1. New York

The Gate to the New World – The Wharf and First Impressions. – Thanksgiving Day. – General View of the City and Its Attractions. – Marks of Religiosity. – Yankees – a New Israel. – Terrible News from Home and Worship in the Russian Church.

On November 14 at around 2 o’clock in the afternoon the ocean steamer Scythia drew near to the shores of the New World. A magnificent bay in clear, almost summer weather presented an enchanting picture. Along its quiet waters in all directions glided sailing ships and steamers; along the hilly shores in picturesque disorder nestled country estates and suburban dwellings in shady groves. As the bay narrowed toward the mainland, before the ship opened only narrow gates leading inward – the constrained mouth of the Hudson River. Steel gun muzzles peered from behind the coastal ramparts and, like Cerberuses, guarded the entrance to the New World. Beyond the mouth opened a charming panorama of a whole host of cities with New York at the center. With intent attention the passengers gazed at the magnificent panorama, and it grew more and more vast as the steamer drew near. For some reason, this whole picture reminded me wonderfully of the panorama that opens when entering Petersburg from the Gulf of Finland. Only the shores here were somewhat higher, and the reddish-brown color of the buildings gave something quite un-Russian and destroyed the illusion. The Hudson, constrained at its mouth by mountains, widens toward New York and presents a magnificent expanse of water, teeming with extraordinary life and movement. Steamers of all possible types and sizes – from tiny pygmies to ocean giants and the three-story hulks of steamers of the so-called “American type” on our Volga – crisscrossed this expanse in all directions, and their varied whistles – from the highest piercing soprano to the deep roaring octave that shook the air – presented for an unaccustomed ear a terribly jarring concert. Even several versts before the wharf small, extraordinarily swift steamers began one after another to dart up to the Scythia, cleverly grappling with her, throwing down gangways, and correspondents from local newspapers literally on the fly snatched interesting news for them and newspapers brought from Europe, and again swiftly raced into the city, outpacing one another. Steamers of various trading and industrial firms also circled like a swarm around the Scythia, grappled with her, and after making necessary inquiries also raced into the city. On the wharf, meanwhile, a thick mass of people awaited us, with countless hands waving handkerchiefs, greeting the passengers. In front of the crowd stood out sharply the tall hats with plaques and long-skirted coats with gold buttons of police officers. Thus the shore of the New World presented quite a different aspect from what it appeared to the first European who set foot on it. A large gangway made it possible literally to step onto American soil.

So I was in the land given to humanity by the great Columbus – in the land where the goddess of freedom, in the general conception, has established her powerful kingdom! Walking about the enormous dock, under the influence of such a notion, I first and foremost tried to seek out and capture the traits of the so-called freedom, but – they were not visible. The masses, as everywhere, were divided into rich and poor, and consequently free and unfree; and the black sons of African deserts, performing heavy day labor, not only reminded one of the recent complete brutal slavery that flourished here under the banner of the goddess of freedom, but eloquently testified that this slavery in economic form exists even now. Policemen, blocking the way to the exit and inviting baggage inspection, and customs officials, mercilessly rummaging through baggage, suspiciously excavating every corner, finally drove away any desire to think about the goddess of freedom. No, O goddess! To establish a kingdom of freedom, it is not enough to move it beyond seas and oceans; it must be established in the hearts of people. One must know the truth: only it will set you free!

It was already dark when I could freely emerge into the open air. Here a decently dressed gentleman offered his services to take me in his carriage for a modest fare to the nearest hotel. I rejoiced, of course, but – my joy was not long-lived: the free Yankee deceived the inexperienced foreigner at every point. His carriage turned out to be a poor, rattling conveyance; the road to the hotel stretched for three versts, and the modest fare turned into two dollars (at the rate more than four rubles). The combination of “freedom and deception” struck a discordant note in my soul, but dollars nonetheless had to be paid. At the hotel I was greeted by a fashionably dressed colored gentleman[1] and with good-naturedly grinning black visage he carried me up by machine to one of the floors and showed me to my room. Here I could rest from the long journey. The modest room was furnished quite well; on the table lay a well-bound book. I opened it: it was the “Holy Bible.” Wondering how it came to be there, I asked the attending colored gentleman, and he explained that the “Holy Bible” in their hotel is in every room and that the American Bible Society takes care of this, distributing the holy books in such establishments free of charge. This single piece of information made me forget and forgive the first not entirely pleasant impressions of America. This people must possess great moral and religious power if it permits among itself the existence of such a free society, supported solely by voluntary donations, which can distribute tens and hundreds of thousands of Bibles free of charge.

