From the elements with which the reader has become acquainted during this chronicle, by the beginning of winter, the so-called Poshekhonye freedom had shaped up. I will not describe it here in all its details, firstly, for fear of repetition, and secondly, because I am quite tired and wish to reach the desired end as soon as possible. In any case, I warn the reader that this chapter will be almost exclusively of a list-like nature.
We children had been thinking about the winter fun that awaited us since the end of September. In these expectations, the prospect of freedom from studies of course came first, followed by noisy meetings with our peers, tasty food, running around, dancing, and all that general festive bustle that so tempts a child’s imagination.
My brother Stepan was especially excited about the upcoming festivities, and despite the autumn weather, without a hat, in just a jacket, he would run from the house in the direction of the cellars and storerooms where he would carefully monitor the process of stocking up, as the main sign of the coming revelry.
— Chopped cabbage is being stuffed away for the future! — he would announce to us, — in small tubs for the gentry, in vats for the people.
Or:
— Yesterday, a whole bull carcass was brought from Vasyutino, and today they are cutting it into pieces for corned beef! The fatter pieces are for us, and the veins and bones are for the people. Mother herself is sitting in the cellar in her padded jacket.
And finally:
– Well, brothers, it seems the business will soon turn out favorably! I myself just heard Mother giving orders about the poultry, which to leave for the flock, which to slaughter. And if they order the poultry to be slaughtered, then the end crowns the work. There will be enough chicken for the whole summer — we won't starve to death.
Sometimes snow fell right after Pokrov1 [October 1] and severe frosts began. And although in most cases these signs of winter turned out to be unstable, at their onset our hearts beat with increased excitement. We watched with curiosity from the windows as the women of the household, under the supervision of the housekeeper, dipped the plucked birds into the water in the pond and froze them, anticipating the pleasure they would bring us when boiled and roasted on festive days.
— The goose! The goose! — Stepan would exclaim in excitement from time to time, — Such a goose! Ah, the old one’s a good one!
The sleigh route was most often established around November 15th, and with it the season of amusements began. On the eve of the Entry of the Theotokos,2 almost all of our district (very often more than fifty people) was gathered at the all-night vigil in the church of the village of Lykovo, where the next day there was to be a patron’s feast. The church warden was the owner of the village, a colonel from Suvorov's day, Foma Alekseich Guslitsyn. Naturally, his house served as a refuge for the mass of neighbors who came, most of whom stayed to visit for two or three days.
I will dwell on this first seasonal holiday in more detail, as it serves as a prototype, so to speak, for all the others.
Early morning, it’s no later than seven o'clock. The windows have not yet begun to turn white, and there were no candles; only the oil lamp, lit in the corner before the icon in the evening, diffuses a fading light in the overly heated nursery. Two servant girls, sleeping in the nursery, quietly get up from their felt mats spread out on the floor, trying as much as possible not to wake the children with a careless movement. Five minutes later, they throw on their coarse frocks3 and go downstairs to finish dressing.
But the children are no longer sleeping. Anticipation of the upcoming departure excites them already early in the morning, although the departure is scheduled for after an early dinner, around three o'clock, and before then they still have to spend several boring hours with a book in the classroom. But it already seems to them that horses are being harnessed in the stable, they imagine the ringing of the sleighbells and even the voice of the coachman Alempia.
After the girls leave, they jump out of bed in delight and begin to circle around the room, waving their shirts. The sound of footsteps, singing, and shouts of “hurray” fill the nursery.
— Listen, a bell rang! — Grisha reports, listening attentively.
— They're harnessing — that's for sure! — Stepan confirms, — I heard Mother ordering Alempia the other day: “On Friday, she says, in the evening we'll be at the patron’s feast in Lykovo, and on the way we'll stop for lunch at the Borovkovs.”
— We're going! We're going!
But our excitement is short-lived. A quarter of an hour later, footsteps are heard in the corridor and we quickly hide under the blankets. Mother's maid Arisha enters and announces:
— Mother told me to say that they’re coming with the cane now.
Of course, this is just a threat, but it destroys any grounds for further self-deception. As in previous years, we will be seated with a book in the morning and forced to languish until dinner.
The morning passes drearily. Fortunately, Maria Andreevna is lenient this time and constantly leaves the classroom to see if her cloth dress, which she only has one of and keeps for special occasions, has been crumpled in packing. We answer her questions mechanically, looking out the window and listening to the noise of the preparations.
