Cousin Giles meets an old Friend--Excursion into the Interior--Fine
View on the Volga--Scenes on the Road--The Count's Estate--Welcomed
with Bread and Salt--The Count's old-fashioned Mansion--A Fishing
Excursion--Winter in Russia--Russian Stoves--Modes of keeping out
Cold--Mode of Dressing in Winter--Result of a Snowless Winter.
"I know that man, I am certain," exclaimed Cousin Giles, as the
travellers were on their way from their hotel to the busy part of the
fair. Just before them was a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, dressed in
a shooting-jacket, with a stout stick in his hand, and walking along
with that free and independent air which generally distinguishes a
seaman. "Hallo, old ship! Where are you bound to? Heave-to till I can
come up with you, will you?" sung out Cousin Giles, in a loud, jovial
voice, which instantly made the person who has been described turn his
head. His countenance brightened as he did so, and with extended hands
he came back, and heartily shook those of our friend.
"Well, Fairman, I am delighted to see you," he exclaimed heartily, "I am
indeed; but what has brought you to this part of the world?"
"The love of travel, and the pleasure of showing a small portion of the
globe we inhabit to these young lads," answered Cousin Giles. "But I
assure you, Ivanovitch, I am equally delighted to meet you, though I
should little have expected to find you acting the part of a country
gentleman when last we parted on the deck of the _Asia_."
"I have been through a good deal since then, but we will talk of that
another time," answered the Russian in English, without the slightest
foreign accent. "Well, we have met most opportunely. I stopped a day
at this place to see the humours of the fair, on my way to take
possession of an estate which has lately been left me, and if I can
induce you to accompany me, it will indeed be a satisfaction."
"The very thing I should like; and as I know you are sincere, I will
accept your invitation; but I have several companions, and I fear we
shall crowd you," said Cousin Giles.
The Russian laughed heartily.
"A dozen people, more or less, makes no difference in on? Of our
houses," he answered; "I shall be delighted to see them, and any more
you may like to ask."
"My present party, with a servant we engaged yesterday, are all I will
bring," said Cousin Giles. "When are we to set off?"
"To-morrow morning, at daybreak, to enjoy as much cool air as can be
obtained. We shall get there in two days without fatigue."
So it was all arranged. Nothing could be more pleasant or convenient.
The travellers would thus see country life in Russia to great advantage,
and be able to get back to Moscow in time for the coronation.
Alexis Ivanovitch, Cousin Giles' old friend, had been educated in
England, and afterwards served for several years on board a British
man-of-war, for the purpose of learning seamanship and navigation.
Several Russians have been allowed by the British Government to study on
board their ships; and they have, with perfect impartiality, allowed
Turks, in the same way, to learn the art of naval warfare. It was while
serving together afloat that Cousin Giles and Alexis Ivanovitch, now a
Count, had formed their friendship.
Towards evening of the second day the carriages of the travellers
reached a village standing on a height overlooking that father of
European rivers, the Volga. The scene was a lovely one. The cloudless
sky had a faint pinkish tint, while a rich mellow glow was cast over the
landscape. Far in the east, across the river, were boundless steppes,
their verdant hue depending entirely on the dews of heaven, there not
being a well or water-spring throughout their whole extent. To make
amends for the want, Nature has planted on them the juicy water-melon,
which those only who have luxuriated on it, in a hot country, can
appreciate. Here and there might be seen the camp-fires of troops of
Cossacks, bivouacking for the night, or of herdsmen preparing to watch
their cattle, or of haymakers, who go out there to prepare fodder for
the winter food of their beasts; while in the west the eye wandered over
ranges of hills, cultivated fields, and populous villages, with their
grey wooden houses peeping out from among the trees.
The village before them contained several neat houses; the gable-ends of
all, formed of wood, and often tastefully decorated with carved work,
being turned towards the road.
On the river below them, gangs of bargemen, or _boorlaks_, were towing
against the sluggish stream vast barges deeply laden with corn; the
voices of the men, modulated by distance, rising in a pleasing chorus.
