PREFACE.

THE author of this book, hurt in a railway accident when paying a short visit to England a few years ago, became a patient of the able surgeon and warm-hearted gentleman to whom he desires gratefully to dedicate his volume.

That surgeon, an old friend of mine, presently afterwards wrote to me that he had met with a gentleman who knew more than most travellers of Russian Life; not only because he had lived long in Russia, and in its remoter parts as much as in the capital, but chiefly because he knew how to observe and seize at once the point of any character or incident. He had been persuaded to jot down some of his experiences, and here they were; surely, my friend thought, genuine enough to be worth public attention.

The rough sketches thus sent to me I condensed for publication, and submitted to the conductor of *All the Year Round*, who liked them so well as not

vi

PREFACE.

only to print them, but to publish many more from
the same writer. In this volume they are reprinted,
by permission, with substantial additions from papers
since furnished to me by the author, who is still in
Russia.

From the Mss. placed in my hands it was left
to me to make my own selection of the matter to be
published, and revise for the press whatever might
seem best. I have made, perhaps, too free use
of the license thus accorded to me, but have in no
case introduced thoughts of my own that would im-
pair the genuineness of a very faithful transcript of
experience. Not the minutest trace of an imaginary
fact has been added with the mistaken idea of height-
ening the effect of any incident; and the author,
whose acquaintance I have had the pleasure of
making during one or two recent short visits of his
to England, is, I believe, as incapable of imagining
fictitious incidents as he is quick in apprehension of
the living interest of what passes around him.

H. M.

May 1866.

CONTENTS.

<table><thead><tr><th>CHAP.</th><th></th><th>PAGE</th></tr></thead><tbody><tr><td>I.</td><td>TWO SORTS OF WOLVES</td><td>I</td></tr><tr><td>II.</td><td>THROUGH SNOW, BY DILIGENCE, TO MOSCOW</td><td>14</td></tr><tr><td>III.</td><td>THE GREAT NATIONAL RAILWAY LINE</td><td>38</td></tr><tr><td>IV.</td><td>AMONG THE HORSEKEEPERS AT MOSCOW</td><td>46</td></tr><tr><td>V.</td><td>FROM MOSCOW TO TULA</td><td>55</td></tr><tr><td>VI.</td><td>AT TULA AMONG THE TRADERS</td><td>71</td></tr><tr><td>VII.</td><td>ACROSS COUNTRY FROM TULA SOUTHWARD</td><td>83</td></tr><tr><td>VIII.</td><td>WITH THE HUNTSMEN</td><td>96</td></tr><tr><td>IX.</td><td>SERFS OF A VILLAGE IN THE INTERIOR</td><td>109</td></tr><tr><td>X.</td><td>RITES OF HOSPITALITY</td><td>133</td></tr><tr><td>XI.</td><td>HOUSEKEEPING IN THE INTERIOR</td><td>149</td></tr><tr><td>XII.</td><td>THE TRAGEDY OF THE WHITE VILLAGE</td><td>170</td></tr><tr><td>XIII.</td><td>WOLF-HUNTING AND TRAPPING</td><td>187</td></tr><tr><td>XIV.</td><td>TWO RUSSIAN VILLAGES</td><td>200</td></tr><tr><td>XV.</td><td>COTTON MILLS</td><td>218</td></tr><tr><td>XVI.</td><td>ST. PETERSBURG</td><td>233</td></tr><tr><td>XVII.</td><td>OFFICIAL AND COMMERCIAL</td><td>257</td></tr><tr><td>XVIII.</td><td>BOND AND FREE</td><td>272</td></tr></tbody></table>

RUSSIAN LIFE.

CHAPTER I.

TWO SORTS OF WOLVES.

I HAVE spent fifteen years of a long life among the Russians in active business of divers kinds, by which I have been brought into close contact with men of all grades throughout the whole empire.

In Russia there are seasons when, and regions where, the mere act of travelling is an adventure of some peril. For example, the winter of 1860 was in Russia as in England memorable for frost; but the winter before that was memorable for snow. In several parts of Russia, the beginning of March 1860 brought a succession of snow-storms, the most violent that had been experienced for more than fifty years. It was my unlucky fate to be compelled to travel at that time, three hundred versts, or not quite two

B

2

RUSSIAN LIFE.

hundred miles (a verst being about three-fifths of a
mile), over a portion of the country which had been
most heavily visited. And I began my journey only
one day after the first great violence of the storms
had subsided.

I had been living for some months in a town on
the Volga, in the centre of European Russia, forty
versts from Jaroslav, the government county-town.
To reach that town I must traverse a wild and un-
inhabited track, where there were only two small
hamlets, at one of which the twenty-verst post-station
was to be found, if not buried in snow. My team of
three horses, commonly called in Russia a "troika,"
had been carefully selected from the various stabling
establishments in the place: the cost for driver and
horses to be three roubles and a half (or about half a
guinea, the rouble of a hundred copecks being worth
a halfpenny or two more than three shillings), which
was no great price for such a journey in such weather.
Two wolves had been killed in our principal street
within a week. One I had shot in my own court-
yard the day before we started, and many reports
were current of their hunger and unusual boldness.
It was even said that a small village about thirty
versts distant had been attacked by them in force.
These facts and stories made me careful about requi-
site defences. My six-barrel travelling companion
was carefully loaded and placed in my belt ready for
use; a magnificent nine-inch bear-knife in a sheath,
and a formidable blackthorn cudgel heavily weighted
at the handle belonged also to my armament. The

WITH THE HUNTSMEN.

103

and I'll just try your rifle on a Rooshian bear." Whereupon he coolly took Pins's rifle out of his awkward hands, untied the horse, jumped on his back, and was after Saunderson before I could have stopped him, which I certainly did not intend to do. Had I been as well mounted and armed, I should have followed: as it was, I was condemned to inactivity, and the society of Mr. Pins.

The shots were still rattling off down the hill; several horsemen had passed in pursuit of the bears immediately after Harry left; and in a short time the rest of the huntsmen advanced into the open road to get to closer quarters with the game in and behind the net. I also left the cover, saw them fire several volleys ingloriously at the prostrate and entangled animals, and was about to examine the effects of their firing by going close up to the net, when a low growl, then a loud savage howl, issued from behind, and immediately a bear burst through an opening into the road among the men; as if disdaining to touch them, he turned again and faced the wood whence he had come, and where he knew his pursuers to be. The rifles on our side were all unloaded, so that he deliberately sat for a short time in the middle of the road untouched. I was just on the point of trying the effect of revolver shot, and had made a few steps to get a proper and sure aim, when Saunderson rode from the wood, and drew up not twenty feet from the poor surrounded beast. He raised his rifle and fired, and the bear fell. The men, who had been all scampering off, returned to

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

finish him with their knives, but Saunderson cried
out, "Keep back, he's not dead; he will comb some
of your hair if you don't mind!" He spoke too late.
One man, more daring than the others, had stooped
down to run his knife into the bear's throat, when,
with astonishing swiftness, bruin raised himself to a
sitting position, and darting his great paw, armed
with those formidable talons, at the man's head, tore
down cap, hair, skin, and flesh to the elbow. The
man fell forward on the bear—in fact, into his arms
—and was about to experience one of those deadly
hugs, or embraces, which would have put him out of
all pain, but a bullet from the same hand that first
struck him put an end to the bear's power of
mischief. The wounded man sprang up, and with a
piercing shriek ran down the hill. He was ultimately
carried home, and survived, but was for life fright-
fully disfigured.

The six hundred men, who had been making the
noises and driving the game into the net, began to
assemble in the road and gather together the spoil.
The dogs came wagging their tails, some with their
fangs dripping and bloody, and their sides and heads
showing rather severe wounds.

"Ah, Barbose, Burlak, my lads, you've done your part nae doot. But, God help us! where's Pomerin, and that body Pins, and that great big Englishman of yours?"

"As for Pins," I said, "I left him in the wood, but I must inquire of you where the other two are."

"Me! I ken whaur I left them, but it's no easy

WITH THE HUNTSMEN.

105

saying whaur they may be now. Come on and search; ye see, the bears divided as we headed them. I and two other men kept close on this one as he skirted the edge of the wood; twice he turned to offer battle, but took the rue. The other two men fired at him, and missed; at the last fire he bolted into the road, then I got a clear shot; and had my nag not moved, that shot would have finished him. Pomerin and your man Harry have followed the other bear. I hope they are all safe."

He had left his horse, and we penetrated a good way into the forest, accompanied by a few men, Saunderson leading. So we came to a glade almost bare of trees. In the centre of this, he said, there was a large deep dell half a mile across, the sides sloping into the centre, and dense with trees all over. "Here it is; and as I live here's the horses tied to a tree. Living or dead, they are here."

Although the foliage had fallen, the place looked dark and dismal; and just as we reached it two shots were heard in the hollow, the one a moment or two after the other. Down we rushed, sliding among the damp old leaves, and holding on by tree-trunks and branches. At length, in answer to our shouts, we heard a halloa repeated. This led us to the very bottom of the immense pit; and there stood Harry, fast in the embrace of the young Russian. Their guns were on the ground, and the bear lying dead beside them. As soon as Pomerin saw me, he sprang forward, embraced, and kissed me with emotion. He was much excited; and in answer to our questions,

106

RUSSIAN LIFE.

told us that, not thinking what he was about, he followed the bear down into this awful hole.

“I had fired twice at him, and hit him once, but not fatally. The villain seemed to know that both barrels were empty, for he turned at bay on this spot, a fine place for a game at hide-and-seek with a bear. I dodged him round and round the trees a good while, and having no time to load, threw my gun down. At last he got me in a corner, from which I could not move but in one direction, and that was into his arms. You see this tree; behind it is, you perceive, sheer cliff, on both sides a gully. Well, I got behind the tree; the bear advanced, sure of his prey, no doubt. I stared him steadily in the face as he came on, but on he came; he was within five yards of me. I drew my knife; I had no hope of success; for, see, he is an enormous grizzly. Ah, the horror of that moment! I was just waiting his next step, and my eyes were dancing with fire-sparks, when I heard a voice from the cliff behind me, ‘Lie down on yer belly, flat—quick; and I’ll give the buffer somethink to eat harder nor gentlemen’s flesh.’ Ah! God bless my grandfather for teaching me the English language! These words were the sweetest I ever heard in my life. Down I went, flat on the ground; the bear had taken a step or two forward, and was looking up to the cliff, for I kept my eyes on him. I could now almost feel his breath on my face, when, in a moment, ping, whirr, then in another moment, ping, whirr, went the bullets, ripping over me, right into the bear’s head. Over he went,

HIDE AND SEEK WITH A BEAR.

107

rolling down the steep. Down jumped my preserver
to my side, and I've been hugging him like a bear
ever since."

He turned to repeat the dose, but Harry set off
with a "No more o' that ere."

When we returned to the scene of the main
slaughter, we found the road filled with peasants—
those who had been beating up the game, those who
had been shooting it, the dog and horse attendants,
and a crowd of idlers from the village. The game—
consisting of the two bears, four cubs, two deer or
elks, five large and two small wolves, hares, rabbits,
and other small animals in abundance—was given
over to the peasants, except only the two bears, which
were ordered to be taken to the count's residence.
I should have expected that the peasants would have
made some demonstration of joy at the deliverance of
their young master, which was known to them all by
this time, but nothing of the kind took place. A few
of them, indeed, came forward and kissed his hand,
and said, "Thank God, he was safe," but these, I
could perceive, were his domestic retainers and
attendants. They were better dressed and cleaner
than the generality of the peasants, and looked like
the pampered and favoured menials that they were.
Amongst the others I in vain looked for any expres-
sions of interest. Here was the raw material, and in
the right spot for studying it. The excitement of the
sport, in which every one might be expected to share
to some degree, did not seem to have ignited in these
people one spark of emotion. There was nothing to
remind me of the peasantry of my own happy land,

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

even in their worst times. I saw no smiling happy faces, no sparkling glad eyes, no manly blunt fellow officiously pressing forward to be taken notice of, no division of class into farmers and farmers' men, traders, and ploughmen, no evidence at all of degrees in the social scale, no appearance whatever of a thriving, happy, or contented ignorance, even among the serfs, no pride of clanship in the daring courage and appearance of their chief. Yet he appeared to me to have—in fact, I know he possessed—all that was requisite to call it forth, had it been there. No. They showed themselves, as we moved forward and amongst them, stolid, apathetic, and listless. Caps came off certainly, and way was made for us with alacrity. But if they had any feelings at all, they managed very cunningly to hide them. Their faces were in general good in contour, and their individual features regular, some of them handsome. The outdoor workers were brown or swarthy, and those who attended the in-door manufactories pale and sallow. As to height, bone, and muscle, they seemed very fairly developed. The Russian peasant men are, indeed, the finest in the country; many of them models of manly shape and beauty. One thing struck me as very remarkable, the brilliant whiteness and regularity of their teeth. They were, as a rule, white as the purest ivory and perfect in form. This is ascribed, I find, to the eating of black bread. Yet, notwithstanding all these favourable points, the expression on their faces was stupid, dull, and unmeaning; what expression there was, I could connect only with cunning and distrust.

## CHAPTER IX.

### SERFS OF A VILLAGE IN THE INTERIOR. A LOOK ROUND THE CHURCH.

IN outward expression the Russian serf is a mere clod of the valley. His dress is seldom varied. A little round low-crowned black felt hat, with narrow turned-up rims, covers the usual profusion of brown or carroty tangled locks, which are sometimes parted in front, and cut straight at the neck. Every serf I have seen, who had reached manhood, had a beard, whiskers, and moustache, untouched by razor or scissors; so that most of these natural beards were magnificently long, rolling in soft curls, or spreading and bushy.

Beards are in Russia the peculiar prerogative of two classes only, but those the most numerous, if not the most potent—serfs and priests; all other Russians crop and shave. Government officials of all kinds— and they are a host—gentlemen, barons, and soldiers, will not allow a hair to be seen, unless it be an imperial, a royal, or a Napoleonic moustache on the upper lip. Beard is the mark of servitude and priest-craft, and is therefore abhorred by the "respectability" of Russia. Count Pomerin's serfs were pro-

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

fusely hairy under their hats, were dressed in loose,
often ragged, coats of gray, brown, or black felt, or
in cloth, coarse as "Hieland heather," reaching a little
below the knees, and held together at the waist by
a belt, like a narrow horse-girth. Under the coat
would be found either a striped cotton or plain linen
shirt, of the coarsest material, called "crash," some-
times used for kitchen towels. Trousers of the same
material were stuck into brown or grey felt boots,
and the toes within the boots would be wrapped
round with a coarse linen rag in lieu of stockings.
On their hands the serfs wear fingerless leather mit-
tens; and in the girth-belt, on the right hip, carry a
short-handled axe.

After passing through the crowd of serfs, we pro-
ceeded down the hill, crossed a morass which caused
the horses some trouble, and then over a low wooden
bridge, spanning a frozen stream, passed to the out-
skirts of the village of Evanofsky. The peasants, who
followed listlessly, sauntering, and silent, gradually
vanshed into their wooden huts. These thatched
village huts are so low, that one wonders how such
well-grown men stand up in them, especially as their
walls are sunk at all manner of angles off the square.
The gables face the street or road; no door is visible,
but there is a large wooden gateway next the house,
and a small door leading to the dwelling, somewhere
in the rear. The gateway is for horses and cattle,
carts, &c.; and the allotment of each peasant is fenced
in from the road by a close high paling, which extends
to the next hut. These allotments being of consider-

111

able breadth, a village spreads over a great space of ground.

