THE GOSTINNA DVOR.--ITS EXTENT AND CHARACTER.--PECULIARITY OF RUSSIAN
SHOPPING.--CURIOUS CUSTOMS.--OLD-CLOTHES MARKET.--HAY-MARKET.--PIGEONS
IN RUSSIAN CITIES.--FROZEN ANIMALS.--CHURCH AND MONASTERY OF ST.
ALEXANDER NEVSKI.--A PERSIAN TRAIN.--A COFFIN OF SOLID SILVER.--THE
SUMMER GARDEN.--SPEAKING TO THE EMPEROR.--KRILOFF AND HIS FABLES.--VISIT
TO A RUSSIAN THEATRE.--"A LIFE FOR THE CZAR."--A RUSSIAN COMEDY.
"Before I describe the Gostinna Dvor of St. Petersburg," said Fred in
his note-book, "let me premise by saying that every Russian city or town
has an establishment of the same kind. It is a good deal more than the
market-place with us, and seems to combine the bazaars of the East with
the shops of the West. In an ordinary town the Gostinna Dvor occupies a
single large building at or near the centre of population; the larger
the town or city the greater will be the commercial needs of the people,
and consequently a city like Moscow or St. Petersburg will have a
Gostinna Dvor that dwarfs all ordinary markets into insignificance.
"The one at St. Petersburg occupies an enormous building, which might
almost be called a series of buildings, fronting on the Nevski Prospect,
but entered also from other streets. There are said to be ten thousand
merchants and their employés in the building, and certainly the number
is little if any exaggerated. We walked among the rows of shops till our
feet ached with weariness, and still there were many other rows of shops
to be visited. Sometimes the shopmen were importunate, but usually they
did not disturb us unless we stopped to look at something. The building
is two stories high, the lower floor being used for retail purposes and
the upper for the storage of goods. Owing to the danger of a
conflagration and the great destruction that would ensue, we were told
that no fire is allowed here in winter. Then the merchants and their
clerks wear furs and thick clothing when at their business, and shoppers
are not expected to lay aside their wraps while making purchases.
"'What do you buy in the Gostinna Dvor?' I hear some one asking.
"'Everything that one could wear or use in Russia,' I should reply,
'together with a great many things whose use it would be impossible to
imagine.' Some one writing on this subject says you may come naked into
the Gostinna Dvor, bringing only a pocket-book stuffed with money, and
leave it in an hour dressed in whatever garments you choose, wear all
the jewellery your tastes may dictate, and ride away in a coach drawn by
four horses, with driver and footmen in livery, all obtained in the
building we are now visiting, or in one of its annexes. Nay, more; you
can engage a residence of palatial character from accommodating house
agents stationed here, and furnish it completely from the stock on hand
in the Gostinna Dvor. Pictures, chairs, sofas, curtains, tapestry,
kitchen utensils, library, anything and everything you want, are all
ready for sale, and only await purchasers. Your wife and children,
'sisters, cousins, and aunts,' can here be provided with wardrobes,
elaborate or economical, as your purse will justify, and so with all the
servants of the household, regardless of their number.
[Illustration: POLITENESS IN THE MARKET-PLACE.]
"Officers of every grade, rank, and arm of the service can be uniformed
here, and their garments may be brand-new, second-hand, or so old that
they will subject the wearer to punishment on account of his shabbiness.
Decorations are to be bought, at least the insignia thereof, and the
seller will ask no questions. The purchaser wears them at his peril if
he does not possess the proper diplomas, since the unauthorized wearing
of decorations is as serious a matter in Russia as in other Continental
countries. The Emperor Nicholas was fond of visiting the Gostinna Dvor
accompanied by a single orderly. One day he saw a young officer
wistfully eying a decoration in one of the windows, and told the orderly
to ascertain his name. Inquiry showed that the officer stood well with
his superiors, was faithful in the performance of his duties, and the
result was he received the coveted bauble directly from the hand of the
Emperor.
"Perhaps you wonder why the Russian market is so extensive, and what
must be the habits of the people to sustain such a commerce. This is the
way it is explained:
"A Russian rarely buys anything till just as he wants it, and then he
cannot wait to have it made. In England or America a man desiring to
furnish a fine house would be weeks or months collecting his furniture,
ordering some to be made, and buying the rest from time to time when he
found what suited him. Under similar circumstances, a Russian drives to
the Gostinna Dvor, and makes his selections from what he finds there.
