Aspect of the country—Sketch of the peasants—Forebodings
of evil—State of the serfs—Anecdotes of proprietors—The
French waiting-maid—Shameful treatment of serfs—State of
crime—Mutilations and murders—Revenge for a beating—Dreadful
vengeance of the serfs—Pleasing anecdote—Wealthy
serfs—Recklessness of the nobles—Selling slaves—The cook and
his sorrows—Anecdotes—Serf apprentices—The old gourmand—A good
bargain and a bad one—The gardener—A boorish audience—The
peasants—Superstitions and ignorance—Anecdotes.
In the summer-time the country in Russia is very agreeable; the
unconstrained hospitality of the proprietors, the manner of living, _sans
gêne_, is particularly pleasant. Of course where estates consist of some
five hundred square versts, and comprise immense forests and lakes, with
a very scanty population, it would be absurd to expect that cultivation
and flourishing appearance which we so much prize in England; yet there
is a great deal to like and admire, notwithstanding. The plains extending
far and wide, unenclosed by hedges; the bright green fields of flax or
waving corn in the midst of forests of sombre pine; the broad silvery
lake swarming with fish; the numerous eagles careering aloft in the clear
blue sky; the peasants in their gaily-coloured costumes, merrily singing
their native airs while at their work, or sitting down under the shade
of the birch-trees taking their frugal repast; whilst in the background
is seen rising from among the woods the white church with its blue
dome bespangled with gold stars, its tapering gilt spire and numerous
glittering crosses, all rendered doubly brilliant by the rays of an
unclouded sun—all this makes a scene peculiarly Russian, but not the less
beautiful. When the peasants have finished their repast, they devoutly
turn towards the church and make the sign of the cross as they bow in
gratitude for their daily bread; they will then throw themselves down
in the shade to take their midday nap of two hours during the excessive
heat:[7] this is not laziness, for the poor men generally get up at three
o’clock in the morning, and do not leave off labour until ten at night;
the continual twilight of a Russian summer enabling them to continue thus
long at their employment. Towards the evening, if it be the eve of some
saint’s day, or great national holiday, we shall see them lively and
merry enough, all dressed in clean shirts of the brightest hues, and gay
sarafanes, dancing in the space before their houses, singing their native
airs to the tinkling of their triangular guitars, as if slavery were but
a name and its burthens feathers. Alas! this is the sunny side of their
existence. Could we but see the oppression of the land-stewards and the
ill-treatment they meet with, we should soon discover how many clouds
cast a shadow on their daily course. Men and women in name, and children
in their thoughts and ideas, they are now governed like so many infants;
but when the day comes on which they will awaken to their true condition,
how fearful will be the retribution on the heads of those who have thus
oppressed them. “We all look forward to a revolution,” said a gentleman
of great talent one day; “we all look forward to a revolution; and when
it does break out, the French tragedy will be but a game of play in
comparison to it.” I often thought of his words when I saw the peasantry
with their axes stuck into their girdle, a national custom, and shuddered
to imagine the horrid deeds they will commit with these weapons when
their vengeance shall have been aroused for the many years of injustice
and cruelty to which they have been subjected.
Under the large landowners the lot of the peasantry is often tolerably
happy; and as they do not know what freedom means, slavery is not
greatly felt; but it is under the petty proprietors that they suffer the
most; then indeed they are to be pitied. It is among these that we are
continually hearing of such detestable actions as in any other country
would cause them to be excluded from respectable society.
I remember, among dozens of other instances, some little anecdotes which
illustrate this:—
A _lady_ (?) who was in St. Petersburg for the winter, and whom I met
two or three times at evening parties, was one day extremely unlucky at
cards: she had some servants (slaves) who possessed very beautiful hair;
and as she had not enough ready money to pay the debt incurred by her
losses, she actually sent to a barber and had all their long tresses
cut off, the sale of which enabled her to discharge it _honourably_! As
closely-cropped hair is a punishment for immoral conduct, and exposes a
girl to the jeers and mockeries of her companions, it may readily be
imagined what a bitter mortification such an act must have been to them.
I must, however, add that the person in question was a _Pole_; and as far
as I have been able to judge, the Poles are infinitely more unfeeling and
tyrannical to their serfs than the Russians.
I was once going to the opera in company with a Polish lady; she came
and begged me to wait a few minutes, as she was not quite ready; she was
magnificently dressed in dark crimson velvet, a profusion of jewels,
lace, and marabout feathers. I took a seat in the drawing-room, next to
her _cabinet de toilette_, whilst she completed her head-dress. Suddenly
I heard a tremendous noise in the adjoining apartment; mistress and maid
seemed to be endeavouring to outscold each other; but as they spoke
Polish I did not understand what it was all about. Presently a loud
crash, and the fall of a heavy body on the floor, announced that some
catastrophe had happened. Very soon after the lady made her appearance,
smiling with all the politeness possible, and expressing her regret at
having kept me waiting. I made no remark, of course, nor did she allude
to the mysterious fracas that had just taken place; but I afterwards
learned the facts of the case: the maid had not pleased her in her
coiffure; the lady scolded; the girl answered impertinently, which so
enraged her amiable mistress, that, with the chair on which she was
sitting, she knocked her down with so much violence that two of _her
front teeth_ were broken off in her fall!
An amusing anecdote was told me by a French lady. One of her countrywomen
was engaged as dressing-maid to a lady of rank in Russia: one day, while
combing out her mistress’s long back hair, she hurt her head; the lady
turned round and gave her a slap on the face. The Frenchwoman, who had
hold of her hair, which she was on the point of tying, so that it was all
gathered together in her hand, grasped it tightly, and then inflicted
a sound correction on the lady’s ears with the hair-brush. Perhaps it
may be thought that she was immediately punished by being taken to the
police, or at the least summarily dismissed from the household. Far from
it; the maid knew the character of the Russians well, and also what she
was about: she was perfectly aware that her mistress would not dare to
expose her, on account of the disgrace to herself; for it would be an
indelible one for a noble lady to have been beaten (in any place but
_Count Orloff’s_ office), and especially by a menial: she therefore not
only took the whole quietly, but presented the Frenchwoman with thirty
silver roubles and a new gown, to buy her silence; she was ever after
treated with much consideration, and at the time the anecdote was told to
me was still in the same situation.
