Travels in the Steppes of the Caspian Sea, the Crimea, the Caucasus, &c. Xavier Hommaire de Hell
of piece-goods can ever attain a great development, and it would have been infinitely better to have left the supply of these articles to importation; the imperial treasury would thereby have been a gainer, and more active relations with the foreigner would have afforded valuable guarantees for the prosperity of the country. But Russia suffered herself to be seduced by the most brilliant branch of industry of our times; she, too, wished to have her cachemires and her silks; and not considering that agriculture is for her the most lucrative, the most positive of all branches of industry, she recoiled from no prohibitive measure in order to favour some indigenous manufactures. I say again, Russia is before all things a country for the production of raw materials. Agriculture, including therein the breeding of cattle, evidently forms the basis of the national prosperity, and it is only by facilitating its extension and its outlets that Russia can hope to secure the future welfare of its people.
If at this day the establishment of new villages in Southern Russia is becoming so difficult, it is not for want of land, but because the peasants have no means of ready transport for their produce, and because also the want of importation, naturally exercising a great influence upon the price of corn, signally restricts the demand from abroad. Is it not indeed deplorable to see the most fertile and productive governments of New Russia sunk in extreme penury by the want of roads, and by the culpable neglect of the administration which deprives them of the navigation of the rivers! Will the government at last open its eyes to the mischiefs of the course it is pursuing? We can scarcely hope so. All the commercial reports of the empire dress up things in so fair a light, and the public functionaries agree so well together in falsifying public opinion, that the emperor, beguiled by the brilliant picture incessantly laid before his eyes, cannot but persevere in the fatal course adopted by his predecessors.
CHAPTER VII.
DEPARTURE FROM ODESSA—TRAVELLING IN RUSSIA—NIKOLAÏEF, OLVIA, OTSHAKOF—KHERSON—THE DNIEPR—GENERAL POTIER—ANCIENT TUMULI—STEPPES OF THE BLACK SEA—A RUSSIAN VILLAGE—SNOW STORM—NARROW ESCAPE FROM SUFFOCATION—A RUSSIAN FAMILY—APPENDIX.
After some months' stay in Odessa, we left it in company with General Potier, a Frenchman by birth, to pass the winter at his country-house. Travelling would nowhere be more rapid than in Russia, if the posting-houses were a little better conducted and more punctual in supplying horses. The country is perfectly flat, and you may traverse several hundred leagues without meeting a single hill. Besides this, the Russian driver has no mercy on his horses; they must gallop continually, though they should drop dead under the whip. Another reason that contributes to the rapidity of posting, is, that there are never less than three or four horses yoked to the lightest vehicle. The general's carriage being rather heavy, we had six horses, that carried us along at the rate of fifteen versts (ten miles) an hour. We found the rooms in the posting-stations much more elegant than we had expected; but this was owing to the journey of the imperial family, for whom they had been completely metamorphosed. The walls and ceilings were fresh painted with the greatest care, and we found everywhere handsome mirrors, divans, and portraits of the emperor and empress. Thanks, therefore, to the transit of their majesties, our journey was effected in the most agreeable manner, though on ordinary occasions, one must make up his mind to encounter all sorts of privations and annoyances in a long excursion through Russia. The towns are so few, and the villages are so destitute of all requisites, that one is in sore danger of being starved to death by the way, unless he has had the precaution to lay in a stock of provisions at starting. The post-houses afford you literally nothing more than hot water for tea, and a bench to rest on. The Russian and Polish grandees never omit to carry with them on their journeys a bed with all its appurtenances, a whole range of cooking implements, and plenty of provisions. In this way they pass from town to town, without ever suspecting the unfortunate position in which the foreigner is placed who traverses their vast wildernesses. The latter, it may be said, is free to follow their example; but the thing is not so easy. Supposing even that he was possessed of all this travelling apparatus, still the expense of carriage would imperatively forbid his taking it with him, whereas the Russians, who generally travel with their own horses, may have a dozen without adding to their expenses. As for those who have recourse to the post, they care very little about economy, and provided they have a good dinner prepared by their own cooks, a soft bed and all other physical comforts, they never trouble themselves to calculate the cost. But as for the foreigner who travels in this country, the inconvenience I have just mentioned is nothing in comparison with the countless vexations he must endure, simply because he is a foreigner. Having no legal right to lay his cane over the shoulders of the clerks of the post, he must make up his mind to endure the most scandalous impositions and annoyances at their hands, and very often he will be obliged to pass forty-eight hours in a station, because he cannot submit to the conditions imposed on him. Neither threats nor entreaties can prevail on the clerk to make him furnish horses if it does not suit his humour. The epithet particularnii tcheloviek which is applied in Russia to all who do not wear epaulettes, and which signifies something less than a nobody, is a categorical reply to the traveller's utmost eloquence.
