VI

Wealth was measured in those times by the number of ‘souls’ which a

landed proprietor owned. So many ‘souls’ meant so many male serfs:

women did not count. My father, who owned nearly twelve hundred souls,

in three different provinces, and who had, in addition to his peasants’

holdings, large tracts of land which were cultivated by these peasants,

was accounted a rich man. He lived up to his reputation, which meant

that his house was open to any number of visitors, and that he kept a

very large household.

We were a family of eight, occasionally of ten or twelve; but fifty

servants at Moscow, and half as many more in the country, were

considered not one too many. Four coachmen to attend a dozen horses,

three cooks for the masters and two more for the servants, a dozen

men to wait upon us at dinner-time (one man, plate in hand, standing

behind each person seated at the table), and girls innumerable in the

maid-servants’ room,--how could anyone do with less than this?

Besides, the ambition of every landed proprietor was that everything

required for his household should be made at home by his own men.

‘How nicely your piano is always tuned! I suppose Herr Schimmel must be

your tuner?’ perhaps a visitor would remark.

To be able to answer, ‘I have my own piano-tuner,’ was in those times

the correct thing.

‘What beautiful pastry!’ the guests would exclaim, when a work of

art, composed of ices and pastry, appeared toward the end of the

dinner. ‘Confess, prince, that it comes from Tremblé’ (the fashionable

pastry-cook).

‘It is made by my own confectioner, a pupil of Tremblé, whom I have

allowed to show what he can do,’ was a reply which elicited general

admiration.

To have embroideries, harnesses, furniture--in fact, everything--made

by one’s own men was the ideal of the rich and respected landed

proprietor. As soon as the children of the servants attained the age

of ten, they were sent as apprentices to the fashionable shops, where

they were obliged to spend five or seven years chiefly in sweeping, in

receiving an incredible number of thrashings, and in running about town

on errands of all sort. I must own that few of them became masters of

their respective arts. The tailors and the shoemakers were found only

skilful enough to make clothes or shoes for the servants, and when a

really good pastry was required for a dinner-party it was ordered at

Tremblé’s, while our own confectioner was beating the drum in the music

band.

That band was another of my father’s ambitions, and almost every one

of his male servants, in addition to other accomplishments, was a

bass-viol or a clarinet in the band. Makár, the piano-tuner, _alias_

under-butler, was also a flutist; Andréi, the tailor, played the French

horn; the confectioner was first put to beat the drum, but he misused

his instrument to such a deafening degree that a tremendous trumpet was

bought for him, in the hope that his lungs would not have the power to

make the same noise as his hands; when, however, this last hope had to

be abandoned, he was sent to be a soldier. As to ‘spotted Tíkhon,’ in

addition to his numerous functions in the household as lamp-cleaner,

floor-polisher, and footman, he made himself useful in the band--to-day

as a trombone, to-morrow as a bassoon, and occasionally as second

violin.

The two first violins were the only exceptions to the rule: they were

‘violins,’ and nothing else. My father had bought them, with their

large families, for a handsome sum of money, from his sisters (he never

bought serfs from nor sold them to strangers). In the evenings when he

was not at his club, or when there was a dinner or an evening party

at our house, the band of twelve to fifteen musicians was summoned.

They played very nicely, and were in great demand for dancing-parties

in the neighbourhood; still more when we were in the country. This

was, of course, a constant source of gratification to my father, whose

permission had to be asked to get the assistance of his band.

Nothing, indeed, gave him more pleasure than to be asked for help,

either in the way mentioned or in any other: for instance, to obtain

free education for a boy, or to save somebody from a punishment

inflicted upon him by a law court. Although he was liable to fall into

fits of rage, he was undoubtedly possessed of a natural instinct

toward leniency, and when his patronage was requested he would write

scores of letters in all possible directions, to all sorts of persons

of high standing, in favour of his protégé. At such times, his mail,

which was always heavy, would be swollen by half a dozen special

letters, written in a most original, semi-official, and semi-humorous

style; each of them sealed, of course, with his arms, in a big square

envelope, which rattled like a baby rattle on account of the quantity

of sand it contained--the use of blotting-paper being then unknown.

