A Russian Story.
All over the world, the essential elements of human nature are the
same. And it is very fortunate for me that they are so, else I should
find myself in considerable difficulty in endeavouring to place before
my readers a correct picture of the little, out-of-the-way town of
Nikolsk. Making due allowances for the differences in national manners
and customs; for Nikolsk being under the dominion of his autocratic
majesty the emperor of all the Russias, instead of the mild,
constitutional government of Queen Victoria, there is no great
discrepancy between Nikolsk and any equally out-of-the-way town in
England. It has the same dearth of excitement, the same monotonous
uniformity of life; it lives in the same profound ignorance of the
great incidents that the drama of human existence is developing on the
theatre of the world at large; it has its priest, its doctor, its
lawyer, its post-office where a seal is not so sacred as it might be,
or rather where the problem of getting at the news, without breaking
the wax, has been successfully solved; it has the same thirst for
scandal, the same intense interest for the most contemptible
trivialities, the same constantly impending danger of suicide from
ennui, did not human nature adapt itself to its environments, and sink
into pettiness as naturally as though there were no such things as
towns and cities, and enlarged views of man and nature in the world:
all these it has the same as any British Little Pedlington. Then it
has its circles of social intercourse, as rigidly defined and as
intensely venerated as the rules of court precedence. The difference
in the social scale between a landowner, a tenant, a member of the
professions, a tradesman, a publican, a sweep, and a beggar, is
accurately prescribed and religiously observed--with this addition,
however, that in Nikolsk the owners of land are also owners of the
serfs upon the land, and that the numerous representatives of that
most centralised of all governments cut an important figure in the
snobberies of the place. In fine, there is one little English word
that describes Nikolsk completely, and that is--_dull_. It is
dull--beyond comprehension dull. No town in the universe can be
duller; because, from its quintessential dulness, there is but one
step to total inanition.
Thus, in Nikolsk, the ancient saying, that there is nothing new under
the sun, was daily and hourly verified. Week after week, and year
after year, the governor pillaged the people; the inspector of
charities pillaged the charities; the inspector of nuisances
sedulously avoided inspecting at all, lest, by removing them, the need
for his services should cease; the landowner ground down the serfs;
the tax-assessor ground the landowners; and everybody, in return for
the favours a paternal government showered upon them through its
immaculate representatives, cheated and defrauded that government with
a persistency and perseverance approaching the sublime. Mothers of
daughters were in despair, for in Nikolsk there were no 'nice young
men,' no eligible matches; fathers of sons despaired in their turn,
for as everybody robbed everybody, and the government robbed the
robbers, there were no heiresses; ladies wore the fashions of 1820 in
1840, under the impression that they were the newest from Paris; the
reading portion of the community were just beginning to hear of
Voltaire as a promising writer; and the general public laboured under
the fixed idea, that somewhere or other Napoleon was still prosecuting
his leviathan campaigns, happily _not_ in Russia. The only thing that
ever broke the monotony of existence was the prevalence of cholera, or
the governor essaying some loftier flight of tyranny than usual by
hanging up a score of defaulters to the revenue, or knouting a bevy of
ladies whose tongues outran their prudence.
Such being the state of affairs in Nikolsk, it will be easily
imagined, that when mine host of the Black Eagle, in a very important
and mysterious manner, announced to a select few that a singular and
eccentric stranger, rolling in money, had arrived at his hostelry,
with the intention of staying some time in Nikolsk, the news flew like
a telegraphic message, or a piece of scandal among a community of old
maids, through the place; and that in a few hours after his arrival,
nobody, from governor to serf, thought or spoke of anything or anybody
else than the mysterious stranger, who, under the name of Tchitchikof,
occupied the best suite of apartments in the Black Eagle, and, as the
landlord affirmed on oath, was eccentric to a degree, and revelled in
untold gold.