Before we reached Kherson, we stopped at Nicolaïef, a pretty town, which has been for some years the seat of the Admiralty formerly established in Kherson, and which is daily increasing at its rival's expense. Its vast dockyards attract a whole population of workmen, whose presence swells its wealth and importance. Its position on the Bug, its new houses and pretty walks planted with poplars, make it the most agreeable town in the government. When we passed through it, a splendid ship of the line of three decks had just been completed, and was waiting only for the ceremony of being christened to take its place in the Black Sea fleet.
Four or five leagues below Nicolaïef, on the right bank of the Bug, near its embouchure in the liman[1] of the Dniepr, are the ruins of Olvia or Olviopolis, a Milesian colony founded about 500 B.C. There have been found inscriptions and medals which put the origin of these remains beyond all doubt. Lower down on the liman of the Dniepr, not far from the sea, is the fortress of Otchakov, which formerly belonged to the Turks, and then formed a considerable town, known by the name of Ozou. It was twice taken by the Russian troops on the 13th of June, 1737, under the command of Marshal Munich, and on the 6th of December, 1788, under Potemkin. At present, not a trace of the Turkish sway remains in the village. All the Mussulman buildings have been pulled down to give place to a steppe, on which some Russian cabins and about fifty miserable shops have been set up. The environs of Otchakov also present traces of the abode of the ancient Greeks. In 1833 there were found here a fragment of a bas-relief in tolerable preservation, a male torso, and an offering with an inscription from certain Greek military chiefs to Achilles, ruler of the Pontus.
Otchakof was founded at the close of the fifteenth century, by Mengli Chereï, khan of the Crimea, on the ruins of Alektor, a little town belonging to a queen of the Sauromatians, and which was destroyed probably by the Getæ at the same time as Olvia, 100 B.C. Alektor must have possessed specimens of Greek workmanship, but they disappeared under the hands of the Turks, who employed them in building Otchakov.
Kherson, where we arrived in the evening, retains no relics of its ancient opulence, or of the importance it derived scarcely fifty years ago from its commerce, its port, and its admiralty; at present, it exhibits the melancholy spectacle of a town entirely ruined; its population does not exceed 6000 or 8000 souls. Odessa and Nicolaïef have dealt it mortal blows, and it now subsists only by its entrepôt for the various productions of the empire, which are conveyed to it by the Dniepr, and forwarded by lighters to Odessa. It has even lost its custom-house for imports, retaining only the privilege of exporting; and beside this, the vessels which take in cargo at Kherson, must first perform quarantine in Odessa. Fevers and the Jews are likewise formidable foes to its prosperity. Expelled from Nicolaïef and Sevastopol, the Israelites swarm like locusts in Kherson, and form almost its whole population. Nothing can be more hideous than the appearance of the Russian Jews. Dressed in a uniform garb, consisting of a long robe of black calico, fastened with a woollen girdle, canvass drawers, and a broad-brimmed black hat, they all present