The more difficult the case, the more energy he would display, until

he secured the favour he asked for his protégé, whom in many cases he

never saw.

My father liked to have plenty of guests in his house. Our dinner-hour

was four, and at seven the family gathered round the _samovár_

(tea-urn) for tea. Everyone belonging to our circle could drop in

at that hour, and from the time my sister Hélène was again with us

there was no lack of visitors, old and young, who took advantage of

the privilege. When the windows facing the street showed bright light

inside that was enough to let people know that the family was at home

and friends would be welcome.

Nearly every night we had visitors. The green tables were opened in

the hall for the card-players, while the ladies and the young people

stayed in the reception-room or around Hélène’s piano. When the ladies

had gone, card-playing continued sometimes till the small hours of

the morning, and considerable sums of money changed hands among the

players. Father invariably lost. But the real danger for him was not

at home: it was at the English Club, where the stakes were much higher

than in private houses, and especially when he was induced to join

a party of ‘very respectable’ gentlemen, in one of the aristocratic

houses of the Old Equerries’ Quarter, where gambling went on all night.

On an occasion of this kind his losses were sure to be heavy.

Dancing-parties were not infrequent, to say nothing of a couple of

obligatory balls every winter. Father’s way, in such cases, was to

have everything done in a good style, whatever the expense. But at the

same time such niggardliness was practised in our house in daily life

that if I were to recount it, I should be accused of exaggeration. It

is said of a family of pretenders to the throne of France, renowned

for their truly regal hunting-parties, that in their everyday life

even the tallow candles are minutely counted. The same sort of miserly

economy ruled in our house with regard to everything; so much so that

when we, the children of the house, grew up, we detested all saving and

counting. However, in the Old Equerries’ Quarter such a mode of life

only raised my father in public esteem. ‘The old prince,’ it was said,

‘seems to be sharp over money at home; but he knows how a nobleman

ought to live.’

In our quiet and clean lanes that was the kind of life which was most

in respect. One of our neighbours, General D----, kept his house up

in very grand style; and yet the most comical scenes took place every

morning between him and his cook. Breakfast over, the old general,

smoking his pipe, would himself order the dinner.

‘Well, my boy,’ he would say to the cook, who appeared in snow-white

attire, ‘to-day we shall not be many: only a couple of guests. You will

make us a soup, you know, with some spring delicacies--green peas,

French beans, and so on. You have not given us any yet, and madam, you

know, likes a good French spring soup.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then, anything you like as an entrée.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Of course, asparagus is not yet in season, but I saw yesterday such

nice bundles of it in the shops.’

‘Yes, sir; eight shillings the bundle.’

‘Quite right! Then, we are sick of your roasted chickens and turkeys;

you ought to get something for a change.’

‘Some venison, sir?’

‘Yes, yes, anything for a change.’

And when the six courses of dinner had been decided on, the old general

would ask, ‘Now how much shall I give you for to-day’s expenses? Six

shillings will do, I suppose?’

‘One pound, sir.’

‘What nonsense, my boy! Here is six shillings; I assure you that’s

quite enough.’

‘Eight shillings for asparagus, five for the vegetables.’

‘Now, look here, my dear boy, be reasonable. I’ll go as high as

seven-and-six, and you must be economical.’

And the bargaining would go on thus for half an hour, until the

two would agree upon fourteen shillings and sixpence, with the

understanding that the morrow’s dinner should not cost more than

three shillings. Whereupon the general, quite happy at having made

such a good bargain, would take his sledge, make a round of the

fashionable shops, and return quite radiant, bringing for his wife a

bottle of exquisite perfume, for which he had paid a fancy price in

a French shop, and announcing to his only daughter that a new velvet

mantle--‘something very simple’ and very costly--would be sent for her

to try on that afternoon.

All our relatives, who were numerous on my father’s side, lived exactly

in the same way: and if a new spirit occasionally made its appearance,

it usually took the form of some religious passion. Thus a Prince

Gagárin joined the Jesuit order, again to the scandal of ‘all Moscow,’

another young prince entered a monastery, while several older ladies

became fanatic devotees.

