A Russian Gentleman

by S. T. Aksakov

The pair reached home an hour before supper-time, and were welcomed with unusual cordiality and pleasure by Stepan Mihailovitch, whom they found sitting on the familiar stoop. He was much amused when he was told that Mme. Lupenevsky had conceived such a passion for his daughter-in-law, kissing her repeatedly, claiming that they were kindred spirits, and lavishing terms of affection upon her. Contrary to custom, the whole family went out again to the stoop after supper, and spent a long time there in cheerful conversation with the master of the household, in the cool of the night and under the starry sky. Stepan Mihailovitch, though he could not have explained why, was fond of the faint colourless light that follows the glow of sunset.

The solemn feast on the Sunday was to be something beyond what had ever been seen at Bagrovo, but nothing special happened on either of the intervening days. Yerlykin came back from Boogoorooslan looking yellow and ill, as he always did after a drinking-bout. Stepan Mihailovitch knew of his son-in-law's unfortunate weakness or disease, and tried to cure him by dosing him with unpalatable drinks, but without success. When sober, Yerlykin had a loathing for alcohol and could not raise a glass of wine to his lips without a shudder; but he was seized four times a year with a sudden and irresistible craving for spirits. If the attempt was made to keep drink from him, he became a most pitiable and wretched object, talking constantly and weeping, and begging abjectly for the poison; and if it was still refused, he became frantic and even capable of attempts at suicide. Sofya Nikolayevna, who had heard the whole story, was exceedingly sorry for him. She spoke kindly to him and tried to make him talk to her. But it was no good: the General persisted in his sullen silence and gloomy pride. Instead of being grateful to her sister-in-law, Elizabeth resented these advances to her husband, and expressed her resentment in bitter terms. But Stepan Mihailovitch noticed this and addressed a stern reproof to his clever daughter, who did not love her sister-in-law any the better in consequence.

Stepan Mihailovitch twice took his daughter-in-law out to see his crops of rye and spring-sown wheat, and drove with her to all his favourite water-springs in the hills, and the "Sacred Wood" where the trees had been protected from the axe by a religious service. The old man believed that all these sights were interesting and agreeable to her; but in fact she positively disliked them all. Her sole support was in the thought that she would soon leave Bagrovo and would do her best never to set eyes on it again. If any one had told her that she would spend most of her life there, grow old there, and even die there, she would not have believed it: she would have said that death was preferable, and would have meant what she said. But whatever God decrees, to that man can become accustomed, and that he can endure.

Sunday came and the guests began to assemble. Mme. Myortvavo came, and the Kalpinskys and Lupenevskys, and two old bachelors, the judge and the mayor of Boogoorooslan. Another guest was Afrosinya Andréyevna (her surname, which was never used, I forget), a spare little old lady and a great talker; she had a small estate near Bagrovo. She was famous for her powers of invention, and Stepan Mihailovitch liked at times to listen to her, as a grown man sometimes listens with pleasure to a fairy tale intended for children.

But Afrosinya Andréyevna deserves that the reader should have at least a bowing acquaintance with her. At one time in her life she had spent ten years in Petersburg to watch a lawsuit; when she won it, she came back to her little estate in the country. She brought back with her from Petersburg a store of anecdotes whose extravagance made Stepan Mihailovitch laugh till he cried. For instance, she used to represent herself as a bosom friend of the Empress Catherine, adding by way of explanation that two people could not live ten years in the same town without being thrown together. "I was in church one day"—she talked this way when she was in the vein—"the people were going out, and the Empress walked past me, and I made a low curtsey and ventured to congratulate her on the festival; and then Her Majesty was so very kind and condescending as to say: 'How are you, Afrosinya Andréyevna? How is your suit going? Why don't you come to see me of an evening and bring your knitting with you? We could chat together and pass the time pleasantly.' Of course I never missed an evening after that. I got to know the people about the court, and every one in the palace without a single exception knew me and liked me. Suppose a royal footman was sent anywhere, to buy something it might be, he never failed to look in at my house and tell me all about it. As a matter of course, I always offered him a glass of something good; I kept a bottle of whisky in the cupboard on purpose. I was sitting by my window one evening when I saw a royal footman in red uniform, with the coat of arms on it, ride past at a gallop; he was soon followed by a second and a third. That was too much for me: I threw up the window and called out, 'Philip Petrovitch! Philip Petrovitch! what are you all galloping for, and why don't you pay me a visit?' 'No time! Afrosinya Andréyevna!' was his answer; 'a terrible thing has happened: candles will soon be wanted at the palace, and we've run out of them!' 'Stop!' I cried out; 'I have 5 lbs. of candles laid in; you can come in and take them.' Philip Petrovitch was delighted; I carried out the candles with my own hands and relieved the people from their difficulty. So you see, batyushka Stepan Mihailovitch, they simply couldn't help being fond of me."

