BÁBA YAGÁ AND ZAMORÝSHEK

BÁBA YAGÁ AND ZAMORÝSHEK

Once upon a time there lived an old man and his old wife, and they had no children, and what on earth did they not do to get them! How did not they beseech God! But for all that the wife bore no children. One day the old man went into the forest to look for mushrooms, and an old gaffer met him.

“I know your thoughts. You are thinking of children,” he said. “Go to the village and collect one little egg from every house and put a brood hen over them, and, what will ensue, you will yourself see.”

Now there were forty-one houses in the village. The old man went and collected the eggs and put a brood hen over them. Two weeks later he and his wife went to see, and they found that there were children born of the eggs, and they looked again and they found that forty of the children were fine, strong and healthy, and there was one who was a weakling.

Some links in this article are affiliate links from which we may receive a tiny commission at no additional cost to you should you visit a merchant via our link and subsequently make a purchase.

So the old man gave them names. But he had no name left for the last, so he called him Zamorýshek.[14] And these children grew up not by days, but by hours, and they shot up fast and began to work and to help the mother and father. The forty of them used to go into the fields whilst Zamorýshek stayed at home. When the harvesting season came on the forty began making the hayricks, and in a single week all the ricks were put up. So they came back home to the village, lay down, slept, and ate of the fare God provided.

The old man looked at them and said, “Young and green, goes far, sleeps sound, and leaves the work undone!”

49“You go and see, bátyushka,”[15] said Zamorýshek.

So the old man went into the fields and saw forty ricks standing. “Ah, these are fine boys of mine! Look at all they have harvested in one week!” Next day he went out again to gloat on his possessions, and found one rick was a-missing. He came home and said, “One rick has vanished.”

“Never mind, bátyushka,” said Zamorýshek, “we will catch the thief: give me a hundred roubles, and I will do the deed.”

Then Zamorýshek went to the smith and asked for a chain big enough to cover a man from head to foot.

And the smith said, “Certainly.”

“Very well, then: if the chain hold, I will give you one hundred roubles; if it break, your labour’s lost.”

The smith forged the chain; Zamorýshek put it round him, stretched it, and it broke. So the smith made a second iron chain, Zamorýshek put it round his body, and it again broke. Then the smith made a third chain, three times as strong, and Zamorýshek could not break it.

Zamorýshek then went and sat under the hayrick and waited. At midnight a sudden storm rose and the sea raged, and a strange nag rose out of the sea, ran up to the rick and began to eat it. Zamorýshek bound the neck round with chains and mounted her. The mare began to gallop over the valleys and over the hills, and she reared, but she could not dislodge the rider; and at last she stopped and said in a human voice: “Now, good youth, now you can mount me, you may become master of my foals.” Then she ran under the sea and neighed, and the sea opened and up ran forty-one foals; and they were such fine foals, every single horse was better than every other horse. You might go round the entire earth and never see any horses as good.

50Next morning the old man heard neighing outside his door, and wondered what the noise was, and there was his son Zamorýshek with the entire drove. “Good!” he said. “Now, my sons, ye had better go and hunt for brides.” So off they went. The mother and father blessed them, and the brothers set forth on their distant way and road.

They rode far in the white world in order to seek their brides. For they would not marry separately, and what mother could they find who should boast of having forty-one daughters?

And they went across thirteen countries, and they then saw a steep mountain which they ascended, and there there stood a white stone palace with high walls round and iron columns and gates where they counted forty-one columns. So they tied their knightly horses to each of the stakes, and they entered.

Then the Bába Yagá met them and said: “O ye unlooked-for, uninvited guests, how did you dare without leave to tie your horses to my stakes?”

“Come, old lady, what are you complaining of? First of all give us food and drink, take us into the bath, and thereafter ask us for our news, and question us.”

So the Bába Yagá served them with food and drink, conducted them to the bath, and then afterwards she asked them: “Have ye come to do deeds, doughty youths, or to flee from deeds?”

“We have come to do deeds, grandmother,” they said.

“What have ye come to seek?”

“We are seeking brides.”

Click HERE for Instant Access

Then she replied, “I have daughters.” And she burst into the lofty rooms and brought out her forty-one daughters.

They were then betrothed, and began to feast together and celebrate the marriage.

51When the evening came Zamorýshek went to look at his horse, and the good horse saw him and spoke with a human voice. “See to this, my master: when you lie down with your young wives, dress them in your clothes, and put on your wives’ clothes, otherwise you will all be killed.”

Then they all went and lay down, and they all went to sleep, only Zamorýshek took care to keep his eyes open.

And at midnight Bába Yagá cried out in a loud voice: “Ho, ye my faithful servants! Will ye cut off the heads of my insolent and uninvited guests?” And so the servants ran and cut off the daughters’ heads.

Zamorýshek roused his brothers and told them what had happened. So they took the heads with them, put them on the forty-one stakes, armed themselves and galloped off.

In the morning the Bába Yagá got up, looked through her little window, and saw the heads on the stakes. She was very angry, and she called for her fiery shield, and leapt out on the chase, and set to waving her fiery shield in all directions to the four winds.

Whither should the youths betake themselves for concealment? In front of them there was the blue sea and behind them the Bába Yagá. And she burned everything in front of her with her fiery shield. They might have had to die, but Zamorýshek was an inventive youth, and had not forgotten to take Bába Yagá’s handkerchief, and he shook the handkerchief in front, and so built a bridge across all the width of the blue sea, and the doughty youths crossed the sea safely. Then Zamorýshek shook the handkerchief on the left-hand side and the bridge vanished. The Bába Yagá had to turn back, but the brothers went home safely.

