Our Little Russian Cousin

A large country, called Russia, lies in the eastern part of Europe. It stretches from the icy shores of the Arctic Ocean, on the north, to the warm waters of the Black Sea, on the south.

Many of the children of this great country have fair skins and blue eyes. They belong to the same race as their English and American cousins, although they speak a different language.

Some of them live in palaces, and have everything that heart could desire; but a vast number of them are very poor, and their parents are obliged to work hard to keep the grim wolf, hunger, away from the door.

Russia, as a nation, is very young, as compared with many others. She is still in her childhood. Perhaps it is because of this that her people do not enjoy as much freedom as ourselves.

A few years ago the Emperor of Russia spoke some words to which the people of the western world listened with surprise and delight. He said, "I wish there were peace between all countries, and that we could settle our differences with each other without fighting." These wise words did a great deal of good. The emperor, without doubt, meant what he said. He did wish heartily that wars should be at an end. He has not felt able, however, to carry out his ideas of peace, for at this very moment he is at war with the people of Japan.

Let us hope that this war will soon be over, and that the nation to which our Russian Cousin belongs will become as truly free and wise as she is now large and powerful.

Malden, Mass., May 1904.

Our Little Russian Cousin

Petrovna is a dainty little floweret of the cold lands far away. She is your little Russian cousin. Her home is in the largest country of this great round ball, the Earth. How fair are her cheeks, how blue her eyes, and what long, beautiful, yellow hair she has! Her hands are so white and soft and plump, I know you would like to squeeze them.

She is very gentle and ladylike. Her mamma has taught her that is the right way to behave. Yet she is full of fun, and laughs at every joke that her brother Ivan makes. They have great sport together, these two children. Petrovna is ten, and Ivan eight years old.

Sometimes they play they are grown up, just as you do. Then Petrovna puts on her mother's gown with a long train, and Ivan dresses himself up like a soldier. Petrovna "makes believe" that she is a princess at the court of the Emperor. She powders her hair, and puffs it on the top of her head, and places feathers in it. Ivan cuts shining ornaments out of a sheet of tin and fastens them on his coat. He pretends that these were given him for bravery in battle.

These little children live in a fine city near the sea. Its name is St. Petersburg. The streets look very much like those of Chicago and New York. There are many grand palaces, however, and the churches are quite different from ours.

Perhaps you would like to know why St. Petersburg was built. A long time ago Peter the Great was the ruler of Russia. There was no large city in the country near the sea at that time. Peter said, "If my country is to be powerful, I must have a city that is near the coast and that looks toward the rest of Europe."

Peter went to the shores of the river Neva, near the Baltic Sea. The land was low and marshy. That did not matter to him. He sent out an order for workmen. Great numbers of men came to the spot he had chosen, to prepare it for streets and houses. Thousands of piles must first be driven into the marshy soil. Millions of stones must be brought to fill it up before streets could be laid. It was such unhealthful work that, before the city was finished, hundreds of the poor workmen died of fever. But the work was done, and Peter the Great went to live there.

He brought all his court with him. He made the place his capital. It is now the most important city of Russia, and one of the largest in the world. It is often called the "Czar's Window," because he is said to look out over Europe from this place. (I forgot to tell you that the Emperor of Russia is called the Czar.)

Let us come back to Petrovna and Ivan, who are just going out on the river to skate. Their home is almost a palace, it is so big and grand. Their father is a merchant. He buys tea from the East and sells it to the people of his own country. He has grown so rich that he owns a fine house in the city, in which the family live during the long, cold winter. They go to another home on an island of the river Neva in the summer-time.