When we were in the province of Vologda, I was one day walking alone in
the garden; presently I heard loud voice accompanied by a heavy thump
on somebody’s back frequently repeated. I stepped on one side, behind
the thick shrubs, for I recognised the accents of the lady at whose
house we were on a visit, and I thought she would rather not be seen
just at that moment; but I could not resist gratifying my curiosity
so far as to ascertain who the person was who had displeased her. I
found that it was the gardener, a tall athletic young man, who, with a
basket in his hands, was slowly walking down a path, followed by his
proprietress, who between every sentence struck him a smart blow on his
back with her clenched fist. The man was going forward with a downcast
look, like a great overgrown child, exclaiming at intervals, “Isvenete,
matutchka, isvenete, veno vat” (Pardon, mother, pardon; I am guilty).
As for the lady, when I gazed on her face inflamed with anger, and saw
her infuriated gestures, I could scarcely believe that she was the same
person whom I had seen in the drawing-room not ten minutes before, whose
graceful hospitality and amiable politeness had impressed us all with
admiration.
During our stay in Jaroslaf a commission was sent from St. Petersburg to
inquire into the manner in which the slaves of a neighbouring estate had
been treated by their proprietress. Her shameful conduct had driven the
unhappy serfs to such desperation, that some of them had found the means
to escape, and had fled to the capital; they threw themselves at the
feet of the Emperor, and implored him, in the name of God their common
Father, to be their friend and protector, and to do them justice, as they
had none other that would help them. His Majesty (who, if unbiassed by
evil counsellors and interested landowners, is always ready to listen to
the prayers of his poor peasants) promised that, if he found that they
were guiltless, and had spoken truly, he would see that they received
justice, and immediately gave orders that the strictest inquiries should
be made concerning them. The result was that the estate was taken from
the lady who had so ill-treated the peasants: she was allowed a small
pension, enough to keep her from actual want, out of the rents, and the
property was put under the care of trustees, that she should no longer
have the power in her hands which she had so disgracefully abused. Even
her daughters were removed from her guardianship, lest her example should
have a bad influence on them.
Many other instances have been mentioned to me in which the Emperor has
displayed as much humanity as justice; undoubtedly there would be fewer
abuses were it possible that the knowledge of them could reach him; but
thousands of vile and unjust actions are committed that are hushed up
and escape the punishment they deserve. The Russians stand infinitely
more in fear of the Emperor than they do of their Creator. The common
saying, “The Czar is near, but God is far off,” gives a good idea of
their feeling on the subject. I was once staying with a friend whose
husband had at that time a great deal to do with the judicial department;
and the horrible tales of crimes and cruelties committed by some of the
proprietors that came under his excellency’s consideration would not
be credited. It is true that there are badly-disposed people in every
country, but happily they have not, as in Russia, such power in their
hands. The very recital of such deeds was enough to make one shudder.
It is difficult to know the exact extent of the evil existing, as no
accounts really authentic are published. I may mention a few that came
under my _personal knowledge_.
When we were at Nova Derevna, not far from St. Petersburg, two hands
recently severed were found near our house in a wood: they were tied
together, but it was never discovered to whom they belonged, or who had
done the dreadful deed.
When we were on a visit on Count ——’s estate, the head servant found in
the garden the corpse of a woman who had evidently been murdered; the act
had not long been perpetrated, for the body was yet warm. In this case
also it was never discovered either who she was or who was the assassin.
One of the trials that took place before my friend’s husband was that of
a proprietress who had amused herself with shamefully cutting and maiming
several children on her estates; when asked what could have induced her
to commit acts of such demoniacal cruelty, her reply was, “C’était pour
me distraire!” She was exiled to Siberia.
It cannot be expected of human beings, although they be born bondsmen and
serfs, that they will _always_ quietly submit to a tyrannical master, or
that they will forego _revenge_ when they cannot obtain _justice_. Many
examples of the most dreadful vengeance have come under my knowledge
in different parts of Russia. The first anecdote I will give is rather
laughable than serious, and I mention it _en passant_, as it was one that
occurred in my presence.
I was once dining at the house of a provincial governor; eighty people
formed the party, including a vast number of officers, employés,
and their ladies. The feast was given in honour of the anniversary
of the Emperor’s coronation, so all the company were in full dress:
his excellency was in his general’s uniform, resplendent with gold
embroidery and stars. When the footman handed round the dish of roast
meat as usual, he cleverly contrived to upset all the gravy over his
master’s back, and in such a manner that epaulettes, facings, and all
were covered with immense spots of grease: it was evidently done on
purpose. The general rose in a great passion, but the man put on so
contrite an expression, and so humbly begged pardon, that there was
nothing to be done but to change the coat. I shall never forget the sly
look of triumph the servant cast on his master’s back as he followed him
officiously from the dining-hall, and the grin with which he returned
to it with his excellency, who was obliged to make his reappearance in
a plain black coat and civilian’s dress. I afterwards heard that the
previous day the footman had been severely beaten, for which he had thus
taken revenge.
The brother of a gentleman in a provincial town, with whom I was well
acquainted, had caused a peasant belonging to his estate to be flogged;
the man took the punishment quietly, and uttered no threats; but the next
time he met with M. P——ski he raised his axe, and with one blow clave his
skull from the forehead to the chin. It was not until two days after that
the body was found. The man was taken into custody, and accused of the
murder; he confessed it immediately, and was consequently banished to the
Siberian mines.
Some years ago I met a lady and her daughter in society: they were in
deep mourning, and, as I had seen them a short time before otherwise
dressed, I asked a friend what near relative of theirs had lately died.