"The Russians are said to be more capricious than people of other
nationalities in the matter of their movements from place to place. A
wealthy Russian will fit up a house at great expense, buying his
furniture in the manner described. In a few months he decides to travel
for his health, or go to the country, and the whole equipment is sent to
the Gostinna Dvor and sold for what it will bring. It may be so little
used that it can be sold again by the dealer as new, and of course the
dealer makes a large profit on the transaction. When the man comes back
to the city he furnishes anew, and thus the business of the bazaar is
maintained. Fortunes come and go very quickly in Russia, and so the work
of fitting and dismantling is continuous.
"The best goods are in the Gostinna Dvor proper, while the inferior ones
are in the annexes. Some of the shops have fixed prices, but in most of
them there is a system of bargaining which is not agreeable to the
traveller from the Occident. He is never certain that he has paid the
proper price, even when he has brought the merchant down to what appears
to be his lowest figure.
[Illustration: IMPORTUNING A VISITOR.]
"We bought a few articles of Russian manufacture to send home to our
friends. Among them were _samovars_, inlaid goods from Tula, embroidered
slippers and sashes from the Tartar provinces, malachite and
lapis-lazuli jewellery, and some Circassian ornaments of silver. Many of
the articles sold in the Gostinna Dvor are of English, German, and
French manufacture, which are largely increased in price owing to the
duties placed upon them by the custom-house.
"Our guide directed us from the rear of the building along the _Bolshoia
Sadovaia_, or Great Garden Street, which is a line of shops and bazaars,
to the _Sennaia Ploshad_, or Hay-market. This is a large open place or
square, which is less interesting now than in winter. In summer it is
devoted to the sale of hay and live-stock, but in winter it is filled
not only with the hay, grain, and live-stock of summer, but with frozen
animals, which form the principal food of the inhabitants of the city.
Here is what one traveller has written about the frozen market:
[Illustration: FROZEN ANIMALS IN THE MARKET.]
"'On one side you see a collection of frozen sheep--stiff, ghastly
objects--some poised on their hoofs like the wooden animals in a
child's "Noah's Ark;" others on their sides, with their legs projecting
at right angles to their bodies; others, again, on their backs, with
their feet in the air like inverted tables. The oxen are only less
grotesque from having been cleft down their backs--an operation which
seems to take them out of the category of oxen and place them in that of
beef. The pigs are drawn up in line against the wall, standing on their
hind legs, with their forefeet extended above their heads, like
trick-dogs going through their performances.
"'The partridges, quails, grouse, wood-hens, and other birds are lying
together in a frozen mass, and by their side are ducks and geese with
outstretched necks so straight and stiff that you might take one of
these harmless creatures by the bill and, using it as a bludgeon, knock
down your enemy with its body. The fowls have been plucked, plunged into
water, and left to freeze; thus they are completely encased in ice, and
in that condition will keep for any length of time as long as the
weather continues cold.'
"Frozen fish are piled in heaps like stove-wood, and frozen cabbages are
rolled around like cannon-shot. A calf stands in front of a butcher's
stall in the attitude of walking away, but an examination shows that he
is hard as a stone, and may have been standing there for weeks. Milk is
sold in bricks, with a stick or string frozen into one corner; the
purchaser may carry it home by means of this improvised handle, or he
may wrap it in paper or his handkerchief. In fact everything that can be
frozen yields to the frost, and the Russians find it a most convenient
form of preservation. One of the odd sights of the frozen market is the
itinerant vender of sucking-pigs, who carries these articles of trade
hung around his neck or waist, as though they were ornaments rather than
merchandise.
[Illustration: MARKET FOR OLD CLOTHES.]
"There is a market for old clothes which reminded us of Chatham Street,
in New York. The dealers had little stalls where the garments were
exposed for sale, and there were a good many peddlers who walked about
with the goods they desired to dispose of. The old-clothes market of St.
Petersburg is said to be inferior to that of Moscow in the number and
character of the Israelitish merchants in whose hands the business is
concentrated. The one at Moscow is also called the Elbow-market, on
account of the continued elbowing of those who go there. Though people
were crowded closely together when we were in the market, we saw no
indications of anything but good-nature. The Russians are polite to each
other as well as to strangers, and it was amusing to see how the rough
fellows, when meeting face to face, bowed as though they were great
personages.
"And such flocks of pigeons as were flying all about! They tell us there
are many more of them in winter than in summer, as the birds are then
driven to the towns and cities to find their food. The Hay-market is
their favorite resort, since grain as well as hay is sold there, and the
pigeons manage to get off with all that is scattered on the ground.
