“To whom?  How?” I asked.

“To you, of course.  A traveler, as a person of leisure, pays a huge tax.”

“Call me a literary person, then, if you like.”

“That’s not an occupation!” (Observe the delicate, unconscious sarcasm of this rejoinder!  As a matter of fact, the Russian idea of literary men is that they all hold some government or other appointment, on the committee of censorship, for example,—­some ratable position.  Upon this they can depend for a livelihood, aside from the product of their brains; which is practical, and affords a firm foundation upon which to execute caprices.)

He suggested various things which I was not, and I declined to accept his suggestions.  We got it settled at last, though he shook his head over my extravagant obstinacy in paying two dollars, when I might have got off with half the sum and a lie.  He imparted a good deal of amusing information as to the manner in which people deliberately evade the passport tax with false statements; for example, governesses, who would scorn to be treated as nurses, get themselves described as bonnes to save money.  I have no doubt that the authorities amiably assist them by friendly suggestions, as in my own case; only I decline to sail under false colors, by the authority of my own government or any other; so his amiability was wasted so far as I was concerned.

It would seem to the ordinary reader that the police would be able to lay hands on a man, when he was wanted, with tolerable promptness and accuracy, after all the details which the law requires in these “address tickets,” as the local passports are called, had been duly furnished.  But I remember one case among several which impressed me as instructive and amusing.  The newspapers told the tale, which ran somewhat as follows:  A wealthy woman of position, residing in one of the best quarters of St. Petersburg, hired a prepossessing young lackey as one of her large staff of domestics.  Shortly after his advent, many articles of value began to disappear.  Finally, suspicion having turned on this lackey, he also disappeared, and the police undertook to find him.  It then became apparent that the fellow had used a false passport and address, and was not to be found where he was inscribed.  He caused an exciting chase.  This ended in the discovery of a regular robbers’ nest, where a large number of false passports were captured, the prepossessing lackey and his friends having abandoned them in their attempt to escape.  The papers were also constantly remarking on the use made by peasant men of their passports.  The wife is inscribed on the husband’s “document,” separate passports for wives being, as a rule, difficult of attainment in the lower classes.  The peasants are thus able, and often willing, to control their wives’ places of residence and movements, and preserve entire liberty of action for themselves, since their consent is required for the separate passport, or for the wives’ movements on the common passport.  In such cases the passport does become an instrument of oppression, from either the Occidental or the Oriental point of view.