There was a single exception. One of our nearest relatives, Prince--let

me call him Mírski--had spent his youth at St. Petersburg as an officer

of the Guards. He took no interest in keeping his own tailors and

cabinet-makers, for his house was furnished in a grand modern style,

and his wearing apparel was all made in the best St. Petersburg shops.

Gambling was not his propensity--he played cards only when in company

with ladies; but his weak point was his dinner-table, upon which he

spent incredible sums of money.

Lent and Easter were his chief epochs of extravagance. When the Great

Lent came, and it would not have been proper to eat meat, cream, or

butter, he seized the opportunity to invent all sorts of delicacies in

the way of fish. The best shops of the two capitals were ransacked for

that purpose; special emissaries were dispatched from his estate to the

mouth of the Vólga, to bring back on post-horses (there was no railway

at that time) a sturgeon of great size or some extraordinarily cured

fish. And when Easter came, there was no end to his inventions.

Easter, in Russia, is the most venerated and also the gayest of the

yearly festivals. It is the festival of spring. The immense heaps of

snow which have been lying during the winter along the streets rapidly

thaw, and roaring streams run down the streets; not like a thief

who creeps in by insensible degrees, but frankly and openly spring

comes--every day bringing with it a change in the state of the snow and

the progress of the buds on the trees; the night frosts only keep the

thaw within reasonable bounds. The last week of the Great Lent, Passion

Week, was kept in Moscow, in my childhood, with extreme solemnity;

it was a time of general mourning, and crowds of people went to the

churches to listen to the impressive reading of those passages of the

Gospels which relate the sufferings of the Christ. Not only were meat,

eggs, and butter not eaten, but even fish was refused; some of the most

rigorous taking no food at all on Good Friday. The more striking was

the contrast when Easter came.

On Saturday everyone attended the night service which began in a

mournful way. Then, suddenly, at midnight, the resurrection news was

announced. All the churches were at once illuminated, and gay peals of

bells resounded from hundreds of bell towers. General rejoicing began.

All the people kissed one another thrice on the cheeks, repeating the

resurrection words, and the churches, now flooded with light, shone

with the gay toilettes of the ladies. The poorest woman had a new

dress; if she had only one new dress a year, she would get it for that

night.

At the same time, Easter was, and is still, the signal for a real

debauch in eating. Special Easter cream cheeses (_páskha_) and Easter

bread (_koolích_) are prepared; and everyone, no matter how poor he

or she may be, must have a small páskha and a small koolích, with at

least one egg painted red, to be consecrated in the church, and to

be used afterward to break the Lent. With most old Russians, eating

began at night, after a short Easter mass, immediately after the

consecrated food had been brought from church; but in the houses of

the nobility the ceremony was postponed till Sunday morning, when a

table was covered with all sorts of viands, cheeses, and pastry, and

all the servants came to exchange with their masters three kisses and a

red-painted egg. Throughout Easter week a table spread with Easter food

stood in the great hall, and every visitor was invited to partake.

On this occasion Prince Mírski surpassed himself. Whether he was at

St. Petersburg or at Moscow, messengers brought to his house, from his

estate, a specially prepared cream cheese for the páskha, and his cook

managed to make out of it a piece of artistic confectionery. Other

messengers were dispatched to the province of Nóvgorod to get a bear’s

ham, which was cured for the prince’s Easter table. And while the

princess, with her two daughters, visited the most austere monasteries,

in which the night service would last three or four hours in

succession, and spent all Passion Week in the most mournful condition

of mind, eating only a piece of dry bread between the visits she paid

to Russian, Roman, and Protestant preachers, her husband made every

morning the tour of the well-known Milútin shops at St. Petersburg,

where all possible delicacies are brought from the ends of the earth.

There he used to select the most extravagant dainties for his Easter

table. Hundreds of visitors came to his house, and were asked ‘just to

taste’ this or that extraordinary thing.

The end of it was that the prince managed literally to eat up a

considerable fortune. His richly furnished house and beautiful estate

were sold, and when he and his wife were old they had nothing left, not

even a home, and were compelled to live with their children.

No wonder that when the emancipation of the serfs came, nearly all

these families of the Old Equerries’ Quarter were ruined. But I must

not anticipate events.