Drinking has a significant impact on Russian society, from the Tsar, the court nobles, and high officials, to the men, women, and children in the countryside; it seems almost everyone partakes.
"My father wants you to do what exactly?"
Nicholas opened his mouth, ready to voice a thousand reasons to reject this seemingly impractical plan, but in the end, he chose to listen. Once Alexander III had made up his mind, it was rare to change it.
"According to His Majesty's plan, the current alcohol consumption tax system will be replaced with a state monopoly on alcohol sales. The state will control all vodka trade."
Witte seemed to view this ambitious reform as a hallmark of his new tenure, which gave Nicholas a headache.
"You're saying that by monopolizing alcohol sales, we can reduce alcohol consumption and thus curb alcoholism?"
"Yes, the success of this initiative will be measured by the beneficial effects on the people's physical and mental health resulting from reduced alcohol consumption."
That sounds nice, but how do you measure it?
Nicholas thought skeptically.
"What are the measures to control alcohol consumption? Reduce sales? Raise prices?"
"Um... all possible measures will be implemented..." Witte said, adding that pilot projects would be conducted in several remote provinces once preparations were complete. He noticed Nicholas's reluctance, "Your Highness, do you have any opinions?"
"Do you remember the rural areas we visited in eastern Ukraine?"
Nicholas shook his head, whether indicating he had no opinion or rejecting the policy was unclear. However, his question brought back memories for Witte.
"…Yes."
The Finance Minister clearly remembered.
The village they visited was among the poorest, and Nicholas had to walk on muddy paths after disembarking from the carriage.
Villagers, hearing the commotion, gathered to watch, but their limited imaginations could only guess that these well-dressed officials were from the county; they couldn't fathom any higher status.
To Nicholas, these villagers seemed to live in ancient times, wearing dirty, coarse homemade linen clothes, barefoot or in makeshift shoes made of tree fibers. Socks were non-existent.
Their eyes revealed a desolate emptiness, minds devoid of any spark.
"(Unclear Ukrainian dialect)"
"…What did he say?"
Nicholas encountered the problem of language barriers within his own country for the first time and turned to the local Kharkov government official for help.
"We want to visit your village," the official first shouted to an elder in the local dialect, translating for the Crown Prince. Then he added, "Don't be afraid, we brought some liquor."
The villagers remained dazed until they heard the word "liquor," which finally brought some life to their eyes.
"Y-yes…"
The initially wary elder smiled toothlessly and eagerly pulled the official towards the village.
The village's conditions further stretched Nicholas's imagination of poverty.
The buildings, possibly called farmhouses, were made of wood and mud walls, usually with no separate rooms. Better-off households might have two sections, with the living quarters in the back and pigs in a corner pen, and cows in a front shed.
Poorer households simply slept with the livestock.
Nicholas was the only one who repeatedly entered these houses, witnessing the reality firsthand, though he had to pinch his nose to avoid the stench of animal dung, body odor, and filth.
"What is this?"
"This is a brick stove, a wood-burning stove."
For the villagers, the official from the county was already a high-ranking figure. A disheveled farmer demonstrated stoking the stove with wood for him and Nicholas.
It reminded me of the firewood stove I used in childhood.
Nicholas suddenly recalled memories of his previous life.
Then the farmer mumbled to the official, but Nicholas couldn't understand due to the thick accent.
"What did he say?"
"He said matches are precious, so he won't light a fire for the gentlemen."
Match taxes had risen continuously under Finance Minister Vyshnegradsky, becoming a significant burden for the peasants.
"That's fine."
Nicholas nodded and instructed the accompanying officials to give a bottle of vodka to the farmer who demonstrated the stove. The farmer's sullen expression instantly turned to joy, and he quickly bowed, surprising the other villagers.
They couldn't understand why these officials were suddenly interested in their everyday lives.
Due to Nicholas's earlier generosity, the villagers welcomed him, hoping to get free vodka, which made the inspection smoother.
Nicholas observed that every "farmhouse" had a large brick stove used for heating and cooking.
"Where are your beds?"
"What?"
"How do you sleep at night?"
