The Rambles of a Rat Part 9

"No entreaties on her part could induce the poor Isdavoi to take back the rubles to save up which had been for so long the object of his life.

The lady, however, generously placed the money in a public bank to acc.u.mulate for the benefit of his children."

"Bravo!" exclaimed Neddy, clapping his hands; "that was just how a lady should behave; and as for the poor Isda-- what do you call him?-- he was a fine fellow, and quite worthy to have been an Englishman!"

[* The materials for my little sketch of Russian manners, &c., have been chiefly drawn from the translation of a work by the German traveller Kohl.]

[** A Russian piece of money.]

CHAPTER XV.

FIRST VIEW OF ST. PETERSBURG.

"Cronstadt! Cronstadt!" I heard the shout from the deck one evening when the sun was going down, and his red disk seemed resting on the heaving waters, while to the east the strong fortifications stood clearly defined against the sky, bathed in his glowing light. Being quite alone in the cabin, for every human being was on deck, I was taking my survey of the place from the open port-hole before me.

It was a very gay scene upon which I looked. Not even on the Thames, our own river, have I seen a greater variety of craft. Steam-boats, and sailing-boats, schooners, cutters, brigs and gondolas,-- paddled along the water, or spread snowy wings to the breeze. I gazed upon them, and upon the formidable batteries, bristling with guns, which defend the "water-gate of St. Petersburg" as Cronstadt has been called, till the shadows of night fell around, and I could without risk of observation, join Whiskerandos in the hold.

He was in company with another rat, of rather a foreign appearance.

"My friend Dwishtswatshiksky here," said he, "tells me that we shall soon arrive at the capital of Russia."

"I am very glad to hear it!" cried I; "I long to be again on sh.o.r.e. If we had any means of landing here, I should not care if I stopped short of St. Petersburg." I had not forgotten the pies.

"You would doubtless, little brother, from natural a.s.sociation, like to visit Rat Island," said the stranger with the unp.r.o.nounceable name.

"Rat Island!" exclaimed Whiskerandos and I at the same moment.

"That fortified island opposite to Cronstadt, lying across the bay upon which the place stands, and giving to its waters the appearance of a lake, was called Ratusare, or Rat's Island in the days of old."

"Not the only Rat's Island in the world," observed Whiskerandos; "we have one off the coast of Devon."

"And doubtless it still bears that name," said the Russian rat, with a graceful wave of his whiskers. "But things, alas! were altered here when the warriors of Peter the Great drove the Swedes from this island in 1703. The vanquished left behind them nothing but a great kettle, which in default of other trophy the Russians reared in triumph on a pole; so the name of the place has been changed since that time, and Rat Island is called Kettle Island."

"It is fortunate for us, sir rat," said I, (I did not venture to attempt to call him by his name,) "it is fortunate for us that before landing in a strange country, we have met with a friend so intelligent and well-informed as you appear to be."

He made me so many polite a.s.surances of the gratification which he felt in making my acquaintance, the pleasure which it would give him to conduct us to the house in which he usually quartered in the city, and the pride which he would feel in showing us everything which he could hope would interest us, that we blunt English rats felt almost abashed at his excessive courtesy. He only followed the manners of his country, where the poorest labourer is quite overwhelming in his politeness.

Dwishtswatshiksky (we soon shortened his name to Wisky) was as good as his word. We kept close while the pa.s.sengers landed at a magnificent quay at St. Petersburg; while the rapid tread of feet, loud voices, shouts and hurried movements, were heard above, not a rat ventured forth from his hiding-place. Alas! with every precaution, when we mustered before landing, our numbers were sadly diminished, though of rat pies we had heard no more. In darkness we a second time made a suspension bridge of the rope which bound the vessel to the sh.o.r.e, and with delight I found myself again upon land, a free denizen of earth, no longer cooped up in the narrow, dangerous prison of a vessel.

Wisky led the way, closely followed by Whiskerandos. They moved on so fast that I was in danger of losing sight of my guides, so apt was I to linger on my way to look at the wonders around me. It is a beautiful city, St. Petersburg; at least so it seemed to me in the moonlight. With its streets of palaces, its lively green roofs, sky-blue cupolas dotted with stars, gilt spires, columns, statues, and obelisks, it is a place not soon to be forgotten. If I might venture to suggest a fault, it is that all looks too perfectly new. Antiquity gives added interest to beauty,-- at least such is the opinion of a rat. That which looks as if it had risen but yesterday, appears as though it might fall to-morrow.

"Would you believe it," said Wisky, "a great part of this splendid city is built upon piles! The foundation alone of yonder great church cost a million of rubles! There is a constant fight going on here between water and the efforts of man. To look at the fine buildings around us, you would say that man had secured the victory. He has thrown over the river a variety of bridges, stone, suspension, and pontoon, that can be taken to pieces at pleasure, to connect the numerous islands together, and has raised the most stately edifices on a trembling bog! But the water is not conquered after all! I have known houses burst asunder from the foundations giving way. I have seen a palace separated from the very steps that led up to its door. And in spring, when the snow melts which has been collecting for months, the horses can scarcely flounder along through the rivers of mud in the streets!"