[Illustration: PIGEONS IN A RUSSIAN CITY.]
"The pigeon or dove in Russia is a sacred bird. The Russians say that as
the dove brought the olive-branch to the Ark, he should not be harmed,
and it would be a great offence to kill one of these birds in the
presence of an orthodox member of the Church. But all the grain that is
scattered from the feed of the horses and in the market-place is not
sufficient for the sustenance of the pigeons; many kind-hearted persons
throw quantities of grain to them every morning, and not unfrequently it
happens that a pious Russian will spend a considerable part of his
income in this way. Kriloff, the Russian fable writer, is said to have
supported all the pigeons of the Gostinna Dvor for some time at his own
expense, or, more properly speaking, at that of his creditors.
"There are a great many magpies and crows mingling with the pigeons, and
evidently considering themselves just as respectable. Pigeons, crows,
and magpies fill the belfries of many of the churches, but not of all,
and nobody seems able to say why they make the distinction. Some of the
churches are fairly thronged with them, and they keep up a perpetual
flutter around the roof from sunrise to sunset.
"There is a story that the magpies were driven out of Moscow by one of
the priests under the following circumstances: The high-priest, or
metropolitan, was about to lay the foundation of a new church, and when
he reached the part of the ceremony where the mortar was to be placed on
the stone, the golden trowel which had been brought for the occasion
could not be found. A workman standing near was accused of the theft,
and as nobody else could have stolen the trowel, the man was sent to
Siberia. Some weeks later the precious tool was found by the
bell-ringers in the great tower in the Kremlin, where it had been
carried by a thieving magpie. The man was pardoned, and compensated for
his suffering; the metropolitan placed the curse of the Church on the
magpie, and thereupon all the magpies in Moscow flew away, and have not
since been near the city. The story is told by the author of 'The
Russians at Home,' and he adds that the magpies really do keep at a
respectful distance from the ancient capital of Russia, and thus vouch
for the truth of the story."
From the Gostinna Dvor our friends drove to the church and monastery of
St. Alexander Nevski, at the extreme end of the Nevski Prospect. It
occupies a large area enclosed by high walls, and is said to be on the
exact spot where the Grand-duke Alexander defeated the Swedes, about
A.D. 1241. In due time he was canonized, and became St. Alexander. He
was buried at Vladimir, where his remains rested until after the
founding of St. Petersburg.
Peter the Great caused the bones of the saint to be transported to the
new city on the banks of the Neva. St. Alexander became St. Alexander
Nevski ("of the Neva"), and the church and monastery were established.
One night the monks in charge of the church took the bones of the saint
and started for Vladimir, declaring they had been told in a vision that
the saint was not resting peacefully in the marshy soil of the new
capital. Peter was not a man to be thwarted in his designs. He sent word
to the monks that unless they returned immediately, bringing the bones
with them, they would lose their heads. Knowing the man they had to deal
with, they straightway had a new vision, which accorded with the wishes
of the imperious Czar. They took the road back to St. Petersburg without
delay, and sought and obtained the pardon of their august master.
Hear what Fred has to say about the church and its surroundings:
"The original church was of wood," writes Fred, "and was built about
1712; it was torn down a few years later, and replaced with a church of
stone. The sovereigns of Russia each added something to the building and
its surroundings, and the present cathedral was built by Catherine the
Great. The work was done at great expense. Marble was brought from Italy
for the interior decorations, and the malachite, lapis-lazuli, and other
costly minerals were brought from Siberia and Persia. Some of the
paintings are by Russian artists, and the rest by celebrated masters of
Italy and other countries.
"An object of great interest is the shrine of St. Alexander Nevski. The
coffin is of solid silver, and, with the surrounding ornaments of the
same pure metal, is estimated to weigh more than a ton and a half. The
crown of the saint is preserved here, and also the bed on which Peter
the Great died, and there are many interesting objects associated with
the memory of nearly all the rulers of Russia.
"There is a library of ten or twelve thousand volumes, together with a
large number of manuscripts relating to the history of the Empire. In
the monastery are the cells of some fifty or sixty monks who reside here
and have charge of a religious school which is open to students
preparing to enter the service of the Church. The chapel contains the
tombs of Suwaroff and other generals, and also of many members of the
Imperial family. There are tombs of several noble families of Russia;
that of the Narishkins bears the inscription,
"'FROM THEIR RACE CAME PETER THE GREAT.'