"Oh, that's simple…"
Nicholas noticed these destitute farmhouses lacked beds or even floor mats. Their only furniture seemed to be the brick stove and a few benches.
Puzzled, Nicholas asked the now somewhat hospitable villagers. They scratched their heads in confusion, then arranged benches around the stove.
"This is for sleeping at night. Be careful; there are many bugs."
The village woman took out some tattered sheepskins, kindly warning the gentlemen not to get too close to avoid lice bites.
"How do you eat?"
The room had a rough wooden table with a black pot on it, but no other utensils.
"We have a spoon, and everyone takes turns using it to eat."
A farmer standing nearby shouted, hoping his answer would impress the officials.
From Nicholas's observations, many households in the village had no utensils or dishes, with families sharing a wooden spoon to eat from a pot.
Additionally, Nicholas discovered why some houses had such a strong odor.
Entering one house, he was shocked to find someone squatting in a corner.
The farmer, nonchalant, finished his business, wiped with crushed leaves, while a few pigs eagerly awaited the "meal."
"…"
Nicholas, feeling nauseous, almost fled the scene.
"There are hardly any separate toilet buildings in rural areas."
The local official following the Crown Prince explained, "Even in the county, only a few noble houses have such facilities."
"So they just…?"
"Yes, this is one reason for the high incidence of diseases in the countryside."
As a modern person, Nicholas's hygiene standards bordered on obsession in this era, but the reality starkly highlighted Russia's backwardness.
"Sir, sir…"
As Nicholas walked and discussed the rural conditions and problems with the well-informed official, a few farmers approached them.
"What's the matter?"
Although this county office worker held only the 12th rank in the 14-rank Table of Ranks of the Russian Empire, he still wielded considerable authority over the peasants.
"The... the liquor..."
The lead farmer, perhaps only in his forties but with a face deeply lined as if aged twenty years beyond, nervously rubbed his hands and asked timidly.
"You will get it!"
The official scolded the farmers in their local dialect, but hearing that they would get liquor, the farmers were visibly pleased.
"They like to drink?"
Nicholas, who had no particular fondness for alcoholic beverages, couldn't understand why these impoverished farmers were so fond of drinking.
"Like it? They live for it. In the countryside, any occasion, big or small, happy or sad, is an excuse to drink." The official pointed to the now lively village. "Despite their poverty, every household has a pot for brewing their own beer. If they have money, they'll buy vodka to add to the beer for a stronger kick."
"If you don't believe me, just wait until evening. I heard them planning an impromptu celebration."
Seeing Nicholas's skeptical look, the official called over some farmers and spoke to them in their dialect.
"What did you tell them?"
"I told them that His Highness would give them plenty of liquor. They said they would quickly gather food for a feast and thanked you for your generosity."
Word spread quickly, and soon the whole village, about a hundred people, was abuzz with excitement. The prospect of liquor and a celebration seemed to revive them from their previous lifeless state.
"By the way, why is it an impromptu celebration?"
"They just look for any excuse to celebrate. During celebrations, everyone can drink, take a break from farm work, and relax."
Curious about the peasants' spirit, Nicholas decided to stay in this extremely impoverished village to observe the evening feast. What he witnessed left a lasting impression on him.
As Nicholas struggled to pull his military boots from the muddy road and trudged towards the village entrance, the inspection team, which had been surveying other villages, reconvened, with about ten people in total.
"Will this affect our subsequent itinerary?" Witte gently voiced his opposition upon hearing Nicholas's decision to stay in this village until evening. "Moreover, Your Highness, interacting too much with these peasants may make them take advantage."
He also disapproved of Nicholas's habit of giving gifts to the peasants, believing it would make them "insatiable."
"Perhaps these people will only see me once in their lifetime; it won't foster a culture of idleness," Nicholas said vaguely. "As for the itinerary, there's no need for a tight schedule. We have ample time."
"As you wish, Your Highness."
With the leader and deputy leader of the inspection team in agreement, the others reluctantly trudged back through the muddy road to the now lively village.