“O, do you not know?” answered she; “I thought everybody was talking of
it. Marie Ivanovna is now a widow; her husband met with his death in a
shocking manner: he had ill-treated the daughter of a peasant belonging
to his estate, which so raised the anger of the girl’s father, that, when
he met him in the wood near his château, he attacked him with his axe
and killed him on the spot. Marie Ivanovna, finding that her husband did
not return home, went with her daughter into the wood to meet him, and,
catching sight of some strange-looking object at a distance, approached
it in order to see what it was. Her horror may well be conceived when
she discovered that it was the body of her husband placed in a sitting
posture, with his back leaning against a tree, and his hands on his
knees, on which was laid the head that the peasant had severed from the
trunk with his axe.” As it was well known that the man had had just cause
for vengeance, there was no difficulty in discovering the murderer, and
he was banished to Siberia. An instance was also related to me of the
slaves burning their proprietors in their beds in revenge for their
excessive cruelty.
A Swiss lady with whom I was slightly acquainted resided as governess in
the interior of Russia, with a family who had a large estate and several
villages. The three children slept in an inner room adjoining hers; they
were all very young; the eldest was a boy of eight, the two others were
little girls. One morning she arose; her young charge were dressed; and
as they generally breakfasted alone, they were not surprised that they
saw nothing of their mamma and papa; the servants attended to them as
usual, and they had no reason for suspecting that anything extraordinary
had occurred; but as the day advanced, they began to wonder that
everything was so quiet in their parents’ room; the servants expressed
the same surprise, and at last the Swiss lady determined upon knocking at
the door, for she began now to fear that something serious had happened;
obtaining no reply to her repeated knocks, she ventured upon looking in.
To her inconceivable horror and dismay, she beheld the lady and gentleman
lying in bed with their heads almost severed from their bodies. She had
the admirable presence of mind to prevent the children, who had crowded
to the door, from entering, and so mastered her emotion that she did
not scream or utter any exclamation that would betray her agitation at
the dreadful sight; but closing the door, she told them not to make a
noise, for their parents were ill, and led them back to their apartments.
She then summoned the household, to whom she communicated what she had
seen, and sent off to the neighbouring town for the authorities. On
the affair being examined into, it appeared that the murdered couple,
although tolerably kind towards their household servants, were extremely
oppressive and unjust in regard to the serfs on their estates; and these
latter, in order to free themselves from such tyranny, had committed this
fearful crime; yet in their revenge they still had some sense of justice;
they would not slay the children for the evil their parents had done.
So quietly had they executed their designs, that they had not disturbed
any of the domestics. This may be the more easily understood when it
is mentioned that all the rooms in the house were on the ground-floor;
and it being the summer time, the lady and her husband slept with the
windows open.
I heard of many more examples, but these will show that even the serfs of
Russia, ground down to the dust as they are, will not always writhe like
a trodden worm, but will turn and seek revenge.
I must not omit to relate an anecdote more pleasing than the foregoing,
which will serve to illustrate another trait in the national character.
Count B——, a gentleman of very extensive landed property in the south of
Russia, was left an orphan at about the age of seventeen, and, of course,
until he was of age he was under the direction of his guardians. On his
attaining his majority he determined upon visiting each of his estates
in succession. It was night when he reached the largest one in Little
Russia; he drove quietly to the house, as he thought unremarked by the
villagers, but not so; early the next morning he was awakened by great
noise and tumult; he looked out of the window, and to his dismay beheld
the whole yard crowded with the peasantry. A momentary fear presented
itself to his mind, that the serfs had risen and that they designed
his destruction. He determined, however, to meet the danger boldly; he
dressed, and hastened down amongst them. He was received with shouts
that did not re-assure him, and then a sudden silence succeeded. This
was broken by two or three of the oldest peasants, who advanced towards
him, and with great respect begged to know if it were true that he
was, as they had heard, deeply involved in debt. “Because,” said they,
“we do not wish to be disgraced by having a proprietor who is in such
embarrassment. We therefore hope that you will allow us to discharge your
debts, that you may be freed from it; for that purpose we have collected
together a million of roubles (_assignats_), which we have brought
with us, and which we entreat you to accept.” Some of their companions
then stepped forward, having in their hands heavy bags and rolls of
bank-notes, showing that they had the means as well as the will to ensure
the success of their plan. The Count was too much affected to answer them
immediately, but when he had acquired sufficient composure he thanked
them heartily, but assured them that they were mistaken. “It is true,” he
said, “that on my father’s death some of the property was mortgaged, but
my guardians, by a careful economy, have been enabled to free it from all
liabilities; and now not a single copeck is owing to any one.”
The peasants hesitated; they did not wish to doubt his word, but were
fearful lest he should have told them so because he did not desire
their money. It was only by repeated assurances that they were at last
convinced that it was a fact. They then begged he would accept the money
as a present; on that being declined, they would only be satisfied with
the promise that in case he should find himself in difficulties he would
apply for assistance to them and not to strangers.
It may seem strange to English people that serfs should be possessed
of so large a sum as a million of roubles (45,000_l._); but it must be
remembered that many of them are not mere field labourers, but rich
shopkeepers and tradesmen with large fortunes. Some of the slaves
belonging to Count S. (a nobleman who possesses one hundred and twenty
thousand souls on his estates) are among the wealthiest shopkeepers
in St. Petersburg, and have hundreds of thousands of pounds capital.
The question naturally arises, “Why do they not, then, purchase their
freedom?” They cannot do so without the consent of their proprietor; and
as he is not willing to give it, having a kind of pride in possessing
people of such enormous fortunes, they remain in the condition in which
they were born. It is said that very lately they have lent Count S.
above one hundred and fifty thousand pounds to pay off debts on his
property. The shopkeepers and merchants in Russia are now the richest
class in the country; the nobility every year are becoming poorer. The
policy of Catherine has worked well in that respect; for, they say, it
was she who began to lower their power, which has ever been dangerous
to the imperial family, and her successors follow in her steps. It is
astonishing how reckless the Russian nobles are of the consequences of
their extravagance. I was well acquainted with a family whose daughter
was to be presented at court; to my certain knowledge they pawned a part
of their hereditary estates to enable them to make a brilliant figure
for the season. As their estates are generally pawned to the crown, and
their improvidence and love of show make it very improbable that either
they or their children will ever be in a condition to reclaim them, the
consequences are not difficult to foresee.
