When Spring came on, I began to learn to ride the bicycle. After some inevitable tumbles, I soon surmounted the difficulties of this sport.
May 17th.—The day of our departure for Tashkend has come. This time we decided to steam down the Volga from Nijni-Novgorod to Astrakhan. When we arrived at Nijni-Novgorod we went straight to the boat. Numerous porters with heavy loads on their backs invaded the deck; they are able to bear extraordinary burdens. We saw a man carrying a piano, coming up a narrow plank on to our steamer, just as easily as a world-famed athlete would have performed it.
Our boat has weighed anchor. The weather is beautiful. After dinner we lay stretched on our rocking-chairs on deck, inhaling with delight the fresh evening breeze; sea-gulls followed us. An obliging sailor, a good-looking sun-tanned young fellow, brought me big lumps of black bread to feed them. We ply between two low and flat banks, only reeds round about and fishing men’s huts here and there. I must say, though it is not very patriotic of me, that the Volga is not to be compared to the romantic Rhine, which, in its turn, is not to be compared to the lovely shores of the Amour, one of the most beautiful rivers in the world. During our numerous voyages we had seen the Mississippi, the Yan-tze-Kiang, the river of Saint Lawrence and many other big rivers, and I find that the Amour surpasses them all by the beauty of its banks.
May 18th.—This morning we arrived at Kazan. Large barges come up to unload our cargo of coal. We remained here till six o’clock and Sergy went to see the Governor of the city, having to discuss different questions concerning the Mussulmans, who compose the ninth part of the population of Russia. The principal centre of their domicile is the Caucasus, Crimea, Turkestan and the Government of Kazan. At first sight it seems that the Mussulmans of Turkestan and those of Kazan differ widely in conditions and characteristics. They have different histories, and last but not least, quite different modes of life, but in reality it is not so, the dream of the splendour and glory of their Prophet unites them all. That refers not only to the Mussulmans inhabiting Russia, but just as much to the millions of believers peopling India, Turkey and other Mussulman countries. The task of administering equal justice to Moslems and Christians is a difficult one. The Mussulmans are all clever diplomatists from their youth. Talleyrand said that the tongue was given to the man to hide his thoughts, and the Mussulmans, who have understood it long before him, profit largely by this principle. I was present at an interesting interview which took place between my husband and some Buriate syndics during our travel through the Transbaikalia provinces; they were Buddhists all of them. The interview took place soon after the nomad Buriates were placed on a level with the Russian population, perhaps not quite to the satisfaction of the Buriates. When Sergy asked them if they were satisfied with the change of their social position, the syndics replied frankly that they were but tolerably pleased. With these people one could come to an understanding somehow, but it is quite different with the Mussulmans. This is a discourse that my husband held with a group of Moslem syndics who were presented to him in one of his voyages in the provinces of Turkestan, all standing with sweeping salaams from floor to forehead, their turbaned heads bent low. Sergy’s words were translated into their native tongue by an interpreter: “Do you remember the everlasting wars you had in the time when you were under the dominion of your khans, when nobody knew that, leading a peaceful and easy-going life to-day, your blood would not be shed to-morrow? Do you not feel happier now, when the labourer can gather in his harvest quietly, and the merchant sell his wares in safety?” And all the syndics, smoothing their long white beards, replied in chorus: “Hosch, Taksir!” (It is true, master) “Do you remember that not long ago spears were driven into you and that you were condemned to death without any judgment? Are you punished now without any plausible cause?” “Hosch, Taksir!” asserted the syndics bowing very low. “Did your administrators ever build schools, hospitals, nicely-paved roadways? Did they give you an impartial court of justice, and incorruptible functionaries?” At these last words a swift change swept over their faces, with a malicious smile they exchanged a look, and their countenances again remained expressionless, as if carved in wood, and the same stereotype answer was heard: “Hosch, Taksir!” And only accidentally, you could learn from the junior natives, that their elders remembered with veneration the time when they were not sure of the following day and when they were pierced through with spears. They weren’t in want of any innovation either, provided that their “Crescent” should be glorified everywhere. In such conditions, when the population does not come to meet the enterprises of the administration, all the measures concerning the Mussulmans, scattered about Russia, must be taken by the administrators. It is precisely on this subject that my husband had conferred with the Governor of Kazan, whilst I pined alone in my stuffy cabin.
As soon as Sergy returned on board, we continued our way. The smell of naphtha pursues us. The surface of the water is covered with large spots of naphtha all the colours of the rainbow. It is pretty to look at, but this substance is injurious to the fish; the best species of which have disappeared from the Volga.
The night is splendid, the sky is all studded with stars, and I have no wish to go to bed.
May 20th.—The weather has changed, and the Volga is stirred into little rippling waves by the passing of the wind.
We are at Samarkand in the afternoon. A large company of young ladies, pupils of the Institute of Orenbourg and scholars of the corps of cadets, came on board our steamer; they are bound for Turkestan to spend their summer holidays. An elderly grandmother of one of the cadets had charge of the young people. The officers and functionaries serving in Tashkend have the right to send their children to be educated in Orenbourg on the government’s account.
From Samara to Saratov the Volga is more like a lake than a river. We pass under an immense iron bridge, the building of which cost seven million roubles. I remained all the time on deck, admiring the beautiful banks along which rise forest-clothed hills.
Towards four o’clock in the afternoon we arrived at Saratov. A company of Cossacks took passage on our boat. The men came from Orenbourg and are going to serve their time in Turkestan for three years. After dinner the Cossacks sang in chorus and danced wild jigs on the deck, whilst, on the other hand, a man with a green turban, which indicated that he was a Mecca pilgrim, went through the necessary forms of prayer on the rug at his feet, with his face to the East, first standing, then kneeling, then prostrating himself.