Our impatience grows with every minute, as everything promises that the trip will be a good one. Father announced over tea that it was only three degrees of frost outside, and since the sleigh track had just been made, the horses will probably run briskly and take us to Lykovo in no time. Not a single rut, the road is like a floor, the ringing of bells and the racket of sleighbells resound loudly in the quiet air . . . For such unfortunate prisoners as we were, a trip under such conditions in itself represented a whole range of pleasures. Oh, if only it were sooner! If only we could get out of this hateful Malinovets sooner!
Finally, the hour strikes, dinner is served. Everyone eats hastily, as if afraid of being late; only my father, as if on purpose, dawdles. He's always like that. Any minute now and we won't make it to the all-night vigil by the third bell. Yet he pokes every piece with a fork, peppers every sip with conversation.
— And after dinner he'll start getting dressed and washing up! — my brother Stepan grumbles through his teeth.
And indeed, by three o'clock the whole family, wrapped up for the road, is already gathered in the footman's room, and from father's bedroom the sounds of the washstand being put into motion are still heard.
— Soon? — Mother cries impatiently.
But now they have wrapped up my father too. Dusk has already fallen outside, but we have both people and horses who are used to it, and they will find their way in the dark. The fresh, invigorating air excites our blood, which is unaccustomed to it. But this sensation will soon subside, because in a minute we will be squeezed into a covered sledge and thus tucked up delivered to our destination.
— I hope the wind doesn't pick up! — Mother expresses concern.
— I don't know what to say, — Alempia replies, — it's swirling along the road, and drizzle is coming from above. Not for the first time; God is merciful!
— Of course! Father messed around at his washstand for a whole hour! The weather could turn bad at any moment! — complains brother Stepan.
— Hush . . . you little rascal!
It’s no more than twelve versts to Lykovo; but since the horses are being spared, this short trip takes at least two hours. Nevertheless, we arrive at the place at least an hour before the all-night vigil and stop in a peasant's hut, where the process of changing clothes takes place. We will go to the Guslitsyns after the service and stay there for two days.
The Guslitsyns, an elderly childless couple, are among the wealthiest landowners in our district. Both Foma Alekseich and his wife Alexandra Ivanovna are very devout parishioners, and therefore the church is lit up as if for a festival. Almost all the guests are already present: the Pustotelovs, the Borovkovs, the Korochkins, the Cheprakovs, Major Klobutitsyn and four officers with him. The gentry stand in front, dressed in their Sunday best; the back of the church teems with common folk. The service is ceremonial, in the so-called “real” church (on holidays), which, due to winter, will close in a week until Easter.
At the end of the all-night vigil, everyone approaches the hosts with congratulations, and the children take turns kissing the old colonel's hand. His elderly wife is very welcoming and has a kind word for everyone. She asks each of us: “Are you studying well, my dear? Are you listening to your father and mother?” — and, having received an affirmative answer, she will pat us on the cheek and sign us with the cross.
In the spacious house of the Guslitsyns, everything is already ready for the reception of dear guests. The walls (old-fashioned, unplastered) and floors are thoroughly washed; the rooms are lightly fragrant with incense; oil lamps flicker in the corners in front of the icons. The table is set for supper in the large hall, and tea is served for those who wish. But the end of the festive gathering passes quietly, almost in silence. Firstly, the guests are tired from the road, and secondly, it has long been established that big holy days are met with reverent emotion, avoiding conversations. At ten o'clock everyone retires. Only the most honored guests are given separate rooms. The rest lie down as best they can, on sofas and in a heap on the floor.
The next day, a real pandemonium begins in the morning. Visiting servants run from room to room with washstands, looking for their masters. Shouts are heard from all corners:
— Parasha! Can we wash soon?
— Fesha! Where is my corset? –
— Malanya, did you forget the washcloth again?
And in the hall, where the teenagers were placed for the night, they jumped up from the feather beds spread out on the floor and, in only their shirts, with shouts and laughter, run from end to end over the uneven surface formed by pillows and feather beds, stumbling and falling at every step. At the same time, there is a verbal skirmish, so unchaste that the girls standing at the washstands constantly shout:
— Look what they're saying . . . shameless!
Incidentally, I will say here: in general, in my time, children were very unrestrained in their language, and the lexicon of obscene words of the very worst sort was quite widespread among us. Fortunately, the swearing came out of our mouths more mechanically, by imitation, as a kind of boasting, rather than consciously, so that its real meaning remained a mystery. At least, I remember that when I was ten years old and entered the Moscow Nobles Institute, where every obscene word was already pronounced with due relish, I understood absolutely nothing, although the words themselves had been known to me for a long time.
