THE TRAGI-COMEDY AT GRUSINO
The double wedding was to be celebrated. The whole of the tenantry had
been commanded to attend. The courtyard of the castle had been thronged
with wondering serfs from early dawn. Two couples--one handsome, the
other loathsome--were to be married that day.
The preparations were on a magnificent scale. For three whole days the
castle cooks had been engaged in making the national dishes. Long floral
walks had been erected in the courtyard; the gateway had been converted
into a triumphal arch by means of wreaths and colored transparencies. In
the centre of the great courtyard was a stage erected, covered with
gay-hued carpets of goat's hair. Upon it stood a table bearing an image
of the Virgin Mary, the covered plate in which were the wedding-rings, a
goblet, bread and salt--in fine, everything required for the ceremony
preceding the marriage service. For there is much to be gone through
before a bridal couple reaches the church portion of the ceremony--much
to be gone through at the hands of the bystanders, the groomsmen,
bridesmaids, and wedding-mother.
The wedding-mother has an important part to play. Until they arrive at
the church doors she is the principal personage.
Daimona is the wedding-mother in this instance. She is marrying one of
her serfs to her slave; she is mother to both. The high-backed chair
upon the tribune is for her. At first sound of the bells the ceremony
begins. From the priest's house the bridesmaids bring the bride in her
bridal array. Diabolka's dress glistens with heavy gold embroidery; a
costly girdle encircles her slender waist, on her neck hangs a fivefold
necklace of gold coins; her head-dress is of precious stones. One might
think she was a princess. From the opposite side resounds a horn, and
the bridegroom, Schinko, is seen advancing with his supporters and
groomsmen; his coal-black, curly hair, falling on to his shoulders,
betraying, despite the national costume, the bridegroom's Indian
descent.
The groomsmen welcome the approaching bride with song, and follow the
bridal pair to the altar. From out the stables the second couple are now
brought. Wild screeches and the squeak of the bagpipe accompany them in
their progress. The pomp of wedding garments only serves to make them
more ridiculous. They are received with mocking rhymes, which seem to
please them highly. Both are very drunk; they kiss every one who comes
in their way; but as they near each other they cut hideous grimaces at
one another; and as they go up to the altar steps the bride gives the
bridegroom a good pinch on the arm, while the bridegroom deals her out a
smart kick with his foot.
This couple is also placed at the table, so that bridegrooms and brides
stand one at each corner.
At the second peal of bells the wedding-mother descends with her whole
retinue from the castle. The retinue is composed of twelve female
slaves, clad in white, who line the steps on either side. The
wedding-mother mounts the tribune alone, and takes her seat upon the
throne.
She is dressed like a queen, and wears a purple mantle; her cap of
marten-skin is embroidered with gold and pearls; her face painted white
and red. She begins the ceremony.
"Schinko, what do you bring the bride for your wedding present?"
And Schinko details what he brings her:
"Two gay-colored beds, a cloak of Karassia cloth lined with fox, a
breastplate with silver buttons, a kokosnik set with pearls, two pair of
red boots, an embroidered linen shirt, twelve zinc plates, a dish, and a
gold-embroidered head-dress and veil--if she behaves well!"
All these gifts were brought round by the bridegroom's supporters, and
severally shown to the guests.
The bride, on her side, gives the bridegroom clothes, ornaments,
household utensils, and, last, a bundle of birch rods, "with which he is
to chastise me when I do not behave well."
Now it is the turn of the second couple.
"Well, Polyka, and what do you bring your bridegroom?"
But this well-assorted couple are not content that one should speak
before the other; one interrupts the other, and they splutter out:
"I, a ragged cloak."
"I, a pot with a hole in it."
"I, a footless stocking in which ten cats could not catch one mouse."
"I, an empty jug that once had brandy in it."
"I, a bed sacking, with no blankets, and that lacks feathers."
The wedding guests laughed themselves ill over this dialogue of the
bridal couple.
"And then twelve pair of 'dubina'!" shouted the bridegroom, with a loud
laugh.
"With two ends to them," returned the bride, with a giggle.
The word "dubina," so soft-sounding in Russian, signifies in the
barbaric English tongue--stick! The sack has found a mouth, the vinegar
jar a stopper, and he his match, grinned the wedding guests.
"Now exchange rings," says Daimona to the couples. "They are in this
covered plate. Those of the one couple are of gold and silver; the gold
one is the bride's; the silver, the bridegroom's. The rings of the
second couple are of copper and lead."
The wedding-mother, removing the silken cover from the plate, signed to
Diabolka to set the example.
Diabolka, taking the gold and silver ring, placed the gold one on her
own finger, and was handing the silver one to Schinko.
Daimona seized Diabolka's hand.
"Not so! You will give the silver ring to Vuk; and Schinko the copper
one to Polyka. _For your bridegroom is Vuk, and Schinko's bride is
Polyka._ That is the arrangement."
A burst of loud laughter followed upon these words. Now there would be
some real fun. Diabolka and Vuk, Polyka and Schinko. The wedding-mother
had the right to marry her serfs as she chose. Her serfs belonged to
her, hand and foot, as did her horses and her asses. She can pair her
serfs as she chooses.
The laughter of the assembled guests grew louder as the two drunken
monsters, at Daimona's words, threw themselves on the handsome prey
given over to them.
Their laughter was only stopped when Diabolka, before them all, gave Vuk
such a blow on the chest with both hands that he went backwards off the
table, and, rolling from the tribune, fell among the people.
Things were indeed going badly.