In some parts of Russia the huts have a low under story, for sheltering cattle during winter. It admits horses, cows, sheep, pigs, goats, and poultry. The flooring is open, and the animal heat from so many bodies, ascending to the inmates above, helps to keep them warm. In the summer, the quadrupeds go to the field, and the bipeds above take possession of the vacant cellar as the coolest place for the hot weather. A trap-door admits from above to this ground-floor, and a long sloping board outside, with cross pieces of wood nailed on it, like the temporary ladders used for building purposes in England, is the way out into the open air. In the villages belonging to Count Pomerin the cattle of the peasants are housed in outbuildings immediately adjoining the low huts, the communication between them being always open. It follows that the men and women and the cattle live very much on the social principle, and have all things in common. I saw cow- and horse-dung built up three or four feet high from the ground, and one and a half feet thick, all round the huts, to keep out the coming winter frost. What windows I noticed were mere pigeon-holes.

The street or road between these habitations was fully six times as broad as Cheapside in London; and a double row of tall trees ran down the centre, forming, no doubt, a cool and pleasant promenade in summer. Be it remembered that this was no roadside village, neither was it an outskirt to a town, but

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

a genuine Russian feudal village, or, as the Scotch would say, "clachan," a long way from any public road or corporate town, embosomed in the heart of a large valley, between immense regions of forest and the rolling plains.

After a long ride we reached the church. It seemed to stand in the centre of the village; and the other long lines of mud streets, like the one we had passed, radiated from it as a centre. It was a very large and handsome new building of stucco brick, with a Corinthian front, and constructed—as all Russian churches are—in the form of a cross, with gilded domes, cupolas, minarets, and two immense belfries, each containing one large and six small bells, fourteen in all, which were now keeping up a most atrocious jangle. Over the front entrance was at one end a very fairly-executed painting of the Last Supper, and at the other a picture of some saint's story which I did not understand. All the architectural designing and outside decoration was the work, I was told, of a serf belonging to the place. The church was open. It happened to be a saint's day (St. Vladimir, I think), and the count, with his party, including myself, entered the sacred edifice. We were not very long in it, the count and the other Russians of our party getting very swiftly through their religious observances; but the religious faith and observances of any people have a powerful effect in the formation of their character, and what one sees of the Greek Church in its practical bearing on the Russians is worth note.

THE GREEK CHURCH.

113

This Greek Church is a schism from the Roman Catholic, or the Roman Catholic is a schism from the Greek; at all events the one split into two, on the elevation of Gregory the Sixth to the patriarchal chair of Rome. Before that time the four patriarchal chairs of Rome, Alexandria, Jerusalem, and Constantinople, had been independent the one of the other, and each patriarch ruled in his own division; but squabbles had been going on between the patriarch of Rome and his brother patriarch of Constantinople, for the supreme headship of the whole Christian world. The two grand divisions which to this day are maintained—the Eastern or Greek, and the Western or Roman Church—now present so many points of similarity that a common origin is evident, and so many points of dissimilarity that the impossibility of any united action is equally evident. The Greeks have no purgatory, their priests must all be married, the Emperor is head of the Church in the same sense as the Queen of England is head of the Church of England and defender of the faith, and each diocese has a supreme patriarch, who is only supreme in his own district. It is to the especial honour of the Greek Church that it has not been intolerant of other creeds, has not persecuted with fire and faggot, and at the present time allows in Russia every form of religious belief to be publicly followed by strangers and foreigners. But no proselytising is permitted. The great defect of the Greek system is the almost total exclusion of moral teaching. All is display of ceremony.

I

114

RUSSIAN LIFE.

When we entered the church service was being performed by four long-haired priests, attended by their clerks, and robed splendidly in sacred vestments of cloth-of-gold, with chains of gold and crosses hanging from them. The services consisted of chantings, genuflexions, crossings, and readings from a book of prayer; the voices of priests and assistants rising and falling the whole pitch of the gamut at a word, running in a low monotonous tone for a few seconds, then bursting afresh into a high key for a word or two, and then sinking into a mumble of inarticulate sounds. Immediately behind the popes (all priests are called popes in Russia), and facing the entrance, was a raised platform or dais, extending across that part of the church: with wings and side doors, not unlike the stage of a theatre. In the centre of this stage stood the altar, around which were blazing a large number of wax candles. At the side-wings were images and pictures by the dozen. A small rail, with an opening in the centre, separated this altar, and its attendant holy images, from the main body of the building.

The audience was pretty numerous, chiefly composed of women, many of whom carried babies, and were getting themselves crossed and sprinkled with holy water by one or other of the priests as they passed. There was not a single seat in the church; all worshippers were standing, bending, bowing, prostrating, and diligently crossing themselves. The prostrations were complete, to the touching of the cold flags with the forehead, and the kissing of the

AT CHURCH IN A VILLAGE.

115

ground. A few reading-desks were placed here and there about the church among the people, and on each lay for study a small picture of some particular saint. The one I examined was a miserably mean representation of Joseph and Mary, with a child between them. On these desks, beside each of the pictures, lay a plate for the reception of money, and there was a stand for tapers and candles. The poor devotees crowded to kiss the pictures, made their children do so too, and when the children were babies held the pictures to their lips. After a time the performing priests retired behind the side-scenes, and reappeared on the stage beside the altar. Then was heard a choir of very good voices commencing another part of the performance, and now, bending, crossing, and prostrating were renewed with added energy. During all this time the people were going and coming, passing and repassing, through the church, as they sought out the particular saints' pictures before which they desired to perform their devotions. No one seemed willing to rest for a single moment. Wax tapers and candles were being sold near the door, varying in price from three kopecks to many rubles. I am told that the priests derive a considerable revenue from the chandlery trade—first selling their candles for sacred purposes, and after they have burnt for a short time, putting them out to be resold for common use.

On this and on many other occasions I did not hear one syllable of preaching or homily-reading, nor one hint of the moral precepts of Christianity.

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

At Easter there is absolution given to the Greek Church people. Six weeks of common fasting have been previously observed, and a week of uncommon, almost absolute starvation, precedes Easter Sunday. During that week confession is made, and absolution in some sense given in a very wholesale manner by the priests who attend for the purpose.

"Evan, where are you going?" said a friend of mine to his servant-man, on one of these days of "gavating," that is, confessing.

"I am going to confession; I'll be back in a quarter of an hour,—the church is just at hand."

"But I cannot let you go to-day; I want you."

"God help me, John the son of Thomas, but I must go; this is the last day of gavating, and if I don't go, I shall have no certificate to get a clean passport; I will be back in a few minutes."

"How can you manage to confess all your year's sins in a few minutes?"

"Your honour, if I had only five kopecks, the pope would keep me a long time; but I have a rouble, and that will get me through in five minutes; I know how to do." Off the fellow went, and returned in less than half an hour with all his spiritual accounts squared. On the Sunday after this week of confession, all Russia is cleaned and purged of twelve months' sins.

A dramatic exhibition of the resurrection is given in every church in the empire on the Saturday evening at twelve o'clock precisely. On Easter Sunday here are kisses and congratulations, eggs are

THE CEREMONY OF CONFESSION.

117

handed about from hand to hand, feasting is at its height, and the hospitals are full by Tuesday or Wednesday.

There is a manufactory near St. Petersburg, at which about two thousand hands used to be employed. On a week previous to a certain Easter Sunday, while confession was going on, in order to take as little time from Mammon as possible, the machinery was stopped in sections, and the people were permitted to go in batches, according to the nature of the work at which they were employed. Weavers confessed together at one time, spinners at another, and so on. Connected with, and adjoining, these works was the church where confession took place, and a private passage led from the works to the church by which the penitents passed into the church: having confessed, they went into the street by the main church entrance to go home. Now, in Russia, all workpeople are strictly searched by male and female searchers as they pass out from their place of employment; but in confessing season when these particular workpeople went direct to the church, by the private way, to confess a year's sins in the lump, the right of search had never been enforced. But on a certain day the director of this factory received a hint concerning this omission, and took his measures accordingly. At eleven o'clock a large batch (four hundred in all) of women, young and married, girls and old wives, left their various posts, and took their way across the yard, with demure and penitent looks, to the private

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entrance, where they were admitted as usual, filling
the stairs and passages. When all were inside, the
bottom door was bolted and guarded. Means of
escape being thus cut off, the front rank on ap-
proaching the door of communication with the
church, found half-a-dozen searchers, backed by as
many policemen. The first two women searched
were stripped of a large quantity of valuable ma-
terial secreted under their clothes, in their boots—in
fact, wherever they could stow it. Each had as
great a weight of plunder as she could possibly carry.
The work of searching went on, but the mass of
women on the stairs and in the passages got scent of
the presence of the searchers. The word was passed,
a peculiar sound was heard as of many persons
dressing and undressing, and in a few minutes the
women were all standing as innocent as lambs and
as harmless as doves, up to their knees in material,
valued, according to an after-computation, at five
hundred pounds sterling.

This had been going on for years. But let it be
remembered that the people are not taught morality
and honesty as part of their religion.

I will attempt to give an idea of what Holy
Russia can achieve in this line. Saint Nicholas, or
Nikoli as he is termed in Russia, was "a saint so
clever," who, many years ago, lived on the banks of
Lake Ladago the Great. He was a man reputed for
his wonderful sanctity, austerity, and wisdom. Many
extraordinary cures had he effected, which were as-
cribed by the simple peasants to supernatural power.

HOLY NIKOLI.

119

He belonged to the real old uncorrupted Greek re-
ligion, such as it was in the days of its purity; he
flagellated himself unmercifully for his deficiencies,
bemoaned the falling off of the primitive faith, and
prophesied dire calamities in consequence. One of
his favourite prophetic visions was the downfall of the
Ottoman empire, the total destruction of all the
Turks, the substitution of Russia for those "dogs" in
the East, in the reign of a namesake of his own, a
Nikoli, and the simultaneous restoration of the pure
old faith. One day he was on a sloping bank of
the great lake, seated on a large boulder-stone, talk-
ing and speaking words of wisdom to friends who
had come a long way to hear him, and at the same
time inwardly praying to be removed to the capital,
that he might have there a wider field of duty, and
give his counsel to the emperor, who was at that time
consolidating Petersburg. At once the stone on
which he sat began to move, and, sliding gently
down towards the lake, carried him with it, in spite
of the exertions of his friends. On the lake the
stone swam like a duck, and set off, dead against the
wind, across the sea (the Ladago is some sixty miles
broad, and eighty long). Nikoli waved a farewell to
his astonished friends, and calmly held his course.
For six weeks he sailed on, buffeting winds and
waves, not knowing whither he went. At length he
passed from the great lake into the Neva. But he
did not reach the capital. A ukase had gone out
against the arrival of any more big stones, or mono-
liths after that which Peter rides on, in the Admiralty

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

Plains. Nikoli's stone must have known this, for when it came to a place called Ishora, it turned into a small tributary, and held on up the narrow river, dead against the stream, for four good miles. Then it stopped stone-still at the village of Colpino, where the saint was obliged to get off and land. It so happened that just as Nikoli came sailing up this small river, the peasants had collected and were dancing one of their holiday dances. They saw the strange sight of an old man sailing on a stone, and thought they saw the Evil One. "Churt! churt!" they cried, and ran off. One man, however, who had more sense, cried out, "God be with us! that is old Nikoli Nikoliovitch from the Ladago, the wise man." This discriminating man took the poor exhausted mariner in, and dried his feet, set bread before him, got the samovar ready, and laid him on the peach bed, doing all he could to revive his poor weather-beaten frame. But the saint's time was come; he died in the arms of his kind entertainer, prophesying many events, "which have all come to pass," and having by this expedition on the stone entitled himself to be canonised and placed in the highest rank among Greek saints. So, canonised he was; a picture of him was made and encased under silver, with rays of glory springing from his head; the picture was hung up in a frame, and a small church built on the spot where he died. To this church resorted many thousands every year on the anniversary of his death, the ninth of May. They who had diseases were healed, the lame walked and the blind saw,

NIKOLI AT COLPINO.

121

after a visit to Colpino on the saint's day. By and
by the Empress Catherine established at this place a
cannon-foundry, and brought Gasgoine, from Carron
in Scotland, to teach her to make guns. He brought
more people, and she also sent a host of Russians;
so the little church became too small, besides being
found at an inconvenient distance from the great
new village. Then there was built a grand new
church, as large and handsome as any ordinary saint
could desire, for Nikoli; and as he had been a source
of great profit in the old church, it was deemed that
he would be more profitable than ever in the new
one. They thought, therefore, to remove him; and
one day they did, with great pomp and ceremony,
remove him from among his old friends and old
faces. The ceremony over and the door locked, the
popes retired to play at cards at a party in Vassilia
Petrovitch's grand government house. But if Nikoli
came to Colpino on a stone without any free will of
his own, he was not going to be removed from his
old comfortable quarters by the will of the priests
without his own sanction; so he got up in the night,
kicked open the door, walked three miles back to his
dear old church, and hung himself up again on his old
nail, close to the altar. There he was found in the
morning. The priests were not to be put out by an
old picture, so they took Nikoli back, double nailed
him, rolled stones to the door of the church, and
set a watch. It wouldn't do. Nikoli came out at
a window, and was found in his old berth on the
morning of the second day. The priests now

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

appealed to the empress, who sent Potemkin to
negotiate with the saint, and after considerable
trouble he managed to bring the old fellow to
terms. Nikoli consented to be removed, on the
condition that on the ninth of May in every year,
for all time to come, a procession of great priests
should carry him on a visit to the old church,
and carry him back. For he was determined
that the people should have this opportunity of
receiving his blessing and enjoying his miraculous
healing powers. This is the legend; now for its
effects.

For a week previous to the ninth of May I have
seen the principal road to Colpino gradually as-
suming the appearance of the road leading to some
great fair. Pilgrims of all ages and both sexes
begin to pass me first singly and at intervals, then
by groups in closer file, until the road is covered
with weary, travel-stained, footsore, and hungry-
looking travellers. Many of them come from far
distances, two or three hundred miles away. The
great proportion are not moushicks, or mere pea-
sants, but very respectably-dressed persons above
the rank of serfs, and evidently possessing means.
They are nearly all barefoot, and carry the pilgrim's
staff and wallet. They must not enter a house on
their journey, unless they would spoil the blessing
they expect. The sun may be blazing on their de-
voted heads, the rain may be coming down in tor-
rents: this does not signify; on flows the stream of
devotees. I have seen them ill and sick and fainting,

A RELIGIOUS PILGRIMAGE.

123

and I have seen cordials given to them by kind English women. The lame pass, and the blind, and the rheumatic, and people afflicted with various diseases; sick children in the arms of their fond mothers, and old tottering age supported by stalwart sons and daughters. On the eighth the road is densely crowded; the Petersburg pilgrims who do not take the liberty "to boil their peas" start in the evening to walk all night, and arrive in good time in the morning. For those who do "boil their peas," trains run to Colpino, beginning early on the ninth, and pour out their teeming freight at the stations every half hour until twelve o'clock. Those who can command a team, drive down, instead of mixing with the poorer sinners in the train. The pedestrians and more sincere dupes have by this time reached the spot, so that on the final day, carriages only are seen on the road.

