A RUSSIAN NOBLE.

(Nikolai Gogol)

REVISED

BY THE EDITOR OF

REVELATIONS OF SIBERIA.

(Krystin Lach-Szyrma)

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON:

HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,

SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,

13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1854.

Table

PREFACE.

In laying before English readers a Work, of which the scene is exclusively laid in Russia, and which, it is confidently anticipated, will be recognised as furnishing a most interesting and graphic account of the manners and customs of a very extraordinary nation, the Editor considers it his duty to devote a few words to an explanation of the circumstances connected with the publication of these volumes.

The Work is written by a Russian nobleman, who offered the MS. in English to the publishers, and the Editor's task has been confined to altering such verbal errors as might be expected, when we bear in mind that the Author has written in a language which is not his own.

The story may be said to be unique. It gives us an insight into the internal circumstances and relations of Russian society, which only a Russian could afford us. The Nosdrieffs are an exceptional class, whose type is peculiar to a half-civilization where a blow is accounted as no disgrace, and "giving the lie" imparts no stigma. And yet men who quietly pocket such insults, we find are tolerated in good society, and, strange to say, are not thought the worse of on that account. The Napoleonic dictum, "grattez le Russe, et vous trouverez Tartare," is in this instance most fully verified. But we will not spoil the reader's enjoyment by any further intimation of the persons, whose acquaintance he will make while perusing the following pages. The author affirms that the story is true, and that the main facts are well known in Russia. There is hardly a class of Russian life and society which is not introduced upon the scene, and the Author displays their foibles with an unsparing hand. Still he must not be regarded as an

enemy to his Fatherland: he acts under a salutary impression that the exposé can do no harm, and may possibly effect some good: and if he have such good fortune that his book obtains access into his own country, we feel sure that its truth will be immediately recognized, and its severity pardoned, at least by those not in authority, on account of the Author's strenuous exertions to do his part manfully in ameliorating the condition of his fellow sufferers in Russia.

In conclusion, we may regret that we are not at liberty to mention the author's name—not that the work itself requires any further verification, for its genuineness is avouched by almost every line—but the truth is, that the writer is still anxious to return to his native country, and is perfectly well aware that the avowal of his handiwork and such a display of his satirical powers, will not serve as a special recommendation, except, possibly, as a passport to the innermost regions of the Siberian wilds.

With these preliminary remarks, the Editor begs to offer "Home Life in Russia" to the English reader, as a worthy companion to the "Revelations of Siberia," and as adding one more to our scanty list of books which throw light upon the domestic life of our 'ancient allies' and present foes.

LONDON, 1854.

HOME LIFE IN RUSSIA.

CHAPTER I.

One fine summer's afternoon a few years ago, a pretty, neat-looking, but small spring-britchka, drove into the court-yard of an inn, in the governmental town of Smolensk. The vehicle was one of that peculiar description to which bachelors, retired colonels, staats-capitains, and landowners, rejoicing in the possession of about a hundred-and-fifty souls, give the preference for travelling purposes; in short, all those who in Russia are called "gentlemen of the middle rank."

The traveller who occupied the high seat in this convenient conveyance, was a man, who at first sight could not have been taken for handsome, yet we should do him injustice were we to affirm the contrary of him, for he was neither too stout nor too thin; it would also have been impossible to add that he was too old, as little as it would have been right to call him youthful. His arrival in the above-named town created no particular sensation, and, indeed, it took place without the occurrence of anything unusual or even extraordinary; two Russian mouzhiks, however, who were standing before the door of a dram-shop on the opposite side of the inn, were apparently making their strictures and observations, but which, were confined to conjectures concerning the britchka, not upon the gentleman occupying the carriage.

"Dost thou see it?" said the one to the other, "there is a wheel for you! what do you think of it, would it break or not, supposing it had to roll as far as Moscow?"

"It might stand the journey," replied the other, musingly, as he scratched himself sedulously behind the ear.