Let us look into the big drawing-room, where papa and mamma entertain their friends in the evening. How high the walls are! At one side of the room is an immense porcelain stove. It looks somewhat like a tomb. It is big enough for a play-house for Petrovna and Ivan. A big wood fire is built in the stove on cold winter mornings. When it has burnt down to glowing coals, the chimney is closed up, and port-holes from the stove are opened. Then the heat rushes out into the room. How close the air becomes! You do not wonder at it when you look around and notice that there are three sets of windows at each casing. There is only one pane in the whole room which can be opened to let in the outside air. The Russians are afraid of having the cold enter their houses. They have enough of it out-of-doors during at least six months of the year.

What is that strange-looking vessel on the side table? It is of shining copper. The maid polishes it very often, as it is used every evening by papa and mamma. They call it a "samovar," and no Russian home is complete without one. You probably can't guess the reason, so I will have to tell you.

You must understand that the people of this far-away land are great tea-drinkers. Tea in the morning, tea at noon, tea at night, and tea between-whiles. They like it fresh, too. Tea always tastes best and is least harmful when drunk as soon as it is made. So these good Russians must have something near them on which to heat the water. In the middle of the samovar is a cylinder in which hot coals are placed, and the water is heated around this cylinder.

The boiling water is taken out whenever it is wanted and poured on the tea in papa's tumbler or mamma's cup. No milk, if you please, to suit their taste, and no sugar in the tea. They prefer to take a lump of the very hardest sugar in their fingers and nibble it as they swallow the beverage they like so much.

A slice of lemon is often put in the tumbler with the tea. People in our own country have begun to copy this custom, and drink what we call "Russian tea." No doubt you have heard of it.

Let us turn to the wall and notice the large picture of the Madonna and the infant Jesus hanging there. A lamp is burning in front of it. If Petrovna comes into the room now, she will go to that picture at once and cross herself before it. Every devout Russian has at least one religious picture in his house, and will always pay it reverence when he enters.

If a thief should happen to come into Petrovna's house in the night, he would not dare to steal in the presence of such a picture, however brave he might be. He would first hang a cloth over the painting. Then he would go on with his wicked work without further thought.

There is a large organ in this grand drawing-room. It is played almost automatically. (A big word, isn't it?) Petrovna and Ivan have music boxes here, as the Russians are very fond of music. I fear they are rather lazy, though, for many of their musical instruments do not depend on the skill of those who play upon them. They make what we call mechanical music.

There are several little tables about the room, as Petrovna's mamma and papa are fond of playing cards with their friends. Indeed, you need not be surprised at seeing the rich merchant playing a game at his store any hour of the day. He smokes and drinks tea while he plays. And mamma does the same. Yes, my dears, the women of Russia, of your own white race, roll their dainty cigarettes and smoke them as commonly as the men do. Petrovna will doubtless do this very thing when she is older. When she comes to America she will probably be much surprised to see only men practising the habit.

Petrovna and Ivan go to bed much later than their cousins across the Atlantic, while their parents often sit up till three or four o'clock in the morning. Such a gay city as they live in! Balls and parties, theatres and sleigh-rides, night after night in the winter season. Of course people cannot rise early for breakfast if they are awake nearly all night. It is not often that Petrovna's papa goes to his store before ten or eleven o'clock in the morning. The whole city looks sleepy and dismal before that time. The sky is gray and dreary, and the fog is thick and damp. The stores are closed, and few people are to be seen.

But it is dinner-time. Here come the children with their skates on their arms, and with them are the nurse and their baby brother. He has been out for a ride in his little sleigh. He is wrapped up so tightly you can hardly see his fat cheeks and the dimple in his chin.

As nurse takes off her hood and cape, I want you to notice her dress. It is the national costume of Russia. She wears a loose white undergarment with full short sleeves. It is low in the neck. She has a dark skirt over this. The band is fastened around her body under the arms, while straps over the shoulders hold it in place. I must not forget to mention a large white apron, which is fastened by a belt around her waist. Nor would she think herself dressed without her ear-rings and bead necklace. The moment her hood is taken off she puts a high cap of bright-coloured muslin on her head. This is always worn in the house to show she is a married woman.