"An occurrence of comparatively recent times is associated with this
church. Alexander Griboyedoff, born at Moscow about 1795, was a
celebrated poet and dramatist, whose merits were acknowledged by his
appointment as Minister to Persia in 1828. In February of the following
year he and all the Russians who accompanied him were murdered in
Teheran, in consequence of a riotous outbreak of the populace. The
Russian Government demanded satisfaction, which was given in the shape
of a long train of beasts of burden loaded with presents, and
accompanied by a prince of the Shah's household. There were also many
fine horses for saddle purposes, and a collection of wild animals
peculiar to Asia. The train was months on its way, and reached St.
Petersburg in the winter. A procession was made to this church, and
certainly it was the most remarkable that this northern city had ever
seen.
[Illustration: PERSIAN HORSES PRESENTED BY THE SHAH.]
"Pearls, embroideries in gold and silver, shawls, and other costly
fabrics, were carried on silver dishes in the hands of gorgeously
dressed Persians; elephants bearing towers filled with Persian warriors,
or laden with the gifts of the Persian court, were protected from the
cold by boots and wrappings of leather; and the cages of the lions,
tigers, and leopards were shielded by double coverings of the skins of
Arctic bears. The Persian prince rode in an Imperial carriage drawn by
six horses, and was escorted by a regiment of Russian grenadiers. A
portion of the presents was bestowed upon this church, and the remainder
went to the families of Griboyedoff and his companions.
"The Emperor comes in person to attend the service of mass in this
church at least once a year. The choir is one of the best in the city,
and the church is largely attended by the fashionable inhabitants of the
capital. A service was going on as we entered the building, and we
remained near the door until it ended. It was an impressive ceremonial,
made doubly so by the historic interest of the surroundings."
[Illustration: RUSSIAN PEASANT GIRL.]
A drive to the Summer Gardens followed the visit to the Church of Saint
Alexander Nevski. Several theatres and other public buildings were
passed on the way, but they concluded not to stop to examine them. "One
building is very much like another in St. Petersburg," said the Doctor;
"and unless there is some special interest connected with it, or a
peculiar feature of architecture, it is not worth while mixing it up
with your recollections of the Winter Palace and the Hermitage."
[Illustration: RUSSIAN NURSE-MAID AND CHILDREN.]
It was a pleasant afternoon, and the Summer Gardens were filled with
people enjoying the open air. There were nurse-maids with children,
peasants alone or in couples, or groups, well-to-do persons of the
middle classes, officers and soldiers--in fact a fair representation of
the whole population. The Emperor sometimes comes here for a walk, but
of late years his visits have been less frequent than formerly, on
account of the fear of assassination. It is forbidden to speak to the
Emperor while he is on the promenade, and any one violating the rule
will be arrested immediately.
It is said that one day while the Emperor was walking in the Summer
Gardens he met and recognized a French actor with whose performance he
was greatly pleased. He spoke pleasantly to the actor, and the latter
replied, expressing his satisfaction at this mark of the Imperial favor.
The Emperor then went on his way. The police immediately pounced upon
the performer, and carried him away to prison for violating the rule!
"But the Emperor spoke to me first," the man protested over and over
again to no purpose.
"You spoke to the Emperor, which is contrary to the law," was all the
explanation he could obtain.
Nicholas went that night to the theatre to hear his favorite, but the
latter did not appear. No one could tell where he was, and his Majesty
returned disappointed to the palace.
In the morning the unfortunate actor was released, and the story somehow
reached the Imperial ears. Nicholas sent for the victim of the arrest,
apologized for the action of the police, and asked what reparation he
could make for the actor's night in prison.
"Never speak to me again in the public garden," was the reply. The
Emperor laughed, and made the required promise. Next day he sent the
equivalent of a month's salary to the actor, together with a diamond
ring of no small value.
In one corner of the garden is a monument to the memory of Kriloff, the
Russian fabulist. The youths asked the Doctor to tell them about
Kriloff, which he did as follows:
"Kriloff was the most famous writer in Russia in the first half of the
present century," said the Doctor, "and he is probably better known
to-day among all classes of the population than any other man of
letters. Forty thousand copies of his works were sold between 1830 and
1840, in editions of various kinds, and went to all parts of the Empire.
There was hardly a child of the educated classes who was not familiar
with his stories, and they were circulated 'by word of mouth' among the
peasantry, to whom reading was an unknown accomplishment; and before
they were issued in books, his fables were published in newspapers and
magazines, so that the aggregate circulation was very large."