"But supposing it was on its way to Kazan, I think it could not stand the wear and tear of such a distance?" said the first speaker again.

"It will never roll into the ancient Tatar fastness," responded his friend somewhat affirmatively.

Thus ended their learned conversation, the scientific depth of which we will not venture to explore. But previous to the britchka being stopped by its driver before the entrance door of the inn, a young man had happened to pass; he was dressed in a pair of white, very tightly-fitting, and extremely short, twill inexpressibles, buttoned up under a dress-coat of the most fashionable cut, and from under which a snow-white linen shirt-front visibly displayed an elegant bronze pin of common Tula manufacture, representing a weapon in the shape of a pistol. This young gentleman turned round, and also honoured the travelling-carriage of our stranger with a hasty glance, at the same time adjusting his hat upon his head, to guard it against the attack of a sudden gust of wind, and then—turning upon his heel, he too went his way.

When the carriage had entered the court-yard, and stopped before the principal entrance of the inn, the traveller was welcomed by the head-waiter, or saloon-walker, as this class are commonly called in Russian hotels,—so lively, and spin-about a fellow, that it was actually impossible to look him in the face, or, in consequence of his mercurial evolutions, to recognise even the outlines of his features. He now came running out breathlessly with a napkin over his arm. He was all one length, without symmetry or the slightest appearance of proportion, and wore a long demi-cotton jacket, which nearly fitted his back instead of his waist; he shook his head, and made his long hair, which was cut à la mouzhik, fly in all directions, and led the stranger quickly up-stairs through the long range of wooden galleries of the inn, and showed the fatigued traveller into the apartment, which, by the decrees of the hotel authorities, he was to occupy.

The room was much the same as such rooms usually are, because the inn was of a similar character, i.e., such an inn as is to be found in all provincial towns of the vast Russian Empire; where, for the sum of two or three roubles, during the course of twenty-four hours, the weary traveller is accommodated with a comfortable room full of beetles, which, like blackberries, peep out from every corner; another door led into an adjoining bed-room, always barricaded with a chest of drawers, or a washing-stand, and occupied by a peaceable and silent neighbour, whose predominant propensity is a lively and irrepressible curiosity to ascertain all he possibly can about the private and public affairs of the new comer. The exterior of the building was in strict harmony with its interior: it was extremely long, and two stories high; the lower portion was not whitewashed, but was permitted to display its brownish red bricks, that had grown dark with years, and looked gloomy and dirty, not only from the sudden changes of wind and weather, but

because they had no doubt been originally of a peculiar dirty tint. The upper story was painted all over with the eternal yellow, a colour so fancied and admired in Russia; on the ground-floor there were several small shops, in which harness, leather, cords, crockery, and cake of all description were displayed to the best possible advantage.

In one of these above-named shops, in the corner one, or rather at the window belonging to it, a dealer in heated mead-water, was standing close to his samovar made of bright copper, and it so happened, that he had a face as red as his samovar, so that at a distance, one might have easily fancied there were two self-boilers standing at the window, had it not been for the feet of one of the samovars being ornamented by a jet-black, long, flowing beard.

Whilst our gentleman traveller was examining the room allotted to him, his luggage and other effects were brought in. First of all, his portmanteau, originally made of white leather, but now looking somewhat old, and testifying to the fact that it had been more than once on the road. This portmanteau was carried in by the coachman Selifan, a man of middle stature, clad in a toulup, and the servant Petruschka, a brisk, handy fellow of about thirty, dressed in an ample, shabby-genteel coat, evidently cast off from the the shoulders of his master. He also was a man of middle size, apparently of a sulky nature at first sight, with very broad lips and a large nose.

