Читать книгу The Red Reign - Kellogg Durland - Страница 8

The origin of the Cossacks dates back to the latter Middle Ages. The dominions of the kings of Poland and czars of Muscovy were not sharply defined, and between the territories was a wide stretch of “debatable” land. Here settled various bands of people who were, for one reason or another, wanderers on the face of the earth—some were outlaws and brigands—some were temporarily Bedouin—some were poor—all were in the nature of “squatters.” They either took the name or were dubbed “Kazak,” a word which in Tartar means freebooter, and in Turkish light-armed soldier, and the modern Cossack is largely a combination of these elements.

As the population of these debatable lands along the Dnieper increased, they spread out and took possession of other rivers, the Don and the Volga. In due course a system of simple government developed among them as a matter of convenience and necessity. This form of government has been perpetuated in nearly its original form almost to the present day, and much of it is still preserved without change.

As they increased in numbers, they found an occupation. From time immemorial the Tartars have invaded the provinces of what is known to-day as southeastern Russia, and so to protect their agricultural population along the steppe borders the kings of Poland and czars of Muscovy established military cordons, buildings, forts, and palisades, from which to beat back the invading bands. It was soon learned that the “Cossack” people who occupied the steppes beyond these cordons best knew how to cope with these semi-civilized Tartars. And so the forts and redoubts were manned by Cossacks who lent their services for pay, to the kings of Poland or the czars of Muscovy, without prejudice. Thus their organization and their independence gained recognition. Thus, too, guerilla warfare early came to be their regular occupation. Being given to a degree of lawlessness themselves, they were, at times, not averse to mingling in friendly intercourse with the peoples whom at other times they were paid to fight.

Though originally the Cossacks came mostly from Moscow province and from Poland, they have mixed with the surrounding races till they have little ethnological unity. It was once common for the Cossacks to kidnap Tartar and Caucasian women, and thus there were introduced dark streams of blood which are still visible in the race. They have also mixed with the Mongolian Kalmuks from the country east of the Volga and taken on many of their characteristics. Nevertheless, they have all continued to call themselves Christians and to nurture enmity against the Mohammedans.

When the czars of Russia became supreme the Cossacks pledged their allegiance to them. If, however, it better suited their conveniences to disregard the wishes of the czar, they consulted only their own inclinations. They did not contribute to the royal coffers, but became allies rather than subjects,—allies who served for pay. On the other hand, the czars were not eager to claim them for subjects, and when the Cossacks on the Turkish frontier enkindled the wrath of the sultan, Russia repudiated them altogether and they were left to make their own defense against the Turks.

The Cossacks of the Dnieper and the Cossacks of the Don were the first of the large bodies of semi-military communities to gain the recognition of Poland and Russia, and the Cossacks of the Don still maintain preëminence over all the others. In spite of their treaties with other states having regularly organized and disciplined armies, the Don Cossacks never troubled to introduce military organization among themselves. They lived by shooting, fishing, trapping and marauding. To foster the martial spirit of all, agricultural pursuits were prohibited on penalty of death. As war is scarcely a perpetual occupation, laziness and drinking came to be fixed habits adopted in the interims of peace and maintained as deep-rooted characteristics.

The Dnieper Cossacks, or Zaporovians, as they were called from a word meaning people living “beyond the rapids,” lost their holdings during the reign of Catharine II, for very excellent reasons. During Peter’s wars with the Swedes these people allied themselves with the army of Charles XII of Sweden. The government thought to punish them by depriving them of their independence. The Dnieper people resisted until Catharine forcibly broke up their communities. Some fled to Turkey. Others were given the territory of the Kuban. The Volga Cossacks, who had also sold their services to the enemies of Russia, were less obstinate and accepted the dictum of Russia and removed to the Terek, where the original “mountain” or “border” Cossacks were already established. Here Catharine assured them they would be left free and unmolested as long as they served Russia’s interests against the marauding tribes of the Caucasus. And from this time to the present these Cossacks of the Caucasus have rendered signal service along this most difficult frontier.

The general concluded his story with a tremendous eulogy of the virtues of Cossacks—all of which I listened to but reserved my judgment upon.