It is not lawful in Russia to sell the serfs without the land, or to
separate individuals of a family unless the parents accompany them; it is
nevertheless sometimes done, for two or three instances have come to my
own knowledge, in establishments in which I was residing; and although
I was present on the occasions, and know the terms on which the sales
took place, Russians have often contradicted me, and assured me that such
a thing was impossible, as it was not allowed. It is true, indeed, that
it is _not allowed_ by the law, but, if the two proprietors consent to
the bargain, who is to complain? It certainly would not be the servant
so disposed of, as her existence would be wretched enough afterwards;
and we have often heard both male and female domestics beg another
owner to purchase them, if they dislike the family they are in. After
twenty-five years service in their master’s household, they can have the
choice of being free or not; but they do not often profit by it, for,
after the best years of their life have been passed in working for their
proprietor, they with reason think that their old age should be taken
care of by him; and that, if permitted, they would prefer passing the
evening of their days in the village in which they were born, and among
the scenes endeared to them by their youthful associations, to dragging
out a toilsome and precarious life among strangers or in a crowded city.
Many of the household servants are hired; they are furnished by their
owners with a passport; they can then go whither they please, and serve
whom they like, upon the condition of their paying the yearly abrock, or
poll-tax, to him; but as this sum is not fixed by law, and the amount is
entirely dependent on the will of the proprietor, he often abuses the
trust, and manages to exercise a tyrannical influence even on those of
his serfs who are at a distance and removed from his immediate power. The
chief _cuisinier_ in Madame-B.’s house at Twer belonged to a landowner
who lived in Kalonga, and who had furnished him with a passport.
The man was clever at his profession, and had served a seven years’
apprenticeship in a French house in St. Petersburg; he was therefore a
valuable acquisition to a large establishment; he had three other cooks
under him, and was very much respected. Madame B. was generous: his wages
were high, and in addition she kindly allowed him to superintend public
suppers and private parties in the houses of the neighbouring gentry,
for which he received so good a remuneration that he realized a handsome
profit. So far so good. By economy he might have saved in a few years
sufficient money to buy his freedom, and he would have done so, as he
was extremely anxious to marry one of the upper servants that lived in
the same family; but then there was _the abrock_, and his master was one
who never seemed to have enough. As soon as he found that Vassili was
making money, he raised the amount of the poll-tax, and, by adding every
year a little more to it, contrived to squeeze out of the poor fellow’s
hands almost all his earnings. Many and many a time have I seen the tears
rolling down his cheeks as he saw that his hopes for the future were
daily getting more indistinct, and that he had no prospect of becoming
free and wedding Grushia. One day we found him sobbing bitterly over an
open letter; he had just received it from his proprietor: it was, as
usual, demanding _more abrock_, but, worse than all, it was an answer, to
a proposition made by Madame regarding his purchase: she with her wonted
kindness wished to render all her household as happy as it lay in her
power to do, and had told Vassili to inquire what amount was necessary
to make him a free man. The sum named was so exorbitant that it was
beyond the lady’s means. Apparently his master was determined not to part
with a property that afforded him so great an annual profit and the hopes
of increasing it in future.
The way the Russians treat their household servants is sometimes very
amusing—exactly as if they were babies. One day the eight footmen,
and the five other men-servants at Madame R.’s, all had new liveries.
Being desirous to see how they looked, Madame ordered them all into her
presence; they came, with the porter at their head: the lady bade them
stand in a row, so that she might see the effect; and having had a good
survey of the waistcoats, commanded them to turn about, which they did
in true military order, and gave us a gratifying view of thirteen pairs
of broad shoulders, all covered with light blue broadcloth of the best
quality; they then marched out as if they had performed an exemplary
duty. At another time the family was increased by a raw recruit of a
lacquey, about six feet two high, who was endowed with the awkward
habit of letting everything fall that he took in his fingers. After he
had exhausted the patience of everybody in the house, he was told that
the next time he gave us a specimen of his _mal-adresse_, he should
be punished. The very next day, as he was handing the dish of fish to
Madame, down went the elegant silver slice; after having picked it up
with a very red face, he cast a terrified look on his master, expecting
some awful retribution on his head for the sin he had committed; when
the lady, turning to him, ordered him immediately to go and stand _in
the corner_ for the rest of the time we should be at dinner. He obeyed
with the most contrite face, and stood there like one of Madame Tussaud’s
wax-work figures, without changing countenance or moving in the least.
It was wonderful how the other servants could keep a serious expression.
We were all nearly choked with suppressed laughter, it was so perfectly
ridiculous.
It is frequently, indeed generally, the case for the proprietors to
place many of their serfs out as apprentices to different trades, some
as carpenters, others as hairdressers, shoemakers, tailors, cooks,
milliners, dressmakers, &c. After their time is out, if their services be
not required in their master’s house, they are furnished with a passport,
and pay the poll-tax like Vassili, of whom I have spoken. In many of the
châteaux the domestics are capable of doing all the work for the family:
one makes the shoes and boots; another his master’s coat; a third,
brought up as a coiffeur, is the valet; a fourth the head cook; a fifth
the confectioner, who attends to all the preserves, pickles, and bonbons
used in the establishment; his place is no sinecure, as the Russians eat
a great quantity of these things, especially in the winter-time. In very
large households there are serfs who have been educated as musicians and
singers. One family with whom I was acquainted in St. Petersburg had a
private theatre in which their own people performed operas in very good
style: the orchestra and vocalists had all been trained at the owner’s
expense expressly for his amusement.
There was an old _noble_ (?), an acquaintance of my friends in Moscow,
who was possessed of an enormous fortune, and who made it his boast
that he was the greatest gourmand in Russia; his whole conversation was
concerning savoury dishes and delicious meats, to the concocting of which
his entire mental energies (if he had any) were devoted. His dreams were
nothing but visions of soups, fricassées, and pâtés, varied with ragoûts,
jellies, and macédoines. Whenever he called we were sure to hear that
his genius had discovered some new combination of good things, which he
seemed to think redounded as much to his honour as Napoleon’s victory
at Austerlitz did to his, or as Newton’s discovery of the theory of
gravitation. By excessively high living he had attained so preposterous
a size, that the door of his carriage had to be made the entire width of
one side to allow of his getting in and out: his eyes were almost buried
in the fat of his cheeks, and his thick lips and heavy looks showed to
what an extent he pursued the gratification of his favourite vice.