"Does the water ever rise very high?" inquired Whiskerandos. This was no idle question on his part; he made it as a practical rat, who knew what it was to live in a cellar, and had no desire to be drowned.

"Ah, my dear brother!" replied the Russian rat, "many stories are still told of the fearful inundation which happened in 1824. Impelled by a furious west wind, the waters then rose to a fearful height, streamed through the streets, floated the carriages, made boats of the carts, nay, lifted some wooden houses right from the ground, and sent them floating about, with all their inhabitants in them, like so many men-of-war! Horses were drowned, and so, alas! were rats in terrible numbers. The trees in the squares were crowded with men, clinging to them like bees when they cl.u.s.ter! It is said that thousands of poor human beings perished, and that the inundation cost the city more than a hundred millions of rubles!"

"Well, St. Petersburg is a splendid place!" cried I; "but after all, the merry banks of the Thames, and dear dingy old London for me!"

CHAPTER XVI.

A RUSSIAN KITCHEN.

Under the guidance of Wisky we took up our abode in a Russian house.

House did I call it!-- if ever there was a palace this was one. We established ourselves in the kitchen; a warm, comfortable place we found it, where we had much opportunity for observation, both of the denizens of the place and their various occupations.

"It seems to me, Wisky," said I, on the night following that of our arrival, "that there is no end to the number of servants that pa.s.s in and out of this dwelling! Who is that fellow in the blue cloth caftan, fastened under his left arm with three silver b.u.t.tons, and girded round the waist with a coloured silk scarf? His fine bushy beard seems to match the fur with which his high four-cornered cap is trimmed."

"That is the Tartar coachman," replied Wisky; "a dashing fellow is he, and a bold driver through the crowded streets of the city. The pretty youths yonder are the postilions. Young and small they must be, to suit the taste of a Russian n.o.ble. The worse for them, poor boys, as they are less able to endure the bitter cold of a winter's night, when, if they drop asleep on their horses, they are never likely to awake any more!"

"And are their masters actually cruel enough," I exclaimed, "to expose them to such suffering and risk?"

"My much esteemed brother," replied the Russian rat, "doubtless your clear mind has already come to the conclusion that selfishness is inherent in the human race. A young n.o.ble is at a ball; must he quit its bright enchantments, and the society of the fair whom he admires, because a bearded coachman is freezing without? A beauteous lady, wrapped in ermine and velvet, is weeping in the theatre over the woes of some imaginary heroine; would you have her dry her tearful eyes, and leave the scene of touching interest and elegant excitement, because icicles are hanging from the locks of her little postilion, and his head is gradually sinking on his breast, as the fatal sleep steals over him? Selfish!-- yes, all human beings are selfish!"

"There are exceptions to that rule," thought I, for I remembered the stories which I had heard in the cabin; and I also recollected the conduct of their narrator, Captain Blake, towards the starving little thief in London.

"I have been trying," said Whiskerandos, "to count the servants in this house; but no sooner do I think that my task is done, than in comes some new one, speaking some different language, wearing some different costume, and puts all my calculations to fault."

"It would puzzle even one possessing the talents of my brother to count the number of the servants here," replied Wisky. "Why, even I, who, before my visit to England, spent months amongst the household, can scarcely number them now. To begin with the inmates of a higher rank, who never appear in the kitchen, there are the French governess and the German tutor, to polish up the minds of the children, and the family physician to look after their health. Then there are the superintendent of accounts, the secretary, the dworezki-- he who has charge of the whole establishment, the valets of the lord, the valets of the lady, the overseer of the children, the footmen, the buffetshik or butler, the table-decker, the head groom, the coachman and postilions of the lord, the coachman and postilions of the lady,--"

"What!" cried Whiskerandos, "are their carriages so small that they will not hold two, or are the grandees afraid of quarrelling, that husband and wife cannot travel together!"

"Surely, Sir Wisky," exclaimed I, "you must have come to the end of your list!"

"Pardon me, little brother, not yet. There are the attendants on the boys and on the tutor, the porter, the head cook and the under cook, the baker, brewer, the waiting-maids and wardrobe-keeper of the lady, the waiting-maid who attends the French governess, the nurses that take care of the children, and the nurses that once took care of the children, the kapell-meister or head musician, and all the men of his band!"

"Well!" cried I, much amused, "at any rate a Russian n.o.ble must be well served. If he calls for his shoes, I suppose that half-a-dozen servants start off in a race to fetch them, and knock their heads together in their eagerness to get them!"

A valet at this moment entered the kitchen, where, secure in our hiding-place, we were watching all that pa.s.sed.

"Where's Ivan?" said he, "where's Ivan?" The coachman, who was playing at draughts with the head groom, looked up for an instant, then silently made his move.

"My lady's a-fainting, and my lord's calling for water! Where's Ivan, I say? 'tis his business to fetch it."

"There's Ivan," said the cook, pointing contemptuously to a sandy-haired figure fast asleep under the table.

"Get up, ye lazy fellow!" exclaimed the valet; "my lady's fainting, my lord's calling for water; take a gla.s.s of it on a silver salver directly."

Ivan got up slowly, yawned, stretched himself, rubbed his eyes; then, taking a tumbler off the dresser, he leisurely filled it with water.