The old world and its ways

by William Jennings Bryan

The discussion of the duma occupied so much space that I was compelled to omit from that article all mention of Russia in general, and to St. Petersburg in particular; I shall therefore begin this article with a brief reference to the Moscovite empire. Two and a half years ago, when I saw Russia for the first time, I entered by the way of Warsaw and went to St. Petersburg from Moscow. While considerable territory was covered, the winter's snows made the whole country look barren and uninviting. This time our course lay through the Baltic provinces, and as farming was at its height, the country presented a much fairer picture. The cities and villages through which we passed were busy with life and each had its church, for the Russians are a church-going people.

St. Petersburg is a fascinating city. The Church of St. Isaacs, with its great granite monoliths on the outside, its pillars within covered with malachite and lapsus lazuli, and its immense bronze doors, is among the world's most imposing places of worship; the equestrian statue of Peter the Great is famous, and the art gallery is of rare merit. Russia's bronzes are most excellent, and her stores exhibit a large assortment of furs.

In St. Petersburg I found myself, as on my former visit, admiring the horses, they being, upon the whole, the best that I have seen since leaving America. Possibly the fact that so many stallions are driven singly and in pairs may account, in part, for the handsome and stylish animals seen upon the streets, but certain it is that the Russian horse is a splendid representative of his breed. There is a large park, called the Point, near the city, and in the evening this park and the approaches to it are thronged with carriages and droskies. As the sun does not set there at this season of the year until between nine and ten and is followed by a long twilight, the drives are gay with life until midnight. We did not reach our hotel until eleven o'clock, although we were among the first to leave the park.

Speaking of horses, reminds me that the Russian coachman has an individuality all his own. His headgear is peculiar, being a squatty beaver with a spool-shaped crown, but one soon forgets the hat in contemplation of the form. The skirt of the coachman's coat is very full and pleated, and the more stylish the equipage, the broader is the driver. Beginning at the shoulders, his padding gradually increases until about the hips he is as broad as the box upon which he sits. This padding is carried to such an extreme that the coachman sometimes has to be lifted upon the box, and it is needless to say that he is practically helpless, as well as useless, in case of an accident. It may be that this style of dress is designed for a wind break for those who are seated behind the wearer—this was one of the explanations given—or it may be that it, like some other fashions in wearing apparel, has no foundation in reason.

A VIEW OF STOCKHOLM.

I found to my disappointment that Tolstoy is not contributing materially to the political revolution that is taking place in Russia. Being revered throughout the land not only because of his philosophy, but also because of his fearless arraignment of the despotism that has afflicted Russia, he might be a powerful factor in giving direction to the popular movement, but believing that individual regeneration furnishes the only complete emancipation from all forms of evil, he takes but little interest in what he regards as the smaller and less important remedies proposed by the duma. It remains to be seen whether it is wiser to secure that which is now within reach, and then press forward for other advantages, or to reject piecemeal reforms in the hope of ultimately gaining larger ones. Probably the pioneer in thought and the practical reformer will never be able to fully agree upon this point.

The boat ride from St. Petersburg to Stockholm is one of unsurpassed beauty. It requires about thirty hours to make the trip, and of that time but two hours are spent in the open sea, the remainder of the route being between islands that fill the Baltic and the Gulf of Finland as the stars stud the sky. Just out of St. Petersburg is Russia's most important naval station, where we saw a number of warships and were informed that the crew of one of them had recently refused to comply with a sailing order, answering that it was waiting to see what the duma would do.

Until about a hundred years ago Finland was a part of the Baltic Empire, of which Sweden was the head, and of the three million inhabitants of Finland, something like twenty per cent are of Swedish descent. As might be expected, the Swedish element was not only the official element, enjoying to a large extent the titles of nobility, but it is still the wealthier and more influential portion. The Finns proper are not Laplanders, as their northern position would suggest, neither are they in race closely akin to the Slavic or Scandinavian population. As mentioned in the article on Hungary, they came from western Asia and are quite distinct in race characteristics from their present neighbors. They acquired from their Swedish conquerors a fondness for the public school, and the percentage of illiteracy is much less in Finland than in other parts of Russia, under whose dominion they unwillingly came in 1808.