In the morning one could look around the city. The hotel, it turned out, was located in one of the best parts of the city and overlooked a magnificent square surrounded by stately buildings. To the right rose a solid city hall building, crowned with a tower and an American single-headed eagle; to the left stood the palaces of American newspapers – the tallest buildings with towers and flags; opposite them was situated a colossal post office – like a palace; on the opposite side of the square ran the main street of the city – Broadway; further, sharp spires pointed toward heaven the Gothic towers of several churches. Masses of people moved along the streets, sharp-eyed boys darted between them with piles of newspapers; horse-drawn streetcars moved in continuous caravans along several parallel lines. In one corner people climbed ladders onto some strange latticed platform, secured by high posts above the street. The puffing of an engine and the rumble of a train explained what it was. This is the so-called elevated railway. Its construction represents perhaps the most original sample of the demonic ingenuity of the American mind. It is an elevated railway almost in the literal sense, as it goes along latticed beams, apparently of very light construction, supported by occasionally standing iron columns. Usually it runs in two lines along the right and left sides of the streets, and at main stations in four or more, so that their network covers the entire street, leaving only a weak opening to the sky. For five cents or American kopecks you can travel across the entire city from end to end. However, one must get used to the American bewildering bustle to calmly enjoy such a pleasure. I, living in New York, for a long time could not calmly endure the rumble of the train racing over my head and constantly fearfully looked back at it.

This elevated railway by its monstrous grandiosity far surpasses the London railway that struck me at first, which runs across the streets. In London only the underground railway, running beneath the city – in the dark bowels of that dark modern Babylon – can rival it in this regard.

Walking down one street, I noticed an enormous crowd of street boys. The young generation was making noise and running wild. I became interested in this gathering and drew closer; but how great was my surprise when I saw that most of these ragged urchins were armed with rifles, which they aimed at passersby and each other, frantically snapping the triggers. A policeman, indifferently watching this sport, explained to me that today (November 15–27) was a great American holiday – “Thanksgiving Day,” and that rifles had been distributed to the boys for their participation in the processions. By noon I indeed had occasion to witness these processions. Dressed-up boys with ribbons, flowers, banners, and rifles marched along the streets, led by a drummer and several buglers desperately playing national anthems. Crowds of onlookers accompanied them with enthusiastic cheers. “Thanksgiving Day,” as I later learned, is indeed a great holiday for Americans. It is a day of solemn expression by the people of gratitude to God for all the blessings poured out on them during the year. It wonderfully recalls one biblical holiday, when the people likewise expressed gratitude to Jehovah for the gathered fruits of the earth. From enormous posters scattered at every step, one could see that local preachers were preparing their best sermons for this day and inviting people to attend “magnificent” services. Stores and some amusement establishments were closed. Various charitable institutions were giving annual festive dinners, to which they invited the public. Boys carried piles of invitation tickets through the streets and distributed them to passersby. Having received such a ticket, I read in it a whole sketch of the history and activities of one charitable institution and a fairly well-written poem celebrating the proposed dinner, with a concluding appeal to benefactors for charitable contributions. This form of publication is very common in New York and is used by various speculators for their purposes. When I was examining and reading the curious invitation ticket, a sharp boy thrust another similar ticket into my hands. I began to examine that one too, but – to my surprise – I read in it a sketch of the history and activities of a shoe firm, which supposedly produces the best boots in the world. The merits and beauties of this footwear are there celebrated in enthusiastic verses by some boot poet, luring people into his shop.