Others, again, were dragging along immense rafts of timber, cut from far
distant forests, destined to construct navies in widely scattered lands;
while craft of all sorts were steering their course up the stream, laden
with produce for the extensive market then taking place. No sooner had
the carriages stopped than a troop of villagers were seen approaching
along the street, some with garlands, others with banners, those leading
bearing in their hands large dishes. In one dish was a large black
loaf, in another a pile of salt, on a third a jug of water. The men had
flowing beards of patriarchal length and thickness, and were habited in
long sheepskin garments, which gave them a comfortable, substantial
look. They all bowed low as they approached the Count, but he entreated
them in a kind voice to rise and stand upright before him.
"We come, most noble _Goshod_, to offer you the congratulations of our
village on your coming among us for the first time, and we beg to
present you such poor food as we can supply, according to the ancient
custom of our country," said the chief man of the party.
The Count having thanked them in a few kind words, cut some of the brown
bread, which he dipped in the salt, and then drank a draught of the
water, which was of delicious coolness. It was drawn, they told him,
from a well celebrated for its purity, and which, even in the height of
summer, had always ice on the shaft. This ceremony over, the Count and
his friends drove on to his mansion, about a verst farther within the
estate. A long avenue of lime-trees conducted them up to the house,
which was of considerable size, and surrounded by all descriptions of
out-houses, in anything but a flourishing condition. The mansion was
built partly of brick and partly of wood, with verandahs and galleries,
and steps running round outside it, and odd little projections, and bits
of roofs apparently covering nothing, and for no other object than to
serve as ornaments. The land-steward came down the steps, making many
low bows, and followed by a troop of servants in faded blue liveries,
all of them endeavouring to imitate his movements with very ridiculous
ill success. The Count could scarcely restrain his laughter.
"I shall have plenty of work here to get things shipshape," said he,
turning to Cousin Giles. "My uncle, from whom I inherited this
property, was a noble of the old school. State with him was of the
greatest importance. He loved to make a show--not that he really cared
about it himself, or had any large amount of vanity, but that he
considered it necessary to maintain the dignity of his order. Thus he
kept up this useless troop of lazy varlets in faded liveries, when a
good house-steward and two active footmen would have served him much
better. I shall turn some of those fellows to the right-about very
soon, and try to employ them in productive labour."
While the Count was talking they entered the house. Everything within
betokened the old-fashioned taste of the former owner. Large sofas,
numberless card-tables, high-backed chairs, huge, badly gilt
picture-frames, enclosing daubs of most incomprehensible subjects,
mirrors of all shapes and sizes, not one condescending to give a correct
reflection of the human face. There was a large hall with a table down
the centre, on which an ample meal was spread. At the upper end was a
profusion of silver and glass, and two huge salt-cellars. Below the
salt-cellars were plates and knives and forks of a far more humble
description. The house-steward came forward with many a bow, and
inquired when his lord would condescend to dine. "As soon as dinner can
be ready," was the answer; "but come, gentlemen, we will go up to our
rooms and shake off the dust of our journey."
The guests were shown by the house-steward to their bedrooms. They were
very humbly furnished. All the grandeur had evidently been reserved for
the public apartments. They came down to the dining-hall, when the
Count took his seat at the head of the board, and his guests arranged
themselves on either side. A number of other persons then came in,
retainers of some sort,--persons of an inferior order, at all events:
among them was a man in a long green gown, yellow boots, a dark vest,
and light hair straggling over his shoulders. He bowed low, as did the
others, to the Barin, the lord, and took his seat humbly below the salt.
They all ate with the gravity of judges about to condemn a fellow-mortal
to death.
"I am glad that you have had an opportunity of seeing how Russians of
the old school lived," observed the Count, turning to Cousin Giles. "I
could not endure this sort of thing long, but it would not be wise to
make too sudden changes. I shall in future only dine in state on great
occasions, when it is politic to exhibit myself in public. We cannot
all of a sudden introduce the freedom of the English. Ah! You should
indeed value your institutions, both public and domestic."