Now, whatever had been the station in society of M. Tchitchikof, his
means or his idiosyncrasy, the mere fact of his being a stranger had
been enough to make the good people of Nikolsk pounce down upon him
like a hawk on its quarry, and morally tear him to pieces with
rapacious analysis to satiate their ravenous curiosity. But as to the
fact of his being a stranger, was added the piquancy of a reputation
for eccentricity, and the irresistible recommendation of wealth, the
Tchitchikof mania spread over all ranks of society, and raged with the
fury of a tornado by the evening of the very day upon which the host
of the Eagle first delighted them with the news. In fact, so intense
was the rage regarding him, that the landlord of that hostelry reaped
a fortune from the constant drain upon his potables by inquisitive
callers, and would have assuredly ceased to dispense strong drinks for
evermore, had not the governor, in his vexation at the sequel of
Tchitchikof's visit, found some pretext to despoil him of his gains,
and a good round sum to boot. Various were the speculations as to the
occupations and antecedents of Tchitchikof, and the business that had
called him to Nikolsk. Enterprising mothers of families hoped that he
was a Cossack Coelebs in search of a wife, and began, on the strength
of the surmise, to lay plots for ensnaring him, justly considering
that a fool with money is preferable to a sage without; landowners
trembled at the idea of his being a government assessor, come to
examine into the state of the properties, and assess accordingly;
while government _employés_, knowing too well that a paternal
government does not tolerate plundering in subordinates, shuddered,
conscience-stricken, at the idea that he must be a St Petersburg
inspector, come to Nikolsk with powers of scrutiny, and equally
unlimited powers of knouting. Every class, therefore, received with
joy the assurance, that, he was simply a private gentleman of fortune,
travelling over Russia at his own sweet will. This mine host
positively stated that he had heard Tchitchikof say with his own lips.
This announcement delighted the officials and landowners, by removing
their fears of the knout and taxes, and equally delighted the
enterprising mammas, by increasing the probability of his visit being
intimately connected with matrimonial intentions. It being thus
definitely settled that there was nothing to be feared from
Tchitchikof, the good folks of Nikolsk naturally took up the next
position--that, being a stranger, and rich and eccentric, there was
something to be gained from him. The leading passions of the
Nikolskians being curiosity and avarice, their dealings with strangers
were generally twofold--to scatter their ennui for a few days, by
discovering their histories and affairs, and, where facts failed,
calling in the aid of fancy; and when there was nothing more to be
discovered or invented, to lighten their money-chests by all the
tyranny that power dare venture on, or the effrontery that cunning
could devise and execute. Their curiosity regarding Tchitchikof was
soon baffled, by discovering, like Socrates, that all they knew was,
that nothing could be known. In vain did mine host essay to pump him:
with a show of the most voluble confidence, Tchitchikof contrived
always virtually to tell nothing. In vain the postmaster looked among
the letters with a lynx eye; not one word of writing ever came to
Tchitchikof through the medium of the post. Their knowledge of him
speedily resolved itself into this: that he was a dashing, handsome
young man, of most refined and polished manners, eminently gifted with
that self-possession which is the never-failing accompaniment of
good-breeding and intercourse with what is termed good society,
elegant in dress, and, as the host of the Eagle announced, decidedly
eccentric. This eccentricity manifested itself in one way, and one
only, and that altogether incomprehensible to the greedy
Nikolskians--namely, a morbid desire to part with his money. If
Tchitchikof met a serf on the highway, he would offer him a ruble for
a stick, a cap, or any other article he wore, intrinsically not worth
a handful of corn; and when the bewildered serf hesitated, would
manifest the utmost anger and impatience until he had gained
possession of the coveted article. With possession, his value for it
ceased, and the dear purchase was generally consigned to the fire a
few minutes after it was bought. However varied his freaks might be in
detail, in spirit they were ever essentially the same; they ever
consisted in making some worthless piece of lumber an excuse for
lightening his purse of a ruble or two.