Upon returning from church, a continuous meal begins, since this, strictly speaking, was our backwoods revelry. Tea is followed by snacks, which are not removed from the table until dinner. After dinner, dessert is served separately, then afternoon tea, and so on until night. In particular, the ladies, as they sit down in the living room around the table with snacks, do not tear themselves away from it. Occasionally, the meal is interrupted by one of the young ladies or officers sitting down at the old clavichord and singing a romance. The favorite romances at that time were: “I say goodbye to you, my angel,” “Don't sew me, mother”, “Why has the dawn become cloudy, clear dawn,” “Talisman,” “Black Shawl,” etc. I don't remember, however, that there were good voices, but the worst thing was that the singers sang in an extremely affected manner. They swallowed and distorted words, lisped, rolled their eyes and generally tried to make it clear that, if anything, there was no reason to fear a lack of passion. Hearing the singing, the mothers crawl out of the living room into the hall and arrange a real exhibition of talents, and solid men, who are not fond of entertainment, gather in the billiard room, where snacks and vodka are also laid out. Every young lady has some kind of dance in which she is especially distinguished. Verochka Cheprakova dances to “Along the Paved Street”. She puts one hand on her hip, raises the other up and curves it; then she floats around the hall and wiggles her shoulders, beckoning Ensign Sineusov, who stomps his boots with all his might, trying to portray a dashing Russian guy. Fenichka Borovkova dances beautifully in the Gypsy style. She throws her head back, runs from one end of the hall to the other, then back, then starts spinning. Ensign Zavulonov repeats the same thing after her, and can't catch Fenichka in any way . . . Of course, while the daughters are showing off, the mothers clap their hands and congratulate each other.
Thus, the morning passes rather monotonously. The guests, obviously, have not yet entered the festive spirit. The young ladies, having shown their talents, begin to walk back and forth in pairs through the adjoining rooms, whispering with the officers; the mothers, having boasted of their daughters, sit down again closer to the snacks; even among the children there is no new liveliness. Although the old colonel has already suggested several times they run and play, they have not yet managed to renew their acquaintance, interrupted by the long seclusion in which the agricultural work kept them all summer. They wander quietly and obediently after the young ladies and tell each other tall tales. Vanya Borovkov reports that their coachman Parmen recently cut a hare in half with his whip at full gallop; Sashenka Pustotelova — that their cow Belogrudka had been missing for three whole years, and suddenly last summer they went into the forest, and found her in the thickest part of the forest with three calves.
— So she calved without a bull? — Sonichka Korochkina is surprised.
— No, later they found out that a bull was visiting her. They noticed that he often disappeared from the herd, and began to follow him . . .
— Ah, that's nothing! — Petya Korochkin interrupts, — but our coachman is such a good fellow! Last year in winter he fell with the whole troika and sleigh into a hole in the ice. He sees — disaster is unavoidable. He took and released the horses under the ice . . . and suddenly he jumps out of another hole!
Finally, brother Stepan tells that a frog has appeared in the Malinovets garden that, as soon as it jumps, a three-rouble coin flies out of it.
— And how many of these three-ruble coins have you collected? — they envy him.
— That's the thing, brothers, this thing is not that simple. I tried to steal at least one coin, but as soon as I lean over, it evaporates in front of my eyes!
In general, boasting, like swearing, is very common among children. Apparently, they inherited this quality from their fathers and significantly increased this heritage with borrowings from the servants.
We, the Zatrapezny children, are disliked by our peers. Mother's rapid enrichment aroused envy in the neighbors. The older ones, of course, are wary of expressing this feeling, but the children do not stand on ceremony. They pester us with the most sarcastic questions, the subjects of which are mother's hoarding and the humiliating role that father plays in the house. Sashenka Pustotelova, a quick-witted girl whom everyone fears for her evil tongue, is especially unpleasant in this regard.
— Is it true that you recently had a rebellion because your mother ordered a sick cow to be slaughtered and served to people at the table? — she pesters us.
Or:
— Is it true that your father cuts the wax seals off of old letters, and writes letters to his older children on the inside of the envelopes?
Often these harassments last all morning. Therefore, it is clear that at first we walk somewhat confused and can hardly wait for dinner, after which games are usually started and our peers will be forced to forget about Malinovets and its regimes.