This _estimable_ old gentleman, in order to have the cookery of every
nation in the highest perfection, hit upon the ingenious plan of sending
one of his serfs to each of the great capitals of Europe, in order that
they might be initiated in all the mysteries of the _cuisine_ of the
country. One was in Vienna, another in Paris, a third in London, and
the fourth in Naples. The sum this cost him was enormous, not only for
the journeys, but on account of the high premium demanded for their
instruction. The man sent to Paris was bound for three years; he was
the most intelligent of the four; his master built immense castles in
the air about him; he was never tired of talking of the great progress
the man was making in the culinary art, whilst the agreeable prospect
of innumerable good dinners, rich soups, and magnificent _entremets_,
solaced him and served to cheer him up whenever an attack of indigestion
caused him a fit of the “blues.” He did not know, poor man! that the
dreams of his distant serf were widely different from his own; nor
perhaps had it ever entered his mind, that, in learning “_la cuisine
Française_,” he might possibly learn the language, and imbibe French
notions of liberty as well—but so it was. The three years were out, and
the old gentleman was on the tiptoe of expectation; his delicious _rêves_
were about to become realized; he had invited a host of acquaintances
to dine with him on a certain day. But, alas! the very morning on which
he made so sure of welcoming with open arms his _chef de cuisine_ from
abroad, there came a letter, in which the _ci-devant_ slave politely and
delicately informed him that, owing to a great change in his views, both
social and political, he could not decide upon devoting the rest of his
days to _his service_; that he was going to be married to a charming
young grisette, and had resolved upon becoming a French subject, as he
was already one at heart. He concluded by returning his sincere thanks
for the protection and patronage his former master had afforded him;
sent the receipted bills for the expenses which had been incurred on his
account, which he assured him had been honourably paid in his name, out
of the money forwarded to Paris for the purpose, and finished with the
most amiable wishes for his health and prosperity.
The grief and dismay of the old gourmand were inconceivable, and such
an effect did the mortification take on him, that he remained in bed a
whole fortnight to lament in solitude his irreparable loss.
As for the other three, I never heard what became of them; but it is to
be hoped that they all followed the same laudable plan.
Most of the dressing-maids have served their time, and are milliners
and couturières by profession. I was present one day when a bargain
was struck for a dressmaker; it was at Jaroslaf, and a gentleman from
a neighbouring estate had just dropped in to dine. In the course of
conversation the host had accidentally mentioned that his wife was in
great want of a good dressing-maid.
“Oh,” said the guest, “if that be all, my wife has an excellent one that
she will part with; she has been several years with a French dressmaker
in St. Petersburg to learn the trade, and I am sure my wife would be glad
to let Madame D——f have her.”
“Eh bien!” replied the other, “and her price?”
“Two hundred and fifty silver roubles.”
“That,” answered the host, “is, I am sure, much more than we should like
to give for a servant; we had better hire one; Madame D. is going to
Moscow, and she must engage one there.”
“What do you say then to two hundred?”
“Still too much.”
“Well, then, listen, mon ami: you were talking of buying a new
instrument: will you give me one hundred roubles and _your old piano_?”
Both parties agreed to these terms, and it was arranged that the girl
should be sent in the course of the following week, and that the rickety
old piano should be duly forwarded in exchange. Madame D.’s dressmaker
arrived at the stated time; she was about twenty-five years of age and a
good needlewoman. After having served a month or six weeks her mistress
told me in confidence “that she thought she had made a fair bargain,” and
even seemed to intimate that the proprietor had cheated himself in the
affair. I ought to add that the girl herself was a consenting party to
the transaction.
At another time when I was in St. Petersburg, a young servant-girl of
sixteen came into the room and begged to know if her mistress would buy
her, for her proprietress wanted some money, and would be glad to sell
her.
“I really do not know what to say to it,” was the reply. “How much does
she ask for you, Marousha?”
_Girl_ (with a low bow). “Eighty silver roubles, Madame.”
“Well,” said the lady, “I will consult my husband about it, and will
give you the answer after dinner.” The girl made a low inclination
and retired. On the husband’s return there was a serious consultation
concerning the proposed purchase. His remark had better be expressed in
French than in English. “Quatre-vingt roubles argent! c’est beaucoup
trop; et outre cela la fille a tellement les humeurs froides qu’elle
serait chère même à un prix moins grand!” I do not know whether the
proprietress agreed to take less on this consideration, or how it was
arranged; but some weeks afterwards I learnt that the girl had really
changed owners, at which she showed much satisfaction.
It is not allowed by law for the masters and mistresses to beat their
servants, unless they be their own slaves; but it is easy enough to
get it done by sending them with a complaint to the police, and, if the
leaven of a few roubles be added, they will have as fair a quantum of
stripes as are displayed on the American flag, or were ever administered
in that land of freedom. The ceremony of whipping takes place in the
night, and is performed in a place at the station devoted to the purpose.
The reason given us was, that “the culprits cried out so loudly that it
was much better to do it at that time than when everybody was about.”
In Twer the head-gardener thought proper to get intoxicated three days
together; he had often been in the same state before, and the patience of
his master was quite exhausted: so when he met him in the yard, perfectly
unable to stand, he ordered the police-master (who happened to be then in
the office making his reports) to take him under his care and administer
a sound flogging, so that he might in future know what he would have to
expect.
The order was well attended to, and the gardener was led to the
station-house, where he suffered the penalty of his offence. The next
day I was surprised to see him in the entrance-hall, looking as sober
and demure as possible. He waited quietly until his Excellency appeared;
he then prostrated himself several times at his feet until his face
touched the ground, begging in the most humble manner to return thanks
for the great kindness he had been shown. I could not think why he was so
grateful, and asked the General if he had pardoned his late offence.
