SCENES ON THE ROAD. 139 



cracking ; and there is a subtle spirit of apology in his 

 bearing and movements. It is as though he were say- 

 ing to his fellow-citizens, whom he is ordering to " move 

 on," " It's my duty, you know, and I have no option 

 but to order you about ; otherwise I should be very 

 happy to let you loiter and look in the windows or do 

 anything else you please." 



All this is reversed in the Russian police. They, 

 forsooth, are anything but the servants of the people, 

 and they always impressed me as invaders and con- 

 querors of the country. They represent the Czar, the 

 autocratic power ; and their bearing is insufferably in- 

 solent, or condescendingly tolerant, according to the 

 disposition of the individual policeman or the status 

 of the person before him. The uriadnik in the peas- 

 ants' village has the same arbitrary powers of domi- 

 ciliary visit as the highest police authorities have in 

 the cities. He can invade the houses of the people 

 without warning or preliminary preparation of any 

 kind, at any hour of the day or night. On the grounds 

 of his own suspicions, he is empowered to make noctur- 

 nal visitations, and to tumble people out of their beds, 

 search their houses from roof to cellar, and play bull 

 in the china-shop, generally, among the people. Even 

 the most malignant Turkish zaptieh has no such powers 

 as these. 



He is required by the powers a*t St. Petersburg to 

 exercise the same paternal authority over the every- 

 day affairs of the people as villagers, as they do in a 

 national sense. His duties embrace such supervisory 

 tasks as compelling the moujiks to throw open their 

 windows for purposes of ventilation, to keep their floors 