I have been present at Colpino Place on the evening of the eighth, and have seen from fifteen thousand to twenty thousand wayfarers such as I have described, lying in the wind and rain all night around the church. I have been there on the ninth, and have seen this number doubled by fresh arrivals from Petersburg by train and road. Taking my stand at ten o'clock to see the procession which begins at noon, I have had to wait until one, because Nikoli would not consent to move until the large iron box for offerings was filled with money. I have gone into the church and taken my hat off to as ugly an old saint as it is possible to see; I have

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

waited—not, I am afraid, in a very patient frame of
mind—until my eyes have been gladdened by the
sight of the holy banners, old tawdry and moth-eaten
images and pictures, to the number of thirty, carried
each by two priests clothed in sacred vestments. Then
I have seen this great multitude rushing, crushing,
squeezing, and pushing, to get into the line of march,
and prostrating themselves in the mud in a long line
huddled together, a mile long and more, enjoying
the extreme felicity of having these banners and pic-
tures — but especially old Nikoli, in a worm-eaten
frame—carried over them by the priests, who trod
without mercy on the poor superstitious slaves.
Then, as I have thought of the Indian Juggernaut,
I have had my hat knocked over my ears, because
I forgot to take it off as the humiliating spectacle
passed by. I have followed this immense crowd with
my eyes, as the people rushed again and again to be
trampled over by the priests, and throw themselves
again and again in the mud and dirt before and
under the images. I have heard of miraculous cures
effected on that great day; of those who came blind,
going away seeing; of those who came on crutches,
going away without them; of those who brought
rheumatisms, leaving them behind; and even of
women who never had children, bearing children
thereafter. Beyond what I have described, however,
nothing was to be seen, unless it were the shows, the
dancing bears, the sweetmeat stands, and the segans
or gipsies, brown as copper, who are miracle-workers,
and who for half a rouble read my hand, and be-

CARD-PLAYING.

125

stowed upon me three wives, fifteen children, and
four estates.

On leaving the church I happened to fall in be-
side Saunderson; and as we proceeded to the count's
residence I asked him what he knew of the morals of
these Russian priests. "Is card-playing a very com-
mon thing with them?"

"Common! Why, all Russia is ready to play
cards morning, noon, and night. Shuffle, shuffle,
shuffle, and deal. The emperor's whole court plays;
the aristocracy play to a man; the ladies, of all
grades, fill up their time at cards—Fool, Your-own-
Trump, Three-Leaves, Kings, Windmill, and a hun-
dred other games. The shopkeepers sit playing
cards for hours at their shopdoors. The bargeman
in his boat, the peasant in his hut, children, young
men, girls, all play at cards. Many an estate changes
hands in an evening. I have known three hundred
men, women, and children, and a large property
staked on a single game. But these long-haired,
long-bearded, broad-brims of lazy priests are of all
such gamblers the most incessant. I will tell you an
instance of my own knowledge."

And this is what Saunderson told :

You saw that fat, tall priest, with the large brown
beard, who sprinkled the holy water on the bairns.
Weel, he is the head pope of this church, and lives
beside it; in fact, there is a covered passage leading
from the church to his house direct. One evening,
before a saint's day, I was on a visit to Mr. Pins, who
lives in that wooden house beside yon cotton-mill in

126

RUSSIAN LIFE.

the hollow, and we were enjoying ourselves as we
best could, when a message came from the priest
to ask us all to supper. He had a few friends with
him, and would be glad to see us. As nothing of
this kind is to be refused, we went—I, and Pins,
and his wife and daughter. The priest's friends were
two beardies like himself, who were to assist next day
in church; his wife also, of course, was there. Sup-
per over, cards were introduced, and down sat Pins
and the three holy men to the game, while I was left
to entertain the leddies as well as I could. The four
gamblers gradually forgot every thing else in the
room, the head priest being the most intent of the
four. The game went on. Now Pins swept the
table of roubles, and anon one or other of the priests
—the head man evidently losing fast, and Pins
winning.

Tempers got lost, and scarcely civil words were
exchanged amongst the party. I could see Pins's red
face, glowing like a nor'-west moon, under the flush
of excitement and brandy. As we had supped late,
Sunday morning was on us before I was aware. Two
o'clock struck, and Mrs. Pins and I jumped to our
feet. Two o'clock on a Sunday morning in a minis-
ter's house playing cards, the gamblers priests of the
Holy Greek Church! It was against the conscience
of a Scot to assist at such on-goings,—not that I am
straitlaced to an hour or two, considering the diffe-
rence of clocks. I therefore energetically backed
Mrs. Pins, who was requesting her husband to go
home. Pins rose—but reluctantly, as it seemed to

THE PRIEST AT HIS CARDS.

127

me—and was about to accompany us. The priest had no mind to let him go off so easily. He and his partner had won two hundred roubles, and it was clearly against all rules to run away so soon. The others must have their revenge—it was only two o'clock. So he sat down again, saying, “Go, my dear, with Mr. Saunderson. I'll play the old fellows till daylight, if they like. It shall never be said that an Englishman shirked off because his pocket was full of other people's money.”

As our host politely showed us to the door he said to me, “Do you attend the church at eight?”

“Yes, it is my intention; but I don't think you will be there in a fit state, if you play much longer. It is a shame.”

“No fear,” he said; “but your friend has won much money, and I must have my turn. It is nothing.”

At seven o'clock I was awoke by a servant with information that his master had not returned, and that madame desired me to walk to the priest's house and see how matters stood. I dressed hastily, and went to the parsonage, rectory, or what shall I call it? As I passed the church I saw that it was in course of preparation for the morning performances; but my business was not with the church, it was with the priests. Just as I reached the door a clerk (decchock) was entering. He was a dirty, yellow, sickly fellow, with a flavouring of stale tobacco.

128

RUSSIAN LIFE.

"Where is the pope, Vassilia?" I said.

"Yonder," pointing to the room I had so lately left.

"Playing still? It is too bad."

"To be sure; it is nothing. I have known master play two days and nights at a stretch. But it is now time for service, and I must tell him."

I pushed past him into the room. It was Sabbath morn, half-an-hour before service, and the men who were to officiate sat round a table with flushed faces, eager looks, dishevelled hair, and ruffled attire. Candles were burnt down in their sockets, daylight streamed in through the shutterless windows. The brandy and wine bottles were empty. A great jug of "ghuass" was on a side-table, old cards littered the painted floor, and the atmosphere was reeking with the fumes of the "papeross;" for smoking was still going on. I saw at a glance that the tide of luck had left the Englishman. The priest was buoyant; he was flat.

"They are winning it back," he said to me as I entered; "I have had three hundred, now have but fifty."

"Ay," said the tall priest, "and this game will get that back also; it is for fifty—is it not?"

Then the clerk entered, and advanced with as little show of concern as if the exhibition was a fit and usual preparation for the church rites, and after reverentially crossing himself, intimated to the priest in chief that in half-an-hour it would be his time to go in to commence the services.

VIGIL AND MATINS.

129

"Very good, Vassilia, my son. Don't disturb me now, but listen;—come back exactly three minutes before eight."

"I hear, and obey," said Vassilia, and vanished.

I cannot say these men were drunk; on the contrary, they seemed more sober than they had been when I left them at two o'clock; but the demon of play held them in his grip; they were as fresh for it, and as absorbed as if they had only played two or three hours. My remonstrances and expostulations were thrown away, and in indignant curiosity I sat down to watch the end.

The priest and his partner lost. Pins and his partner won another fifty. The next game was to be double or quits, the deal made with a fresh pack; and, as I sat in full view of the tall priest, I could see his face brighten up, and a look of intelligence pass between him and his partner. At this moment the decchock again entered. "Three minutes to eight o'clock."

All but the tall priest threw their cards on the table and rose, saying, "A fresh deal after service."

"No, no," he said, "keep your hand, partner; I shall keep mine, it is a good one; and we shall play the game after our return : here, Vassilia, give me a towel, wet: that will do. Now my robes,—there—that comb; and now go every one to your posts. I shall be there presently." Thus saying, he proceeded with a firm step to the church by the private entrance already mentioned. As he left the room I saw him place his good hand of cards within his

K

130

RUSSIAN LIFE.

sacred robes, under the inside fastening. He was
evidently determined not to lose sight of his trumps,
and carried them off on his person into the church.
I ran round to the front entrance, and was just in
time to witness the commencement of the service. It
is a wonder judgment did not fall on the chief priest.
And it did in a way. At one part of the service, just
as he was stepping on the platform, he put his hand
inside his robe to pull out his handkerchief, and, as he
drew it out, the cards came also unbidden, and fell
scattered over the altar floor. This would have para-
lysed any ordinary man; but that priest never winced
for a moment. He looked coolly at the cards, then
steadily at the people, as much as to say, "You all
see that; take notice of it. I shall tell you about
that by and by." He then continued the services.
At the close he pointed to the cards—then beckoned
a little peasant boy, with a shock head of white
flaxen hair, dressed in a shirt of coarse linen and
trousers to match, not very clean, who had been
crossing and bending beside a poor peasant woman,
his mother:

"Come here, boy!" The boy went. Turning to the congregation, he said: "I shall give you a lesson you will not forget for some time. You see these cards lying on the floor. Do you think I put them there for nothing? We shall see. What is your name, my boy?"

"Peter Petrovitch."

"Well, Peter Petrovitch, go and pick up one of
those cards you see on the floor, and bring it to me.

CARDS WITH A GLOSS ON THEM.

131

'There, that will do. Now tell me, Peter Petrovitch,
what card is this?'

"The ace of spades," said the boy, with ready
knowledge.

"Very good, Peter Petrovitch; bring me another,
that's a good boy. What card is that?"

"The queen of spades," said Peter.

"How well you know them, Peter Petrovitch!
bring another. And what may that one be?"

"The ten of hearts."

"That will do, Peter, the son of Peter. Now
turn round and look at this picture. Can you tell
me what saint it represents?"

The boy scratched his head, then shrugged his
little shoulders, lifting them up to his ears, then
scratched his head again, and said: "Ya naes nigh."
(I don't know.)

"Now look at this one. Who is this?"

The same answer.

"And this?"

"I cannot tell."

"That will do, Peter, the son of Peter. You may
go to your mother."

Turning to the people, he continued:

"Do you know now for what purpose I put these
cards on the floor? Do you not think shame of your-
selves, tell me—say, is it not disgraceful and scandal-
ous that that nice white-haired boy can tell me in a
moment the name of every card in the pack, and yet
he does not know the name of one of the blessed
saints? O, shame, shame on ye, so to bring up the

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

young, after all the good teaching I have given ye!
Go away and learn the lesson I have given you this
blessed day. Don't forget it, and don't force me to
bring cards into this holy place again. Vassilia, pick
the other cards up, and keep them for me."

So with solemn step he left the church to play out
his interrupted game for a hundred roubles.

I have given this sketch of a Russian card-playing
priest simply as I got it, and nearly in the narrator's
own words, omitting Scotticisms, but retaining the
train of thought. Of its literal truth my own expe-
rience of the priests, and my later knowledge of the
friend whom I call Saunderson, as well as Mr. Pins,
entirely assures me.

CHAPTER X.

RITES OF HOSPITALITY.

COUNT POMERIN'S residence was on a slight rise, sloping down among gardens and trees to the valley. We entered his grounds by a large wooden gateway, and passing through a short avenue of trees over a broad well-kept gravelled path, bordered with flowers and shrubs, a turn to the left with a short curve brought us in sight of the count's birthplace and principal country seat. It was a very long and large wooden building, but I afterwards found it to be only of wood. It seemed to be of brick, and plastered. Three parts of it were of one story, but very high, and the other part, which formed the servants' establishment, of two stories. The principal end had large broad windows looking out on a flat lawn, intersected here and there with gravelled walks, and I could see gymnastic poles, swinging trees, &c., at the farther corner. In the middle of the lawn (which might cover three acres), and all about it, in confused disorder, were a great many temporary structures, for what purpose I was soon to learn.

The large windows were all brilliantly lighted up, as if for an illumination. About twenty serfs with

134

RUSSIAN LIFE.

blazing pine torches met us as we turned the corner,
and preceded us to the main entrance. This was sur-
rounded by men and women of various degrees, all in
the holiday costume of the country, who raised a sort
of uncouth cheer as we advanced. Across the thresh-
hold of the door there lay stretched out the grisly
carcases of the two old bears. Around these very
material mementoes of the Englishman's skill in rifle-
practice the twenty pine-torch bearers assembled,
flaring and waving their torches.

The vestibule, or hall, or lobby, was one blaze of
light. In the centre was a table, on which was
erected a very handsome oberis, image, or joss; in
front, on the table, lay a large silver salver containing
pieces of black bread, and stands of the same material
for salt. A lady stood on each side of the table, one
old, the other much younger; these were the mother
and grandmother of the count, countesses both. As
he leapt from his horse and jumped into the hall over
the bears, the younger lady ran into his arms and
embraced him. All this—with the twenty or thirty
horsemen dismounting, grooms in red shirts and wide
black velvet trousers stuck into their boots and falling
in folds over the sides, and a crowd of stolid staring
peasants in the background—gave the scene a lively
and uncommon character.

"What does it mean?" I said to the talkative
Scotchman.

"That's mair than I know," said he, "but I sus-
pect it is some kindly nonsense of my lady countess—
some old custom."

RITES OF HOSPITALITY.

135

As he spoke, the count, who had been talking to his mother, came out and said to us:

"It seems we are to have a little mummery. My lady mother kindly insists on receiving my guests, and more particularly the Englishman who saved her wild boy's life, in a true old Russian style. The ceremony is simple, over in a moment; but let me tell you for your comfort that after it has been gone through, feudal fashion, my guests are peculiarly sacred in my house and on my property, and are to be defended from injury with all the means I possess. Now therefore, my friend, advance, and as you cross this bear trample him under your feet."

Harry stepped forward, swinging his great arms about as if he did not know where to put them, crossed the barrier, was received at the table by the two ladies, and warmly greeted by the countess in good English as the preserver of her son; the black bread and salt (previously blessed by the priest) were offered to him, and then he was hurried off to the bath by two attendants in red shirts. Saunderson followed as the second bear-killer, and went through the same process, with the exception of the bath. It was my turn next, and as I accepted the bread and salt the countess said, with a sweet smile, "You are very welcome—I cannot tell you how much. Your family is all gone to rest till morning. There, Constantine, show the baron the bath."

I was conducted to the rear of the building, and introduced into a very comfortable room, where two strong fellows were waiting to commence operations

136

RUSSIAN LIFE.

on my poor wearied body. This outer room was very
well furnished. It might measure about five yards
by eight. The floor was covered with some kind of
soft matting, on which a clean canvas cloth was
spread. There were two excellent large luxurious
sofas, a wardrobe, tables, chairs, looking-glass, towels,
and all the necessaries for the toilet. I perceived
also a suit of my own clothes spread out on one of the
tables. I threw myself on a sofa, exhausted, and
from that moment became a passive lump of human
material in the hands of my two attendants. My fur
boots were dragged off and tossed into the wardrobe;
fur coat and under-clothes shared the same fate. As
each article was removed I felt relief inexpressible.
These garments had not left my body for nine days
and nights, and as the last was taken from me my
sense of enjoyment reached its climax. But the relief
was too much. I felt a total prostration of body.
The energies so long kept on the stretch, the nerves
so long braced to the perils of the journey, gave way,
and I swooned for the first and only time in my
life.

I think I may be forgiven this weakness when it
is remembered through what roads we had come, the
fatigue being enhanced in my case a hundredfold by
the care and responsibility attaching to the party of
women and children accompanying me, and more
especially by the fact that being chancellor of the
exchequer, and having to pay the yearshick money
at every station, besides other small matters, I had
not enjoyed two hours' consecutive sleep for nine

IN A RUSSIAN BATH.

137

days and nights. This is the paymaster's grief on
a long Russian journey.

But I am lying naked and insensible in the outer
room of a Russian bath. The two moushicks had
emptied a bottle of eau-de-cologne from my lady's
repository over my head and face, and were applying
a brandy stimulant when I recovered.

"You are tired, baron; but we will soon mend
you. Don't stir." Without more ado they lifted me
up like an infant, and carried me into the inner room,
where the atmosphere was considerably warmer. Into
a bath lined with lead, and nearly filled with water, I
was then plunged without ceremony. At first the
water felt so hot that I thought I must be scalded,
but after a time it became so delicious that I felt
willing to remain, so bathed, for ever. But my pre-
sent possessors were of another mind. I was lifted
out and placed on a bench like a flat trough beside
the bath. There I was rolled and turned, and firmly
rubbed all over with handfuls of mat fibres and soap
dipped every second or two into the hot water. I was
scrubbed remorselessly by my determined nurses; I
might kick and struggle, but it was all one. They
grinned, held me down, and scrubbed on for a mortal
quarter of an hour. I thought the skin would be
peeled off my body, and felt sharp prickly shooting
needle-point pains at every pore. Then I was
plunged into the bath again in hotter water, and
forcibly held there for five minutes. I was in hope
this might end the process, and signified a determina-
tion to get back to the outer room—but no.

