to meet with Englishmen. I two years spent in London.” “Indeed!” said I; “you speak English very well, considering you learned it in England!” “Yes, sare—in London—I was in business there.” “Mercantile?” said I. “No, sare; I attended to mi-lor Granby’s ’orses.” “Oh! that indeed!” “Yes, sare;” and so the conversation went on in a manner both entertaining and instructive. In the course of it, I gathered that my shabby-genteel friend was going to Revel to attend a ’orse-race.

Another conspicuous group on the deck soon after attracted my attention—the hungry people. This group consisted of some six or eight persons, male and female, of a very Jewish cast of features, well-dressed and lively, evidently Germans, since they spoke in the German language. Scarcely had the steamer cast loose from the quay when they opened the pile of baskets, boxes, and packages by which they were surrounded, and, taking out sundry loaves of bread, lumps of cheese, sausages, and wine-bottles, began to eat and drink with a voracity perfectly amazing. I was certain I had seen them a thousand times before. Every feature was familiar; and even their constitutional appetite was nothing new to me. I had never seen this group, or their prototype, in any public conveyance, or in any part of the world, without a feeling of envy at the extraordinary vigor of their digestive functions. Here were pale, cadaverous-looking men, and sallow women, who never stopped eating from morning till night, in rough or calm weather, in sunshine or storm; ever hungry, ever thirsty, ever cramming and guzzling with a degree of zest that the sturdiest laborer in the field could never experience; and yet they neither burst nor dropped down dead, nor suffered from sea-sickness. Doubtless they had just breakfasted before they came aboard; but, to make sure of it, they immediately breakfasted again. As soon as they were through that, they lunched; then they dined; after dinner they drank coffee and ate cakes; after coffee and cakes they lunched again; then they ate a hearty supper, and after supper whetted their appetites on tea and cakes; and before bedtime appeased the cravings of hunger with a heavy meal of sausages, brown bread, and cheese, which they washed down with several bottles of wine. I don’t know how many times they got up to eat in the night, but suppose it could not have been more than twice or three times, since they were at it again by daylight in the morning as vigorously as ever. I am inclined to think that some people are physically so organized as to be insensible to the difference between a pound of food and ten pounds, as others are unconscious of the difference between wit and stupidity, sense and nonsense; such, for instance, as the humorous group, who sit by the companion-way, and keep themselves and every body around them in a continued roar of laughter. It is good to be merry; but I must confess it is not within the bounds of my capacity to discover a source of merriment in such pranks of wit as these people enjoy. A young fellow makes a face like an owl—every body roars laughing, the idea is so exquisitely comical. Another pulls his comrades by the hair, and every body shouts with uproarious merriment. One sly chap shoves another off his seat and takes possession of it—a feat so humorous that the whole crowd is convulsed. A bad orange, pitched across the deck, strikes an elderly gentleman on the bald pate—well, I had to laugh at that myself. By-and-by, a stout, florid young gentleman turns pale and groans; three or four officious friends, with twinkling eyes, seize him by the arms, and drag him over to the lee-scuppers, where he manifests still more decided symptoms of sea-sickness. His friends hold him, rub him, chafe him, and pat him on the back; one offers him a meerschaum pipe to smoke; another, a bunch of cigars; a third, a piece of fat meat; while a fourth tempts him with a bottle of some wine, all of which is uncommon fun to every body but the unfortunate victim. Thus the time passes away pleasantly enough, after all, taking into view the variety of incidents and scenes which constantly occupy the attention of a looker-on. I had taken a deck-passage for cheapness, and made out to get through the night by bundling myself up on a pile of baggage, and catching a few cat-naps whenever the noise created by these lively young gentlemen would permit of such a feat.

By seven o’clock in the morning we were steering into the harbor of Revel.