to the songs which the girls sing in the summer choral dances, or take part in the merriment of the social gatherings, which enliven the long nights of winter. Sometimes the quaint lyric drama of a peasant wedding is performed before our eyes, sometimes we follow a funeral party to one of those dismal and desolate nooks in which the Russian villagers deposit their dead. On working days we see the peasants driving afield in the early morn with their long lines of carts, to till the soil, or ply the scythe or sickle or axe, till the day is done and their rude carts come creaking back. We hear the songs and laughter of the girls beside the stream or pool which ripples pleasantly against its banks in the summer time, but in the winter shows no sign of life, except at the spot, much frequented by the wives and daughters of thevillage, where an "ice-hole" has been cut in its [Pg 22] massive pall. And at night we see the homely dwellings of the villagers assume a picturesque aspect to which they are strangers by the tell-tale light of day, their rough lines softened by the mellow splendor of a summer moon, or their unshapely forms looming forth mysteriously against the starlit snow of winter. Above all we become familiar with those cottage interiors to which the stories contain so many references. Sometimes we see the better class of homestead, surrounded by its fence through which we pass between the often-mentioned gates. After a glance at the barns and cattle-sheds, and
at the garden which supplies the family with fruits and vegetables (on flowers, alas! but little store is set in the northern provinces),
we cross the threshold, a spot hallowed by many traditions, and pass, through what in more pretentious houses may be called the vestibule, into the "living room." We become well acquainted with its arrangements, with the cellar beneath its wooden floor, with the "corner of honor" in which are placed the "holy pictures," and with the stove which occupies so large a share of space, within
which daily beats, as it were the heart of the house, above which is nightly taken the repose of the family. Sometimes we visit the hut of the poverty-stricken peasant, more like a shed for cattle than a human habitation, with a mud-floor and a tattered roof, through which the smoke makes its devious way. In these poorer dwellings we witness much suffering; but we learn to respect the patience and resignation with which it is generally borne, and in the greater part of the humble homes we visit we become aware of the existence of many domestic virtues, we see numerous tokens of family affection, of filial reverence, of parental love. And when, as we pass along the village street at night, we see gleaming through the utter darkness the faint rays which tell that [Pg 23] even in many a poverty-stricken home a lamp is burning before the "holy pictures," we feel that these poor tillers of the soil, ignorant and uncouth though they too often are, may be raised at times by lofty thoughts and noble aspirations far above the low level of the dull and hard lives which they are forced to lead.
From among the stories which contain the most graphic descriptions of Russian village life, or which may be regarded as specially illustrative of Russian sentiment and humor those which the present chapter contains have been selected. Any information they
may convey will necessarily be of a most fragmentary nature, but for all that it may be capable of producing a correct impression. A
painter's rough notes and jottings are often more true to nature than the most finished picture into which they may be developed.
The word skazka, or folk-tale, does not very often occur in the Russian popular tales themselves. Still there are occasions on which it appears. The allusions to it are for the most part indirect, as when a princess is said to be more beautiful than anybody ever was, except in a skazka; but sometimes it obtains direct notice. In a story, for instance, of a boy who had been carried off by a Baba Yaga (a species of witch), we are told that when his sister came to his rescue she found him "sitting in an arm-chair, while the cat Jeremiah told him skazkas and sang him songs."[15] In another story, a Durak,--a "ninny" or "gowk"--is sent to take care of the children of
a village during the absence of their parents. "Go and get all the children together in one of the cottages and tell them skazkas," are
his instructions. He collects the children, but as they are "all ever so dirty" [Pg 24] he puts them into boiling water by way of cleans-ing them, and so washes them to death.[16]
There is a good deal of social life in the Russian villages during the long winter evenings, and at some of the gatherings which then take place skazkas are told, though at those in which only the young people participate, songs, games, and dances are more popular. The following skazka has been selected on account of the descriptions of a vechernitsa, or village soiree,[17] and of a rustic courtship, which its opening scene contains. The rest of the story is not remarkable for its fidelity to modern life, but it will serve as a good illustration of the class to which it belongs--that of stories about evil spirits, traceable, for the most part, to Eastern sources.
The Fiend.[18]
In a certain country there lived an old couple who had a daughter called Marusia (Mary). In their village it was customary to celebrate the feast of St. Andrew the First-Called (November 30). The girls used to assemble in some cottage, bake pampushki,[19] and enjoy themselves for a whole week, or even longer. Well, the girls met together once when this festival arrived, and brewed and baked what was wanted. In the evening came the lads with the music, bringing liquor with them, and dancing and revelry commenced. All the
girls danced well, but Marusia the best of all. After a while there came into the cottage such a fine fellow! Marry, come up! regular
blood and milk, and smartly and richly dressed.
"Hail, fair maidens!" says he.
7
"Hail, good youth!" say they.
[Pg 25] "You're merry-making?"
"Be so good as to join us."
Thereupon he pulled out of his pocket a purse full of gold, ordered liquor, nuts and gingerbread. All was ready in a trice, and he began treating the lads and lasses, giving each a share. Then he took to dancing. Why, it was a treat to look at him! Marusia struck his fancy more than anyone else; so he stuck close to her. The time came for going home.
"Marusia," says he, "come and see me off." She went to see him off.
"Marusia, sweetheart!" says he, "would you like me to marry you?"
"If you like to marry me, I will gladly marry you. But where do you come from?" "From such and such a place. I'm clerk at a merchant's."
Then they bade each other farewell and separated. When Marusia got home, her mother asked her:
"Well, daughter! have you enjoyed yourself ?"
"Yes, mother. But I've something pleasant to tell you besides. There was a lad there from the neighborhood, good-looking and with lots of money, and he promised to marry me."
"Harkye Marusia! When you go to where the girls are to-morrow, take a ball of thread with you, make a noose in it, and, when you are going to see him off, throw it over one of his buttons, and quietly unroll the ball; then, by means of the thread, you will be able to find out where he lives."
Next day Marusia went to the gathering, and took a ball of thread with her. The youth came again.
"Good evening, Marusia!" said he. "Good evening!" said she.
Games began and dances. Even more than before did he stick to Marusia, not a step would he budge from her. The time came for going home.
"Come and see me off, Marusia!" says the stranger.
She went out into the street, and while she was taking leave of