138

RUSSIAN LIFE.

“We have received orders to make you clean and well. Heaven help us, how angry you are! Our orders must be obeyed. You must now go into the ‘stove-room.’” It was of no use to resist. I resigned myself to my fate, was lifted out of the bath and carried into the vapour den, the essential part of a Russian bath.

What I had gone through had been only preparatory. This place might be twelve feet high, lined with closely-fitting boards on the roof and all round, so that no steam might escape. In the centre of the floor there rose broad steps of wood, commencing from two sides, and terminating in a large flat board on the top. This board, crowning the edifice, was about two feet below the roof. The steam or vapour was raised in this manner:—A large stove of brick, like a baker's oven, stood in a corner and nearly filled one-fourth of the apartment. It had been heated almost red-hot, the red charred embers of the burnt wood remaining in it. One of the men seized an iron ladle, and with it cast water into the fiery gulf. The steam or vapour thus generated rushed out, rising to the roof for vent, and finding none it filled the place. I was laid at first on the bottom step of the centre erection, as being the coolest, the vapour increasing in density and power the higher it rose. Even here I felt nearly suffocated with the steam. The rubbing recommenced with fresh vigour, and now buckets of cold water were poured over me, each bucketful having the effect of a shock from a powerful galvanic battery.

IN A RUSSIAN BATH.

139

Step by step was I lifted up, while the rubbing and dashing of cold water went on alternately, and additional water was thrown into the oven, increasing the density of the steam at every application. At last they got me on the flat step at the very top, with my nose nearly touching the roof. There I lay in a dense body of hot vapour, hot enough to scald me had my body not been previously tempered for it. I did not know when it was all to end.

I had observed, on my admission to this den of steam, several instruments of torture, of the use of which I had a vague presentiment. There were bundles of birch twigs about half or three-quarters of a yard long, the leaves still remaining on one end, but bare where they were tied together, and about two inches in diameter. My tormentors armed themselves with these weapons, and made an onslaught in no tender manner upon my defenceless body, flagellating me back, front, and on both sides, turning me round and round, to get at every corner. More steam was raised during the process, until I felt as if I were in a steam-boiler without a safety-valve, with a pressure of a hundred pounds to the square inch, and ready to be blown out through the roof at any moment. Still every few minutes a pail of cold water streamed hissing from my poor scalded flesh. My man with the mighty arms was, I understood, undergoing the same process in another place. There was no help for me but in myself. All my lost energies had returned in fresh vigour; I felt ready to grapple with a bear, and was by this time as

140

RUSSIAN LIFE.

elastic and buoyant as I had before been nerveless.
Watching an opportunity, as one of my executioners
was fetching a fresh pail of cold water as a prelude
to another flagellation, I discharged my foot at his
stomach. He rolled down the steps, taking the legs
from the other, and they both lay sprawling together
on the floor. This was my time. Rolling myself
carefully but speedily down the steps, I jumped to
my feet, and rushed into the middle room. The men
followed me, laughing.

"Ah! Heaven be thanked, your honour is strong
now."

"And clean," I said.

"Yes; clean as new milk."

At any rate, I was as red as a boiled lobster. I
felt capable of beginning my whole journey over
again. A short time spent in drying with towels,
cooling, and dressing, in the outer room, completed
the performance. It had lasted one hour, and I left
the bath strong, fresh, and vigorous, with a delight-
fully happy and soothing sensation creeping over me,
as the blood danced and coursed with a pleasurable
swiftness through my veins.

The Russian bath is a great fact. The whole
people, rich and poor, are continually undergoing a
process more or less similar to what I have described.
The Russian people are said to be dirty and filthy,
yet the bath is religiously attended to. This is one
of the great Russian questions: How can people who
plunge and steam themselves in the bath, as they do,
be dirty? But "give a dog a bad name," &c. If

THE BATH.

141

the Russians are so dirty as some books tell us they are, it must be that their bodies contain clay in the raw; so the more they rub, the dirtier they are. But the truth is that the higher ranks are scrupulously clean in clothes and person, and the persons of the lower classes are cleaner than those of the inhabitants of some favoured lands where baths are almost unknown. Yet the Russian has too much of a good thing, or rather spoils a good thing by his own way of using it.

The constant broiling, steaming, and flagellating gives a pale sickly yellow hue to the complexion of the young, and ultimately enfeebles the whole constitution. On the other hand, considering the description of food used by the great bulk of the Russian poor, but for these baths the stench from their bodies would be as unbearable as that from the African negro. As it is, it is any thing but pleasant (especially in fasting-time). But for these baths, one could not with a settled stomach sit behind a drosky-driver. The great mass of the Russian poor never touch soap nor water except at the bath. Workmen, artisans, peasants, shopkeepers, and even merchants, with their wives and families, use very little intermediate cleansing. They eat, work, and sleep, without washing hands or face until the regular bath time. But at this time you may see an entire population on the move, going to bath with small bundles of clean clothes, soap, towel, and birch-broom. Large public and smaller private baths are in the cities and towns. Every village—even the smallest hamlet—

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has its bath for the people. The great mass in towns
are accommodated in monster establishments erected
by private individuals. They have steam-engines for
pumping water, and a host of attendants. One large
part is devoted to the poor, and is separated for the
sexes. This part can accommodate three hundred or
four hundred at once in each establishment, and the
charge is a penny for each person. Other parts are
suitable for select parties; and luxurious family or
private rooms can be had at proportionate prices,
from eighteenpence to six shillings. From these
baths, where they are born, thousands of illegitimate
children are transferred to the foundling hospitals.
Other infants are taken there by their mothers as
soon as possible after birth. On the evening before
marriage the bride is taken to the bath by a band
of her maiden companions, each armed with such a
birch as I have described, and there she is forced to
certain confessions under a torrent of light blows.
After a death, all the remaining household must go
to the bath. After and before taking a journey, the
bath. Before every holiday festival and Sunday, the
bath. For rheumatisms, fevers, colds, and diseases of
all kinds, the bath. Take from a Russian his children,
his wife, any thing, but leave him his bath, and there
is consolation. If the Emperor Alexander were to
publish a ukase to shut up the baths, he would fall
in a month. Paul's crusade against beards was bad
enough, but a bath-abolition bill would smash the
empire.

After my bath I found a party assembled in

DINNER A LA RUSSE.

143

the grand dining saloon waiting dinner for me. The guests consisted of six Russian gentlemen who had been in the hunt; the card-playing priest and a fellow broadbrim; Monsieur Defour, a French gentleman who rented the count's sugar-works; Pins, Saunderson, Harry, and four ladies, besides the countess and her mother.

A genuine Russian dinner on a great occasion is not quite copied by the English *diner à la Russe*. On a side-table were placed decanters containing doppel, keppel, cognac, and other spirits, and beside these lay plates of raw herrings, caviare, sardines, and small hard pieces of black bread and white. Those who desired an appetiser swallowed one or two small glasses of spirits and ate herring, caviare, or sardine. The ladies do this as well as the gentlemen. After this necessary and important preliminary, which was executed standing, fork in hand, we were all seated, and the real business commenced. Smart lacqueys in drab liveries and blue facings, with white cravats and gloves, served in successive dishes a dinner, of which, for the sake of those interested in such matters, I will give the *menu*.

Isschee, a soup made from sour cabbage, and very good when well made; beef-tea; mushroom pie, cut in slices; teegee, a fish nearly equal to salmon; cold veal, with sauce; roast beef; venison; devilled turkey; chickens; all these meats with sauces; wild fowl; game; iced cream, strawberries and cream, confectionery of many kinds, kissell (a sort of jelly), in various colours; apples and jargonelle pears (these

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pears are in Russia three shillings apiece), raisins,
nuts, sweets, coffee, and cigars. The wines were nu-
merous and superb. Black bread and white, baked
and roasted potatoes, Dublin and Allsopp's ales, and
the favourite London porter at six shillings a bottle.
The silver plate was profuse, the crockery fine china;
the cookery faultless. The conversation was kept up
with spirit, but only between the courses, and each
course appeared ready cut up, to be served by the
footmen carrying it round.

After dinner there were toasts, accompanied by
speeches of a few words each, all but one from the
Scotchman, a yard long, in proposing the Count and
Countess Pomerin. When the company was in a
good humour for any thing, the count rose, and said:

"My friends, I have designed a little performance, which I shall now introduce. It is the settlement of a small affair between me and my good friend and tenant Monsieur Defour, now present. I bet him, certain terms, that I should in six weeks tame a wild horse of his. This is the last day of the time specified, and we are within a few hours of its entire expiration. You shall judge between us. Ladies, I beg you will be so kind as to keep your seats, and let no one be in the smallest degree alarmed at what will now take place. Timossy, tell John we are all ready."

We were all sitting in the centre of the hall, with
a clear space round us of considerable extent. The
door opened, and a magnificent jet-black charger, of
the Arabian breed, bounced into the room, blowing
clouds of smoke from his nostrils. He had no bridle

A HORSE IN THE DINING-ROOM.

145

nor saddle, nor any attendant. His flowing mane waved in rich masses half way down, and his tail swept the floor.

Some of the gentlemen sprang up from their seats, and the ladies screamed.

"I implore you all to sit quiet; there is no danger in the least," cried the count. "Do sit down." When we were all seated again, he said, "Come here, Nereckta, and kiss me;" and he held his arms out. The horse went straight to the head of the table and held up his great lips to be kissed. "There, now," and the count stamped on the floor twice, "go round the room and make your bow to the ladies." The horse immediately obeyed, and approaching the ladies (who all sat together), bowed four times. But there were six ladies. The count said, "Again;" but the horse refused. "In the rehearsal," said the count, "we had only four lady dummies. I must pass that part." He then gave him some sweet cake, and stamping three times, told him to go down on his knees and beg pardon for intruding on the company. The animal went gently down on one knee, and bent his head twice to the ground in great humility.

"Now, then, get up and drink to the health of all here." A tin can was handed to the count, who emptied two bottles of champagne into it, close to the horse's head. He held up his head before drinking, gave a polite neigh to the company, and leisurely drank off the champagne. The count then jumped on his back, and was carried quietly twice round the room.

L

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

"The remaining part of the play," said the count, coming off the horse, and laughing, "must be seen elsewhere. Those who have the curiosity will follow." He passed out by the door, the horse following him. We were all led through a passage to the other end of the building, where there was a broad flight of steps leading to the servants' rooms.

The count pointed to the steps, clapped the horse on the head, and said, "Go, Nereckta." Nereckta obeyed at once, climbed about fifteen steps, turned on the landing, and came down again, carefully picking his way.

"Are you satisfied, my friend," said the count, turning to the Frenchman, "or must I appeal to the judges?"

"There is no occasion; I am satisfied. It is wonderful! I have lost. Take the papers." And he pulled out a bundle of papers and handed them to the count.

No sooner had the count received them than he tore them up into shreds and scattered them in the lobby. Then, taking from his pocket a sealed packet, he handed it to the Frenchman, saying:

"Here is a new contract on more just and equitable terms. Do you take it, or must I destroy it also?"

"Certainly, count, I will take it; and I say you are generous—very kind."

"That is finished, then," said Pomerin. "Here, John" (he spoke now in English). "Where are you?"

COUNT POMERIN'S HORSE-TAMING.

147

"All right, count," said a voice from the crowd of lookers-on, in the genuine London cabby tone; and a smartly-dressed groom, in racing trim, stepped forward. He was, as to size, a boy of ten, but when you looked into his face you could read five-and-thirty. A neater, more trimly-made little fellow I never saw. He approached and patted the horse, who seemed to welcome him as a dear friend.

"Now, John, just show them what he can do in the other way," said the count. "We have seen the lamb, now we will see the lion. Only once over and back, John."

"All right, count."

We followed to the lawn in front of the house, which was lighted up by pine torches, and found for what purpose the hurdles and various other structures had been put up in the lawn. The little groom (who was master of the count's stud of best horses) put a racing saddle and bridle on Nereckta, and sprang on his back. Then commenced a scene of galloping and leaping, the horse flitting round the park like a swift bird. This ended the performance, and when we returned to the house to finish the evening the ladies had retired.

It appeared that Defour had obtained a renewal of his lease or contract, on ridiculously low terms, from the count's German steward, who very likely pocketed a nice thing by the transaction. Saunderson opened the count's eyes to this, as well as many other tricks of the steward. He endeavoured to get the Frenchman to give up his lease, but in vain. Defour,

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civilly obdurate, refused—until one day the count found him and some of his men cruelly lashing and training a stubborn young black horse. He had been trying to tame this horse for some time, and was only making the animal worse. The count told him so, and said it was his want of skill, not the fault of the horse, that caused the failure. Now the Frenchman's weak point was an overweening opinion of his own skill in horse-flesh. The count, intentionally or not, touched this point so hard, that a bet was made, the end of which we have seen. The count knew the horse, and admired him; and, in conjunction with his English groom, he had soon conquered the temper and gained the affections of the animal, which was then found to be peculiarly tractable and gentle. Training commenced; many mock dinner-parties had been held, and the horse gradually taught the various movements we had seen. The result was, two hundred roubles to the groom, the horse became the property of the count, and the Frenchman got a new lease on more equitable terms. I saw another exhibition of the same nature in a gentleman's house near St. Petersburg, but it was somewhat less successful. There is nothing that a young Russian noble enjoys more than an affair of this kind, when horses are, as they commonly are, his peculiar and passionate delight.

CHAPTER XI.

HOUSEKEEPING IN THE INTERIOR.

ALTHOUGH Count Pomerin desired to entertain me
for an indefinite time as his guest, the proposed
length of my stay in his neighbourhood made it
desirable that I and my family should rather esta-
blish ourselves as his neighbours in a house of our
own. A sufficient dwelling-place we found close to
the count's residence, and looking into a large sloping
court-yard, at the bottom of which was the cotton-
mill, with other factory buildings. Pins's house and
the steward's office flanked this yard, which was large
enough for the exercising of some thousand soldiers.
On the left of the factory, in the hollow, was an old
primitive corn-mill, driven by a couple of water-
wheels. More to the left lay the lake, and the road
passing between the end of the lake and the corn-
mill ran northward, to join at the distance of thirty
or forty miles the main highway.

My house was of brick, and originally built as a
dwelling for the steward. It was of two stories, the
under one being used as a general store or "econom"
for the estate—a sort of "tommy-shop." No other

RUSSIAN LIFE.

150

store or shop was within many miles, and of this one
the steward had entire control, buying, selling, and
charging as he chose; an arrangement any thing but
profitable to the peasantry. A gateway led from the
road to the court, and a broad flight of steps, half in-
doors and half out-of-doors, enabled us to reach my
dormitory. The house was well situated for com-
manding a view of much that went on about the
factory. An additional recommendation to me was
the fact that the stanavog, or district inspector and
magistrate, layed in a wooden house next mine, and
that from my gable windows I could see into his
court-yard. It was there that he administered jus-
tice with "the stick," and there also was a rude
prison or lock-up. As I wanted to see life in the
interior, had heard so much of the "stick" by which
Russia is said to be governed, and had seen so little
of it—perhaps for want of opportunity—I felt rather
glad that this shortcoming in my experience was
about to be supplied.