And here come papa and mamma. Papa is a fine-looking man with a long beard. Mamma looks good and kind, and has a sweet voice, but she could not be called pretty.

Dinner is waiting, and all have fine appetites. As they enter the dining-room they do not sit down to the table at once. One by one they go up to a sideboard where all sorts of cold dishes are served. There are dried beef, smoked salmon, cheese, radishes, and other relishes of which Russians are fond. Each one helps himself to some of these dainties. They take small portions, however, for this is what they call the zakushka, or appetiser. You need not try to pronounce it unless you wish. It is to make them hungrier for the solid meal, which comes afterward. How these people do eat! First there is cabbage soup, made of chopped cabbage which has been boiled with a piece of meat. Petrovna first dips her spoon into a dish of barley beside her plate, and then into the soup. She is very fond of this national dish. The richest and the poorest people, even the Czar himself, eat it continually and never tire of it. The only difference is that the poor peasant can seldom afford the meat which improves its flavour so much.

Next comes a pie made of fish and raisins. It seems rather queer to us to have these two things cooked together, but our Russian cousins think it is very good. And now a roast lamb is served with salted cucumbers, followed by buckwheat pudding, and ices, for dessert.

Last, but not least, the samovar is set on the table, and cup after cup of delicious tea is drunk by the family.

I forgot to tell you that sour cream was served with the soup, and papa and mamma drank some cordial while they ate of the zakushka. This was to encourage their appetites still more. But I certainly can't see what need there was. They ate and ate, and drank tea and still more tea, till it seemed as if they would be made ill.

It is said that Russians are among the largest eaters in the world. If this be so, I do not wonder that so many of them grow stout. This makes me think of a story I read the other day. Perhaps you would like to hear it. There was a certain soldier in Russia who ate so much that his friends used to lay wagers with strangers as to the quantity he could eat at a single time. His friends generally won, too. It happened one day that the colonel of the regiment made a large wager that the man could eat a whole sheep at one meal. The cook prepared the sheep in many ways, in order to encourage the man's appetite. Of one part he made a pie, of another a stew, of still another a hash, and so on.

The man swallowed one preparation after another until the sheep was almost eaten, when he looked up and said, "If you give me so much zakushka, I am afraid I will not be able to eat the sheep when it is brought in." You understand the joke, of course, when you remember that the zakushka is made of the side dishes one eats before the regular meal is begun. Of course the colonel won his bet.

Besides the cabbage soup, there are still others of which the Russians are very fond. One of these is made with cold beer with pieces of cucumber, meat, and red herrings floating about in it, as well as bits of ice. Still another is made of a fish called the sterlet, which is found only in the Volga, the principal river of Russia. Then there are trout soup, perch soup, and several other kinds of which you probably never heard.

But now let us leave the dinner-table and go out into Petrovna's yard. At one end of it there is a high platform. It is built at least twenty feet above the ground. Steps lead up to it on one side, while from the other a long slant reaches down to a frozen pond below. This slant looks as though it were solid shining ice. But underneath there are stout boards to keep it smooth and unbending. They are fastened to a very strong framework. Now guess, if you please, why this ice hill, as it is called, was made in Petrovna's back yard. To amuse her and her little brother, of course.

They are very fond of coasting. They like it even better than skating. So their thoughtful papa hired two workmen. They made the framework and laid great blocks of ice close together upon the slant. They then poured water over the ice to make it perfectly smooth. The cold winds blew upon it. It froze solid in a few minutes, and not a crack in the ice can be seen. It will last all winter, for in Russia the warm days, that we sometimes have in January, are scarcely known.

Petrovna and Ivan take their sleds every morning as soon as lessons are over, and away they run up the steps of their ice hill. Hurrah! Now hold your breath, for away they go, faster and faster, down the hill and over the pond below. How they shout with delight! They travel more quickly than any express train you ever saw.

I am afraid you will be a little envious of their fun and wish you had a private ice hill like theirs. The best part of it is that these little Russians don't have to wait for a good snow-storm to make coasting for them. It is always on hand and made to order.