In all the cities I have seen, to examine them from a bird’s eye view, it was necessary to climb high towers. In New York for this purpose the elevated railway serves, and I, to become acquainted with the general appearance of the city, climbed up the stairs to one of the numerous stations. The train, puffing and clanging, quickly rushed up to it and, in half a minute accepting new passengers, rushed on, stopping momentarily at each station – every five or six blocks. At first it is eerie to look down, where beneath the latticed track on the streets throng masses of people – but then, of course, habit takes its course. The general appearance of the city, as it presents itself in such a hasty survey, strikes not by beauty but by its businesslike character, its industrial, marketplace nature. Worldly bustle here, it seems, has established its throne and, together with the greedy god mammon, despotically rules over devoted slaves. Among the masses of red-brick tall houses, here and there rise graceful spires of Gothic towers of churches, also predominantly of reddish-brown color. Such tower-crowned churches in New York are not especially numerous; instead you constantly read on signs on ordinary houses inscriptions stating that this is a temple of such-and-such community, and that one of such-and-such. Religious thought, fragmented here into countless small sects, manifests itself outwardly in small temples. There are an extraordinarily large number of such temples in New York, and a mere list of them in the city “guidebook” occupies fourteen columns of dense print. Among the large temples here, noteworthy are the church of Holy Trinity and the Roman Catholic cathedral. The former is noteworthy for its antiquity, and its founding dates to 1696, when New York was no more than 50 years old. This temple is of magnificent Gothic architecture with a high tower on which a complex clock mechanism performs at set moments patriotic and religious hymns. Inside as well as outside, it is distinguished by refined simplicity. Around it in the enclosure stand in orderly rows tombstones. The high tower of this church, reaching toward heaven, with its surrounding place of eternal rest, presents an instructive contrast to the bustle seething around it of the most businesslike and industrial part of the city. The Roman Catholic cathedral is a completely new temple and so noteworthy that it deserves a separate brief account.

Walking along Fifth Avenue, one of the best streets of the city, toward the magnificent Central Park, you can fully enjoy, away from the noise, the contemplation of the luxurious chocolate-colored buildings of the aristocratic part of the city. Quite frequently here, reaching toward heaven, are Gothic towers of churches, also of chocolate color, which complete the beauty of the picture. Among these orderly rows of chocolate buildings and towers, like a magical snow palace gleaming in white on the bright southern sun[2] stands the magnificent white marble cathedral of St. Patrick. The contrast of color gives the cathedral an extraordinarily striking appearance. Looking at these luxurious forms of shimmering white marble in the sun, you cannot but think that you stand before a temple of the purest and most elevated human feelings. The cathedral was begun on August 15, 1858 and consecrated on May 25, 1879; but at present it is still not finished. It does not yet have the two high Gothic towers planned by the design. When the white marble towers rise above the cathedral, it will undoubtedly represent a marvel of architectural art. According to the explanation of the cathedral’s guide, this temple represents a specimen of the ornate geometric style of Gothic architecture that flourished in Europe in the 13th and 14th centuries and expressed itself in the construction of the famous cathedrals of Reims, Amiens, and Cologne and the Westminster Abbey building in London. But the new New York cathedral – in the purity of style, originality of design, harmony of parts, beauty of material, and speed of construction – has no rival in Europe among temples of the same style. Inside, the cathedral is extraordinarily spacious, and a mass of light spreads throughout all its parts, giving it a very joyful, solemn appearance. Orderly rows of high white marble columns and rich window painting constitute its incomparable interior decoration. Some painted windows are so expensive that in transporting them from abroad (they were prepared in France) the duties alone cost 4,000 dollars for each. During evening services the cathedral is lit by gas, and for this purpose the capitals of the columns and cupola are adorned with whole bouquets of gas jets (1,800 in all), which provide magnificent illumination. Heating is provided by steam, which is prepared in one of the neighboring streets and from there is conveyed into the temple walls by means of iron underground pipes. On two side columns I noticed posted tables. The tables showed a plan of the temple with a numbered indication of the pews and the designation of the annual payment for them. Having glanced at these tables, I found that prayer in the cathedral does not come cheap. Six-seat pews, representing something like boxes, in price range, depending on convenient location and closeness to the altar, between thirty and one hundred and fifty dollars (30–150). The custom of selling places in the House of the Heavenly Father, of course, strikes Russian Orthodox feeling as mere commercialism and a glaring violation of the rights of each – especially the poor man, not having a kopeck to his name – to come freely into the house of our common Father with a heartfelt prayer, and from this perspective the price list for places in the cathedral made a heavy impression on me. This impression, however, found some counterweight in another thought. The price list is, of course, in accordance with demand. If places in the cathedral are occupied despite the extraordinarily high – from our Russian perspective – payment for them, then what great religious need does the local Roman Catholic community have, and how powerful a zeal for the temple animates it! Wavering between these two opposite thoughts, I left the temple.