Although my goods and chattels had been sent
off from Moscow before we left that city, they did
not arrive till six weeks after us, our six rooms being
in the mean time partially furnished from the count's
own house. The things came, however, and for a
wonder came unbroken, which is saying a good deal
when it is understood that amongst them there was a
set of Wedgwood's best dinner ware, besides two
sets of imperial china and porcelain, and a lot of
crystal. The count had ordered his steward to sup-
ply us with every thing we might want in horses,

HOUSEKEEPING IN THE INTERIOR.

151

provisions, and necessaries from the stables and
"econom." The horses I accepted, the provisions I
preferred to pay for; but I soon found that the
count's orders were one thing and the steward's
fulfilment of them was another. For instance, when
horses and conveyances were wanted, this gentleman
picked us the worst cattle and the oldest carriages he
had. For provisions he charged three hundred per
cent more than it cost us to buy them from the
peasants. The peasants he sent us as servants were
the worst-behaved and dirtiest he could discover.
Clearly enough we were looked upon by this German
as interlopers, spies, and what not, for which reason
he took every means that he dared safely employ to
annoy us. Some things, beyond our friend's control,
were very cheap. As matter of curiosity, to illus-
trate the drawback to the poor of want of market for
the articles of their own raising, here are some com-
parisons of price :—A turkey cost in the interior ten-
pence, in the capital four-and-sixpence; a goose, in
the interior ninepence, in the capital three shillings;
a fowl, interior, fourpence-halfpenny, capital, fourteen-
pence; beef, three-halfpence a pound in the interior,
fourpence-halfpenny in the capital. Of eggs, the
price in the capital was five times our price here of
a penny-three-farthings for ten. Butter was in the
country threepence-halfpenny, in the capital nine-
pence a pound; and a sucking-pig that in the inte-
rior cost sevenpence, in the capital cost three shillings
and sevenpence. The peasants, rearing all these and
many other articles on their allotments, and having

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no near market for them, were glad to get any thing
in the shape of money. Wool, flax, feathers, they
carried to the fairs, many miles distant, or sold to the
natives who travel round in search of such articles.
These men will then take them to the large fairs,
and sell them to merchants, who again re-sell them
to other and larger dealers, by whom the goods reach
Moscow, Odessa, or St. Petersburg, after passing
through four hands.

A main dependence of a household is upon the
servants. An English mistress wants them "quiet,
honest, clean, tidy, and respectful," but finds them of
another sort in Russia. As a domestic servant the
Russian serf, particularly the woman, is noisy, impu-
dent, dirty, slatternly, thievish. One good English
servant is worth a whole regiment of them. If you
choose, madam, to live up to the eyes in filth—if you
submit to be plundered to your stay-laces—if you
pay your maids ten times their rightful wages in
presents—if you never look into the kitchen, and
give the whole establishment entire command of the
cellar and larder, you may live to be tolerated in
your own house.

We began our housekeeping with four, a key-
keeper (housekeeper), a cook, a room-girl (house-
maid), and a footman. They came in a body, accom-
panied by the "starosta," and sent by the steward,
who had the control of all the human chattels. My
wife looked at them as she would have looked at
doubtful meat, for she had much Russian experience
in such affairs.

HOUSEKEEPING IN THE INTERIOR.

153

"Take them away, starosta; I must have better
than these."

"But surely, madame," said the starosta, "you
will try them. If they don't do well, tell me, and
they shall be whipped; or beat them yourself—it is
all the same."

"No, I will not have these. You have picked
out the dregs of the village. Get me others directly,
or must I speak to the count?"

"I hear and obey, madame. Get out, you pigs!
I will bring younger ones, madame. Forgive me, but
the steward sent these."

This batch was succeeded by another, and then
by a third, which last was deemed admissible. When
they had shaken themselves into their places, we
found they had all had some experience in the duties
expected of them. But each stuck with amusing
firmness to a single duty. When the cook had
cooked she lay down on a bench in the kitchen, and
slept out the rest of the day. When the room-girl
had dusted the chairs and tables, she also squatted
on the floor in a corner and slept. When the lad had
waited at table, and carried the dirty dishes to the
kitchen, he rolled himself up double in a corner of
the lobby. When any thing was wanted from any
of them, they had to be roused up with kicks or cold
water; shaking was but a vain exercise. The key-
keeper not having any keys to manage (there was
not yet a lock in the house except on my wife's
drawers), slept placidly, and snored the sleep of the
just all day and all night on one of our sofas, as

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rather a more dignified place than the floor for a key-keeper. Beds they had none, and beds they did not want, nor ever had wanted. The breakfast dishes were put on the table for tea just as they had been taken away dirty the evening before.

"Cook, why did you not clean the tea-things?"

"Madame, I am cook. I cannot clean dishes."

"Polygaic, why did you not clean the dishes?"

"Madame, I am room-girl, and dust."

"Evan, why did you not do it?"

"Madame, I am lacquery, and wait."

Of course the key-keeper was miles above this. So they all went off to their lairs, and we sent for a dish-washer.

At the end of the week the floors wanted washing, and a question arose who was to do it. The cook cooked, the room-girl dusted, the lacquery waited, the scullery-maid washed dishes, and the key-keeper did nothing but sleep. My wife was making up her mind to be her own key-keeper, as she thought the sleeping on the sofa might be accomplished by herself if necessary, but she could not scrub the floors. The others, even on promise of an addition to their wages, refused in a body. "Too much work, madame. Cannot be done." They all evidently were working for the "stick," but we did not believe in the "stick." The upshot was that four outsiders were hired to come once a week to wash the floors.

It was the same with washing clothes and getting up linen. A woman was engaged for the one duty, and

HOUSEKEEPING IN THE INTERIOR.

155

the other had to be done by my wife, because no one
could be got who knew what it meant.

"Evan, why the deuce have my boots not been
cleaned these three days?"

"If you please, baron, I am lacquey, not boot-
cleaner," said Evan. So he rolled himself up again
in his corner, and was snoring immediately.

A boot-cleaner was, of course, hired; then a man
to cut and fetch wood, and another to cut it into
small pieces and keep the fires up.

Thus had my establishment increased in one week
to thirteen souls. The wages of these people were
small, it is true, but higher wages had no charm to
induce extra exertion. Let the ladies of England
think much of Betty and Jane; complain less, use
them well, speak kindly to them, and one Betty will
do more—and more faithful—work than all my thir-
teen Russians, with thirty thirteens to that. So says
my wife, who remembers faithfulness and friendship
in brisk English maids. Now all these Russian ser-
vants must be fed, and that means something; not
that their nominal food is much, but that the real
consumption in the way of theft is beyond calculation.
Say that the nominal power of a Russian servant's
capacity for victual is ten, the real indicated con-
sumption will be two hundred and fifty.

At the end of the first week our key-keeper
rolled off the sofa, rubbed her eyes, yawned, and
then said:

"More money, madame, to get coffee and tea
and sugar from the 'econom.'"

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

"Do you mean to tell me that those stores are all gone?"

"All gone, madame."

"What on earth have you done with them? Tell me."

"All eaten up, madame, by the baron and the children and yourself."

"What! twenty-eight pounds of sugar, three pounds of tea, and eight pounds of coffee consumed in a week by my family?"

"Yes, madame. No one has touched them. They cannot last for ever, you see. What's to be done?" And she shrugged her shoulders in the usual manner.

"I will tell you what's to be done. You are to take yourself off instantly."

The key-keeper was accordingly bundled out. The next was no better, nor the next; and the alternative forced itself on madame, "I must be key-keeper myself."

This did not much mend the matter. The sugar, tea, and coffee continued to vanish, nobody could tell how, and we continued to spend for a few weeks at the rate of three pounds a-week for these three articles. To have preserved them untouched, it would have been necessary to have placed them in the centre of the big room, and station a guard of soldiers (not Russian soldiers, who are themselves the biggest thieves in the world), a file of Napoleon's old guard, to watch them night and day. Keys and cupboards were got, but these did not much help to

HOUSEKEEPING IN THE INTERIOR.

157

abate the evil. The thieving still went on, and my
wife was at her wits' end.

"Have you examined their boxes, my dear?"

"No, but it must come to that again. I thought when I left those experienced and incorrigible thieving Petersburg servants this would not be necessary. I did not mind emptying their boxes once a week, but these innocent country peasants—I cannot imagine them guilty. However, I must try them. Come and protect me, for the first time."

It was after dinner when we proceeded to the
kitchen. The whole establishment was fast asleep,
squatted and rolled up in various corners. The
kitchen a picture of dirt and confusion. A little
cold water roused our friends up.

"Titania, give me your key," said madame.

"It is lost, madame."

"Give it me instantly. There it is, hanging at
your side. If you don't be quick, I shall send for the
starosta, and have you whipped."

The key was handed over, and the box opened.
This innocent peasant girl's box contained a canvas
bag filled with pieces of lump-sugar, paper parcels of
tea and coffee, needles, pins, buttons, hooks-and-eyes,
pieces of tape, laces, bits of soap, candles half burnt,
children's toys, sealing-wax, pens, note-paper, and a
host of other small articles, all of which my wife
identified as hers, and coolly carried off, leaving me
sentinel over the others, every one (except Titania,
who had been found out) vociferating innocence, and
taking Heaven to witness that hands and boxes were

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

entirely clean. Titania was grovelling on the floor at my feet, begging pardon and mercy. The detective returned and opened at leisure every box in its turn, carrying away from each the stolen contents, as she had done with the first. Every box was found with as much in it, and some boxes had more in them, than Titania's.

When the whole mass of recovered property was spread on my large table, it was a wonder to behold. I do not relate this as an extraordinary fact. The habit of stealing and pilfering is so constant and universal, that an honest house-servant in Russia is as one grain of wheat in a ton of chaff. They will nearly all steal while you are looking at them, and swear by the saints they are innocent as lambs. The peasant-women go from the interior to the capitals, speculating not so much on extra wages, but on opportunities of plunder when they get into service. At first they are content with small nibbling, but some of them can make a clean sweep too.

An Englishman in a government situation, a friend of mine, and as good a fellow as can be, went to bed lately, and when he and his wife got up at seven o'clock his four rooms were peeled clean to the walls, his servants were all gone, and every thing was gone: carpets and curtains, clothes and furs, plate, knives and forks, two watches, and money. He was left in an empty house, robbed to the value of three or four hundred pounds; and all this was done by a female servant or two. No man was connected with the robbery. The thing is so universal

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159

that no one either gives or asks for a recommendation
with servants. You must take your chance, and to
change servants where all are so much alike is utterly
useless. My wife at first changed often; I have
known her have a fresh set every week—sometimes
twice a-week. At last, however, she found it was
better “to bear the ills we have than fly to others
that we know not of;” and she adopted the plan of
frequently examining all the boxes at unexpected
seasons, recovering her property, and putting it back
into its right place without saying a word. She had
become used to this in the capital, but had expected
better things from unsophisticated peasants, and was
much hurt at finding her mistake.

A Russian master or mistress would have sent
every soul to be whipped, and we were next door to
the yard, where each, without ceremony, trial, or
delay, would have received fifty to one hundred
lashes on the bare back, women and men alike. But
an Englishman does not believe in “the stick.”

It is possible to find instances of servants remain-
ing for years in one place, being peculiarly adapted
for its work, and managed necessarily with an enor-
mous amount of forbearance. Even after they have
been treated for years with the greatest kindness, and
admitted to intimate familiarity as one of a family, a
hasty word is spoken, they get an offer of a change
of place, and off they go in a moment. Your child
may be dying, your wife helpless—so much the better
for them. All your years of kindness, forbearance,
and generosity are gone with a breath, and you are

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left to feel, what many travellers have had to remark,
the deficient power of gratitude in the raw Russian.
The sentiment is, indeed, almost unknown. And is
it not easy to account for this? Think of the treat-
ment the masses are used to receive from those above
them; the tyranny of every rank to its inferior step
by step; the iniquitous system of forced labour or
serfdom;—is this not enough to fix on the poor Rus-
sian's mind the idea that every act of kindness is
done purely for the advantage of its doer, that there
is some interested motive in it? Therefore, though
they accept kindness greedily, as much as you can
bestow, they give few genuine thanks. They are not
yet grateful even for the Emancipation Act. Thanks
may be on the servile lips, the receiver of good may
kiss your hand, go down on his knees and lick the
dust off your feet, but not one spark of a true gener-
ous gratitude is in his heart.

There is one class, however, which can be fairly
trusted for honesty in all things but bargaining.
They are the adherents of the "old faith," the
"starrie verra." I could wish to give a sketch of
the history of this old sect and its creed; but having,
as to its history, no certain sound by which to go, I
will speak only from my own experience and obser-
vation. I know that though the sect is proscribed,
the members of it are devotedly attached to their
old system, and deem the present orthodox Russian
Church an awful departure from the primitive faith
and practices. They deny the emperor's claim to
be head of the Church; they believe to any extent

THE STARRIE VERRA.

161

in witches; fast and do penance; lacerate and scourge
themselves in a most determined manner. They
meet in secret—at night generally—and their num-
bers are greater than is supposed. Some high per-
sonages, they say, secretly belong to them, and sub-
mit to dreadful midnight penance for their sin of out-
ward subserviency to the modern heresy. People of
the old faith are distinguished by grim gravity and
opposition to all dancing or light amusement. Above
all, they do not directly steal, although I have heard
it said that, as merchants, some of them are the
greatest of all rogues. These fanatics remind me
in some respects of the old rigid Cameronians, who
thought that the killing of Archbishop Sharp was
not a murder. I should be sorry to place them on a
level with these old enthusiasts in many things, but
the emperor would stand a fair chance of a heavenly
crown if the starrie verra had its will; and it hates
the present religion of the empire as much as ever
the Cameronians hated prelacy.

I had not been long in this place when I became
acquainted with the fact that a community of this
old faith existed in the neighbourhood. An old
wooden building like a Druid temple, set in the side
of a hill among trees and rocks, was pointed out to
me as their midnight conventicle. This was said to
be presided over by a woman, a priestess, who never
left the temple night nor day. Such an arrangement
was clearly prohibited by law, which does not tolerate
women-priests; yet here she was; and from the per-
fect immunity which she and her associates seemed to

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enjoy, I suspected that many of the gentry and people of the valley either shared or sympathised with their opinions.

I had seen a roving fanatic in the village collecting peasants round him, and shouting to them like a street-ranter. He never wore any thing on his head or feet even in the coldest frost, and his other clothing was indecently scant. He was often drunk, and I have seen him in that state lying helpless on the ground. This fanatic was esteemed a prophet, and listened to as such. He carried a long pole, and danced some holy dance to words of high prophetic omen.

As neither I nor any of my family went to any church, old or new faith, we were suspected to be something dreadful. I had no images in my house, except one brought by the servants and hung up in the kitchen. I had refused to allow a band of priests to go through some mummery by way of blessing the house at my first going in. This was not at all satisfactory, and strange rumours and doubts of my Christianity went about, even to the length of suggestion that we were a household of Turks or Mohammedans, the abomination of abominations to a Russian, and more especially a starrie verra. As I had no way of publicly exhibiting my faith but by my works, I was obliged to let them all talk as they liked. The tide, however, was soon to turn, and I was to get credit for more sanctity than I deserved.

After my household goods arrived from Moscow, the crockery was cleaned and nicely put away in a

A COOK OF THE OLD FAITH.

163

handy place for particular occasions. For common
service we used the base earthenware of the country.
What crockery can have to do with the starrie
verra may be a matter of astonishment, but it has
much to do with it, as my poor wife found to her
cost. She loves good Wedgwood, and I had been
obliged to bring a capital set for twenty-four from
England to St. Petersburg, never dreaming that it
would have to travel yet another fourteen hundred
miles. I had proposed to sell it, but she answered
with decision, "Don't be foolish. It must be packed."
So packed it was, and here it stood, as I have said,
ready for use. One day she said to me, "Tell me,
my dear, what 'starrie verra' means."

