An irritable disposition, (like mine,) should not be placed with an amiable one, (like the doctor’s.) If misery loves company, so does anger; and a petulant man should have an associate who can be ruffled.
After leaving the Votiaks, we entered the country of the Tartars, the descendants of the followers of Genghis Khan, who carried the Mongol standard into Central Europe. Russia remained long under their yoke, and the Tartars of the present day live as a distinct people in various parts of the empire. They are nearly all Mohammedans, and the conversion of one of them to Christianity is a very rare occurrence. My attention was called to their mosques in the villages we passed, the construction being quite unlike that of the Russian churches. A tall spire or minaret, somewhat like the steeple of an American church, rises in the center of a Tartar mosque and generally overlooks the whole village. No bells are used, the people being called to prayer by the voice of a crier.
These Tartars have none of the warlike spirit of their ancestors, and are among the most peaceful subjects of the Russian emperor. They are industrious and enterprising, and manage to live comfortably. Their reputation for shrewdness doubtless gave rise to the story of the difficulty of catching a Tartar.
At the stations we generally found Russian smotretals with Tartar attendants. Blacksmiths, looking for jobs, carefully examined our sleighs. One found my shafts badly chafed where they touched the runners, and offered to iron the weak points for sixty copecks. I objected to the delay for preparing the irons. “Grotovey, Grotovey; piet minute” said the man, producing the ready prepared irons from one pocket and a hammer and nails from another. By the time the horses were led out the job was completed. I should have been better satisfied if one iron had not come off within two hours, and left the shaft as bare as ever.
The Tartars speak Russian very fairly, but use the Mongol language among themselves. They dress like the Russians, or very nearly so, the most distinguishing feature being a sort of skull cap like that worn by the Chinese. Their hair is cut like a prize fighter’s, excepting a little tuft on the crown. Out of doors they wore the Russian cap over their Mohammedan one—unconsciously symbolizing their subjection to Muscovite rule.
These Tartars drove horses of the same race as those in the Baraba steppe. They carried us finely where the road permitted, and I had equal admiration for the powers of the horses and the skill of their drivers.
In the night, after passing Malmouish, the weather became warm. I laid aside my dehar only a half hour before the thermometer fell, and set me shivering. About daybreak it was warmer, and the increasing temperature ushered in a violent storm. It snowed and it blowed, and it was cold, frosty weather all day and all night. We closed the sleigh and attempted to exclude the snow, but our efforts were vain. The little crevices admitted enough to cover us in a short time, and we very soon concluded to let the wind have its own way. The road was filled, and in many places we had hard work to get through. How the yemshicks found the way was a mystery. Once at a station, when the smotretal announced “gotovey,” I was actually unable to find the sleigh, though it stood not twenty feet from the door. The yemshicks said they were guided by the telegraph posts, which followed the line of road.
We were four hours making twenty-five versts to the last station before reaching Kazan. We took a hearty supper of soup, eggs, and bread, under a suspicion that we might remain out all night. Once the mammoth sleigh came up with us in the dark, and its shafts nearly ran us through. Collisions of this kind happened occasionally on the road, but were rarely as forcible as this one. We were twice on our beam ends and nearly overturned, and on several occasions stuck in the snow. By good luck we managed to arrive at Kazan about 2 A. M. On reaching the hotel, we were confronted by what I thought a snow statue, but which proved to be the dvornik, or watchman. Our baggage was taken up stairs, while we shook the snow from our furs. The samovar shortened our visages and filled our stomachs with tea. We retired to rest upon sofas and did not rise until a late hour.
It happened to be New Year’s, and the fashionable society of Kazan was doing its congratulations. I drove through the principal part of the city and found an animated scene. Numberless and numbered droskies were darting through the streets, carrying gayly dressed officers making their ceremonious calls. Soldiers were parading with bands of music, and the lower classes were out in large numbers. The storm had ceased, the weather was warm, and everything was propitious for out-door exercise.
The soldiers were the first I had seen since entering Europe, and impressed me favorably with the Russian army. They wore grey uniforms, like those I saw in Siberia, and marched with a regular and steady stride. It was not till I had reached St. Petersburg that I saw the elite of the Emperor’s military forces. The reforms of Alexander have not left the army untouched. Great improvements have been made in the last twelve or fifteen years. More attention has been paid to the private soldiers than heretofore, their pay being increased and time of service lessened. The Imperial family preserves its military character, and the present Emperor allows no laxity of discipline in his efforts to elevate the men in the ranks.