After they had deposited the portmanteau, they brought in a small mahogany travelling box, inlaid with ebony and other ornamental woods, a pair of boot-legs, and a cold fowl, carefully wrapped in a piece of brown paper. When all these effects were properly located in their respective places, the coachman Selifan left the room with the intention of looking after his horses, whilst the servant Petruschka began to make his arrangements in a small adjoining antechamber, very dark and much like a dog-kennel, into which he had already succeeded in conveying with him his travelling cloak, together with a peculiar odour of his own which was also common to a large bag of his, containing a variety of articles, forming the indispensable toilet of a travelling servant. In this same dark dog-kennel he fixed against the wall as well as he possibly could, a shaky, three-legged bedstead, and stretched upon it something not unlike a mattress, but as meagre and flat as a pancake, and perhaps not less greasy. This mattress, however, he had

obtained not without some difficulty, from the landlord of the inn.

During the time that these servants were thus busily engaged in making themselves and their master comfortable, the latter had himself descended into the reception saloon.

What character these so called reception-rooms bear—many of my readers, who have travelled in Russia, will know perfectly well —everywhere the same walls, painted in oil-colours, darkened by the smoke of stoves and tobacco in the upper parts, and greasy from the backs of visitors and travellers in the more accessible regions below; the walls are principally thus disfigured by the resident tradesmen of the town, who, on a market-day will gather together in friendly groups, to take their usual quantum of tea, and talk over business and things in general. There are the same grimy ceiling and glass-lustres with their numerous prismatic ornaments dangling around them, shaking and ringing whenever the head waiter runs across the room over the worn-out carpet, whilst swinging about his tray fearlessly and in the most acrobatic manner imaginable, though it be covered with cups and saucers like the ocean shore with sea-gulls—the same pictures all around the wall, painted, of course, in oil; in a word all was here similar to

what it is elsewhere, the only striking difference worthy of notice was perhaps a painting representing a nymph with such an enormous bosom as undoubtedly my reader has never seen. Similar fancy portraitures of nature's bestowings, however, make their appearance in many historical pictures, which, heaven knows, at what period, from whence and by whom, have been brought to us into Russia, and exposed to our view. Sometimes indeed, we have to thank our aristocracy for them, who as admirers and patrons of the fine arts, commission their travelling couriers to purchase them in Italy and elsewhere, according to their taste and judgment.

Our hero took off his travelling cap and liberated his neck from the close embrace of a woollen rainbow-coloured neckcloth, resembling those which a dutiful wife will knit with her own fair hands for her beloved husband, and present it to him with the necessary instructions how to tie it and untie it; as for bachelors, I really cannot say whose kind hands knit such ties for them, but for my own part, I never had the fortune to wear such neck-wrappers in my life. After having freed himself of his woollen tie, the gentleman ordered his dinner to be brought to him.

Whilst various dishes were being served up to him, such as are customary in Russian hotels, as for example; stchee, or cabbage soup, with small meat pies, especially prepared—and indeed always kept ready for all travellers and for many weeks in advance—calf's head and green peas, sausages and greens, roast fowl, salt cucumbers, and the everlasting sweet flour tarts, continually ready and in store; whilst, as we before said, all these good things were being displayed before him, either cold or warmed up, he amused himself by addressing various questions to the head-waiter, inquiring who the former hotel-keeper was and who the present, what the expenses were, and how large the income was, whether the landlord was a thorough rogue or only partially so, to which the head-waiter would invariably reply: "Oh, yes, Sir, a great scoundrel, Sir!"

Thus, then, as is the case in civilized Europe, there are also in civilized Russia, a great many respectable people, who cannot eat their dinner in an hotel, without speaking to the waiter, and who even cannot forbear passing a joke or two upon him.

However, our traveller did not limit his inquiries to apparently unimportant matters, but he also and with wonderful circumspection and in due rotation inquired of the head-waiter who the Governor of the town was, after the names of the Presiding Magistrate and the Imperial Procurator—in a word, he did not omit any of the higher officers of the crown, but even tried to ascertain with as much precision as possible, if not with complete success all or any information he could elicit as regarded the most important and richest landowners of the vicinity, how many souls or peasants each of them might possess, how far out of town he lived and what his character and disposition were, and how frequently he came from his country-seat to visit the town. He also inquired very minutely about the condition and health of the environs, whether that particular government had been visited by any contagious diseases, such as epidemic and other fatal fevers, the ague, cholera, and similar plagues; and all this was asked with such apparent

solicitude, and the replies were listened to with such marked interest as to make it quite obvious that simple curiosity was not the only motive that prompted him to put all these various questions.