"Starrie, old; verra, faith—old faith. Why do
you ask?"

"Because a woman has come for the cook's place,
and she says she is a starrie verra, who will not
steal. Shall I take her?"

"Certainly, by all means; an honest cook is a
gold mine."

The woman came. She was of a staid, stern,
even gloomy expression, about thirty-five years old,
was clean, and had a cowl on her head which hid
every hair. All the time that she remained with us,
I had no evidence that she was not entirely bald.
From this maid's armpits to her heels were two
straight lines, so that her waist was quite as myste-
rious as her hair. Except for the gloomy expression
on her face her features were good, and her eye—or
I was much mistaken—showed a kind heart, spite of

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her habitual grimness. She never smiled, jested, or laughed; but we soon found that she was valuable. Her work was always done to the minute, and done well. We became rather attached to Anastasia; and while keeping her grim gravity unrelaxed, she evidently softened to the younger members of the family. They, again, took amazingly to the stern old lass. Give me a child for finding out character covered up, whether in smiles or gloom. The children find it out; ay, and they bring it out. A terrific breaking of pots in the kitchen had taken place five minutes after Anastasia's first installation. Mugs, jugs, cans, brown pots, plates and dishes of various dimensions, she smashed into atoms at once, saying, "Unclean! unclean!" As this was a very likely fact, and the things were of little value, she was rather encouraged than otherwise in this new work of reformation. "A new broom sweeps clean," seemed true enough of her. Every article in the kitchen, iron, wood, and earthenware, had been horribly defiled, was pooganie (unclean), was smashed and thrown out. She asked nobody's leave, nor did she stand on the manner of doing it, but did it. A new outfit was obtained from the "econom;" and as her religion suffered her to eat with none of us, a complete set of dishes was got for her own individual use. No one durst lay a finger upon these on any pretence whatever. If touched, they were smashed the next moment. Nor would she for the world touch food out of any dish or vessel which had been used by another. If a dog got into the kitchen, and put his nose (as dogs generally do)

A COOK OF THE OLD FAITH.

165

into half-a-dozen pots and dishes, whether these were
her own particular vessels or not, they were smashed.

The following conversation ensued one evening
upon hearing one of these dreadful smashing bouts
in the kitchen:

"What noise is that, my dear?"

"O, it is Anastasia breaking a few dishes. Never
mind her."

"Never mind her! I wonder you allow that old
fanatic to go on so; she will ruin us in pots alone."
(And assuming a fierce look), "I shall go and turn
her out this moment."

"No you won't. Listen: this woman is a jewel.
She breaks a few dishes, it is true, but her religion
seems to demand it. I suppose it also tells her to be
honest, for she is so. You told me not to examine
her box, but for all that I have done so many a time.
She always leaves the key in it. It contained no-
thing but an old Bible, in the old church characters,
which I could not read, and a few clothes. Not a
vestige of my property could I ever find. That is
not all: the other servants either don't, or cannot
steal by a hundredth part as much as formerly. Her
breakage does not amount to a tithe of the old rob-
beries. Now say shall she be turned out?"

"Certainly I prefer the smasher to the thief."

"Now come to the kitchen, I hear she has gone
out. I wish to show you something."

We went to the kitchen, and there my wife
pointed out to me that all the utensils in which any
food was left or kept had a cross made of chips laid

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

across the top. Bread was in course of making, and the sponge was set. On the top of the dough a cross was also drawn with a blunt edge.

"Now," said madam, "all that is to keep the witches out of the food. Yesterday she told me that during the previous night the cat had been very un-easy, and had gone mewing about for a long time. She got out of bed, and drew the edge of a knife three times round the cat's head, after which it was quiet and went to sleep directly. She had cut the throats of the witches which were tormenting the cat, and had fastened themselves round her head." When we got back to our own room, my wife continued: "That is not all: she is absolutely a darling of a griffin. She has so established your character for sanctity, that in fact you are now supposed to be a priest in your own country, and she defends the interests and the character of the family on all occasions. She does all my marketing now with the peasants, and that alone halves my expenses."

"But, my dear, how can she possibly have represented me as a priest, the last thing I wish to be thought?"

"Well, I was coming to that. Put up that book and listen patiently. I got it all from the Countess to-day when I was there; and when I explained some things which puzzled her, she laughed immoderately. You know what kind of a character we all got, because we did not go to church, nor have images to adore, nor cross ourselves. We were thought dogs, who worshipped no God at all; and you confirmed

A COOK OF THE OLD FAITH.

167

this impression by saying you worshipped, like the Athenians to whom Paul preached, an unknown God. I daresay our lives would not have been safe; but Anastasia has put it all right. I sent her amongst the peasants to buy provisions. They told her that we were dogs, and that it was a shame for her, a starrie verra, to live with such dreadful people. 'Ah!' she said, 'you are a parcel of fools; you don't know them as I do. My master is a great priest in his own country. Don't I see him twice every week performing the services with robes, and dresses, and grand curtains, in the large room? Don't I see him reading and praying out of five large books full of saints and pictures every day? Don't they all sing and chant every evening before going to bed? Did ever any of you see them dance like you fools? Don't I break as many unclean pots as I like, and madame is never angry, but says, That's right, Anastasia, keep things clean.' This counter-blast has been going on some time, and now the Countess says we are looked upon with different feelings; in fact, our cook has established you in the veneration and good opinion of the people. Besides, you know just dealings with them may have had some effect also."

"But what does it mean? How do I perform the services twice a-week?"

"Have you not, like a captain at the North Pole, been setting the children to perform King Alfred, and recite pieces, and sing? Have I not got dresses made for them? Have you not painted a scene (O,

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

how dreadfully bad!); and is not this our amusement every Tuesday and Friday ?"

"And the five great books of saints from which I read and pray; can they be the four volumes of the *Illustrated London News* ?"

"Yes, and the large *Illustrated Family Bible*. She has seen the pictures, and how carefully we handle them, not to spoil the grand binding. So what with the acting, reciting, singing, reading, and family prayers, it is all settled in Anastasia's mind that you are a great good man; but particularly the book of pictures has fixed this conclusion in her mind."

A great sacrifice had yet to be made to the startrie verra. Cooking-pots might be made of the coarsest earthenware, or porcelain, it mattered not; if they were defiled, either they must go, or the cook would go; that was the fixed alternative.

We had given a party. Saunderson was there, Defour was there, Pins was there, the Count and many others were there. Each gentleman had brought his favourite four-footed companion and protector. Some had two. These dogs were, during supper, lying about the room. I thought, in common hospitality, it was but right I should feed my friends' dogs, and I proposed to give them a great feast of broken victuals before they were taken from the room. No sooner said than done; plates, dishes, tureens—of our choice Wedgwood—were filled with what dogs like, and put before our expectant neighbours. It was delightful to see how the strong fellows wagged their tails,

A COOK OF THE OLD FAITH.

169

and lapped their jaws, and crunched the bones, and
relished the dainty feast; but in the midst of all, to
our great grief, the starrie verra opened the door
and looked in for some orders. She saw the defile-
ment; her face assumed a more grim look than I had
ever seen on it. In a moment I felt that my wife's
pet crockery was tried and condemned past all re-
prieve. Dogs had defiled it. Madame looked at me
with a what-shall-I-do expression; and I replied
by another look of take-it-easy-and-let-it-go. It
was a sore struggle, but prudence triumphed over
crockery. The servant was invaluable. It was not
she but the crockery that might be replaced. But
O! is there a lady in England who does not sympa-
thise with my poor wife as, immediately after the
removal of the cloth, she heard the smash of her
Wedgwood going on in the kitchen? She sat still,
and winced hard, and pressed her lips together at
each smash. Meanwhile, however, I had told her
grief to our guests, and each crash was provoking
laughter, in which she at length, catching the infec-
tion, joined long and heartily. The starrie verra
remained with us until we left that part of the coun-
try. Then her grim countenance relaxed, and she
cried bitterly at parting. She was the only honest
servant we ever had in Russia.

CHAPTER XII.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE WHITE VILLAGE.

BEFORE 1863, when the act was to take effect, who could know the results of the emancipation of thirty millions of serfs? While among the peasants, journeying from one part to another, about the time of the first edict on the subject, I tried to ascertain what value the peasants themselves set on the promised boon; but I could not find my way far into the mass of their ignorance and apathy.

One day I had the following conversation with a serf who brought me a message:

"Your name is Evan Vasiliovitch; to whom do you belong?"

"I am the serf of Karmoritch."

"How many are you?"

"Two thousand souls are we."

"You will all soon be free."

He looked at me from the corners of his eyes, and drawled out,

"Yes; if God and our Father wills."

"It will be better for you, Evan; will it not?"

"God knows, baron. How should I know?"

"How much obrok do you pay?"

THE SERF'S MIND.

171

"Thirty roubles a-year."

"Do you pay it in work or in money?"

"I work four days a-week in the sugar-fabric,
to pay the obrok, passport, and taxes."

"How much are the passport and taxes?"

"About three roubles and a half, besides other things."

"That is thirty-three roubles and a half you have to pay; and for this you have to work four days every week in the sugar-mill?"

"It is so, baron; and hard work it is."

"When you get your freedom, you will not require to pay obrok, or to work for it. Your time will be your own to cultivate your ground. Will that not be better for you?"

"God give it; I don't know. But I am tired of working."

"How much land have you?"

"Three and a half deciatines" (ten acres).

"Well, that is plenty to keep your family on. If you spend all your time on it and pay no obrok, is it not plenty?"

"I don't know, baron; but I am tired of working in the fabric."

"Now tell me, Evan, what do you intend to do when you get your freedom? Will you remain here and work your ground, or will you seek bread somewhere else?"

He turned his eyes first up, then down, then on both sides, as if seeking to evade an answer; gave the peculiar peasant's shrug, and slowly muttered,

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"I shall sleep, baron."

"And after you have slept, Evan?"

"I shall eat, baron."

"And after you have eaten, Evan?"

"I shall sleep again, baron."

"And when the black bread is gone; and when the pig and poultry are all eaten; and when the potatoes, carrots, and cabbages are all eaten; and when there is no firewood nor pasture,—what will you do then, Evan?"

"Then I will tell you, baron. Now may God give you health; and thank you for the tea-money you are going to give me. Give you good-day!"

I believe this is the case of nearly all the serfs. The condition of many of these people at this time may be judged from the following account of himself. I got with difficulty from a peasant who worked in a cotton-mill:

"I earn four roubles (twelve and sixpence) a month. My time is all spent in the mill—from five o'clock in the morning until eight o'clock at night. My wife and two daughters work on the fields belonging to the baron five days every week in summer. They get no wages. In winter they do any kind of work required of them by the steward. My son (who is seventeen years old) works also in the mill, and gets two roubles a month. We have three deciatines of land. It is our own; so is the house. We can only raise a few potatoes, cabbages, and carrots. The women do this work. We keep a pig, and we have some ducks. We eat them.

THE SERFS.

173

We get black flour from the econom (the steward's tommy-shop); this is deducted from our wages. We pay no obrok from these wages, nor taxes. Our work is counted for this: the steward manages all that. Somehow I am always in debt to the steward's office. I have worked ten years in the mill, and am a good spinner. I don't know what we shall do when we get our freedom. We shall not work any more, I suppose. I may go begging; it is an easy life. I am now unfit for out-door work; but my son is able: let him cultivate the land. We are three thousand souls on this estate. A thousand nearly are away, and pay forty roubles obrok each a-year. They pay their own passports and taxes besides."

This is a sorry but true picture. Eleven pounds a-year had this man and his family to live on! For this sum the father and son gave all their time in the mill, and the mother and two daughters five days a-week in other work. In a free mill worked on the free principle, the father and son alone would be worth, and sure to receive, about sixty pounds, and the two daughters thirty; but then they could be forced to pay out of that what their master chose to exact for obrok and taxes. Many of the serfs are better off, and some are worse. The serfs belonging at one time to the crown are now free; and those possessed by the rich old families have paid five roubles obrok, and done what they pleased with their ground or themselves. Some of them are immensely rich, and could purchase their freedom at fabulous sums; but great nobles sometimes choose to retain them, either

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

as a reserve-fund in case of need, or from a foolish
vanity in the possession of a serf worth half a million
roubles. Such instances, however, are by no means
common.

Intelligence reached us one day that something
serious had happened among the serfs at a place
called the White Village, twenty miles away. I started
off to the place in company with my Scotch friend
Saunderson, who was then my visitor. The White
Village was a village of considerable size, and the
houses seemed to have once been of a more comfort-
able class than any I had seen in those parts. Now
it was a most desolate picture of extreme penury and
woe. Soldiers were in possession of every door;
Cossacks patrolled the streets and the adjacent roads,
so that but for my friend's clever assistance we should
not have been allowed to enter. The steward's house,
with all his property and stores, had been burnt
down, and he himself had been murdered. His
family (a wife, a son, and two daughters) could no-
where be found. Some ten peasants were dead, and
many were wounded. A gang of serfs in irons, or
bound with ropes, followed by screaming women—
some with babies in their arms—were leaving the
place under an escort of Cossacks—who were jeer-
ing the poor wretches and probing them with lances
—on their way to the government town-prison;
whence they would pass ultimately to the Siberian
mines, no doubt.

This is the story of the outbreak:

General Obrassoff died and left his widow two

175

estates. This of the White Village, which had come
into his possession only a short time before his death,
was one; the other was that upon which my friend
Saunderson served as superintendent. The lady was
a person of a tender heart, who had been well edu-
cated, and mixed in the best society. At her hus-
band's death she left the capital and its pleasures,
in order to devote herself to the education of her
daughter; taking with her a first-rate governess, and
a little English girl as companion and English tutor.
The little English girl (by name Lucy Murray) was
fatherless; her mother was unable to educate her,
and she was glad to give her companionship to the
Russian young lady in exchange for good treatment
and an education in German, French, and music.

Arrived at the White Village, which she had
never seen before, the "generalshe" (Mrs. General)
decided upon living there for a time. While the
old family-house was being prepared for her recep-
tion she stayed in a friend's house in the nearest
town. The former proprietor of the White Village
had been rich, and easy with his serfs. He had
possessed several estates of considerable extent lying
widely separate from this part of the country, where
he had never been but once; in fact, he knew
very little of the White Village, except that it was
his, and that the steward sent or brought him plenty
of excuses for non-payment, but little money. It did
not trouble him much, therefore, when the people on
the estate passed to the General Obrassoff at cards
or dice. He merely remarked (Madame Obrassoff

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

is my authority here) that if the general made no
more of the pigs than he had made of them, they
would not be of much use to him. The general
determined, however, to make the estate valuable.
It was in the same country as his other property,
and would form a large addition to his income, if
well handled. But soon after he had sent off a new
steward, with the discharge of the old steward in
his pocket, and with orders to repair the house, buy
stock, and raise the obrok from ten roubles to thirty,
he died. Thus madame—good, tender-hearted, com-
passionate Madame Obrassoff — ruled in his stead
until her child's majority.