The priest of the place was the first to find a solution of
Tchitchikof's conduct. He asserted that Tchitchikof, in his love for
money, had committed some fraud or some misdeed to obtain it, and that
his conscience smiting him, he had sought ghostly solace from some
minister, by whom he had been ordered, as adequate penance, to get off
a certain portion per annum in bad bargains--thus at once doing good
to the sellers and torturing the avaricious spirit of the penitential
purchaser. To this the governor objected, with much force, that, money
being the end of human existence, the gaining of it, by any means
short of murder, must be laudable, and could sit heavily on no sane
man's conscience; but being warned by the priest, that such arguments
bordered on heresy, he shifted his ground, and maintained that
Tchitchikof was much too young and too far from death to dream of
penitence, even if he had committed such a crime; though he was
evidently too reckless and devil-may-care to leave any dash of the
miser in his composition. But the inspector of highways effectually
knocked the clerical argument on the head, by saying, that had any
priest thought it necessary, for the good of Tchitchikof's soul, that
he should part with his money, he would have taken due care that,
instead of it being squandered in Nikolsk, it had all gone to swell
the revenues of Mother Church. The inspector of the hospital finally
settled it to the satisfaction of all parties, by shewing, from
attentive observation of Tchitchikof's conduct at the hospital, that
he must be a monomaniac, whose particular insanity took the form of
philanthropy; but that, believing that a gift debases the recipient,
he dexterously contrived to _give_ his assistance under the cloak of a
purchase. Although his companions could not see how any man could be
so insane as to fancy a serf could be debased, this opinion was
unanimously adopted, and the whole community set their wits to work to
make themselves objects of charity for the nonce, and so obtain a
share in the plunder.
Space will not permit, neither would the end of our story be advanced
by, a detail of the numerous and adroit dodges the Nikolskians
invented in order to work upon Tchitchikof's supposed philanthropy.
Suffice it to say, that they were not in the least degree successful.
It seemed as though you had only to appeal directly to Tchitchikof's
charity to close up his bowels of compassion, and render him at once
callous and niggardly. Perhaps, too, as some thought, he was as acute
as he was eccentric, and could distinguish between real and feigned
distress. However it might be, it was soon remarkably clear that
Tchitchikof, madman though he was, was not to be done; and the baffled
conspirators did not hesitate to say, that, after all, he was no such
remarkable friend of his species; that he kept a keen eye on the main
chance; and if it were his gratification to do good, he made a little
go as far as it could, and was singularly blind to meritorious
poverty. Accordingly, Tchitchikof having now been a fortnight in
Nikolsk, was fast ceasing to be an object of interest, when his
eccentricity broke out in a fresh place, and there seemed some
likelihood of the children of Nikolsk, in the end, spoiling that
Egyptian.
It so happened, that at that time the landowners, or rather
serf-owners, constituted the most depressed 'interest' in that portion
of the Russian Empire. Not that they were suffering from free-trade of
any kind, or clamouring for open or disguised protection: the cause of
their depression was the prevalence of a deadly epidemic, which
reduced the number of their serfs with remorseless vigour--combined
with the tax which a paternal government levied on them, as a
consideration for its maintaining them in their humane and Christian
property. One of the principles of Russian taxation is this: that as
every individual in the empire, European or Asiatic, is the child of
the czar, owes him fealty and obedience, and receives protection,
light, and glory from him, as from a central sun, so every individual
owes in return a direct contribution to the fund by which the
czar-father supports that light and glory. This is the theory of
Russian taxation; but against its actual carrying out in fact, is
opposed the old difficulty, that from him who has nothing, nothing can
possibly be extracted; and as the poor serfs have no more means of
paying taxes than the hogs and cattle their fellow-slaves, a
considerate paternal government drops its theory, and makes the
landowner pay the poll-tax for the slaves he possesses, much as an
English gentleman pays taxes for his horses and dogs, horses and dogs
being as little able to pay tax themselves as the Russian serf. Now,
in a kind of deep irony, a serf is called a _soul_. M. K---- or M.
T---- owns so many _souls_, Miss L----'s marriage-portion was so many
_souls_, Madame B----'s dowry was a hundred _souls_; and this word
soul only applies to the male serfs--women and children being given
in, or there being only one soul per family among serfs. Well, a
landowner paying so much per soul to the government, and it being a
work of much time and trouble to take a census of souls every year, an
estimate is made at long intervals--say ten or twenty years--and the
landowner is compelled to pay accordingly till the period expires,
whether the number of his serfs increase or diminish. It is therefore
self-evident, that if the former occur--that if his serfs propagate
their species with due rapidity--the serf-owner is a clear gainer
during the interval between the soul-censuses, as he will be paying
tax for a given number, while he is actually reaping the profit of the
labour of treble or quadruple that number; while, if cholera, fever,
or any other of the ills that flesh, and especially serf-flesh, is
heir to, come and slay their thousands, the exact converse obtains,
and he will be paying tax for a certain number, while he only reaps
the profit of a third. In the latter case were the landowners of
Nikolsk. Cholera had more than decimated the serfs; the impoverished
owners regarded their unreaped fields and untilled lands and
impoverished exchequers with a sigh--a sigh which deepened into a
shudder, when they reflected how soon the collector would arrive with
his inexorable demand for soul-tax. The landed interest is in no
country, we believe, celebrated for bearing reverses with dignified
composure; and the depressed condition of the serf-owning interest was
as much noised abroad in that district, as a certain professedly
depressed interest connected with the soil has been, and is, in
another country we know of much nearer home.