Dinner is served in a festive way, at three o'clock, by candlelight, and lasts at least an hour and a half. A whole mass of servants, both their own and others', serve at table. Three cooks prepare, one of whom specializes in old Russian dishes, while the other two were trained in Moscow at the restaurant Yar4 and were sent out to the village in winter for several weeks. In addition, there is a special confectioner for cakes who studied with Pedotti5 and knows how to make candies. In general culinary terms, the Guslitsyns are not inferior even to the Strunnikovs.
Varied and delicious food at first pushes all other interests into the background. Among the general silence, one can hear the guests chewing and blowing. Only halfway through the meal does the usual conversation gradually unfold, the theme for which is the clear results of the summer harvest. It turns out that the summer was good, and therefore all faces shine with pleasure, and the conversationalists are not even averse to boasting.
— The harvest was good and the preparations were successful, only there were no mushrooms: Lent will come, there will be nothing to throw in the cabbage soup! And note that we have been sitting without mushrooms for the third year, and there has been no saffron milk-cap6 for a long time. — What could be the reason?
— The reason is that there haven’t been any real mushroom rains! — an experienced housewife says.
— No, it seems that there were quite a few rains last summer, — another experienced hostess objects, — so, it must just not be the year for it . . .
— There were rains, but not mushroom rains, — the first insists, — sometimes it rains all summer and there's not even a whiff of mushrooms. And why? — because the rains are not the same! And suddenly, at the very end, a mushroom rain will break out — and it will pour, and pour! And saffron milk-caps, and pepper mushrooms,7 and porcini mushrooms8 . . . masses of them!9
— Wondrous are your deeds, Lord! You have created all things in wisdom!10 — a voice responds from the male end of the table.
Finally, the long-awaited cake is served to the children. There are two kinds. First, they bring out decorative wreaths made of sliced almonds; then, raspberry-colored jelly with a wax candle stuck inside. The effect produced by this unusual lighting delights everyone.
— Look what they've come to! — admires Nadezhda Ignatievna Korochkina, — Not only for the taste, but also for the eyes, so that it's pleasing to look at! Soon they'll be spraying it with eau de cologne11 so that it smells good too!
— Our Sidorka-confectioner brought this novelty from Moscow, — the hostess reports. — He says that nowadays the commander-in-chief always has the same jelly served at formal dinners.
— That's not all! They invented cutlets en papillote!12 — the colonel adds, — they take a cutlet, wrap it in paper, and fry it together with the sauce. I confess, our cook Senka offered to do it, but I just waved him off. I think: why introduce new fashions in our old age! But, if you like, I'll order it prepared tomorrow.
— Go ahead, sir, order it! Let our dear guests try it! — decides the old colonel’s wife.
But now the guests noisily push back their chairs and head for the living room, where dessert is already ready: preserved apples, dates, raisins, figs, a variety of jams, and so on. But the distinguished guests and the hosts themselves do not touch the sweets and hide in the mezzanine to rest for a couple of hours away from the noise. Downstairs, in the formal rooms, only young people, governesses and children remain. The children's pandemonium begins.
The children's games of that time were very monotonous and completely alien to the idea of combining fun with something useful. I only remember the following: horse races, forfeits,13 blind man's buff,14 and sit-and-wait.15
The first was the most popular because only children participated, completely eliminating any embarrassment. Troikas16 were selected, with boys playing the roles of shaft horses and coachmen, and girls playing the roles of the outriders. The shaft horses neighed and — and goofed off, not moving immediately, changing their gait, running and galloping, trotting, and pacing; the side horses responded to the neighing of the lead horses with thin voices and galloped, curling into a circle; the drivers waved rope whips. An unimaginable din rose. The troikas galloped through the corridors and rooms; climbed the stairs, which represented mountains, and finally, having galloped and run enough, they stopped to feed, with the “horses” placed in the corners and the coachmen going for “oats” and, having gathered sweets, gave them to the horses.
The adults took part in forfeits. Usually one of the governesses sat in the corner of the hall and shouted: “A crow is flying! A sparrow is flying!” — and suddenly, quite unexpectedly: “Anna Ivanovna is flying!” If the word “flying” was used in relation to an object really flying, then the players had to raise their hand; if it was used inappropriately, then the hand was not raised. Those who violated this rule paid a “forfeit,” which consisted of singing some romance, reading poetry, and sometimes even kissing all the players in turn.
In blind man's buff and in “sit-and-wait” one of the players, chosen by lot, was blindfolded. In the first game, the participants ran around the room, and the blindfolded player had to “catch” someone and guess who had been caught. In the second, the participants sat in chairs, and the blindfolded player sat in every lap in turn and had to guess whose lap she was sitting on. This last game was especially loved by the young ladies (and sometimes by young married women), who lingered for a long time on the laps of gentlemen. With this, one of the children often cynically exclaimed:
— What! rubbing like a burbot17 against a dam, you are! You probably know perfectly well whose lap you're sitting on!
