Moscow: A Story of the French Invasion of 1812

Frederick Whishaw

Frederick Whishaw

Moscow: A Story of the French Invasion of 1812

CHAPTER I

With a great jangling of sleigh-bells and much shouting from his driver, who addressed the three horses by every epithet both endearing and abusive that his vocabulary could provide, Count Maximof drove into the yard of his nearest neighbour, the Boyar Demidof. The visit was expected, for Maximof had sent a messenger to give warning of his approach and to notify the boyar of the object of his coming. The Count was accompanied by his wife, Avdotia, and his son, a child of ten years, as well as by the priest of the district who had been picked up en route at his own village. The child Alexander, commonly called Sasha, sat by the driver, a young serf of surly appearance and manners, while the three elders occupied—as best they could—the cushioned seat behind. This was designed to hold two with moderate comfort, so that the two outside passengers now fared indifferently, but the middle one, who was the Count, was comfortable enough.

Demidof, with his wife, met the party at the threshold of his house, greeting them with voluble and exaggerated expressions of welcome, after the manner of Russian hosts of his day, which was about one hundred years ago.

"You see I have brought him," said Maximof; "make your bow, Sasha, and ask after the health of your nevyesta (bride)."

Sasha advanced shyly. "I hope Mademoiselle Vera Danilovna is well?" he said, glibly enough.

"She is well and waiting anxiously to embrace her fiancé," said Demidof, laughing. "Go into the salon on the right and you will find her—what? You have a present for her—a doll—that is delightful; she will love you from the very beginning. That is the door."

Sasha disappeared in the direction indicated.

"The notary is here," continued Demidof. "We can complete the legal part of the matter immediately; after which you, Father Nicholas, shall perform your share of the ceremony."

Parents, priest and notary now proceeded to the business of the occasion, which was the betrothal of Alexander Maximof, aged ten, to Vera Demidof, who numbered seven summers, and the signing of the contract of betrothal. When this latter document had been read over and approved and signed by all present, the two persons chiefly concerned in the matter were summoned for the religious ceremony; little Vera came hugging her doll, while Sasha was arrayed in a tiny Lancer uniform, the gift of his bride-to-be.

The priest recited certain prayers and injunctions to which the principals paid scant attention; and, the ceremony ended, all sat down to dinner. At this function there were many servants, serfs of the estate, to wait upon the feasters; the food was good and plentiful, but badly cooked, the wine plentiful also, but indifferent, and the plates and dishes were filthy. Civilisation had not as yet reached a high standard in the Russia of that day, when, even in the best houses, though the furniture might be gorgeously gilt, it stood in dust and dirt; where men- and women-servants slept in the passages which were not aired during the day; where there were no arrangements for personal ablutions, and ventilation and sanitation were arts as yet undiscovered and undreamed of.

The two mothers gushed over their children, who chattered and played together quite unconcerned to think of the serious nature of the function in which they had this day taken a chief part. It was a beautiful thing, Countess Maximof observed, to see innocent love actually in the birth, as at this moment. The fathers drank heavily and made boisterous jokes at which all present laughed aloud, including the servants and his reverence the priest, who drank as hard as any and gave no sign of displeasure when the humour of the two manor-lords surpassed in its vulgarity even the wide margin which, in those days of much breadth in such matters, was considered permissible.

More than once Demidof rose to chastise some unfortunate serf who had in some manner displeased him. Neither of