About a dozen miles from Nikolsk there dwelt a widow, Madame
Korobotchka by name, who lived on her late husband's estate, and had
suffered more than her neighbours by the prevalent serf mortality.
Late one evening, when a violent storm was raging without, a stranger,
who had been surprised in the storm, demanded the shelter of Madame
Korobotchka's château till the morning; and as hospitality is a sacred
duty in Russia, his demand was not only granted, but in a few minutes
the stranger was seated as her _vis-à-vis_ at the best repast her
impoverished condition could afford.
'You appear to have a nice property here, _matouchka_,' said the
stranger, by way of opening a conversation. 'How many peasants have
you?'
'Peasants, _batiouchka_! At present, about eighty; but these are awful
times. This year, we have had a frightful loss of them. Providence
have pity on us!'
'Nevertheless, your men look well enough, and----But, pardon me--allow
me to inquire to whom I am indebted for this hospitality? I am quite
confused--arrived so suddenly and so late--I'----
'My name is Korobotchka--my paternal name Nastasie Petrovna.'
'Nastasie Petrovna! Beautiful name.'
'And you, sir?' inquired Nastasie. And then added, palpitating with
terror: 'Are you--surely not--are you--an assessor?'
'O no!' was the reply. 'My name is Tchitchikof. I am no assessor; I
travel on purely private business.'
'I see: you have come to buy. How annoying! I've just sold all my
honey to those thieves of merchants.'
'It is of no consequence. I do not buy honey.'
'Indeed! hemp, then? Dear me, and I have next to none.'
'Never mind, matouchka,' said Tchitchikof. 'My business in these parts
is different. You were mentioning that you have had many deaths here?'
'Alas, yes! eighteen souls,' said Nastasie, sighing; 'and such fine
fellows: and the worst is, I shall have to pay for them. The assessor
arrives, you must pay what he demands--pay to a soul. Eighteen die--it
is all one--you pay the same. They are frightful, they are ruinous,
these deaths!'
'Ah, Nastasie,' said Tchitchikof, 'it is the will of God: we must not
murmur against Providence! But tell me--will you let me have them?'
'Let you have what?'
'Your dead souls.'
'How can I let you have _them_?'
'Nothing easier. Sell them to me: I will give you money for them.'
'How! what! Do you want to disinter them?'
'Disinter them! what nonsense; no!' cried Tchitchikof. 'You hand them
over to me by a regular conveyance, and I pay you whatever we agree
upon for them.'
'And what will you do with them?' asked Nastasie in great surprise.
'That is my business,' said Tchitchikof.
'But you see they are dead.'
'And who, in the name of goodness, said they were living?' cried he.
'It's a misfortune for you that they are dead, isn't it? You pay the
tax for them, don't you?--and that'll half-ruin you, you say. Well, I
clear you of the tax for these eighteen dead ones--do you
understand?--not only clear you of the tax, but give fifteen rubles
into the bargain. Is that clear, or is it not?'
'No--yes--I can't tell what to say. You see, I have never sold _dead_
peasants before, and'-----
'It would be queer if you had,' cried Tchitchikof. 'Who'd buy them, do
you think? It's my humour, my whim, to have them. I gain nothing by
them--how can I?--and you gain everything. Cannot you see that?'
'Yes--but--really I don't know what to say. What puzzles me is, that
they are dead.'
'She hasn't the brains of a bullock,' exclaimed Tchitchikof
indignantly. 'Listen, matouchka. Pay attention. You pay for them as if
they were living: that will ruin you.'
'Ah, that is true indeed, batiouchka. In three months, I must pay one
hundred and fifty rubles, and bribe the assessor to boot.'