By seven o'clock, when the young people had already run and played enough, the distinguished guests come down from the mezzanine. Lackeys appear with trays set with cups of tea; following them come others carrying whole piles of various cookies: dessert in the living room is refurbished. In short, a new meal begins, which does not stop until deep into the night. After tea, the hostess invites the young people to dance. One of the governesses is seated at the old clavichord, and pairs of dancers spread out noisily about the large hall.
Of the small dances at that time, we knew only the waltz, which was danced solemnly to the tune of “O, mein lieber Augustin.”18 The basic dances were the French quadrille and the mazurka, which still exist today. In addition, they danced the “ecossaise”19 and the “Russian quadrille”20 (the latter I remember only by name, however), which have now been completely abandoned. The distinguished guests took part in the mazurka, too, and Grigory Alexandrych Perkhunov was especially acclaimed for his. He dressed in a Polish costume, tapped his heels dashingly on the floor, and at the end of the figure knelt down, offering his hand to his lady, who twirled around him, performing a pas.21 The lady, for her part, threw him a handkerchief, which he caught on the fly, and, quickly rising from his knees, made a new circle around the hall, waving his left hand, in which he held his trophy.
— Precisely a Pole! — the audience exclaimed.
— Bravo! Bravo, Pan Perkhunovsky! — the whole hall buzzed in delight, clapping their hands and giving the gentleman’s name a Polish twist.
Around midnight the fun stopped, and the day ended with supper.
The next day was a repetition of the previous one, but was kept somewhat simpler. First, it was not as crowded, because some of the guests had already left, and second, the remaining guests felt tired after the previous night's revelry. But the eating seemed yet more intense. In the evening, the dances were resumed, although not for long, and by ten o'clock the guests were already dispersing for the night, taking care to say goodbye to their hospitable hosts, as they were to leave Lykovo at nine o'clock the next morning and the elderly couple were often still slumbering peacefully in bed at that hour.
On the way to Malinovets, we usually stopped at the Borovkovs, where we spent whole days, from the Borovkovs to the Korochkins, and so on, so that we often returned home a week later. Then, having rested for a few days, we drove around the other side of the district, visited the Pustotelovs and made our way to Slovushchensky, where, starting with the leader Strunnikov, we did not miss anyone, not even the smaller landowners.
Everywhere we ate and drank, but we had the most fun in Slovushchensky, where, with the exception of the Strunnikovs, the landowners were poorer, and we stood less on ceremony with them. At the Slepushkins, for example, although we did not dance, due to the cramped space, they gathered servant girls from all the estates, who sang divination songs22 (I remember that I liked this entertainment even more than the dancing). For the night, everyone was accomodated in different estates and thus spent several days in a row moving from house to house.
We gathered two or three times in the winter in Malinovets, too, and I must tell the truth that in these cases my mother revised her economic considerations and arranged glorious holidays. It could not be otherwise. The house was huge, there was plenty of room for everyone, and plenty of provisions, too. Moreover, they themselves had traveled and had fun everywhere — it would have been a shame not to repay the neighbors in the same manner.
Five days before Christmas, the revelry was temporarily halted, and the landowners dispersed to their estates to greet the holiday quietly, within their families.
— En classe! en classe! — the governesses proclaimed, much to the great sorrow of the children, who were not even allowed to recover after a long series of holidays.
A few days before the holiday, the entire Malinovets house was in turmoil. They washed the floors, swept the walls, cleaned the brass fittings on the doors and windows, changed the curtains, and so on. Streams of dirt flowed through the rooms and corridors; whole heaps of cobwebs and greasy scrapings were carried out onto the girls' porch. The smell of sour slops hung in the air. In short, all the dirt that had been swept under the rug for nine months (since the last Easter, when the same cleaning took place) came to the surface.
In culinary terms, the preparations were not so complicated. Hogs was fattened up for boiled pork and ham, and they went to the city for fresh beef for my father. That's all.
Neither Christmas trees, nor holiday gifts, nothing that would be intended specifically for children, was allowed. Children in our family were out of luck.