The Count was busy all the next morning in seeing his overseers, and
receiving deputations from the inhabitants of the various villages on
his estate, who came to welcome him, and bring the accustomed offering
of bread and salt. He arranged, however, ample amusement for his guests
during the day, by supplying them with horses to ride, and boats on a
lake a couple of versts away from the house, where they caught a large
supply of fish in a very short time. In the afternoon several visitors,
who had been invited to meet them, arrived. They were proprietors,
large and small, of estates ten, twenty, and thirty versts away. The
Count's own estate extended thirty versts in one direction, so that he
had not many near neighbours. Some of these gentlemen spoke English
fluently, and had seen the world. Fred and Harry were delighted with
them, and so especially was Mr Evergreen, they were so polite and
polished, and so full of information. Mr Evergreen declared that he
should be proud to be a Russian, to be like them.
"Ah, my dear sirs, you should see Russia during the winter," exclaimed
Baron Shakertoskey. "It is then we are most full of life and vivacity.
Then nature kindly forms us roads, over which we are borne, gliding
smoothly, at a rapid pace by quick-footed steeds; bridges are thrown
across streams, by means which far surpass the art of man; and fresh
fish, and flesh, and fowl are brought to market in the forms which they
held when alive. Fish stand up on their tails, as if about to leap out
of the baskets where they are placed. Sheep, oxen, and calves, rabbits
and hares, look as if they could still run about, and fowls rear up
their heads as if still denizens of the poultry-yard. A true Russian
winter is only to be found at Moscow or in the interior. At Saint
Petersburg, owing to the neighbourhood of the Baltic, the wind which
blows over it frequently produces a thaw or a partial thaw, even in the
middle of winter. Thus, as the wind shifts, so does the temperature
rise and fall. With a west wind comes rain, and with a north-east a
bitter cold; other winds bring fogs, and some, cheerful, bright frosty
days, so that the inhabitants of that great city are liable to wind and
rain in January, and frost and snow in April. Still the thermometer of
Fahrenheit often falls to 55 degrees below zero, which it seldom reaches
in Moscow. As in summer it often rises to 99 degrees, we may calculate
a range of temperature of 150 degrees. This is a difference of
temperature which would dreadfully try the constitution, did not people
take very great precautions against it by the mode in which they warm
their houses and clothe themselves. In Moscow, when the winter begins,
it commences to freeze in right earnest, and does not leave off at the
beck of any wind which may blow. We consider it to begin in October,
and to end in May--a period of six months--long enough to please the
greatest admirer of ice and snow. We then, once for all, don our fur
cloaks, caps, and boots, without which we never show our noses out of
doors till the beginning of spring. We then also light our stoves and
paste up our windows. You have seen a Russian stove? It is worth
examination. It is a vast mass of stone, which, though it takes a long
time to warm, will keep warm for a much longer period without any
additional fuel. The interior is like an oven, with a chimney, a long
snake-like passage leading to it. As long as the wood continues to
blaze the chimney is kept open, but as soon as it is reduced to ashes,
the passage to it is closed, and the hot air is allowed to pass by
numerous channels into the room. Sometimes the outer air is allowed to
pass through pipes over hot plates in the stove, and in this way fresh
air, properly charged with oxygen, is supplied to the inhabitants. In
large houses the mouth of the stove is in an outer passage or in an
ante-room, while the front is a mere mass of china, or concealed
altogether by looking-glasses or other furniture. One or more servants
in large houses have the entire charge of the stoves. They fill them
with wood the last thing at night, and light them some hours before the
family rise in the morning. In the sleeping-rooms they are kept in all
night. In the houses of the poor, one stove of huge proportions serves
for every purpose. It serves not only to heat the hut, but to bake
their bread, and for all sorts of cookery, and to dry their clothes,
articles of which are generally seen hung up round it. Benches are
placed before it, where the inmates sit to warm themselves, while on a
