How American classic writer Mark Twain ended up in Russia & what surprised him
In December 1866, a lively journalist named Samuel Langhorne Clemens (Mark Twain's real name) saw an advertisement in a newspaper for a "pleasure cruise through Europe and the Holy Land". The cruise itinerary was planned for several months and included stops in Paris, Rome, Athens, Constantinople (now Istanbul) and Sevastopol, among others. He couldn't pass up such an adventure and persuaded the publishers of a couple of newspapers to pay for his trip in exchange for regular reports.
From horror to delight
In late August, 1867, the ship ‘Quaker City’ dropped anchor in Sevastopol, Crimea. When Mark Twain set foot on shore and saw the city, destroyed by the Turks, the British and the French, he felt a sense of bitterness. "Here, you may look in whatsoever direction you please and your eye encounters scarcely anything but ruin, ruin, ruin!" he exclaimed in his notes. "It was as if a monstrous earthquake had struck this patch of land with all its might and had crippled and twisted it and left it so."...
The only surprise came in Odessa – it wasn't on the cruise itinerary, the ship made a stop there to replenish its coal supplies. But, the journalist went ashore and was amazed. Everything there seemed familiar. "Odessa is exactly like an American city," Twain insisted. "Beautiful, wide streets and straight ones at that; low-rise houses and buildings (two or three stories) — spacious, tidy, without any fancy decorations; our white acacia trees line the sidewalks; the business bustle in the streets and shops <…> and even a thick cloud of dust enveloped us like a greeting from our beloved homeland <…> everywhere before us is America! <…> but then, a church loomed before us, a carriage with a coachman on the box – and that was it! – the illusion vanished as if it hadn’t been. The church dome is crowned with a slender spire and curves toward the base, resembling an upside-down turnip and the coachman is wearing something like a long petticoat without hoops."
There, a party was held for the guests, complete with refreshments and dancing, where Mark Twain met a young woman. "We chatted nonstop, laughed heartily and yet neither of us understood what the other was getting at," he later admitted. "I still think of that girl. I’ve written to her, but I haven't sent my letter, for she has, as is the custom in Russia, an elaborate name a good ten syllables long and there aren’t enough letters in our alphabet to spell it out. In reality, I dare not say it out loud, but, in my dreams, I let loose and wake up in the morning with a clenched jaw. I am wasting away."
The Russian emperor & silver spoons
The American was not prepared for Russian hospitality. He had been frightened by stories of hostility and bureaucratic red tape, but nowhere was he even asked for his passport. Instead, the travelers were greeted by high-ranking officials who promised their assistance in arranging a meeting for the travelers with Russian Emperor Alexander II in Yalta, where he was staying with his family at the time.
The writer remembered the meeting for the rest of his life; the imperial family received the guests simply and with dignity. No formal suits and pompous speeches, no officialdom, but genuine interest and engagement: "His Majesty accompanied every bow with kind words. <…> You can sense the character in them, the Russian character: kindness itself and genuine kindness at that. <…> A Russian's kindness comes from the heart, you can feel it in both the words and the tone – that’s why you believe it’s sincere."
Later, with his characteristic humor, Twain wrote: "If I could have stolen his frock coat, I wouldn't have hesitated a second. Whenever I meet a man like that, I always want to take something away as a souvenir of him."
The guests were then invited to stroll through the garden. "The empress chatted informally with the ladies, several gentlemen started a rather disjointed conversation with the emperor; princes and counts, admirals and ladies-in-waiting chatted casually with one another and anyone who wished to do so stepped forward and spoke with the little, modest Grand Duchess Maria, the tsar's daughter."
After the stroll in the garden, the Americans were invited into the palace. Mark Twain, accustomed to palaces being shown to tourists by some footman in velvet and braid, felt that, after giving them a tour of his private chambers himself, the emperor should have at least counted his silver spoons. But, Grand Duke Mikhail, who had invited the tourists to his home for breakfast, certainly had even more reason to count the silverware. And again, everything happened without a hitch, just like a friendly picnic.
It was sad to set sail from the Russian shore. As usual, we coped by laughing it off. The sailors gleefully teased the travelers, who were taken aback by the generosity of the Russians. They continued to perform skits on the ship for some time. In their version, the emperor ordered that a "handful of private American citizens" be taken to his brother, so that he could feed this bothersome gang. And – yes! – in the impromptu performance, the tsar, nevertheless, ordered the silver spoons to be counted.
The full version of this article (in Russian) can be found on the ‘Russkiy Mir’ website.