On the morning after she had taken possession,
and installed herself comfortably in her large wooden
house, before she had quite got out of bed, the large
plot of grass which served for a lawn in front was
filled with a mass of human beings, clad in the most
filthy rags, waiting to pay their respects to the
new owner; the old starost heading the ragamuffins
with evident pride and pleasure. English rags are
bad, Scotch are worse, and Irish are much worse; but
Russian rags are beyond all conception. When the
lady appeared on the lawn among her "souls," she
was perfectly shocked by their wretched appearance;
and the starost having marked with cunning satisfac-
tion her aspect of sympathy, advanced first with a
"welcome present"—a lean goose—and laid it at
her feet. He then kissed her feet, and the feet of
her daughter, and wished that all imaginable bless-
ings might be poured down on their "high-born"

177

heads. He then said that the present he had brought was not fit to give to a stanavoy's clerk, far less to such a high-born generalshe; but it was all now left him to give, he was so poor! The rest of the ragged host advanced and followed suit, no one coming empty-handed. Some gave one egg; others a few berries or a bit of black bread; some a jug of kvass or an old paralytic hen. This one brought a starved rabbit, that one a small paper of salt or a few carrots. The speeches delivered on this great occasion by some of the elder peasants were similar to that of the old starost: "High-born lady, we are your humble slaves; forgive us for having nothing better to offer you; we are poor; look at us with the golden eye, and have pity; God give you health and long life to live among us; we are poor, but obedient; we will all die for you; it is God's truth, lady, we are poor." Many of them shed tears profusely. The kind-hearted woman wept in sympathy, and pitied the degraded beings from the bottom of her heart. How could she exact thirty roubles a-year from such people? How could she put a hard steward over them, to grind more out of them? Had this not been already carried too far?

"Starost," she said, "hear me. My husband gave orders before he died that each man should pay thirty roubles obrok. Has the steward told you so, and are you willing to pay it?"

"High-born lady, it is truth. We have been told, but God knows we cannot pay it. All we have is not worth thirty roubles each. You have beautiful

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

eyes to look with; see these people. Is it possible
that we can pay all this large sum? Ah, lady, have
compassion and be an angel, and make the obrok ten
roubles, as it was before."

"Steward," said the lady, "give me your opinion."

"My lady, honoured and obeyed, it is my opinion
that all this is a farce got up to deceive you. Don't
believe them. They seem poor, but I suspect them
to be the reverse. I cannot prove it yet, but I soon
will. Follow, madame, your illustrious husband's
design, and I shall pledge myself to find the obrok.
I have done."

Here the whole body of the peasants (about fifteen hundred), at a secret sign from the starost, surrounded the lady, and fell on their knees howling and crying.

"My children," she said, "I pity you. It is sad
to look on you, with those rags. I will not ask you
to pay what you cannot pay; but I must have some
obrok, and shall be content with ten roubles each, if
it is paid without trouble to me. I wish to be kind,
and to live amongst you happily."

The starost crossed himself, and so did the multitude. The starost thanked the lady, and with many bendings and bowings vowed that this sum should be paid by the people, if he made them sell every thing they had. They then parted; the lady rejoicing in having done a deed of mercy; the starost chuckling at the success of his trick. The new steward, finding his occupation gone, gave notice to quit, and so anticipated his dismissal.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE WHITE VILLAGE. 179

Next day, while the generalshe was giving orders in her new house, and the French governess, the daughter, and Lucy Murray were at their first lessons, the cunning old starost and twenty other peasants, clad in good comfortable garments, and looking healthy and well-to-do, unearthed some thirty or forty very fine young horses of their own breeding and rearing, from a secret spot in which they had been hidden, and were soon on their way to the large fair in the government town, to sell them for from one thousand to fifteen hundred roubles; the greater part of which money, after being divided, was destined for their secret hoards as soon as it could be turned into hard cash (paper has no chance against bullion among the peasants). The people of this village were to a man dealers, breeders, and rearers of horses, who attended all the fairs for many hundred versts round, and only used their own land and that of the estate for the pasturage. Instead of being poor, they were the richest in the district, and none could have paid a higher obrok. But they had never paid much under the old proprietor, and they would not, if cunning could save their pockets, under the new.

The lady remained under her delusion for a year. When the time came for the obrok to be paid in, a scene similar to the first, which had been so successful, was again enacted. The winter had been severe; the summer rains had not come; the rot, or something else, had got amongst the pigs and poultry; the crops of every thing were nothing; they were all nearly starving; they could not pay any of the ten

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

roubles; her high-born ladyship might come and see
for herself; she might take all they had, but the
obrok in money they could not pay. (Not a word
was said about horses.)

Again the trick succeeded. The other estate
afforded means of living; this estate might improve
with a little patience and kindness; and the kind
woman not only forgave the whole year's obrok, but
reduced it to five roubles for the next year. "Only
remember, starost, this is my last step in that direction.
If this five roubles each is not paid in good time, and
if you assemble these people again without the money
in their hands, I will sell the place and leave you. I
will not struggle and fight to get my money. I wish
to be kind to you, but I must live; and it is a shame
to you that I have to draw all my means from other
poor serfs, who are perhaps as poor as you."

There is nothing more certain than that if you
give a Russian serf an inch, he will take an ell. The
next year came, and the five roubles did not. The
poverty trick was again rehearsed; but this time her
high-born ladyship dismissed the people with pain
and anger, advertised the estate for sale, and, as she
had threatened, sold it. All the horse-dealing "souls"
on it, their wives and children, horses, cattle, goods
and chattels, became the property of a certain Gospo-
din Popoff, who had spent the greater part of his life
in official service on a salary of some forty-five or sixty
roubles per month, and who had managed to live up
to three hundred roubles, and to save money enough
to buy the White Village at twenty thousand roubles.

181

Herr Hausen—the steward whom Madame Obrassoff allowed to leave her—was appointed by Gospodin Popoff; for this steward had kept his eye on the estate ever since, knew more by this time of its capabilities, and felt chagrined at having been outwitted and driven away by the cunning old starost.

His first act indicated what was to be expected now. The venerable old starost and twenty of the principal peasants were seized on their first repetition of the poverty farce, and received a very liberal supply of “stick.” The stanavog’s men kept the stick going for half a day, and were well paid to lay it on hard; while Herr Hausen smiled complacently. This was the first turning of the tables, and they went on running round from bad to worse. Each serf was served with a demand for three years’ arrears of obrok, passport-money and taxes, at a high rate. Failing to pay on the instant, the secret studs of horses, and the more apparent goods of every kind, were appropriated and sold without the least compunction. The peasants were not allowed to leave the village, but were driven to work on the fields. Having formerly attended to nothing but horse-dealing, they were now almost destitute of the kind of produce necessary to human life. The old and infirm had to chop wood for the steward, the children gathered oak-nuts and cut grass in the woods, for his cows and pigs; his barns, stables, and storehouses filled as those of the peasants emptied. He became corpulent in substance as they grew lean and gaunt and hungry.

A sum equivalent to the purchase-money of the

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estate had already been realised; but this was not thought sufficient by Herr Hausen and his principal. They had not yet found any money; and money in hard cash there must be somewhere. Domiciliary visits had been made, the floors of the huts had been dug up, and every place the searchers could think of had been explored without success. At length, a Jew—one of those prowling sharp-featured wiry little fellows, who carry trinkets, gaudy-coloured prints, handkerchiefs, and money, to exchange for corn, flax, feathers, and other peasant produce, at a profit of eight hundred per cent or so—gave a hint to Herr Hausen for a per-centage on the money found. Measures were taken accordingly, and one day these peasants—already shorn to the bone of every thing else—were deprived of their nest-egg. Where it was found, or how much it was, I did not hear; but hard bullion to a considerable amount was transferred to the iron safe in the strong-room of the steward's house. The peasants were now poorer a thousand times than they had ever wished the kind generalshe to believe them.

What follows of the story I had partly from the old starost as he lay in his hut dying from a gun-shot wound, and partly from Lucy Murray at an after-time.

One evening, four men stood at the end of a hut shaking something in a felt hat. One of them put his hand in and drew; he told the result, and the operation was repeated. Then the four separated and took different paths through the village, saying a few

183

words quietly at every door. It was a cold clear
night, soon after twilight, and the moon had risen
in an almost cloudless sky. Just as the old starost
passed the steward's gate, he met little Lucy Murray
going in.

"How do you do, starost? I hope your health is
good. Good-night. I must run to the house."

"Stay, maiden with the golden hair and the
laughing eyes; tell me who there is now in yonder
house besides the steward and his."

"Madame Obrassoff and her daughter sleep there
to-night. You know we came for the last instalment
of the purchase-money of the estate."

"When do you go?"

"To-morrow morning. We should have gone to-
night, but it is late to begin a journey, and the horses
want rest. Why do you ask, starost?"

"Listen, daughter of the English, and let my
words go into your heart and remain there. Tell
the generalshe from her old starost, who loves her
and hers, though he has often deceived her, that
she *must*—do you hear me say *must*?—leave that
house in less than an hour. God dooms it, and all in
it, to destruction. Now tell her soon and secretly;
but as you value her life and your own, tell it to
none other but her. Go, and remember my words.
Good-bye, English child; and may God give you
happiness!"

So the starost passed on with the Russian fiery
cross.

In about an hour after this, groups of men in

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RUSSIAN LIFE.

noiseless felt boots went their way to the church
front. Each of these men was armed with only one
weapon, but it was a deadly one opposed to any thing
but fire-arms—the tapore, or Russian short-axe. With
this the Russian peasant can hew down trees, cut them
into pieces and slabs, build houses, make windows or
picture-frames, sharpen and mend pens or pencils, kill
a wolf or a bear, make tables and chairs, cleave his
enemy's head from the crown to the neck. These
men met at the church, each with his tapore stuck in
his belt and resting on his hip. As each group
approached the church, every individual turned his
body so as to face the holy emblems, images, and
saints, the position of which he well knew, and with
more than ordinary devotion bowed and crossed him-
self.

The starost lifted up his voice: “Brothers, many
words, little deeds. Are you all ready and all
willing?”

Each man drew from his back the tapore, flou-
rished it over his head, and answered: “Ready.”

“That is well. We cast lots whether it should
be to-night, and the answer was, ‘Yes;’ we cast
again, and the answer was, ‘All.’ Follow me, then.”

The body of men moved on, and, but for the slight
crisping under their felt boots, they moved like noise-
less phantoms. They were in number about five
hundred. Half way between the church and the
steward's gate a carriage drove up; they opened to
let it pass, and looked in. Madame Obrassoff, her
daughter, and Lucy, pale as spectres, and quaking

185

in every limb, sat inside. Every man of the mur-
derous band uncovered his head and bowed. The old
starost said, "Go in peace, kind woman and innocent
girls. Thank God! they have heard my words."
He little knew that Herr Hausen's two daughters
and his wife were concealed in the bottom of the
lumbering vehicle. Lucy had warned not only
Madame Obrassoff, but the steward and his family.
His son, a young man of eighteen, had stepped out on
the instant, mounted a fleet horse, and galloped to the
nearest town for soldiers.

Thus was the steward left alone to meet the storm
he had raised. Most tyrants are cowards, and Herr
Hausen did not belie the statement. When the
hatchets began to beat at his doors and windows,
he became at last convinced (for he had until then
derided the idea) that he had raised a demon he could
never lay. He fled for refuge to some wretched
hiding-place, as if any place in that great house
could hide him from those who were now seeking
his blood. His own domestics, all of them serfs to
the village, joining the assailants, soon hunted him
down, and dragged him to the door, when he was
commanded to give up the money he had robbed
them of. With trembling limbs and pallid cheeks,
he obeyed, yielded his keys, and begged on his knees
for mercy. In the most abject fear and cowardly
despair he offered them all he possessed, promised
forgiveness, and that he would reduce the obrok—
any thing, every thing, for his life. But mercy he
had never shown, and mercy they did not show him.

186

RUSSIAN LIFE.

The axes of fifty men glittered in the cold moonlight
and descended on his head. Then, when he was
chopped to pieces, began the work of destruction.
The wines and spirits found in the house added
drunken madness to the madness of ignorant de-
spairing vengeance, and morning found the 'revolted
serfs dancing wildly round the dying embers of what
had lately been the steward's house, offices, stables,
and storerooms. No thought of consequences entered
their benighted heads. They had recovered the lost
money, and a great deal more; they had feasted to
satiety on the rich stores of the steward; best of all,
they had killed their enemy as they would kill a wolf.
But consequences were not slow to come. A cry of
"Soldiers!" was raised. Surprised, they ran this
way to be met by a volley of musketry, and they ran
that way to meet another volley. Dead and wounded
fell like rotten sheep. The tapores were thrown down,
the peasants fell upon their knees screaming for
mercy, and surrendered at discretion.

## CHAPTER XIII.

### WOLF-HUNTING AND TRAPPING.

AFTER visiting the White Village, I had agreed to accompany Saunderson to a place called the Little Village, which belonged to the widowed lady who had obtained from the White Villagers mercy for being merciful. The management of this estate, including a large saw-mill, corn-mill, and sugar-mill, was under the control of the intelligent gentleman whose acquaintance I had made at the hunt. The distance was about thirty miles, and, although we could have gone by a more open and safe route, we decided on the forest track, as the nearest, and as affording the best chance of sport by the way. During two preceding nights the frost had sharpened, until the snow was crisp and firm, and formed in any direction through the wood a magnificent hard road, without a track on it. Instead of shunning the wolves, which abounded in the forest, we resolved to court their company, and for this purpose carried with us a decoy, in the shape of a young pig carefully tied up in a strong canvas sack. Rifles, knives, ammunition, brandy-flasks, and sandwiches, having been put into our well-appointed sleigh, we set off, passed the church, crossed the bridge, went up the hill a little.

188

RUSSIAN LIFE.

and then striking into the forest, were soon in its
labyrinths. Our driver was the starost's son, a man
of about five-and-thirty, who had established himself
as coachman on all my excursions. Two of Saun-
derson's wolf-hounds and the Count's Newfoundland
dog lay at our feet, perfectly alive to the possibilities
of sport.

Sleigh-driving is the one grand unapproachable
unalloyed pleasure to be enjoyed in Russia. There
is nothing to compare with a long furious sweep in
a good Russian sleigh over hard crisp clean snow,
wrapped in good furs. A great bear-skin is hang-
ing over the back of the sleigh, and its apron, an-
other bear-skin, covering your legs, while your feet,
encased in fur goloshes, rest on a doubled-up black
Siberian curly sheepskin; on your head is a fur
cap as tall and straight and round as a very large
English hat without the rim, and your hands are
buried four-inch deep amongst the sable sleeves of
your coat. As you lie easily back, thus comforted,
under a clear frosty bright sky, the horses, in grace-
ful silver-mounted harness, toss their heads, the bells
at their necks tinkle merrily. The driver in high
wolf-skin cap and sheepskin coat, over which he
has drawn a handsome blue caftan trimmed below
the arms with silver-plated round buttons as large as
little eggs, and with a large parti-coloured sash bound
round his waist, is a fellow all excitement, of one mind
with the three wild horses, who tear on at whirling
speed, dashing the crisp snow in showers from their
hoofs, sometimes for a moment or two half blinding

SLEIGH-DRIVING.

189

you with the finest, cleanest, and whitest powder in
the world. With these appliances, and as you see
and feel them all, you know the luxury of sleigh-
driving. I am not speaking of a drive through the
streets of St. Petersburg, but a drive of thirty or forty
miles over untrodden virgin snow through the forest,
when the trees are clothed in a dense fantastic foli-
age of hoar-frost festooned with millions of stalactites,
and when the pure bracing air as you rush through
it sends the blood tingling through your veins.

Before we had quite left all evidences of traffic,
we heard the sound of men shouting and laughing at
some distance. Determined to see what was going
on, we left the sleigh, and taking our rifles, made to-
wards the noise. Sounds travel far in a wood through
clear cold air, and we had further to go than we
expected before we found several men, who in felling
trees had unearthed a bear. There he stood on his
hind-legs, in front of what had been his hibernating
place—a large hole under an oak which had been just
pulled down. He stood with his back against the
trunk, and his fore-feet beating the air, and the men
were amusing themselves with his antics. As he
seemed to want something to hug, they stepped up
close to him, and put a lump of wood covered with
mat between his arms. He closed them with a growl,
and gave it a hug, and tore the mat to pieces. I was
astonished—only for a moment—to see the men so
close to him, teasing him without fear for themselves.
There was no cause for astonishment; the bear had
not yet come to his senses. He was quite blind,

190

RUSSIAN LIFE.

thin, and gaunt, his hide hanging on him like a loose
garment, and his fur like that of a mangy dog. In
the beginning of winter he had prepared his hole,
and crept into it. There he had lain on one side,
sucking one paw. There he had turned on his other
side, and was fast exhausting the other paw, when
his dwelling was broken open by an evil chance, and
he was forced to get up and collect his benumbed
and dormant faculties, among which sight seemed
slow to return. He had a dismal and repulsive
aspect, as he stood or advanced on his hind-legs a
little way from his support, and retreated to it growl-
ing and angry. To prevent the men from torturing
the poor creature to death, we put a bullet into the
right place, and left the men and the bear together.
The bullet saved him from a more cruel death:
which is our only excuse for having shot that poor
blind sleepy bewildered Bruin.