platform above it are placed beds, where, wrapped up in sheepskins, they
indulge in idleness and heat--the greatest luxuries they are able to
enjoy. To all our houses we have double windows: we paste paper over
every crevice by which air may enter, and we fill up the lower part of
the interval between the two windows with sand, into which we stick
artificial flowers, to remind us that summer, with its varied-tinted
beauties, will once again return. Two or three doors also must
generally be passed before the inside of the house is reached. Thus,
you see, in spite of the bitter cold in the outer world, we contrive to
construct an inner one where we can make ourselves tolerably
comfortable. We never venture out without being well wrapped up in
furs, and then we move from house to house as fast as we can, so as to
avoid being exposed any length of time to the cold. We have also large
fires lighted in front of the places of amusement and the palaces of the
Emperor and nobility, where the drivers and servants may warm themselves
while waiting for their masters. Generally with great cold there is
little wind; and people, as long as they are warmly clad and in motion,
have no reason to fear its effects, but unhappy is the wretch who is
overtaken by sleep while exposed to it. His death is certain. Death
thus produced is said to be accompanied by no disagreeable sensations,
at least so say those who have been partially frozen and recovered, but
I would rather not try the experiment. When the thermometer falls to 50
or 55 degrees below zero, it is time to be cautious. No one shows his
nose out of doors unless compelled by urgent necessity, and when he
does, he moves along as fast as he can--keeping a watchful look-out
after that prominent and important feature of the human countenance. As
no unusual sensation accompanies the first attack of frost on the nose,
it is difficult to guard against it. A warning is, however, given by
the peculiar white hue which it assumes, and immediately this sign is
observed by a passer-by, he gives notice to the person attacked. `Oh,
father! Father! Thy nose, thy nose!' he will cry, rushing up to him
with a handful of snow, with which he will rub the feature attacked, if,
on a nearer inspection, he sees that it is in danger. Of course people
generally take the best possible care of their noses, so that the
dreaded catastrophe does not often occur. We wrap up warmly, and leave
only the eyes and mouth and nose exposed, so that nearly all the heat
which escapes from the body has to pass through that channel, and thus
effectually keeps it warm.
"We Russians are not so fond of violent exercise as are you English, and
therefore we depend on the heat of our stoves and the thickness of our
clothing to keep ourselves warm. We sometimes forget that our servants
are not so substantially clad as ourselves, and while we are
entertaining ourselves in-doors, they, foolish fellows, fall asleep, and
get frozen to death outside the palace or theatre, or wherever we may
happen to be. Every year, also, people lose their lives by getting
drunk and falling asleep out of doors. They may try the experiment
several times, but some night the thermometer sinks to zero, and they
never wake again. In summer, travelling is all very well, but in winter
it is enjoyable; no dust, no dirt, no scorching heat. Well covered up
with warm skins, and with fur boots on our feet, away we glide, dragged
rapidly on by our prancing steeds over the hard snow, fleet almost as
the bird on the wing, and like the bird directly across the country,
where in summer no road can be found. Mighty streams also are bridged
over, and we journey along the bed of water-courses; which in spring are
swept by foaming torrents. The thick mantle of ice and snow which
clothes our country forms a superb highway, which the inhabitants of
other lands may in vain desire. The snow, which seems so cold and
inhospitable to the stranger, is our greatest and most valued friend.
It is like a fur cloak; it keeps in the warmth generated in the bosom of
the earth, and shelters the bulbs and roots and seeds from the biting
cold, which would otherwise destroy them. More than anything else we
have to dread a snowless winter; then truly the earth is shut up by an
iron grasp, and tall trees, and shrubs, and plants wither and die under
its malign influence. The earth, deprived of its usual covering, the
ruthless cold deeply penetrates it, and man and beast and creeping
things suffer from its effects. Oh, yes, we have reason to pray
earnestly to be delivered from a snowless winter?"