Petrovna has a hill made of polished wood at her summer home on the island. It cost a good deal of money, but her papa thought, "What does that matter? The children like coasting better than any other sport, so coasting they shall have."

There are public ice-hills in several parts of the city. Both old and young people are very fond of coasting. The Emperor himself has a slide of beautiful mahogany in his palace. It has been polished until it shines like one of the finest pieces of furniture.

Petrovna and Ivan do not go to school as some of the poor children do. They have a French governess. She teaches them to read, write, and spell. She also gives them lessons in French and German. She is a fine scholar, and Petrovna's papa and mamma respect her greatly. She is treated like one of the family and meets all of their friends. Petrovna's mamma wished her children's governess to be a Frenchwoman, because French is generally spoken in good society in Russia. Of course she can teach them to pronounce it better than a person of their own country could.

Besides the two languages they are studying now, Ivan and Petrovna will soon take Latin, and perhaps Italian. Well-educated people of Russia often speak several different languages. But there are thousands, yes, millions of the poor in their land who cannot read their own language or even write their own names! The schools are not as common, you see, as in this country, but they are growing better every year.

By the way, I must tell you that there are more than forty different tongues spoken in the various parts of the great country of Russia. If you learned to speak the Russian language in one part of it, you might not understand what the people say in a different part.

In Petrovna's yard there is a little house close to the main one. If she should let you look in, you would see a large brick oven at the end of the room. Wide shelves are fastened one above another on the side of the wall. You can't imagine what this place is used for, so I shall certainly have to tell you. It is the family bath-house. I can hear you cry, "What a bath-house! I don't see any tub, or, in fact, anything that looks like a bath-house." But the children of Russia do not take water baths as you do. They are bathed by steam.

Every Saturday a big fire is made in the stove, and when the bricks are very hot, water is poured over them. The room is filled with hot steam. Petrovna delights in this weekly bath. At first she lies on a low shelf until she gets quite warm. The perspiration starts out all over her little naked body. Then her maid places her on a higher shelf and pours more water over the stove. More steam rises, and Petrovna grows warmer and warmer. It seems as though she would suffocate. Now for a still higher shelf in the room. Of course the higher up the little girl goes, the hotter she grows. The water fairly runs out of the pores of her skin, now. Instead of looking like a lily, she would remind you of a boiled lobster.

Shouldn't you think she would get cold after a hot bath like that, especially as she is going out of doors into the freezing air? She never does, however, and I will tell you why. When she has been steamed enough, she is slowly cooled off by having first warm and then cold water poured over her. When all is finished, and she has been rubbed down, she feels as fresh and sweet as a flower.

She is ready for the next day's duty and pleasure now. To-morrow is the Sabbath, and every good Russian takes his bath on the day before. Sunday morning comes. Every one of the family wears his holiday clothes, for, after breakfast, all will attend church service.

Petrovna's mamma has promised to take her to-day to the cathedral of St. Mark. She is so pleased she can hardly wait till the time comes to put on her wraps. No hat for her, if you please. That would not keep her dear little head warm enough. She wears a hood with a deep cape, and a long white cloak of astrakhan. Perhaps you have a muff of the same material. I wonder if you think it is fur. Astrakhan is the soft white fleece taken from the new-born lamb of a peculiar kind of sheep. The sooner the baby lamb is killed, the handsomer is the wool. Every year thousands of sheep are raised in Asia so that the beautiful white, gray, and black astrakhan can be sent to Russia, and to people in other parts of the world.

Petrovna wears her hood and cloak with the wool inside to keep her all the warmer. Her mamma has a hood and cloak of the richest sable. It cost thousands of dollars. You cannot see its beauty, for she wears it with the fur on the inside to keep her comfortable, just as Petrovna does.