Again whirling over the snow, through the wood,
the stern and cold magnificence of the scene passed
all powers of description. It was evident from the
division of trees that we were following some known
track, though it was sometimes so narrow and cir-
cuitous that we were often in danger of collisions
with the trunks of old oaks and their branches. Now
and then we emerged from the trees into a wide open
of perhaps one or two hundred acres, with here and
there a magnificent oak, covered with hoary foliage,
towering in solitary grandeur. In summer these
opens have the appearance of parks artificially laid
out, surrounded by dark forest on all sides. The

WOLF-HUNTING.

191

driver was never at a loss. "I know these trees,
baron. There is no danger with such angels of
horses. Noo! noo! Step out, my dears. We shall
soon get among the wolves. I think I see their
marks."

"Shall we try the pig as a decoy?" I said to
Saunderson.

"By all means, let us have a shot at something
that is not blind and helpless. I cannot get the old
bear off my conscience, poor wretch."

The pig was dragged from under the seat, where
he had lain very quiet, and, by dint of pinching his
tail, was made to perform a solo of pig music with
variations, which resounded for miles through the
stillness of the forest. For some time we could dis-
cern no wolves, but at length we caught sight of two,
skulking among the underwood, in a parallel line
with our path, but at a respectful distance. Al-
though we kept up the decoy music, they were shy
of approaching within shot. One end of a long white
cotton rope was then attached to the mouth of the
pig's bag, the other end to the back of the sleigh,
and as we slowly turned a bend in the track the bag
was dropped behind. We slackened pace, and, as
the rope ran out, the pig became of course stationary.
When the rope was all run out, we stopped and got
out of the sleigh to watch the result, taking our sta-
tion about two hundred yards from the pig, behind a
tree, with our eyes on the place where we had last
seen the two wolves. The pig, meantime, finding
himself in a new position, put new zeal into his music.

192

RUSSIAN LIFE.

The wolves left the cover with springs and jumps, and soon approached the poor pig, who was in no greater danger than ourselves. As they were on the point of springing on the bag—in fact, one of them had made the jump—a sign caused the driver to move on with his horses, thus pulling the prey out of their reach, and setting them both wondering what this could mean. The wonder did not last long, for the wolves distinctly had smelt pork, and meant to dine on it.

They again approached the bag, and the bag again receded, while the most vociferous and resounding shrieks proceeded from the pig inside. The wolves made a furious run, and again the driver gave reins to the horses till he had pulled the pig nearly on a line with the place where Saunderson and I were standing, the wolves following with tongues out and glaring eyes. Both rifles went off at the same moment, and, strange to say, only one wolf rolled over. We had both fired into one. The other wolf sprang for cover, but was stopped and brought to bay by the three dogs, who very soon made an end of him, receiving in the struggle a few sharp bites from his ugly teeth.

This method of decoying the wolves is common in that part of the country, and it is not unattended with danger, for in case of a large pack being attracted nothing but fleet horses can save the hunters. We had this advantage, besides rifles and dogs, and were prepared for as many wolves as might show themselves.

WOLF-HUNTING.

193

"Do you hear that?" said Saunderson, as an unmistakable howling yelp was borne to us on the wind. "We have only killed the advanced guard; the pack is in full cry. Be quick; fetch in the pig, and let us drag these two behind the sleigh."

We tied the rope round the neck of each wolf, and dragged both as fast as possible, secured the dogs in the sleigh, and jumped in ourselves. Then off we sped again, wolves by this time visible on each side of us and behind us. We soon found we could sustain a pace of three feet to their two, and this cleared us of risk. All we had to do was to prevent their getting ahead of us.

Having reloaded our empty barrels and lighted our cigars, we kept watch on either side for a good shot; but it is not easy to get a good shot in a running sleigh, unless the object be stationary, large, and near.

"Mattvic, go slower, keep your eye on the horses, and pull up very gradually when I cry 'stop.'"

"I hear."

A detachment behind were now coming up in fine style.

"Slower, Mattvic."

"I hear."

We got on our knees on the seat of the sledge, with our faces to the approaching wolves, about fifteen in number; we rested our rifles on the back, and as the wolves came up Saunderson said:

"Now, take one on the left, and I'll take one on the right, and as soon as you see their teeth, fire."

0

194

RUSSIAN LIFE.

"Stop, Mattvic."

"I hear."

Gradually the sleigh came to a stand. The
wolves were by this time within twenty yards of
us, and we could see their grinning and sharp
grinders, their tongues lapping, and the light in
their fiery eyes.

"Are you ready? Fire! Two down. Again!
The other barrel. Ready? Fire! Other two down.
Drive on, Mattvic, slowly; it will take them some
time to consider of that."

The wolves all stopped, and seemed to gather
round their fallen friends. A turn in the wood hid
them from view. Even our enemies on the right and
left flanks paused at the unexpected reports of the
guns, and allowed us to proceed without molestation.
We went more and more slowly, and at length
stopped altogether and waited; but no more wolves
came up.

"I am afraid," said Saunderson, "our wolf-hunting is over for to-day. Drive on, Mattvic; we can't help it."

"Listen, barons," said Mattvic. "We can trap them all. I'll be the pig."

"Trap them? How?"

"It is easily done. About three versts from this
is Timofia Evanoffage the woodman's hut. You
have only to make one turn to the right, and keep
straight on, and you will reach it. He has a wolf-
trap. Get all ready, and I will bring on the wolves.
Never fear. Only you must give me the little horse;

WOLF-TRAPPING.

195

he is swift and sure; I have hunted wolves before
with him."

After a slight hesitation about the man's safety,
which he thought in no peril of any sort, his plan
was adopted. The little horse was got out and given
to Mattvic; Saunderson mounted the dickey, and on
we went ahead. Our man, screaming like a pig, rode
back to invite the wolves to follow him into Timofia's
trap. Around Timofia's house was a strong high
palisade; through this there was only one entrance,
by a door opening inward and hung by a pulley and
heavy balance-weight; so when a wolf pushed himself
through this door, it closed, and shut him into the
space between the house and palisade. This space
was again divided off by strong cross-partitions round
the premises, in each of which was fixed a sliding
panel or a drop-panel, that could be pulled up or let
down from within the house. By these means the
inmates could separate the wolves, and kill them with
dogs, guns, or hatchets, at their leisure. I had heard
of one man trapping in this manner as many as fifty
wolves in a winter, besides other game, the skins of
which were worth to him at least one hundred and
fifty roubles.

As we approached the hut we found it of larger
dimensions than we had expected, and the palisade
seemed to take in a larger circumference than one
hut required. We shouted, but no one answered; all
was as still and quiet as if the place were uninhabited.
On our entering the door through the palisade it
closed with a bang, and we found ourselves in a small

196

RUSSIAN LIFE.

enclosure with a gateway opposite leading to the back premises, but it was made fast. After thundering at it for a minute or two a small door in the gateway opened, and there emerged cautiously the figure of a man rubbing his eyes and staring through his hair. He reminded me of the blind bear. His hair, like a great mass of tangled tow, was matted over his head and face; he wore a coarse gray ragged overcoat over a gray cotton or sacking shirt and trousers, and long felt boots completed his costume. He made many excuses, and asked pardon many times for keeping us waiting, but seemed to be in no hurry to admit us until we told him that a pack of wolves might be expected, and that our horses and conveyances must be put in a place of safety. The information acted on him like a galvanic shock, and he was off into the house with a spring, through a side-door inside the gateway. We followed, stooping all the time, and were in the house. It was a man-kennel, twenty or thirty feet square, a great stove in the centre, dogs about a score lying on the floor, and men snoring on the top of the pack. The heat was suffocating, the stench was poisonous. Timefla soon roused the sleepers, pulling them off their perch by the legs, pouring water over their heads, cuffing the men and kicking the dogs. "Wolves! wolves! you pigs, and you all sleeping! Be quiet, dogs. No barking. Evan, take the baron's horses and dogs round by the back entrance to the shed. Quick! Andrea, stand by the big gate, and be ready to shut it after Mattvic gets through. Put the dogs in the third division, and

WOLF-TRAPPING.

197

get out the guns! Ah, thank God and these barons
for bringing us the wolves!"

We had no intention of being cooped up in the
hut while the fray went on, and therefore took our
station beside the man at the gateway, which now
stood wide open for the admission of Mattvic and his
little horse. In a short time all was quiet, and every
necessary preparation made. Then came the howling
of wolves and the screaming as of a pig, the gallop
of a horse over the hard crisp snow, the rush of
many small feet. The outer door in the palisade was
dashed open, and Mattvic, followed in half a minute
by the whole pack, rushed in. The half-minute was
just sufficient to enable Mattvic to vanish through
the outer door into the trap. Then, as the last pres-
sure on the door was removed, it closed with a loud
sharp sound, and some five-and-twenty wolves were
snared in a space not larger than twelve feet by
twenty. We did not at first close the inner gateway,
but, levelling our pieces at the mass of wolves now
huddling themselves up in a corner, poured in two
volleys in rapid succession, then closed the gate, and
reloadied for another charge. The change from the
air of ferocious savage daring which the wolves had
displayed in pursuit of a single horseman, to abject
terror when they found themselves caught in the nar-
row trap, was instantaneous. They were like sheep
in a pen, crushing up in a corner, riding on the top
of one another, lying down on their bellies, crouching
and shivering with fear. It is not necessary to de-
scribe the scene of mere slaughter. Two staves were

198

RUSSIAN LIFE.

chopped out of the gateway, that we might fire
through. The drop-panels were opened, and two or
three were admitted at a time to the next division;
there dogs were let in on them through the adjoining
trap, or they were killed by men with great bars of
wood or axes; and at length, when only six or seven
remained, three of the men went in amongst them,
and with perfect safety despatched them. They say
that a worm will turn on the heel that treads on it,
but wolves caught in a trap like this, from which
there is no escape, have less courage than a worm.
They crouch, shiver, and die, as I saw, without one
effort at self-defence or one snap of retaliation.

Timofia's hut was not only a wolf-trap, but a
farm-house too: it had a large shed attached, in
which a few cows roamed loose during the day, and
at night were put into a byre or stable. Timofia
did not clean out this byre once a day, like a good
modern farmer; he only spread a little straw over
the dung every morning, and allowed it to accumulate
until the month of June, when the cowhouse was
emptied every year. After this "mucking of Timofia's
byre," you had to descend a few feet if you
desired to enter it, but before the "mucking" at the
end of the year's accumulations you had to ascend a
few feet. In the one case you looked down on the
cows, in the other you looked up at the cows. In
fine, this was Timofia's manure-dépôt. It was the
same with his stables. He told me that the horses
accumulated so much that he had to slope a path
through, by which they might get in at the doors and

A SMALL FARMER.

199

climb up the slope. In the shed were lying two implements which attracted my attention; the first was composed of birch-trees cut down through the centre, with the branches chopped off within a foot of the trees. Half a dozen of these timbers, about seven feet long, were tied together with twigs of trees, the flat side up and the prongs of the branches down. Put two rough poles for shafts into this contrivance, and the Russian peasant's harrow is complete; price, nothing. Timofia told me that it did very well for his light sandy land, and that if he found it rather light sometimes he put a heavy stone on it. The other instrument was a plough, having two turned-up prongs like Dutch skates, ten inches apart, set in a rough wooden frame; betwixt them a projecting movable scoop for turning over the ground. This scoop had to be reversed every time Timofia turned his horses. He said this was a very dear implement, for iron had to be used in its construction. It cost even as much as two roubles, or about six shillings.

## CHAPTER XIV.

### TWO RUSSIAN VILLAGES.

With the Little Village to which I thus travelled through the wood, I will contrast another that I know, the Black Village, which shows the ordinary state of things below the surface-polish of the capital.

The Little village was unlike any Russian country village I had ever seen. Madame Obrassoff, either wisely or by good luck, had placed the whole management in the hands of a man of the right stamp; not one of the engineering comets who pass over the Russian scientific horizon, dazzling the native vision with schemes promising fabulous per-centage; not an avaricious and tyrannical Niemitz; not a crafty pilfering Russ; but a plain practical man, who could understand that his own and his employer's interests were best consulted by the material improvement of the people under his control. He had been reared on a small farm in Ayrshire, and knew all the practical shifts and expedients necessary in dealing with poor people and poor land; he possessed that indomitable energy and perseverance which has made many of the once heathery hills and boggy plains of Scotland the most fruitful farming land in the world. Cathe-

THE LITTLE VILLAGE.

201

rine, Paul, Alexander, Nicholas, have all employed
Scotchmen in their navies, armies, and manufactories;
and these men and their descendants are to be found
naturalised and prosperous in many parts of Russia.

On the estate of the Little village I found a beet-
root sugar-mill, a large saw-mill, corn-mills, a vodki
distillery, excellent stables, cow-houses, dairy, store-
rooms, conservatory, garden, hothouses, all kept in
the utmost order. The people, who looked clean and
cheerful, had been cleared of the sheepish, sullen,
cringing air of serfdom, and they looked me in the
face. In addition to his farming operations, this good
manager had established a small foundry and me-
chanics' shop, where both iron and brass goods were
cast and manufactured. In the mechanics' shop I
saw about thirty men and boys busy at work, with
files, hammers, and chisels of English manufacture.
There were a blacksmith's shop with five forges, a
joiner's shop, a painter's shop, and a large depart-
ment for the making of carts, sledges, and all kinds
of wheels. It may be worth notice, that the rims
of Russian wheels are made in one piece, and not in
sections, as in England. Birch-trees of the proper
size are cut down and trimmed to the length and
thickness required, are boiled for from four-and-
twenty to forty hours in a large caldron of water,
and are then bent, fastened, and laid up for a year or
two to season. Naves and spokes are afterwards put
in by a rude contrivance, and the one joint is made
very secure with iron plates and bolts. A wheel
made in this way, and shod with half or three-quarter

202

RUSSIAN LIFE.

inch iron, will last an immense time on the high road. On the soft unmacadamised roads in the interior no iron is necessary. The bearings of these wheels are so broad, that it is almost impossible to overturn the carts and carriages set on them. Thousands of such wheels were made in the Little village, and sent every year to the various markets. Besides these, I saw ploughs, harrows, and portable thrashing-machines, in course of manufacture. While I was looking over the estate, several persons from considerable distances arrived with articles for repair, and orders for new goods.

The wooden one-storied huts of the people were clean, well-built, well-thatched, and had glass windows. Separate places were provided for cows, horses, pigs, and poultry; adjoining each hut was a strip of land, composing the garden and farm of its occupant; a post with a printed board at the top, facing the main road, set forth the name of the possessor of each allotment. Although the snow on the ground made it impossible to see the state of cultivation, it was evident from the abundance in the little barns and yards, and from the general appearance of the peasants, that their old slovenly, lazy habits were giving place to industry and self-respect. On inquiry, I found that on this estate serfdom had been abolished for some years, and that the work was all done by free Russian labourers. The Lady Obrassoff had freed her serfs, and by a judicious system of encouragement and assistance was gradually making men of them.

"It is true," said the steward, "we pay more for