Fred asked what was the nature of the stories told by the famous man
whose statue they were regarding.
[Illustration: SOME OF KRILOFF'S FRIENDS.]
"They were fables," the Doctor answered, "after the manner of Æsop's and
La Fontaine's. He had written editorials and literary essays for various
publications, but never made a 'hit' until about his fortieth year, when
he took some fables from La Fontaine and adapted them to the conditions
of life in Russia. He showed them to a friend, who printed them in _The
Moscow Spectator_, where they attracted much attention. Kriloff was
encouraged to continue this style of writing. For the rest of his life
his literary labors were almost wholly devoted to fables. He died in
November, 1844, at the good old age of seventy-six.
[Illustration: KRILOFF'S CHARACTERS IN CONVENTION.]
"At his funeral the streets were crowded, and the Church of St. Isaac
could not hold all who came to take part in the services. Soon after his
death a popular subscription was started, and the children of all
classes contributed to it. The money was expended for the erection of
the statue before us. You observe that the space around it is the
favorite play-ground of the children, and no more appropriate spot could
have been chosen."
The statue represents Kriloff in a dressing-gown, seated in an
arm-chair, with his head slightly inclined forward, and looking
pleasantly downward. The pedestal of the monument is adorned with
reliefs of the animals that figured in his fables--oxen, horses, cows,
sheep, donkeys, foxes, wolves, hens, lions, etc., and thereby hangs a
story:
The Emperor Nicholas was fond of choosing as his ministers and advisers
men who were not likely to oppose any of his measures. The incompetency
of his ministry was notorious both in Russia and other countries. When
his successor, Alexander II., ascended the throne, he was asked why he
did not retain the ministry of Nicholas instead of choosing a new one.
He replied, "My father was a man of such transcendent ability that he
could afford to surround himself with incompetent men; I feel my
weakness, and must have the best talent in the Empire to assist me."
When the equestrian monument to the memory of Nicholas was under
consideration, it was proposed to adorn its pedestal with the portraits
of his ministers, but the proposal was vetoed, when some one suggested
that if the monument were so adorned it might be mistaken for that of
Kriloff.
"Kriloff's fables," the Doctor continued, "were aimed at official and
social abuses and absurdities. Many that he wrote were never produced,
as all had to receive the approval of the censor before they could be
issued. I told you that in ten years forty thousand copies of his works
were sold, and it is probable that the present sale amounts to several
thousand annually. Kriloff is read not only by Russian children but by
people of all ages, and the fables have been translated into all the
languages of Europe."
On the way back to the hotel our friends stopped at a book-store and
bought a copy, in English, of the book in which their interest had been
aroused. Some of the fables were incomprehensible to them, on account of
their ignorance of Russian manners and customs, and of the system of
government; but this was not the case with the greater number. They had
a hearty laugh over several of the anecdotes, and voted the book to be
well worth preserving.
Here are some of the fables with which they were amused. We will
condense them, as they are sometimes rather long drawn out in the
original.
A donkey meets a nightingale in the woods, and asks her to favor him
with a song. She complies, and sings her sweetest. The other birds come
and listen, but the donkey shakes his head and says, "Your voice is very
fair, but you should take lessons of the village cock." The moral may be
thus rendered in English:
"What most the poet fears,
Is the critic with long ears."
Another fable tells how the swan, the crab, and the pike agreed to draw
a load; but when the time came for the effort the pike dived into the
water, the swan flew into the air, while the crab went backward after
the manner of his kind. At the end Kriloff says,
"Which was right and which was wrong,
I really can't pretend to say;
But this I know, they labored long,
And the load stands still to the present day."
The fable of "The Two Boys" tells how two youths are trying to get at
some nuts in a tree, but the limbs are beyond their reach. One suggests
that he will climb up on the back of the other, and then can gather nuts
for both; but as soon as he is seated among the limbs he falls to eating
the nuts at his leisure, and throws only the shells to his companion.
The moral is obvious, and Kriloff adds that he has known men thus raised
to profitable positions who had not the grace to throw even the shells
to those who had assisted them.
[Illustration: THE FOX AS A LAW GIVER.]
In the fable of "The Pike," that voracious fish has been killing his
inoffensive neighbors in the pond. He is taken in a tub of water and
carried before the court for judgment. The court is composed of two
donkeys and two goats, who grazed on the banks of the pond; and in order
to make their decision an intelligent one, a skilful lawyer, the fox, is
added to the court. People said that the fox was always plentifully
supplied with fish, the pike giving him all he wanted.
