Part 38

It is doing the peasant of to-day on the crown-lands no more than justice to describe him as well-built, wide-awake, handy, skilful, intelligent, hospitable, good-natured and warm-hearted, and it is not too much to say that his prosperity has given him considerable self-esteem and a certain appreciation of freedom. His bearing is freer and less depressed than that of the Russian peasants. He is polite and obliging, submissive, and therefore easily managed; but he is not servile, cringing or abject, and the impression he makes on a stranger is by no means unfavourable. But he possesses all the qualities which we call loutishness in a high degree, and several others as well, which are calculated to weaken the first impression. Although he has had more educational advantages than any others of his class in Siberia, he is anything but in love with school. He is strictly religious and ready to give up what he possesses to the Church, but he looks upon school as an institution which spoils men rather than educates them. With a lasting recollection of a former state of things, when the old discharged soldiers, who held the educational sceptre in the times of his fathers, did not scruple to send the scholars for “schnaps”, and even to maltreat them while under its influence, he is exceedingly suspicious of everything connected with “education”. He also clings, peasant-like, to whatever has been in the past, and imagines that more knowledge than he himself possesses will be injurious to his children, and it is by no means easy to convert him from this opinion. The state of education is thus very low. It is only exceptionally that he has acquired the art of writing, and he invariably regards books as entirely superfluous articles. But he clings, on that account, so much the more firmly to the superstition which his Church countenances and promulgates. He rarely knows the names of the months, but can always tell off the names of the saints and their festivals on his fingers: God and the saints, archangel and devil, death, heaven, and hell occupy his mind more than all else. He cannot be described as easily satisfied, yet he is perfectly contented. He does not wish for more than the necessaries of life, and therefore only works as much as he absolutely must. But neither his farm premises nor the fields which he calls his can be too large, neither his family nor his flock too numerous.

“How is it with you here?” I asked, through an interpreter, one of the heads of a village whom we picked up on the way.

“God still bears with our sins,” was the answer.

“Are your wives good, faithful, kindly, and helpful to you?”

“There are good and bad.”

“Are your children obedient, and do they cause you joy?”

“We have nothing to complain of in regard to them.”

“Is the land you till fruitful; does it yield you a rich harvest?”

“If it yields us corn tenfold, we are content.”

“Do your cattle thrive?”

“We are content.”

“How many horses have you?”

“Thirty-two; there may perhaps be thirty-five.”

“And how many of these do you require for your work?”

“Eight, ten, and sometimes twelve.”

“Then you bring up the rest to sell?”

“I may perhaps sell one of them some day.”

“And what shall you do with the others?”

“Nitschewo.”

“How many cows and sheep have you?”

“I do not know. My wife takes charge of the cows, sheep, and pigs.”

“Have you heavy taxes to pay?”

“I am content.”

“Have you anything to complain of?”

“I am content.”

“So you have no complaints whatever to make; everything is quite satisfactory?”

“No, not everything; I have one complaint.”

“What is that?”