Daimona, springing towards the table like a fury, struck her fist
violently upon it. At that sound the spectators' laughter suddenly
ceased. The grin was still on their faces, but every sound died away on
their laughing lips.
It was fun no longer.
"You will not take the husband I have chosen for you?" shrieked Daimona,
in fury.
"No," returned the girl, stamping her foot, "no!"
"Dog! gypsy devil! You dare to oppose me--me, who raised you from a
dung-heap!"
"Then let me go back to the dung-heap."
"So you shall! If you will not have the bridegroom I have given you,
then take off the bridal dress I gave you, and be off in the gypsy rags
you came in. But they want something to complete them--the addition of a
thrashing for your audacity. Schinko! Here!"
He himself, her elder brother, her lover, her bridegroom!
Schinko was wearing, as bridegroom, the symbol of his office hanging
from his girdle--the short-handled whip. At his mistress's command he
raised the whip.
"Strike!" ordered Daimona.
The girl, white with fear, held her face between her hands.
"Brother, can you strike me?"
She had even got so far as to fear the lash. Or was it the thought that
it was Schinko's hand which was to strike that made her shrink back? The
gypsy's heart was not hard enough to let him strike the blow. He threw
the whip away.
"Dog, pick up that whip; or shall I have you and her tied together to
the tail of a wild horse? Go on. Slash away until I say enough; fifty
lashes for me, fifty for Junker Jevgen."
Schinko picked up the whip.
Despairing, the girl, flinging herself at Daimona's feet, clasped her
knees, and, sobbing, implored for mercy.
"Ah, you abomination, that's the place for you!" cried Daimona through
her clinched teeth; and seizing the girl at her feet by her long plaits,
she shrieked to Schinko, "Now, have at her!"
With one spring the gypsy, like a panther, was upon them, and, seizing
Daimona by the throat with his left hand, with his right he whipped out
his dagger. Terrified, Daimona released her hold of Diabolka and
defended herself with one arm; the serf's dagger had pierced her
shoulder, the blood spouted high from it.
"Heh! varlets! seize him! help!" stormed the woman.
But not a person stirred among the crowd. Daimona saw that she was left
to herself. She was a powerful woman who knew how to fight; so, freeing
herself from the gypsy's grasp, she pushed him from her, sprang off the
tribune, and rushed towards the castle steps, Schinko after her.
Nor did a hand stir to hinder the serf. The crowd, the whole body of
servants, looked on, and saw Schinko dash after the mistress and wound
her afresh. The woman, turning upon him, began to wrestle with her
pursuer; his dagger was plunged again and again into her breast. Once
more she succeeded in pushing back her adversary, and, darting into the
midst of her women servants, shouted, "Help! protect me!" The women put
their hands to their ears that they might not hear her cries. They all
hated her. Then she was seen flying down the long corridor, screaming
and shrieking, her murderer close upon her heels. Still no one went to
the rescue.
At the extreme end of the corridor was the picture of a saint. Thither
she fled, and fell down before it in beseeching attitude. But the saint
did not stir a hand to protect her. Then rushing to the parapet of the
balcony, she attempted in vain to spring from it.
The murderer slowly comes down the stone steps into the courtyard. A
path is made for him. He ascends the bridal tribune. There, her face to
the ground, lies a girl motionless with terror, shame, and despair.
Close to her the wedding garments. The murderer wipes the blood off his
dagger with the bridal veil, and, taking the girl by the hand, raises
her to her feet. They look each other in the eyes. One look, like a
couple of wild wolves. No need for speech! Then they run, hand in hand,
into the steppe, into the woods--anywhere. No one seeks to hold them
back. They were never seen again.
Who would attempt to find two wolves escaped from captivity, in their
native lair, amid the dwellers of the endless steppes, whether in forest
or jungle? Only once did the two call a halt, where Diabolka, having
reached her gypsy encampment, wrote the letter to Jakuskin, in which she
related the tragi-comedy of Grusino, and of which a copy fell into the
hands of the Czar's favorite, acquainting him with the horrors that had
taken place. The starosts of Grusino had not had the courage to give
him the tidings.
Zeneida acted wisely in having personally related the events to the
Czar; for those who later informed him of what had occurred at Grusino
made a point of causing it to appear that this murder was in connection
with St. Petersburg secret societies. Many were set upon finding the
motive for the deed in high circles, where it was a matter of interest
to keep the favorite from the person of the Czar, and where it was
hoped, by the banishment of the son, to have effected a rupture of the
close bond uniting Czar and favorite. Schinko and Diabolka were hired by
the conspirators.
Was there any truth in this? No one has ever cleared up the mystery. But
if any hand had prepared the blow, it had struck home.
Araktseieff was to be seen tearing through the streets of St.
Petersburg, hatless, with hair wildly streaming. Your orthodox Russian,
when he mourns, goes in sun and snow with head uncovered.
On the day of his flight two great wagon-loads of state papers were
despatched from the favorite's palace to the Hermitage. His orders, his
sword, his keys of office, he sent by his house-porter to the Lord
Chamberlain. And, at the moment of his departure, the thunder of "Holy
Christopher" startled the inhabitants of St. Petersburg out of their
rest. This father among cannons is only fired when a general dies. The
court favorite had himself gone to the commandant of the fortress and
ordered the cannon to be fired. The commandant had no choice but to
obey. Araktseieff was commander-in-chief of the artillery. When the
firing was over the commandant asked:
"What was the name of the deceased general?"
"Alexis Andreovitch Araktseieff!"
Some days later the Czar had terrible news of Araktseieff. His reason
had entirely left him.