“Pardoned! not a bit of it,” answered he, laughing; “he is expressing his
acknowledgments for the sound beating I caused him to receive.”
I could not help expressing my aversion to such meanness.
“You judge wrongly,” said his Excellency; “the man, I think, displays
very good feeling on the occasion. He committed a fault, for which I have
had him corrected, and he now thanks me for my judicious punishment. You
see by this that our people bear no malice in their hearts.” He forgot
to add that fear might have had a great deal more to do with it than
gratitude.
It will certainly take many years, ay, centuries, for such a people to be
in a condition to appreciate the blessings of freedom, and perhaps they
are too Asiatic ever properly to do so.[8]
It is almost dangerous to endeavour to ameliorate their state. The cousin
of a lady with whom I was intimate, having just returned from abroad,
where he had witnessed the good effects of civilization, determined
to devote his life and fortune to the enlightenment of his peasantry.
The ignorant priest, however, made them believe that his design was
to destroy their ancient customs and to subvert the religion of their
forefathers. The consequence was, that the slaves formed a conspiracy
against him, and shot him one evening as he was reading a book in his own
sitting-room.
Some years ago a party of ladies and gentlemen, while spending the summer
in the country, determined upon getting up a succession of theatrical
amusements, just to try their effect upon the minds of the lower class.
They accordingly fitted up a hall with great care, took immense pains
to learn their parts, and when all was ready they invited the serfs as
their audience, and gave them a holiday for the purpose of attending. The
ignorant boors stood with open eyes and mouths wondering what it was all
about, and what the gentry could mean by coming in and going out, and
chattering so much to each other. After the play was over, the gentlemen
asked them how they liked it.
“O, very well, Barinia,” was the reply, “but we hope you will pay us for
the time we have lost in coming to see it!”
It need scarcely be said that the entertainment was not repeated, their
plan being thus stifled at the commencement.
In the autumn the women belonging to the estates have a very busy time;
they help to reap the corn, cut the flax, and pull up the hemp-stalks,
and then prepare them for sale by beating them with flat pieces of wood,
which is extremely fatiguing, but they enliven their work by singing
their national ballads.
In the winter both men and women employ themselves in weaving the Russian
linen and canvas; the girls also in some villages make a pretty kind
of lace. The produce of their winter industry is either sent to the
proprietor, who disposes of it to the shopkeepers, or the women carry it
about and offer it for sale in the same manner as the hawkers of Irish
cloth do in England. In the dark days or evenings, having no candles,
they make use of slips of pine-wood or the bark of the birch-tree,
which are very inflammable and emit a strong light that enables them to
continue their work. They make the thread in the ancient manner with the
distaff, which has quite a classic appearance.
In some of the villages all the females make lace, in others there is
nothing but linen manufactured. I saw some beautiful samples of the
former, the work of the peasants belonging to the Princess L., which
would be admired even in London or Paris; and a woman once offered to
sell me a scarf for sixty roubles (10_l._), which she assured me took her
three entire years to make.
Some of the serfs are trained as hunters on the estates: their whole
lives are devoted to killing and ensnaring game in the forests, which is
sold, and becomes a part of the revenue of the property.
When a very fine bear is slain, his skin is generally presented to the
proprietor, together with the head. The skin is made into a magnificent
rug, the head into a foot-stool, forming a handsome ornament to the
drawing-room.
The peasants one day sent us a young bear; he was not full-grown, but
he was so enraged at being made captive that he gnawed his paws to
pieces, and they were obliged to kill him. It is no uncommon thing to
see young wolf-cubs offered for sale even in St. Petersburg itself, but
I do not know to what use they are put. In the most northern parts, in
which lynxes and ermines, squirrels and sables are found, the hunters go
into the forests for weeks at a time. They are provided with a little
sledge, which they draw after them, containing the necessary provisions,
and which they fill with skins as the stock of provisions diminishes. I
was told that their quickness of sight is wonderful, and that they can
discern at an immense distance the little black tip of the ermine’s tail
on the wide plains of snow that it traverses.
Whoever has travelled in Russia cannot fail to have admired the great
skill of the peasantry in using their axes: it is no exaggeration to
say that a common boor can build and furnish his house with the help of
that instrument alone. Nothing can be more interesting than to watch a
number of these poor people engaged in constructing their dwellings,
and very much goodwill is also to be remarked among them in assisting
each other. All who have ever seen them must have felt the greatest
admiration and even respect for the serfs, who, with all their faults,
are really good-hearted, and possessed of natural talents which it is
a shame and a sin in the government to stifle or render useless by
keeping them in ignorance; but until slavery disappears from the land,
and they are taught the proper use of freedom, it is nonsense to hope
that great men will rise from the people. There was a poor man in Twer,
a slave belonging to M. M——ff, a land-proprietor, who was possessed of
a genius for painting that in any other country would have acquired for
him both fame and fortune. Better for him had he been born an idiot! To
him his talents were a dire misfortune, for his master, on learning his
love for drawing and his great natural gifts, perceived at once that
some handsome profit, by the way of _abrock_, might be realized for
himself in cultivating them. Accordingly he placed him with an ordinary
portrait-painter, where he was forced to learn a branch of the art
which, although the most likely to serve his owner’s views, was most
distasteful to himself, as he had genius for better things. He had no
sooner served his time than the amount of poll-tax was yearly demanded:
as everybody does not have a likeness taken, especially in a provincial
town, it was no small difficulty to pay it. When we last saw him he had
pined into a decline, and doubtless ere this the village grave has closed
over his griefs and sorrows, and buried his genius in the shades of its
eternal oblivion.
As superstition and ignorance generally go together, we need not be
surprised to find that, as the Russian peasants possess the latter, so
they have the former quality. Many of their ideas have changed but little
since their forefathers’ heathen state in days of yore. They have the
greatest faith in ghost-stories, sorcery, the evil eye, and the tricks
of a mischievous kind of Puck called the Domovoi or house-spirit, who is
a very useful being in a household, as everything that nobody wishes to
take upon himself is laid on this naughty sprite. If the horses become
thin, it is not because the groom sells the corn and hay; if the wine
diminish or the sugar vanish, it is of course not Grushia or Marousha,
but it is the ne’er-do-weel Domovoi; if the tray of china fall down and
the best set is destroyed, of course it is all _his doing_: in fact,
there is scarcely a wicked act that he _does not do_. One day some
cottages caught fire in the village near our country-house. Being only
of wood and very dry, the flames soon rose to a considerable height.