By Christmas Eve, everything was ready, and this day was spent in absolute idleness and silence. Even the servant girls were freed from their scheduled work and crowded idly in the girls' room, sighing intently, as if expecting that at any moment the veil hiding some great secret would be lifted. No one, including the children, ate until nightfall. Dinner was served no earlier than five o'clock, but my father usually did not come out for dinner, limiting himself to two cups of tea, which he drank after the all-night vigil before going to bed. Dinner was strictly vegetarian and consisted mainly of sweet dishes. Instead of soup, “vzvarets”23 from dried pears, prunes and raisins was served; then puddings followed, doused with fruit drink, and finally oatmeal jelly24 with honey or honey syrup.
Around seven o'clock, an all-night vigil was celebrated in the house. The icon corner, neighboring rooms and corridors were filled with worshipers. Not only the household serfs were present, but also the most honored peasants from the village came. The all-night vigil was served solemnly with anointing, and it was followed by a long prayer service with the blessing of water and the reading of three or four akathists.25 The service ended late, no earlier than half past nine, after which they quickly drank tea and hurried to bed.
Christmas morning began early. At six o'clock, long before dawn, the whole house was in motion; everyone wanted to “pray off “ as soon as possible in order to break the fast. The liturgy began exactly at seven o'clock and was celebrated in a hurry, because the priest, regardless of the landowners’ congratulations, had to go around the whole village “with the icon” before lunch. The church, of course, was crowded with worshipers.
Upon returning from the liturgy, the children kissed their parents' hands, and sometimes recited congratulatory poems. On this day, the whole family gathered together for tea, including even the auntie-sisters. They tried to spend the time without quarreling and avoided any reasons for conflict. Mother spoke kindly to her sisters-in-law; the latter looked at her with tenderness. Father, who very rarely paid attention to the children, altered his custom and joked with us. But at the same time, it was obvious that everyone was in a hurry to finish tea as soon as possible, so as not to inadvertently drop a word that would magically turn the festive idyll into an ordinary everyday squabble.
Christmas was celebrated for three days; during this time, the servants were divided into three shifts, each of which was allowed to go out into the village for a day. But we children, to tell the truth, spent these days very unhappily. We wandered idly about the living rooms, conducting incoherent and sluggish conversations among ourselves, afraid of dirtying or tearing the nice clothes we had been given to wear for the holiday, and avoiding noisy games so as not to disturb the solumn mood. Everything in the house looked sleepy, starting with my mother, who, by not accepting any reports, out of sheer boredom did not know what to do with herself and lay down to nap five times a day, and ending with the servant girls, sitting idly in the girls' room, who dozed from morning till night. Such was the general mood, to which we, too, had to conform.
The whole district celebrated New Year's Eve at the home of the leader Strunnikov who gave a ball on this occasion. On December 31, a string of carriages converged on Slovushchensky from all directions, with the larger landowners staying at the leader's house and the poor staying in the village with acquaintances among the smaller landowners. However, I have already spoken about the leader's ball elsewhere and do not consider it necessary to elaborate further on this subject.
Throughout the entire Christmas season, gatherings and feasts went on without interruption, sometimes large and ceremonial; but mostly informal, in the circle of close acquaintances. Among these gatherings, the ball given in town by the regiment stationed in our district was particularly noteworthy. This ball and the New Year's leader's ball were considered the culminating points of the provincial revelry.
In short, for three whole months in a row, the backwoods ate, drank and buzzed like bees in a hive. At the same time, young people got together. Preliminary courtships took place, weddings were planned, some of which were celebrated during the Christmas season, while others were postponed until Red Hill.26
Shrove Tuesday was celebrated at home. Everyone was so excited that it seemed risky to go straight to the silence and concentration of Lent. Therefore, Shrove Tuesday was used as a convenient transitional time to rest from the three-month turmoil and, by expelling meat from the culinary routine, prepare the stomach for the reception of mushroom food.
Pancakes, pancakes and pancakes! Buckwheat pancakes, wheat pancakes (red),27 pancakes with eggs, with smelt, with onions . . .
In the first week of Lent, my father fasted together with his auntie-sisters. On Clean Monday,28 the ringing of a small church bell reached the estate, calling to prayer29 and announcing the end of the Poshekhonye festivities . . .
