Читать книгу The Red Reign. The True Story of an Adventurous Year in Russia онлайн

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I tried never to lose sight of the fact that I was among “Cossacks,” but I must confess that this often required an effort. The kindliness of the men, the hospitality of the women, was constantly giving the lie to the traditions of these heartless people. Whenever I could I asked the men to tell me of their exploits—their soldiering, and of massacres and pogroms that they had taken part in. They would always relate these experiences in a matter-of-fact way, emphasizing that they did what their officers told them to do. Their disputes with their own neighbors—the Circassians, Ingoosh, and other Caucasian tribes—they viewed differently. These half-civilized people who live by brigandage and raiding they deemed it a mere matter of course to kill whenever they got the chance. On the other hand, they regretted that they were sometimes sent to massacre women and children, but, as the riding-master explained to me, it was the will of the Czar. That is one of the terrible things of czardom. In the name of the Czar are perpetrated the foulest deeds ever conceived by the diabolical minds of men. “It is a point of honor with us,” said the riding-master, “to obey. We are given our lands free. We have much freedom and many privileges—and in return we give our services. It is not our business, these massacres and pogroms. It’s the Czar’s. He gives us what we want and we in turn give him what he wants.”