Suddenly I saw several men run out of the isbas opposite. At the first
moment I thought they were going to help in extinguishing the flames.
I was soon undeceived, for as fast as their legs could carry them they
rushed in exactly the contrary direction, but stopped when they had
reached the middle of a field, when they began beckoning and making the
most violent gestures with their hands.
“Are those men mad?” I asked of a gentleman who was standing near, “or
what are they doing?”
“O no, they are sane enough,” replied he; “but they fancy that by acting
so they will induce the wind to change, so that their own cottages may
not be destroyed by the flames.”
Another time we were passing through an immense village, every house of
which was burning. The peasants were standing in a group watching the
cracking walls and rafters and the long crimson columns of fire, as if
it were some raree-show got up expressly for their amusement: they made
no effort to save anything; perhaps they had tried the wind-conjuring
and did not find it answer; so they let things take their course, and
philosophically resigned themselves to whatever might happen. The only
words I heard them utter were “Vot tak posmaterite!” a common expression
among them, which may be translated “So only look!” and then with open
mouths they were again absorbed in watching the ascending flames.
The crown allows a certain sum to the people in the imperial villages,
if their houses are burned, to help to rebuild them. I was staying for
some time in the house of a provincial governor, and frequently saw the
peasants come for money to enable them to reconstruct their isbas.
One morning we were surprised to see the whole yard filled with the
peasantry; young and old were eagerly and loudly demanding to see the
governor: he soon appeared and asked them what they wanted. They said
that they had come to complain of the cruel treatment they had received
at the hands of their proprietor, and a most sad picture they drew of
their ills and grievances; they added that, driven to desperation, they
had all left the estate in a body to ask protection. The governor spoke
kindly to them, and promised them to make every inquiry, and that they
should be righted, but begged them meanwhile to return home to their
village. Some of the men stooped down, and, taking up a handful of earth,
placed it on their heads, swearing that they took Heaven itself to
witness that they had spoken the truth, and that, if they worked again
for their owner, they hoped that trouble and evil would descend upon
them like the dust upon their heads. The kind-hearted governor at length
succeeded in pacifying them, and they quitted the yard. The inquest was
begun but not ended when I left the province, so I had no opportunity of
knowing in what manner it was decided.
A fatal instance of the superstition of the lower classes took place five
or six years ago. A balloon ascent was announced to take place in St.
Petersburg, and a French gentleman was to go up in the car. Everything
went off admirably amid the gratified expressions of the citizens and
assembled company; it was a fine day with a little wind, and the enormous
ball sailed beautifully along until entirely lost to view. I believe it
was the last time that such a sight was seen in St. Petersburg, and it
certainly was _the last time_ that _this_ balloon was seen.
For a long time no one knew what had become of it and the unfortunate
aëronaut; every one concluded that it had descended into the lake either
of Onega or Ladoga, and nothing more was said about it. At last it was
discovered that it had come down in the midst of a field near a village
at some fifty versts from the capital, and that the peasants, who had
never seen such a thing before, had murdered the unhappy Frenchman, under
the conviction that he was a supernatural being, especially as they could
not understand a word he said.
The superstitions of the Russians are not wholly confined to the lower
classes: many a time when approaching a card-table have I been requested
“not to come too near, lest I should cast an _evil eye_ on the cards,
and so turn the luck;” and innumerable stories have been gravely told
me about children who have fallen ill or died from its effects. In very
few houses will they allow the number thirteen at table, and they will
either cause one of the party to sit apart, or call an upper servant to
dine, so that there may be fourteen; and they deem it unlucky to hand the
salt to any one unless both parties smile at the time. They have lucky
and unlucky days; if anything were to be begun on a Saturday it would be
attended with misfortune. No true Russian would ever think of commencing
a journey on a Monday, and on entering the court-yard of a house it is a
bad omen if the coachman turn the horses’ heads round.
Many also put the greatest faith in love-philtres and charms, talismans
and crosses; the belief in witches and the existence of sorcery is
universal. If a hare[9] run across the path, or if a person meet a
priest, it is an unfortunate omen that can only be averted by thrice
spitting over the right shoulder; indeed, in the latter case it is
thought better to return home at once, if the person be going on very
important business, unless he make a present to the priest and induce
_him_ to retrace his steps. “Alexis Ivanowitch,” said a gentleman to me
one day, “was going to see the emperor this morning, but just as he was
turning the corner he came upon three popes abreast. As the affair on
which he was to see his majesty was a very important one, he gave them
each five silver roubles to turn back, so that the ill luck might be
averted.”
“Why does not Cleopatra Gregorovna eat anything?” asked I one day of an
acquaintance at a dinner-party concerning a lady who sat opposite to me;
“she looks wretchedly pale and thin.”
“Oh, she cannot eat anything, she is condemned to a perpetual fast”
(_i.e._ to eat of lenten dishes only).
“Why so?”
“Because once, immediately after taking the sacrament, when she was a
child about nine years old, she had a violent attack of vomiting, and
the priests ordered that she should fast for the rest of her life, as it
could only be the Evil One, you know, that had possessed her and caused
so great a misfortune.”
At another time I was travelling with an old lady who was continually
taking a little sip of something out of a small phial. Of course I could
not ask her what it was, and to tell the truth I began to suspect her
very wrongfully. I was soon undeceived, for the next morning the maid
came to my friends in great tribulation, saying that her mistress had a
bottle of _holy water_, which she (the servant) had had the misfortune
to break in the night, and she did not know what would be said or done
to her if the old lady were told of it, for she had caused it to be
blessed before setting out in order to avert _their being overturned_,
so that, if any accident happened to us, she alone would be blamed
for it all, because she had spilled the holy water. As it was merely
a wine-bottle of the commonest description, we advised the distressed
girl to obtain another from the postmaster of the station, and to fill
it at the neighbouring well, promising at the same time the greatest
secrecy on our part. She followed our counsels, and her mistress, who
had not the slightest suspicion of what had been done, consoled herself
as before with the little sips, to our infinite amusement. The next day
we fortunately arrived in Moscow safe and sound, which she undoubtedly
ascribed to the virtues of the contents of her bottle.
