even in drink.
Next day we went to dine with one of the general's neighbours, who gave us a most sumptuous reception. Before we sat down to table, we were shown into a small room with a side-board loaded with cold meat, caviar, salted cucumbers, and liqueurs, all intended to whet our appetites. This collation, which the Russians call sagouska, always precedes their meals; they are not content with their natural appetite, but have recourse to stimulants that they may the better perform their parts at table.
All the time of dinner we were entertained by a choir of forty young men who sang some fine harmonised pieces, and some Cossack airs that pleased us much. Our entertainer was one of the richest landowners in New Russia, and his manner of living partakes of many of the old national usages. His musicians are slaves taught by an Italian long attached to the establishment in the capacity of chapel master.
Such are the Easter festivities. As the reader will perceive, they consist on the whole in eating and drinking inordinately. The whole week is spent in this way, and during all that time the authority of the master is almost in abeyance; the coachman deserts the stables, the cook the kitchen, the housekeeper her store-room; all are drunk, all are merry-making, all are intent on enjoying a season of liberty so long anticipated with impatience.
The rejoicings in the town are of the same character. The katchellni, a sort of fair lasting three days, brings together all classes of society. The nobles and the government servants ride about in carriages, but the populace amuse themselves just as they do in the country, only they have the pleasure of getting drunk in better company.
CHAPTER IX.
EXCURSION ON THE BANKS OF THE DNIEPR—DOUTCHINA—ELECTION OF THE MARSHALS AND JUDGES OF THE NOBILITY AT KHERSON—HORSE-RACING—STRANGE STORY IN THE "JOURNAL DES DÉBATS"—A COUNTRY HOUSE AND ITS VISITERS—TRAITS OF RUSSIAN MANNERS—THE WIFE OF TWO HUSBANDS—SERVANTS—MURDER OF A COURIER—APPENDIX.
We left Clarofka in May, to explore the banks of the Dniepr, and the shores of the Sea of Azov. The object we had in view was purely scientific, but the journey became doubly interesting by affording us a closer insight into the habits of Russian society, and the manner in which noble families live on their estates. I had intended to visit Taganrok, but on this occasion I proceeded no further than Doutchina, the property of a Baroness de Bervick, who most hospitably insisted on my remaining with her whilst my husband was continuing his geological researches in the country of the Cossacks.
Doutchina is situated on the post-road from Kherson to Iekaterinoslav, in a broad ravine formed by a brook that falls into the Dniepr a little way from the village. From the high ground over which the road passes, the eye suddenly looks down on a beautiful landscape—a most welcome surprise for the traveller who has just passed over some hundred versts of uncultivated plains.
In Russia, travelling is not, as elsewhere, synonymous with seeing new sights. In vain your troïka bears you along with dizzy speed; in vain you pass hours, days, and nights in posting; still you have before your eyes the same steppe that seems to lengthen out before you as you advance, the same horizon, the same cold stern lines, the same snow or sunshine; and nothing either in the temperature or the aspect of the ground indicates that you have accomplished any change of place.
It is only in the vicinity of the great rivers that the country assumes a different aspect, and the wearied eye at last enjoys the pleasure of encountering more limited horizons, a more verdant vegetation, and a landscape more varied in its outlines. Among these rivers, the Dniepr claims one of the foremost places, from the length of its course, the volume of its waters, and the deep bed it has excavated for itself athwart the plains of Southern Russia. But nowhere does it present more charming views than from the height I have just mentioned and its vicinity. After having spread out to the breadth of nearly a league, it parts into a multitude of channels, that wind through forests of oaks, alders, poplars, and aspens, whose vigorous growth bespeaks the richness of a virgin soil. The groups of islands capriciously breaking the surface of the waters, have a melancholy beauty and a primitive character scarcely to be seen except in those vast wildernesses where man has left no traces of his presence. Nothing in our country at all resembles this kind of landscape. With us, the creature has everywhere refashioned the work of the Creator; the mark of his hand appears even on the most inaccessible mountains; whereas, in Russia, where the nobles are the sole proprietors, nature still remains, in many places, just as God created it. Thus these plavniks[3] of the Dniepr, seldom touched by the woodman's axe, have all the wild majesty of the forests of the new world. For some time after my arrival at Doutchina, I found an endless source of delight in contemplating those majestic scenes, lighted by a pale sky, and veiled in light mists, that gave them a tinge of sadness, sometimes more pleasing than the glare of noon.
Doutchina, situated, as I have said, on a ledge of a ravine that ends in the plavniks, is altogether unlike the other villages of Russia. Its pretty cottages, separated by gardens and groups of fruit-trees, its picturesque site and magnificent environs, strikingly remind one of the Danube, near Vienna. The whole country, as far as one can see from the highest point of the road, belongs to the Baroness of Bervick, and forms one of the most valuable estates in the neighbourhood. But her residence is strangely unsuited to her fortune, being a mere cabin, open to every wind, and fit, at most, for a sporting lodge. As we looked on this shabby abode, we were amazed that a wealthy lady, still young and handsome, should be content to inhabit it, and to endure a multitude of privations, which we should have thought intolerable to a person of her station. At the time we became this lady's guest, she had left France about eighteen months, to reside on this property, bequeathed to her by her late husband.
Some days after my husband's departure we set out for Kherson, where the elections of the marshals and judges of the nobility were soon to take place. All the great families of the government of Kherson were already assembled in the town, and gave it an appearance of animation to which it had long been a stranger. These elections, which take place only every three years, are occasions for balls and parties, to which the pometchiks and their wives look forward with eager anticipation. For more than a fortnight the town is thronged with officers of all ranks, and elegant equipages with four horses, that give the streets and promenades an unusually gay appearance. The Russians spare no expense on these occasions of display. Many a petty proprietor's wife, who lives all the year on kash[4] and dried fish, contrives at this period to out-do the ladies of the town in costly finery.
The amusements began with a horse-race, which made some noise in the world in consequence of an article in the Journal des Débats. Those who have any curiosity to know how one may mystify a newspaper, and amuse oneself at the expense of a credulous public, have but to read a certain number of the year 1838, which positively alleges, that forty ladies, headed by the young and beautiful Narishkin, appeared on the course as jockeys, rode their own horses, &c., and a thousand other things still more absurd and incredible. All I can say of this race, at which I was present, is, that it was like every other affair of the kind, and was not distinguished by any remarkable incident or romantic adventure. Eight horses started, one of which belonged to the Countess Voronzof and another to General Narishkin, and the riders were not lovely ladies, but rather clumsy grooms. The first prize, a large silver cup worth 1500 rubles, was won by the Countess Voronzof's Atalanta: the second was carried off by the general's horse. Such is the way in which these things always end, and the consequence may very likely be, that the races will cease altogether. The landowners know very well that their horses stand no chance against those belonging to great people, and as they are sure of being beaten they will at last grow tired of the mock contest. The Countess Voronzof ought to consider that these races are not merely