P. S. From the author. This is the end of the first part of Nikanor Zatrapezny's memoirs, covering his childhood. I cannot promise whether a continuation of the chronicle will appear, but if it does appear, it will certainly be on a smaller scale, most likely in the form of excerpts. I feel that the last chapters have already been written weakly and carelessly, but I ask readers to be lenient about this. The mass of images and facts that had to be evoked had such an overwhelming effect that an involuntary fatigue developed. Therefore, I finish, perhaps, earlier than I expected, but, in any case, with complete and unfeigned pleasure I write here:
The End
Покро́в Пресвято́й Богоро́дицы The Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos is a non-movable great Orthodox feast, celebrated on October 1 according to the Julian calendar, predominantly in Russian Orthodoxy, known since the end of the 12th century, the question of its origin is still unresolved. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Покров_Пресвятой_Богородицы
Введение — Introduction — either winter isn't coming, or it's getting sleighs ready for the winter market. From Vvedenye Day, winter festivities and winter markets began. A holiday for young families. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Русский_месяцеслов
Cheap, coarse linen or hemp fabric with stripes, mostly blue. The fabric is named after the merchant Zatrapeznov, at whose manufactory in Yaroslavl it was produced. 2. A dress made of this fabric. (Terminological Dictionary of Clothing. Orlenko L.V., 1996)
On the eve of 1826, Frenchman Tranquille Yard (fr. Tranquille Yard), after whom the establishment was named, opened a restaurant in the Shavan House on Kuznetsky Bridge. The newspaper Moskovskie Vedomosti reported that a “restaurant with lunch and dinner service, all kinds of wines and liqueurs, desserts, coffee, and tea, at very reasonable prices” had opened. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Яр_(ресторан)
In the mid-19th century Ludwig Pedotti was a successful entrepreneur. His confectionery shop on Tverskaya Street was considered the best in the city. At that time, he was the only one in Moscow who sold foreign newspapers and magazines, and his royal gingerbread and chocolate candies were of the highest quality. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Эльдорадо_(сад)
Lactarius deliciosus https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lactarius_deliciosus
Lactifluus piperatus https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lactifluus_piperatus
Boletus edulis https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boletus_edulis
"Обору нет (не было)" about a large quantity of something.
Как многочисленны дела Твои, Господи! Всё соделал Ты премудро; земля полна произведений Твоих. How great are thy works, O Lord? thou hast made all things in wisdom: the earth is filled with thy riches. Psalm 103:24
The original Eau de Cologne is a spirit-citrus perfume launched in Cologne in 1709 by Giovanni Maria Farina (1685–1766), an Italian perfume maker from Santa Maria Maggiore, Valle Vigezzo. In 1708, Farina wrote to his brother Jean Baptiste: "I have found a fragrance that reminds me of an Italian spring morning, of mountain daffodils and orange blossoms after the rain". He named his fragrance Eau de Cologne, in honour of his new hometown. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eau_de_Cologne
En papillote, French for "enveloped in paper" is a method of cooking in which the food is put into a folded pouch or parcel and then baked. It is a combination cooking method of baking and steaming. This method of cooking has been popular since the 17th century in France. The parcel is typically made from folded parchment paper. The parcel holds in moisture to steam the food. The pocket is created by overlapping circles of paper or foil and folding them tightly around the food to create a seal. The moisture may be from the food itself or from an added moisture source, such as water, wine, or stock. The choice of herbs, seasonings and spices depends on the particular recipe being prepared. The parcel can be opened at the table to allow people to smell the aroma when it opens. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/En_papillote
“Игра в фанты” The game of forfeits (or “hat game”) is a fun game for friends or family, during which players must perform tasks ranging from silly and funny to intellectual and creative. This game creates a relaxed atmosphere in the company, making it easy to get to know each other or get to know your friends even better. https://www.sravni.ru/text/igra-fanty-zadaniya/
Blind man's buff is played in a spacious area, such as outdoors or in a large room, in which one player, designated as "It", is blindfolded and feels around attempting to touch the other players without being able to see them, while the other players scatter and try to avoid the person who is "it", hiding in plain sight and sometimes teasing them to influence them to change direction.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blind_man%27s_buff
«Сижу-посижу» Sit and wait. The players sit in a circle. A girl with her eyes blindfolded walks around the circle and says: “Brothers, sisters! Take me in. Brothers, sisters! Take me.” The players respond, “Come to us.” The girl approaches and sits on someone's lap, saying, “I'm sitting.” The person she sits on must remain silent. Others ask, “Who is it?” If the girl guesses correctly, she passes her duty on to that person.
The troika differs from most other three-horse combinations in that the horses are harnessed abreast. The middle horse is usually harnessed in a horse collar and shaft bow; the side horses are usually in breastcollar harness. The troika is traditionally driven so that the middle horse trots and the side horses canter; the right-hand horse will be on the right lead and the left-hand horse on the left lead. The troika is often claimed to be the world's only harness combination with different gaits of the horses. At full speed a troika can reach 45–50 kilometres per hour (28–31 mph), which was a very high land speed for vehicles in the 17th–19th centuries, making the troika closely associated with a fast ride.