'Well, then, I save you all that trouble. I pay for these eighteen--I,
not you. When you sign the contract, I hand over the money. Do you
understand now?'
As Nastasie's cupidity excelled her stupidity, she did begin to
understand; and after a little more hesitation and explanation,
Tchitchikof drew up a formal conveyance of the eighteen souls,
precisely as though they were bodies and souls, inserting their names,
however, as a guarantee against his claiming any of Nastasie's living
stock. Nastasie signed it, Tchitchikof paid the money, and, after a
good night's rest, departed for Nikolsk, with the title-deed of the
dead souls safely in his possession.
Of course this new freak of Tchitchikof's was soon noised abroad, and
in the eyes of the Nikolskians proved two things:--_1st_, That he was
unmistakably mad, or philanthropic to a high degree; _2d_, That there
was now a prospect of gaining something by said madness or
philanthropy. Accordingly, all the serf-owners made it their business
to drop in upon Tchitchikof in a purely casual manner; and contrived,
after more or less higgling, to depart with a larger quantity of the
current coin of Russia in their possession than they possessed on
first seeking the interview. In a few days, Tchitchikof found himself
possessed of 2000 souls, at the moderate cost of 19,500 rubles. Dead
souls were getting quite a scarce article; and, on the true principles
of supply and demand, some enterprising Nikolskians were about to
import some defunct souls from a distance, when suddenly, one morning,
the host of the Eagle announced, that at dead of the previous night,
Tchitchikof had departed, bag and baggage and souls.
This sudden departure created a great sensation. All the old theories
about Tchitchikof revived; and the general opinion seemed to be, that
it was all a deep-laid scheme of some irresponsible man in authority,
the end whereof was to be suffering in some shape or other to the good
people of Nikolsk; until the inspector of the hospital, the Nikolsk
Socrates, proved clearly, by unassailable argumentation, that
Tchitchikof was mad; that his exit was in exact keeping with his
conduct during his sojourn; and that they might repose in the peace of
easy consciences, proud that they had made the most of his insanity.
Now for the _dénouement_. At St Petersburg is or was a bank
established by a paternal government for this most laudable purpose:
what with deaths, taxes, and the natural extravagance that seems to
accompany the possession of land in all countries, the Russian
landowners are often embarrassed, and were driven, before this bank
was established, to seek assistance from usurious Jews, the end of
which was frequently total ruin, and a Hebraicising of the race of
landowners, not pleasant to a Russian and a Christian czar. Therefore
this bank was established to lend money to distressed members of the
landed interest; compelled by its charter to lend 200 rubles per soul,
at a given interest and time, to every landowner who should deposit
his title-deeds with the bank. On a certain day very soon after
Tchitchikof's abrupt exit from Nikolsk, a solicitor applies at this
bank for a loan of 400,000 rubles on the security of 2000 souls. The
title-deeds are examined--found correct; the money is paid; and in a
few days afterwards M. Tchitchikof and the money are both out of the
jurisdiction of the czar.
The time for repayment arrives. The bank hears nothing of M.
Tchitchikof. A letter is sent to Nikolsk: no reply. Another of a
threatening nature: still no reply. Finally, a special agent is
despatched, and finds neither Tchitchikof nor security; but gradually
collects the particulars of his visit, as narrated above, and returns
to report progress, or no progress, to his superiors. There is nothing
for it, one would think, but to write off the 400,000 rubles as a
clear loss, and think no more of it. But a paternal government knows
better than that. It adjudges that the Nikolskians are virtually
accessaries to the fraud; apportions the loan among the sellers of the
souls, and compels repayment. So that the Nikolskians have to
conclude, in reflecting on M. Tchitchikof, not without acerbity and a
certain uncharitableness of spirit, that if he were a friend of his
species, he limited _his_ species to himself; and if he were mad,
there was a very clear and profitable method in his madness.
Meantime the principal actor in this little Russian episode, as the
Baron von Rabenstein, captivates the hearts of our English ladies at
the ball-room, and empties the pockets of our English gentlemen at the
_rouge et noir_ table in the fashionable German watering-place of
Lugundtrugbad. And without disparaging his patriotism, or natural love
of country, we believe we speak advisedly when we state, that he has
not the slightest idea of returning, within anything like a limited
period, to the territories of his autocratic majesty.