In his manner there was something sedate and solid, and he had a habit of blowing his nose very noisily indeed, and though it is impossible to say how he contrived to do so, it must be admitted that the noise was something similar to a blow through a hautbois. This, in itself apparently, quite harmless habit had, nevertheless, the good effect of attracting the more particular attention of the head-waiter, who, each time he heard this singular noise, at once shook his head and made his hair fly in all directions, whilst straightening his frame and bending down his bust in a more respectful inclination, he asked the stranger if he wished for anything else?

After dinner, the gentleman took a cup of coffee and seated himself upon the sofa, and to increase his comfort he put a cushion behind his back; and cushions in Russian hotels, instead of fine and elastic wool are generally filled up with something not unlike bricks and pebbles; upon this the stranger yawned once or twice, and then wished to be shown into his apartment where he lay down and slept soundly for about two hours. After this refreshing siesta he rose, and wrote upon a slip of paper, accordingly to the regulations of the establishment, and the request of the head-waiter: his rank, profession, Christian and family name, for the due information of the police authorities. Upon this paper, the head-waiter whilst hurrying down stairs, spelled with as much agility as he was capable, the following: "Councillor of State, Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff, landowner, travelling for his own amusement and affairs."

CHAPTER II.

Whilst the head-waiter was still engaged in decyphering the words written on the slip of paper, Tchichikoff left his room and went into the street, to examine the town, with which he evidently appeared to be pleased; for he, no doubt, found that it in no way yielded precedence to any other governmental or provincial town of the Empire: the yellow colour was strikingly predominant upon all the stone edifices, whilst a more modest dark grey hue was thickly diffused over all the wooden buildings. The houses were of regular and irregular construction, of one, two, and one a-half stories high, with everlasting balconies, of course very pretty according to the good taste of provincial architects. In some places, these houses appeared as if lost in midst of the plain-like large streets and their interminable long wooden garden-enclosures; in other places again, they were huddled together, and here life and commerce were more perceptible.

Some of the sign boards, though many were washed clean by heavy rains and snow-storms, displayed here and there a well painted cake, a pair of Suwarrow boots, or a coat and pair of inexpressibles, with the inscription "tailor, from Paris;" then again a hosier's shop, exhibited hats and gloves, stockings and night-caps, with the superscription: "Arsenieff Philipoff, foreign merchant;" on another house might be seen a very large sign-board with a billiard-table painted upon it, and two players in dress-coats, such as the dramatis personae wear in an after-piece, when they enter as "guests," upon the stage. The players on this sign-board were represented in the act of aiming at a ball with their cues, their arms slightly bent backwards and rather ill-shaped legs, as if they had been in the act of making an unsuccessful attempt at an entrechat. Under this billiard-table was written in large characters: "And here is the establishment."

Here and there a man or woman was hawking wares about the street, or selling them at a stand, such as nuts, apples, soap, and cakes—which bore a striking resemblance to soap; then again a coffee and tea-shop, or eating-house, with a large sign board outside, with an enormous fish on it, in the back of which a gigantic fork was stuck, like an harpoon in a whale. Most frequent of all were the double-headed and swarthy looking Imperial eagles spreading their protecting wings over the entrance of the numerous taverns with the laconic inscription, "dram-shop." The pavement was in a bad condition everywhere. The curiosity of Pavel Ivanovitch Tchichikoff, the Councillor of State, went even so far as to honour with a minute inspection the public garden of the town; he found the trees very scrubby and scantily planted, taking feeble root, leaning for support against three posts in the shape of a triangle, and very neatly painted with green oil-colour.