The proof was overwhelming, and the judges decided that the pike must be
hanged. "Oh, hanging's too good for him," said the fox, "give him
something more severe; let the wretch be drowned."
"Certainly," exclaimed the judges; and thereupon the pike was thrown
into the pond again.
[Illustration: ONE OF KRILOFF'S CHARACTERS.]
In "The Fox and the Marmot," the fox complains to the marmot that he has
been driven out of a poultry-yard which he had undertaken to protect.
"It was a wretched place," says the fox; "I was awake all night; and
even in the daytime I had hardly time to eat a mouthful. My health was
suffering from my constant occupation, and, after all my trouble and
fidelity, I am accused of stealing. What an infamous outrage! You know
what I had to do there, and I ask if you could suspect me of the
slightest act of dishonesty."
"Of course not," the marmot answers; "but I'm sorry to say that I've
frequently seen feathers sticking in your mouth."
"Many an official," says Kriloff, "complains that his place is a hard
one, and he is barely able to live upon his pay. Nevertheless in time he
buys an estate and builds a house. You might have difficulty in proving
that he accepted bribes or robbed the Government, but every one must
admit that the feathers are quite visible around the gentleman's mouth."
Frank read this fable aloud, and then asked the Doctor if the moral
would be understood by any office-holders in the United States. Doctor
Bronson smiled as he answered that the fable was designed for Russia
alone, but its circulation in New York and Washington could do no harm.
In the evening our friends went to one of the theatres to hear an opera
that is a great favorite with the Russians. It is by Glinka, a Russian
composer, and is entitled "_Jizn za Tsarya_" ("A Life for the Czar").
From "The Russians at Home" Fred learned that the opera was first
produced in Moscow in 1843. The subject is the devotion of a Russian
peasant to the Czar Michael, the first ruler of the Romanoff family. A
band of Polish invaders are seeking the Czar with the intention of
killing him; they meet a peasant, whom they question as to the Czar's
place of concealment. Suspecting their design, he offers to lead them
to the spot; they follow, and he leads them to the centre of a forest
from which they cannot find a way of escape. After getting them there,
he announces that he has saved the life of the Czar at the sacrifice of
his own. The invaders kill him on the spot, but the life of the Czar is
saved. The story is a true one, and to this day the people of the
village where the loyal peasant, Ivan Soussanin, lived, are exempt from
taxes, and a monument has been erected to the memory of the man. The
opera which chronicles his devotion is given in three acts, and its
melodies are all strictly national. Our friends were delighted with the
performance, and both Frank and Fred declared that for days afterwards
several of the airs in "_Jizn za Tsarya_" were literally "running
through their heads."
Another evening they went to one of the cheaper theatres, where Russian
comedies and farces were given. Of course they could not understand the
dialogue, but were quite interested in the action of the piece, which
was decidedly vigorous. Fred said he was reminded of certain local
dramas in New York, where the actors receive a great deal of pounding
and rough handling, and Frank thought a good actor in Russia ought to
have the flexibility and agility of a circus performer.
As a type of the plays that amuse the lower order of Russians, the
following is a fair representation:
A mujik makes love to his master's maid-servant, much against the old
gentleman's will. One day the master enters the kitchen and finds the
mujik there. The whole family is called, the bull-dog is let loose upon
the lover and seizes him by the coat, while all the members of the
household proceed to pound him with saucepans, broomsticks, tongs, and
other utensils that can be used for hostile purposes.
[Illustration: CLOSING SCENE IN A RUSSIAN PLAY.]
Round and round goes the frightened mujik. The dog clings to the mujik's
coat, the master seizes the dog by the tail, the mistress clutches the
master by the coat, and so the whole trio is dragged by the victim. The
rest of the party continue their pounding, which they alternate by
throwing missiles in the shape of plates, potatoes, and anything else
the kitchen affords.
The audience is wild with delight, especially as the blows fall quite as
often on the other characters as on the mujik. Finally the maid-servant
comes to her lover's relief by throwing a bunch of fire-crackers among
his enemies and blowing them up; thereupon the lover dashes through the
door, carrying with him the adhering bull-dog, and the curtain falls
amid rounds of applause.
[Illustration: KRILOFF'S STATUE IN THE SUMMER GARDEN, ST. PETERSBURG.]