The sleigh is at the door, and it is time to leave. What a curious one it is! It is low and small, and the back of the seat is so low that Petrovna might fall over backward if she were not used to it. There is just room enough for the little girl and her mamma, with a small seat in front for the coachman. Notice his queer clothes and his funny-looking hat. It makes you think of a battered stovepipe. The upper part of the crown is much wider than the lower part, and the narrow brim curls up. His blue cloak is quite loose, and has a long plaited skirt. It is fastened on one side with six metal buttons. A heavy leather belt is clasped around his waist.

Observe the horses. They are fine-looking animals, but how queerly they are harnessed. The middle one has a high wooden yoke about his neck. The rest of the harness is fastened to that. The horses on the outside are attached to the one in the middle by a single rein. They are left quite free in their motions. They are called madmen. Some sleighs have one horse, some two, and some three.

And now Petrovna and her mamma are seated, the fur robes are tucked snugly in, the coachman jumps to his seat and makes a kind of clucking noise. The horses rush onward at a furious rate, and still Petrovna calls out, "Faster!" She is not afraid of accident, nor is she satisfied, although the horses seem to be doing their best. Russians are not fond of exercising themselves, but they dearly like to be moved as fast as possible. This is why they like sleighing and coasting better than any other sports.

As Petrovna rides along she finds that the streets are full of sleighs, yet they do not sound so merry as they do in our own land. What is the difference? There are no sleigh-bells. There is a law that none can be used in the cities of Russia. I will tell you the reason. There are so many sleighs, and the streets are so crowded with them (for hardly any person walks), that the drivers would get confused by the sound of so many bells, and run into each other. There is a very severe punishment for the one who causes such an accident. But strange to say, although there is so much driving, few people are injured. The coachmen are very careful, although they probably drive faster than the people of any other country.

In a few minutes Petrovna and her mamma arrive in front of a very grand building. This is the cathedral. Papa and the rest of the family drive up at the same time, and all alight. See the crowd of beggars at the gates! There are poor men and women who ask for enough money to buy a dinner of coarse black bread. There are nuns who are asking alms to support their convent. Few people are willing to refuse at the very doors of the church.

The cathedral is built in the shape of a cross. All churches in Russia are built in the same way. But notice these massive steps. Each is cut out of a single block of granite. Stand off a little and look at the great, shining dome. It is made of copper but is covered thickly with gold. It is so far up, and shines so brightly in the sunlight, that it is a beacon-light to the sailors far out on the sea.

Now let us follow our little cousin and enter the cathedral. How dark, and yet how beautiful it is! There are no seats. Rich and poor are standing together in worship. See those great columns of beautiful stones. The delicate sea-green is malachite. That heavenly blue is lapis lazuli. Does it not make you think of fairy-land? Notice, please, the number of beautiful pictures. There are no statues or images in the building, because the Russian Church does not think it right to worship them.

Listen to the music. There is no organ, but hidden from sight is a choir of men who are chanting. Are not their voices fine? Would you not like to stay all day to listen to such music? But what is Petrovna doing? As she entered the church she bought a candle at a stand near the door. Now she brings it to a shrine at the side of the great building. She offers it to a priest, who lights it and places it in a silver stand in front of the sacred picture. There are several holes in the stand, in which other candles are burning. The priest allows each candle to burn only a minute or two, because many other people keep coming up. They wish to have their candles burn there also.

As our dear little cousin stands there crossing herself devoutly, let us notice the picture of the Madonna before which the candles are burning. Her dress, as well as the halo around her head, is fairly covered with gold and silver and precious stones. Good and pious people have spent thousands of dollars for these beautiful gems. The only parts not covered are the face and hands. The background, even, is covered with gold. There are many other such shrines in the cathedral. A white-robed priest attends to the candles, which are kept burning night and day in each one of these shrines.

The church is filled with the odour of incense. Through the faint blue smoke we can still watch Petrovna as she stands throughout the service. Now and then she bows her body to the floor, or crosses herself as some sacred name is repeated.