During one of my visits to Moscow I went into the church of Ivan near the
Kremlin. I was astonished to see a stout-looking woman lying flat on her
face on the pavement before one of the shrines, and barking like a dog.
The priest was singing a mass, but his voice was nearly drowned by the
noise she made; the more loudly _he_ sang, the more loudly _she_ barked,
and she seemed determined, come what would, to have the best of the duet.
A crowd of people surrounded the altar, who stood crossing themselves
with the greatest devotion and bowing continually, but they did not seem
at all surprised at the strange scene they were witnessing. A priest or
deacon stood by with a tray in his hand, to whom many of the devout gave
offerings; and every time the chink of the money was heard, I remarked
that the din became greater. At last I asked a bystander what it all
meant, and what particular service was being performed.
“It is a woman,” answered he, “that is possessed of the devil. She has
lately arrived in Moscow from a great distance on a pilgrimage, and is
in hopes of being cured by the saint. _The priest is exorcising the evil
spirit._” I immediately left the church, and never learnt whether he
succeeded or not in driving out the demon, who doubtless disappeared when
no more contributions were made to the tray.
Among the superstitions of the country may be mentioned the blessing of
the cattle by the priest before they are sent out in the spring to graze,
and of the different kinds of fruit before they are allowed to be sold
in the market. The latter may be a wise law in the state of ignorance in
which the lower classes are at present, for they are just like children
and cannot govern their appetites, so they would infallibly render
themselves ill by eating unripe fruit, if their superstition did not act
as a check upon them.
The common people really believe that the pictures of saints can see
what they are doing. A lady told me an amusing anecdote of a servant
belonging to one of her acquaintances. It was during one of the two long
fasts ordered by the Greek Church. The poor girl was sorely tempted by
a can of fresh milk that was brought into the kitchen; the temptation
was too strong, she could no longer resist it; so she took off her apron
and threw it over the portrait of the Virgin (for in every kitchen, and
almost in every room, some picture is suspended), being very careful to
look that there was no hole through which she could peep. She then turned
her back and took a long draught of the delicious fluid, after which she
removed the apron and quietly tied it round her waist as before, being
perfectly convinced that Heaven had been blinded to her backsliding.
The four besetting sins of the Russian serfs are their propensity
for lying, their deceitful cunning, their want of honesty, and their
frequent intoxication. But undoubtedly their state of slavery, their
half-civilized condition, and the demoralizing effects of their
government have mainly contributed to these grave defects.
Lying is but the handmaid of cunning and deceit; and the two latter
being in every known land of despotism and slavery a distinctive mark
of the people, it would be absurd to expect that the Russians would be
exceptions. So deeply-rooted are these vices in the national character,
that it is rare to hear the truth spoken at all: even children will
continue stoutly to deny a most palpable fact, and persist so resolutely
in their falsehood, that neither threats, persuasions, nor coaxings
will induce them to tell the truth; no doubt fear is the origin of this
evil trait. When I was staying in the country at about twenty versts
from Jaroslaf, a quantity of plate was one day missed after dinner. The
domestics were all in consternation; the strictest search was made, but
no trace of it could be discovered, when all at once the housekeeper
remembered having seen a little village girl near the house: the child
used often to come in the kitchen to beg for small scraps of the good
things left, but had never excited suspicion. However, as every other
inquiry had been made, she was sent for and interrogated. She was only
eight years old, and she had been quite a favourite with us all; there
was something in her manner that made us think that she knew more of the
affair than she chose to tell, and it was decided that she should not
return home to her parents, but remain with the servants until she had
confessed it. The extreme obstinacy and firmness with which she withstood
every temptation of reward, and her constant denial of the truth, were
wonderful, and for four whole days she still persisted in it. At last,
finding that everybody was convinced that she knew the thief, and seeing
that we were determined not to let her go, she acknowledged that her
parents had instructed her to take the missing articles, and mentioned
where they were hidden. The starosta or headman of the neighbouring
village was sent for, search was made in the cottage, and there were the
spoons and forks under a plank in the floor, as the child had said.
We ought not to accuse the serfs in general of want of honesty. They are
very honest among themselves and towards their proprietor, nor will they
often steal what is _his_ property, excepting in the way of eatables,
to which they seem to think they have a right; nor do they consider it
a theft to take what they wish of tea, sugar, coffee, &c. In regard to
strangers and foreigners they are not so particular; from them they
take whatever is not likely to be soon missed; the laws of property are
totally forgotten but they are ordinarily so wretchedly poor, that the
temptation must be very great, and they have never been taught better
or shown a good example. The system of continual beating has never yet
succeeded in teaching any people.
In regard to their want of sobriety they must be judged with the greatest
indulgence. I have referred before to the inducements held out to them:
to these we must add their excessively cold climate, which renders some
stimulant almost necessary, and the love of excitement prevalent in
all ranks in Russia: in the upper classes this is gratified by public
amusements; but in the lower by the gaiety and forgetfulness induced by
intoxication. We must pity the poor Russians rather than condemn them,
and earnestly pray for the time when their rulers will see that true
power consists in their enlightenment rather than in their demoralization.
I remember, when the last revolution took place in France, and Louis
Philippe was obliged to fly the country, it became the topic of
conversation in a large evening party; the Russians there present
exultingly exclaimed that the two greatest nations in the world, namely,
Russia and England, in the midst of all the countries of Europe, were
alone tranquil and unshaken, even by the agitation and throes of
monarchies surrounding them on all sides.
“Yes,” said a gentleman near me, in an under tone, “his excellency says
truly, but he forgets to add that there is a slight difference in the two
people: yours is the repose of the living, but ours is _the slumber of
the dead_. Russia should have for its flag a death’s head and the motto
_Resurgam_.”