"On holidays, peasants drink a lot, inviting guests and engaging in binge drinking. Besides drinking openly during festivals, they drink when they're happy, when they're down, and, of course, during major life events like births, weddings, and funerals. Every occasion calls for drinking: market days, business deals, lawsuits, military conscription, and village activities."
The official who had been accompanying Nicholas was named Peter, a common Russian name. On the way, he continued explaining the peasants' emphasis on drinking during festivals to the crown prince.
Currently, Russian holidays are divided into three categories: Sundays, official national and church holidays, and folk or customary holidays.
Sundays are fixed throughout the year, totaling 52 days annually.
There are 33 official holidays.
Folk holidays vary according to customary laws and local traditions, differing across regions and ethnic groups, but amounting to over 100 days in total.
"From April to October is the busy farming season. According to our local statistics, peasants work about 130 days a year, leaving 235 days for holidays."
This number greatly surprised Nicholas. By modern urban standards, having 26 days of legal holidays plus paid vacation was considered a blessing.
In his previous life, Nicholas, as a junior employee with less than ten years of service, had only 5 days of annual leave. Including 11 legal holidays and Sundays, he could rest for just 68 days a year.
Nicholas couldn't decide whether to call Russian peasants lazy or to see himself as a hardworking part of a competitive society.
"Sir, over here!"
As they moved forward, enthusiastic peasants greeted Nicholas and Peter. In the village square, which was usually used for daily activities, about ten long wooden tables had been set up. Nicholas recognized some of the rough tables, probably borrowed from various households.
"Pardon the simple food and drink, sirs."
Two diligent village women were wiping the wooden stools and tables with some tattered cloths. The cloths weren't very clean, so the cleanliness was more psychological.
"You don't need to prepare much food for us. We've eaten this afternoon."
Nicholas kindly tried to stop the busy peasants, but they stubbornly shook their heads.
"How can we let our guests go without enough food?"
"Your Highness, peasants care about their reputation. If they don't prepare well for guests, they lose face."
Peter, sitting nearby, had already picked up a wooden bowl and taken a sip of the homemade beer, showing his familiarity with rural life as someone in charge of agricultural affairs.
"Cough, cough..."
Imitating Peter, Nicholas took a sip. The strong taste of herbs, sourness, and bitterness hit his taste buds, almost making him spit it out. Not wanting to be impolite, he forced himself to swallow, which led to a coughing fit. He quickly pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket to cover his embarrassment.
Few among the inspection team could manage to drink the homemade beer.
As the evening approached, around dusk, the entire village, men, women, and children, gathered. At each table, the elders sat at the head, and the younger ones at the end.
Besides the villagers, the hospitable peasants had also invited local church clergy, and the cooks were brought in from other villages.
The food on each table was similar, considered sumptuous by the peasants: pickled pork, meat-filled sausages, beef ham, pork and beef broth, dishes made with animal fat, milk, and homemade pasta, rye porridge, milk porridge, fried lamb, pork, and beef, and fruit porridges made with oat grains.
However, after tasting, Nicholas found that the peasants severely lacked seasonings. Spices, salt, and sugar were precious to them.
"The tax on salt and sugar increases every year, burdening the peasants as these are essential daily items," Peter explained to Nicholas. Sitting beside him, Witte defended the tax increases, citing the need to cover budget deficits.
Since Witte was a minister, Peter remained silent.
"To His Excellency for the wine!"
The peasants' dining process delighted Nicholas as it reminded him of traditional customs at banquets in his previous life.
The village's oldest farmers first toasted Nicholas and his party, then toasted everyone. Following that, each man at the table stood up to toast everyone else, and after each had toasted, they started again from the beginning.
It wasn't just about toasting; they also sang songs to liven up the atmosphere. With each filled cup, they sang traditional Ukrainian folk songs. Those who sang well received cheers from the villagers.
"Drink as much as you sing!"
At Nicholas's table, Peter was the only one who could sing the folk songs, so he drank the most, although it was mostly low-alcohol beer, leaving him slightly tipsy after several large mugs.
The lively atmosphere reached its peak as the villagers finished several large barrels of beer.