Stepan Mihailovitch had many traits of character peculiar to himself; and this was one—though he was a sworn foe to deliberate lying of every kind, and detested the most trifling deception and even the kind of evasion which is sometimes quite excusable, yet he liked listening to the harmless fabrications and fictions of simple people, who were innocently carried away by the vividness of their imagination till they actually came to believe in their own incredible romancing. He liked talking to Afrosinya Andréyevna, not only at a merry party, but also when they were alone together, if he was in the right mood for it; and she spent whole hours in pouring out for his benefit the story of her life in Petersburg, which consisted entirely of such incidents as that which I have already quoted.

But it is time to go back to the guests arriving at Bagrovo. The mayor's kaftan[⁴⁴] and the judge's uniform were equally remarkable; but the best sight of all was Kalpinsky: on each side of him stood a female scarecrow in the person of his wife and of her sister, while he himself wore an embroidered coat of French cut, a pair of watch-chains, a number of rings, silk stockings and shoes with gold buckles. All the family wore their best bib and tucker, and even Stepan Mihailovitch was forced to smarten himself up. M. Chichagoff, who had a critical, satirical turn of mind, made fun with much effect of the motley assembly and especially of his friend Kalpinsky; he was talking all the time to his wife and to her inseparable companion, Sofya Nikolayevna, who sat together and apart from the rest. Sofya Nikolayevna had hard work to keep from laughing: she tried not to listen, and begged Chichagoff either to hold his tongue or to start a conversation with Stepan Mihailovitch, whom he would find worthy of respect. He did so, and soon took a great fancy to the old man; and his feeling was reciprocated. But Stepan Mihailovitch disliked Kalpinsky, both as an upstart and also as an unbeliever and loose-liver.

The splendour of the banquet may be imagined. Stepan Mihailovitch for once resigned all his favourite dishes—haggis, roast ribs of pork, and porridge made of green rye. A chef had been procured, of special skill in the culinary art. Materials of all sorts were provided in abundance—a six-weeks-old calf, a pig fed to monstrous proportions, fat sheep, and poultry of all kinds. It was the custom then to place all the courses at once on the cloth; and the table at Bagrovo could hardly hold them all or support their weight. Cold dishes came first—smoked hams seasoned with garlic; next came green cabbage soup and crayfish soup, with forcemeat balls and rolls of different kinds; then fish-salad on ice, sturgeon kippered and sturgeon dried, and a dish heaped mountain-high with crayfish tails. Of entrées there were only two: salted quails aux choux, and stuffed ducks with a red sauce containing raisins, plums, peaches, and apricots. These entrées were a concession to modern fashion; Stepan Mihailovitch did not like them and called them "kickshaws." They were followed by a turkey of enormous size and fatness, and a hindquarter of veal; the accessories were preserved melons and gourds, apple chips, and pickled mushrooms. The dinner ended up with round jam-tarts and raised apple pies served with thick cream. All this was washed down with home-made liquors, home-brewed March beer, iced kvass, and foaming mead.

Such were the meals which our heroic grandfathers and grandmothers consumed without leaving out a single course, and even managed to digest satisfactorily! But they took their time over it, and the meal went on for hours. The dishes were solid, substantial affairs, as we have seen, and there were plenty of them; and the servants also, both those of the house and those whom the guests brought with them, had no idea of waiting: they bustled about and collided with one another and seemed likely at every moment to spill the sauce or the gravy over some lady's dress.

The dinner was a cheerful meal. The master of the house had Mme. Myortvavo on his right, and on his left Chichagoff, who steadily rose in his host's good graces and was quite capable, unaided, of enlivening the dullest of parties. The young couple were near the head of the table, with Mme. Chichagoff and Kalpinsky; the latter, while paying constant attentions to the two young women and exchanging an occasional jest with Alexyéi Stepanitch, ate for two all the time, to make up for the voluntary abstinence which he practised at home, in his eagerness to save money. Yerlykin sat next to Chichagoff; unlike the rest of the party, he ate little and drank nothing but cold water; he never spoke, but looked gloomy and profound. The lady of the house had her daughters and nieces with other guests near her at table. The party next adjourned to the drawing-room, where there were two tables set out with sweetmeats. On one stood a round cabinet of Chinese porcelain resting on a round metal stand which was gilt and painted in bright colours. The cabinet contained a number of closely-fitting trays, each of which held a different sort of preserved fruit—raspberries, strawberries, cherries, gooseberries, and blackberries; and there were crystallised rose-petals in a small round receptacle at the top. This cabinet, which would be considered very rare and precious nowadays, was a present sent by the bride's father to Stepan Mihailovitch. Small plates were set out on the other table, filled with black and white currants, apricots, peaches, dates, raisins, nuts of many kinds, and almonds in the shell.