The young men stood for a few moments in silence with downcast eyes and serious aspect; a little whispering took place among them, and then one of them stepped forward and respectfully intimated that the shortness of the time was such “that they were afraid they could not find so many marriageable women in the village, and it would take them longer to look about them, as they must make inquiries in the neighbourhood.” Their master, therefore, granted them a week longer, with which they appeared satisfied, and withdrew. I had the curiosity to inquire as to whether they had succeeded in finding the requisite number of wives, and was assured they had all got married, and within the time specified.
At Moscow we became acquainted with a lady whose husband was one of the richest men in that city. She had the misfortune to lose her daughter, an amiable young person, in her twentieth year. According to the custom in Russia, her dowry had been prepared for her settlement in life:[4] it was on a magnificent scale, and consisted in enormous quantities of the finest linen, table-cloths, bed furniture, silks, jewels, plate, everything that a rich bride is expected to possess. It is the custom for the bride to furnish the sleeping apartment, the drawing-rooms, and the kitchen, to find the linen, &c., besides her trousseau; and even a dozen new shirts of the finest quality for her husband. Everything is marked with the lady’s name, as in case of a separation she may reclaim her dowry. The bridegroom has to fit up his own apartment and the dining-room, in addition to which he purchases the carriages and horses. This shows how very advantageous it is for the gentleman to enter the state of matrimony, especially as in Russia he generally depends upon his bride to find the fortune as well; but, as a Muscovite once said in my hearing, “On doit être payé pour les épouser, car elles sont si ennuyantes!” It was on the anniversary of the young lady’s death that her parents resolved to dispose of her trousseau, and with the proceeds to find dowries for six young portionless girls, whose prayers they hoped thus to secure for the repose of their beloved Marie’s soul. I was staying in the house at the time, and I believe I saw all the candidates for marriage in Moscow. It was announced that any young person of noble birth (that is, of respectable station—the offspring neither of slaves nor of tradespeople) who wished to present herself would be eligible. I need scarcely say there was no lack of candidates for the promised dowry. I found that the lady’s consideration was infinitely greater concerning the beauty of the six girls than their worthiness or their good conduct. All the virtues under heaven could not, in her eyes, counterbalance the want of personal attractions. She ran into my room one day, exclaiming, “There are four more young persons arrived; pray come into the hall, for I wish you would give me your opinion as to whether you think them pretty.” I accompanied her: there were, as she had said, four girls, decently dressed, the eldest of whom might have been twenty-two: one of them was really good-looking; she was perhaps eighteen. I was astonished to see the cringing baseness to which two of them stooped to obtain the dowry. They prostrated themselves to the ground, and kissed the feet of the lady. I was very glad that neither of them was chosen.
As soon as we had had an examination of the different faces we adjourned to the next room, when my friend asked me what I thought of them. I scarcely knew what to reply, but I decidedly gave my opinion against the two that had so disgusted me. She herself made an objection to one of them, by saying “that, as she had a handkerchief round her face, she had, she supposed, the toothache, and she would not have one that had bad teeth.” However, she settled the matter by sending for the best-looking girl, and dismissing the others. On her entering the room the following dialogue took place:—
Lady. “How old are you, young lady?”
Girl (with a low inclination). “Just eighteen, Madame.”
L. “Have you any father, and what is he?”
G. “My father is dead, he was an employé; but my mother is still alive, she lives near the Kousmitski most (Smith’s bridge).”
L. “Very well: what is your intended’s name?”
G. “I have none, Madame.”
L. “You have none! and yet you ask me for a dowry? How is that?”