As we were about to take our leave I ventured to ask the General if I might not bring a photographer with me when next I came to photograph him in his magnificent purple uniform! For an instant I almost regretted having said this, but the childish delight of the man at the suggestion banished my fears. An hour was set for the next forenoon and with this Andronnikov and I left. The remainder of the day I spent with my officer friends in convivial leisure. In the early evening I went to my room to make arrangements with a man who spoke several of the languages of the district, to serve as my orderly and courier.

About nine o’clock we were interrupted by a rapping at the door, followed by the entrance of a handsome young fellow in Circassian dress. Suspended from his belt was the usual dagger, beautifully ornamented with silver. There was an attractiveness about the fellow that completely captivated me before he had spoken a word. There was a clearness and frankness of expression in his bright, brown eyes that inspired immediate trust. He was not tall, but he carried his shoulders well, and one felt the dashing spirit that must live under his dark, though scarcely swarthy skin. He bowed with that graceful dignity which sometimes characterizes Eastern peoples. I motioned him to a seat. He bowed again, thanked me, but remained standing. My courier talked with him for some minutes, then turning to me said: “This man is an Ingoosh who has come to you on a strange errand. It seems that in his village he has won the title of champion sword-dancer. He says he can do remarkable things with swords and daggers; passing through town to-day he heard that an American was here, and so he has come to you.” “Yes, I am an American,” I replied, “but what can I do for the champion sword-dancer of an Ingoosh village?” My interpreter smiled as he replied: “He says he has heard that in America there are café chantants where sword-dancing would be paid for very well; he wanted to know if this is true and if you will tell him the way to New York.” From the threshold of Asia to the vestibule of America seemed a long, long way to me that night, but instantly it occurred to me that this man offered the very opportunity I had been looking for—to explore the Ingoosh, the Circassian, the Kabardine and Ossetine villages that lie among the mountains, at the same time I was visiting the Cossack villages. So I told my interpreter to tell him that if he would take me safely through the district which I indicated and bring me back to Vladikavkaz, I would outline the journey to New York with the probable cost, and that I would provide him with adequate introductions to people in the city who would befriend him upon his arrival; also I would pay him well, five rubles a day, for his services, and a bonus at the end of the trip if all went well. There was no doubting the man’s keenness to get to New York; and money in anything like the amount I offered him seldom comes to a

The Governor-General of the Terek

Circassian of his station—at least earned money. That the man hesitated and appeared in doubt as to whether he would accept my proposition or not, aroused my wonder. At last he spoke: “He says it is very perilous,” my courier translated. At that I knew I could rely upon him; if he considered my risk in view of the offer I made him, I was confident of his sincerity. Of course I had explained to him that I would assume the complete disguise of the Circassian and that I would assume all of the risks of the journey, provided he did all that I could reasonably expect him to do, to forestall unnecessary danger. After further pondering my interpreter translated: “He would like to see you in Circassian dress before he answers.” We thereupon procured a complete outfit, which I put on. The man surveyed me critically from all sides, and finally, smiling broadly, came toward me with extended hand. His grasp was warm and firm, and had any lingering suspicion of the man remained in my mind, it would have then vanished. It was decided that we should not go on horseback, but rather in a wagon, as it would probably be simpler for them to screen my identity if I were reclining in a cart than if I were astride a horse. My Ingoosh from this moment on was fertile in suggestion. He knew just where to procure the horses. In telling me where they were to be had he related the following incident:

There is a custom among the Circassians, still in vogue, that when a man chooses a wife and the match fails to meet with parental approval, the bride is stolen in the night. My Circassian friend had found a girl in a neighboring village, the queen of all the girls he had ever seen. He determined to take her to wife. The girl had already told him that he was her prince. But the family would not sanction it. Therefore my friend had scoured the country for the swiftest horses in all the region. A friend, a driver in the town, had four horses that he vowed could not be overtaken. In the night they drove into the village where lived the Circassian bride to be, and, pausing before her house, my friend had rushed to where he knew she was awaiting him, and gathering her in his arms sprang to the wagon, and the four horses were urged to their utmost. In twenty minutes they had put eight versts between them and the village. And I might have these same horses and the same driver, for my expedition!

The following day my interpreter, whose caution seemed to me quite excessive, begged me not to depend too absolutely on my brigand friend. He believed him to be honest, but it might be as well not to have this driver. And instead he suggested a man whom he knew was the assistant ataman, or sub-chief, of a Cossack stanitza remote in the territory of the Terek, and to reach this stanitza we would pass through the Circassian and Ossetine villages I desired to visit. Our final arrangement was made with him.