Burbot (Lota lota) is a coldwater fish with a single chin whisker, native to the subarctic regions of the Northern hemisphere. It has a serpent-like body, many small teeth, and lives in rivers, lakes, and reservoirs, sometimes under ice.
"O du lieber Augustin" ("Oh, you dear Augustin") is a popular Viennese song, first published about 1800. It is said to refer to the balladeer Marx Augustin and his brush with death in 1679. Augustin himself is sometimes named as the author, but the origin is unclear. According to legend, once he was drunk and on his way home he fell in the gutter and went to sleep. He was mistaken for a dead man by the gravediggers patrolling the city for dead bodies. They picked him up and threw him, along with his bagpipes which they presumed were infected, into a pit filled with bodies of plague victims outside the city walls. Next day when Augustin woke up, he was unable to get out of the deep mass grave. He was shocked and after a while he started to play his bagpipes, because he wanted to die the same way he lived. Finally people heard him and he was rescued. Luckily he remained healthy despite having slept with the infected dead bodies and Augustin became a symbol of hope for Viennese people. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O_du_lieber_Augustin
Écossaise is a musical form and a type of contradanse in a Scottish style – a Scottish country dance at least in name – that was popular in France and Great Britain at the end of the 18th century and at the beginning of the 19th. Despite the Écossaise mimicking a Scottish country dance, it is actually French in origin. The écossaise was usually danced in 2/4 time in two lines, with men facing the women.
Russian Mazurka Quadrille: Festival of Historical Dance in Moscow 2012 Grand Ball https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcLilam8RPY
Perhaps one of these? Pas de bourrée:A small, hopping step; Pas couru:A running step; Pas jeté:A thrown jump in which one leg is extended forward in the air; Pas chassé: A chasing step in which the feet chase each other; Pas glissé: A gliding step in which one foot slides along the floor to the other; Pas balancé: A swaying step; Pas de chat: A jump resembling a cat pouncing.
Подблю́дные пе́сни — Russian ritual songs performed during Christmas fortune-telling by drawing lots, which in allegorical form predict the future of each participant. They are most widespread in the Russian North … and among the Russian population of Western Siberia… https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Подблюдные_песни The name of the songs is associated with the peculiarities of the divination ritual. … [G]irls and women would gather for joint divination; Each woman threw an object into a deep dish (marked lots: a ring, earring, pin, brooch, button, coin, etc.). The oldest woman (a widow) covered the dish with a scarf, shook it, and then took out the objects at random while singing special songs, the coded meaning of which served as a prediction of the fate of the owner of the particular object.
A decoction made from dried herbs, berries, etc.
Oatmeal kissel is an old Russian dish. It was prepared from oats by souring, hence the name kissel (sour). It is a hearty, healthy, and lean dish. In its time, it was very loved by the people, for whom they even prepared special painted ceramic dishes…. During Lent, kissel sellers … walked around Moscow and other major cities. https://www.edimdoma.ru/retsepty/96220-ovsyanyy-kisel
Akathist (Greek ὁ ἀκάθιστος ὕμνος, also nesedalen, non-seated song, i.e., “a song sung while standing, without sitting down”) is a genre of Orthodox church hymnography consisting of songs of praise and thanksgiving dedicated to God, the Mother of God, an angel, or (most often) a particular saint (saints). Unlike the ancient condaks, it contains chairetisms (a series of praises beginning with the word Rejoice).
Кра́сная го́рка is a folk name for the first Sunday after Easter. In church tradition, the holiday is called Antipascha or Thomas Sunday and is dedicated to the memory of Christ's appearance to the Apostle Thomas on the eighth day after the resurrection. Among the Eastern Slavs, it was a holiday of the beginning of spring — with bonfires, round dances, bride fairs, and the calling of spring. It was considered primarily a girls' holiday. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Красная_горка_(праздник)
Red pancakes are prepared almost the same way as regular pancakes. The only difference is that beet puree is added to the batter, which gives the pancakes their characteristic color. https://povar.ru/recipes/krasnye_bliny-63087.html
Clean Monday is, in the Orthodox tradition, the first day of Theodore Week and Great Lent. https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Чистый_понедельник
“[П]ризывавший к часам” Часы: A type of service in the Orthodox Church during which psalms and prayers are read, as well as the psalms and prayers themselves.