Before the age of mass media, photography was the only way to freeze a moment in time. In the 1860s, a remarkable collection of portraits was made across the Russian Empire, capturing the men and women who kept daily life moving. These were not nobles or royalty. They were street sellers, chimney sweeps, water carriers, soldiers, nuns, and peasants — the working backbone of 19th-century Russia. Today, these images are preserved in The Library of Nineteenth-Century Photography.
The Russian Empire in the mid-1800s was a vast, layered society. Serfdom had only just been abolished in 1861, meaning millions of peasants were navigating a new kind of freedom with very little economic support. Many flooded into cities like Moscow and St. Petersburg, taking on whatever work they could find. The streets were crowded with vendors, laborers, and tradespeople, each filling a specific role in the urban economy.
Street selling was one of the most common ways to earn a living. Vendors sold everything imaginable — from cloth slippers and ring-shaped cakes to Dutch herrings and Moscow bread. Each seller had a specialty, and many were immediately recognizable by what they carried or how they called out to passersby.
Selling food was especially common. Bread, fruit, game, and fish were staples of the Russian diet, and vendors who carried these goods on foot or by cart were fixtures of city life. Frozen fish was a particular winter commodity, sold directly from open-air markets where temperatures kept the catch preserved without any refrigeration.
Not all sellers dealt in food. Sieve dealers, basket sellers, and dressing-gown traders served the household needs of everyday Russians. The Tartar dressing-gown seller, for instance, reflected the Empire’s ethnic diversity — Tatars were a prominent Muslim population within Russia’s borders, and many worked as merchants and tradespeople in major cities.
Not everyone in these photographs had a stable trade. Vagabonds and scavengers also appear in the collection, representing the people who existed on the edges of urban society. Vagrancy was common in post-emancipation Russia, as former serfs without land or skills often had no fixed place in the economy.
Water was not piped into most homes in 1860s Russia. Water carriers were essential workers who hauled heavy loads from rivers, wells, or public fountains to private households and businesses. House-porters — the doormen and general laborers of wealthier homes — often took on water-carrying duties as part of their daily responsibilities.
Wetnurses were employed by wealthier families to breastfeed their infants. It was a formal, paid occupation, and wetnurses were often photographed in their working dress as a sign of their role. Woodsmen and wood-carriers, on the other hand, supplied the fuel that heated Russian homes through long, brutal winters.
Some of the portraits show people in more unusual trades. A bird-catcher, for example, captured wild birds to sell as food or pets. A boy selling wheelbarrows suggests that even children worked, taking on labor that adults might have overlooked. Child labor in 19th-century Russia was widespread and largely unrestricted by law.
Tradesmen who worked with their hands — bricklayers, plasterers, glaziers, and floor-cleaners — were responsible for building and maintaining the growing cities of the Empire. Moscow and St. Petersburg were expanding rapidly in this period, and construction trades were in constant demand.
Chimney sweeps were a common sight in any city that relied on coal and wood fires for heat. The job was physically demanding and often fell to young men or boys who were small enough to climb into narrow flues. Two separate chimney sweep portraits appear in this collection, each showing the soot-darkened clothing that marked the trade.
Coachmen were the taxi drivers of the 19th century. Known in Russia as izvozchiki, they ferried passengers across cities in horse-drawn carriages. The job required owning or having access to a horse and vehicle, making it slightly more elevated in status than street vending. Two coachmen appear in this collection, photographed in the heavy coats typical of Russian winter driving.
The military presence in this collection is notable. A Cossack — a member of the semi-military communities historically tied to Russia’s frontier regions — stands in full dress, representing a distinct warrior culture within the Empire. Firemen, too, were a quasi-military force in 19th-century Russia, organized into brigades and stationed across cities.
Markets and shops relied on a web of specialists. Fruit sellers, flower sellers, game dealers, and glaziers all carved out specific niches. The glazier — a tradesman who cut and fitted glass — was in steady demand as window glass became more common in urban buildings during this period.
The Gipsy tinman reflects another layer of Russia’s diverse population. Roma craftsmen traveled between towns, repairing metal goods like pots, pans, and tools. They were skilled itinerant workers, though often viewed with suspicion by settled communities.
One of the more candid images in the collection shows house-porters drinking tea — a staged scene, but one that captures a genuine Russian social habit. Tea drinking was central to Russian daily life, and the samovar was a fixture in homes across all social classes. Even laborers took their tea breaks seriously.
Itinerant musicians traveled from town to town, performing for coins on street corners or at festivals. Music was a form of both entertainment and income for those without a fixed trade. Kitchen-maids, by contrast, were permanently employed in the households of the wealthy, responsible for the heavy, unglamorous work of preparing food and maintaining kitchens.
Lamp-lighters were essential to city life before electric street lighting arrived. Each evening, they walked their assigned routes with a long pole and flame, lighting the gas or oil lamps that lit Russia’s city streets. Three separate lamp-lighter portraits appear in this collection, underscoring how common and recognizable the role was.
The match-seller and newspaper-seller represent the small-scale commerce that filled city streets. Matches were a relatively new product in the 1860s and were sold individually or in small quantities. Newspapers were growing in circulation as literacy rates slowly rose, and sellers carried them through busy districts every morning.
Milkmaids and milk-women delivered fresh dairy directly to households each morning. Russia’s cities still relied heavily on this door-to-door system, as cold storage did not yet exist in any practical form. The women who did this work rose before dawn and covered significant distances on foot.
Religion was woven into the fabric of Russian life. Monks and nuns appear in this collection in their formal habits, representing the Russian Orthodox Church’s deep presence in everyday society. Monasteries and convents were not isolated — their members regularly moved through cities and interacted with the broader public.
The peasant portraits are among the most striking in the collection. Photographed individually and in groups, these men and women wore the simple, rough clothing of rural Russia. By the 1860s, many had left their villages for city work, but their dress and demeanor still reflected their agricultural roots.
Some photographs were deliberately staged to show an activity rather than just a face. A pedlar and manservant trying a comb, house-porters drinking tea, and a peep-show scene all recreate moments of street interaction. The peep-show was a popular street attraction — a box containing a series of pictures that viewers paid a small coin to see through a magnifying lens.
Closing out the collection is a policeman — a representative of the state authority that oversaw all of these lives. In 1860s Russia, the police force was tightly connected to the Tsarist government and played a direct role in enforcing social order in rapidly changing cities. His portrait, like all the others in this collection, is a direct window into a world that no longer exists.