We rumbled out of Vladikavkaz the second morning after I made the acquaintance of my brigand-guide—for he was a brigand. The road selected led directly into the mountains; Kazbek, higher than Mount Blanc, rose immediately before us. At the outset we started through a valley running southeast and northwest and at an angle of about forty-five degrees to the east of the famous Route Militaire de Georgie, which crosses the Caucasus from Vladikavkaz to Tiflis. After ten versts the road became a mere trail, and as we ascended and passed the snow limit, even this was lost to my eye. Several times that day we passed through villages of Circassians. Mere hamlets, a handful of houses in each. One street of

My host—Prince Andronnikov

Some of my officer companions

stone and mud, whitewashed, built with the usual roof of thatch and mud. Back of these houses another row, and back of these scattered huts. Cattle and pigs roamed familiarly in the spaces which separated the huts. The most striking feature of the Ossetine villages were the large curious-shaped water jugs carried by the women, seemingly fashioned of pewter. These jugs are large and are carried on the backs of the women to and from the springs and rivulets which are their water sources. There was nothing to attract the notice of the people in a springless cart jolting along the rough road, an armful of hay spread over the board bottom and three men, apparently natives, sitting thereon. The dress of the people in all of these villages was invariably characteristic. The silver handiwork of the Circassians is full of individuality and famed throughout southern Russia. The belts of both men and women, the bracelets and ornaments of the women, the daggers and other arms of the men, were all noticeable.

The bride of my brigand friend and guide interested me greatly when we finally came to visit his home. She was nineteen and did not look a day older. She spoke no Russian; only her native dialect. She proudly exhibited a mat worked with silver and golden thread, and a little wall watch-pocket of elaborate design, which were intended as gifts to one of the chief men of her village—the chief of one of the brigand bands, my guide explained to me. I was also shown a pair of baby slippers which she had worked for the youngest born of another important villager. She herself was buxom and attractive, and it was in nowise difficult to understand why my guide had set out upon his nocturnal expedition to capture her.

Sometimes we stopped for refreshment at houses where either my brigand-guide or our Cossack driver was acquainted. At these places the food given us was generally coarse, as might be expected, but on the whole not bad. Coarse black bread; a kind of bread made of maize which tasted wholesome enough, and a pastry which consisted of two crusts, similar to a New England pie crust, but soggy and filled with raisins and preserved grapes. This seemed to be a delicacy highly appreciated, for there was evident pleasure and satisfaction on the part of the housewife who had made this pastry when we appreciated it by consuming many helpings.

In dress, in manner of living, the Circassians are perhaps the most pronounced types of any of the peoples inhabiting that polyglot district. A Caucasian will never suspect a Circassian of belonging to another tribe or race. If nothing else, the ornaments, and the manner of wearing them, distinguish them. The belts, for example, which are almost universally worn, are rich with silver ornamentation and hangings, and often washed in gold. These things offer a striking contrast to the poverty of the lives of the people. But in the Caucasus silver has small value.

During the next two days we traversed a rough and rocky road. More than once we forded streams full with water. Once the old roadway had entirely disappeared. Apparently it had been washed away by a recent freshet. There was naught for us to do but drive into the stream and follow its course for close on to a hundred and fifty yards. The flow of water was strong and swift and it was deep to the body of our cart and flush with the horses’ bellies. The water was straight from glaciers, and cold, like snow water.

The swift-running tawny Terek had been left far below and to the west. The trail passed into the forest, where the chill of winter struck at our marrow, and we closed our bourkas tighter about us. Suddenly the forest ended abruptly and the open revealed the high valley and the snowy mountain, now overtopping us. “Here the Cossack country begins,” shouted my Cossack driver as we passed on to the plateau. As if in joy at coming once more unto his own, he lifted his rifle and, pointing to a tree fifty yards behind us, fired. The bullet sped true. Presently the trail forked with another trail, and the two became a rough road. A verst farther on the road passed under a crude wooden arch supported by gate-posts and entered the village—a Cossack stanitza, the first Cossack village I had ever visited, and, as it happened, this particular village had never before within memory of the oldest Cossack there been visited by any stranger.