Everybody Has a Story: Write Yours Today

Finest Russian Women Still Want American Men. Why?

Why do the finest Russian women search for American men?

As an owner of a free Russian women dating site, I have been asked a lot about Russian ladies looking for American men. Here is one of the questions:
I am a 31 year old American man and tried the personals in the US. I had little luck with local dating and regional dating sites. However, when I started using the Russian personals, the response was overwhelming.

Some links in this article are affiliate links from which we may receive a tiny commission, at no cost to you, should you visit a merchant via our link and subsequently make a purchase.

Why are the finest Russian women so much more interested in corresponding with American men than are American women interested in corresponding with American men?”
If you ask Russian ladies looking for American men about their motivations for seeking a husband abroad you may find out some convincing arguments for doing so.

Here are the top 6 reasons why the finest Russian women start searching for a foreign husband.

-> Census, Russia is home to 10 million more women then men. The number of women in their 30s noticeably exceeds the number of men. After the divorce, the woman with a kid (or with no kids) has little chance of getting married again in Russia, according to sociologists. There are no men in Russia to get married to: mortality rate of the working age males is extremely high.

-> Women are overloaded with family responsibilities in Russia: housekeeping, upbringing of children and earning of money. They have to take charge of all everyday problems that are essential for their families. For the sake of truth it should be said, there ARE nice, responsible and sober men in Russia but we don’t easily meet them. The unvarnished truth is: most Russian men abuse alcohol and do not provide for their families. Psychologists say, Russian men undervalue the essence of family.

Click HERE for Instant Access

-> Finest Russian women are highly educated and want careers. Depending on where she lives in the FSU, she may find that it is impossible for her to have the career she wants and to realize her full potential there. Most educated women have more ambition than to simply function from 9 to 5 for a tiny salary. There’s nothing wrong with that, as long as she seeks a loving relationship with the man and his moral support.

-> Some Russian women are looking to live in an economically more stable environment (and I don’t just mean the ones who are obviously looking for a ‘sugar daddy’, although there are some of those as well as you already know).
In other words, it is reasonable to say some want to live in a better economy but we can not assume that is what every Russian woman looking abroad desires.
There’s nothing wrong with that as well, as long as the woman’s feelings toward the man are sincere.

-> The female has an instinct to choose a mate of good genes, to support the family, and defend the children of that union. If the finest Russian women see American men for that basic instinct, than she has made a wise choice, not just about money, but thinking about the future.

-> Sometimes people are just lonely. They either have different standards or just haven’t met the right person and have expanded their selection. There is nothing wrong with that. There is something even satisfying about looking abroad. It can be a win-win situation.

“Marriages between Russian women and American men are very successful and harmonious”, O. Makhovskaya, the senior research assistant at the Psychology Institute in Russia’s Academy of Sciences says. “Families of this kind where husbands are Americans and women are Russians prove to be long-living, as the roles in the family are clearly distributed and the mechanism operates good, although these are mixed families. In such families each of the couple is ready to make concessions and on the whole, wonderfully performs the role.”

My opinion on these relationships is: trust. If you found the right person, if you met a nice woman don’t worry about the “why”…too much, there is no one answer. Trust and enjoy.

The notion ‘Russian woman’ includes women from Ukraine and Belarus as well, as they have very much in common.

Click HERE for Instant Access

Irene Mstinskaia-The Emigrant

Irene Mstinskaia lost her mother early and was brought up by her father, a scientist who spent all his life in his laboratory, disliked society, and received nobody but an occasional friend, as jealously devoted to science as himself. He adored his little Irene, petted and spoiled her; but, like most Russian parents, took very little interest in her spiritual development. The child grew up,[5] lonely, silent, pensive. Books took, in her young life, the place of companions and childish games. She read a great deal without guidance or discrimination, and gained all her ideas on life, all her faith, all her ideals and aims and aspirations from books. Books stood between her and reality, and hid from her those deep truths that can never be learnt from even the greatest literary production, but can only be understood after long years of untiring observation and experience. It was in books also that Irene found her ideal of the man she could love. Her hero was an exceedingly complicated character. He united in himself the stoicism of an ancient Roman, the romanticism of a mediæval knight, the gallantry of a powdered marquis, and the dignified chivalry of the hero of an English novel.

Some links in this article are affiliate links from which we may receive a tiny commission, at no cost to you, should you visit a merchant via our link and subsequently make a purchase.

Do not laugh, reader! Irene was not stupid; she was only young and inexperienced, knew little or nothing of life, and sincerely believed in her fantastic dream hero. Most pathetic of all was the fact that she set about looking for him among the relations and[6] friends of her late mother, who had belonged by birth to the higher government circles—i.e., the most unromantic circles of Russian society. The proximity of the court, the glitter of wealth and social position, transforms almost every young Petrograd official into a mere hunter after honours, money, decorations, caring for nothing but his career and the chance of some brilliant appointment. The distance that separates Petrograd from the rest of Russia destroys in these young people what should be the fundamental idea at the root of all conscientious government service—the good of the country. Their service becomes simply a ladder by which they can mount upwards towards the making of a career, and any means seems justifiable to attain this end. Already in childhood these young people are familiar with conversations about promotions and honours, and their souls early imbibe the poison that makes worldlings and cynics. Their wives also cannot influence them for good, since they, too, in the majority of cases grow up in the same official circles, and see[7] nothing blameworthy in career-hunting. On the contrary, they intrigue and help and encourage their husbands in the rush for advantageous appointments.

To a fresh young soul, such as Irene’s the cynicism of “officialdom’s” conversations and ideals could not but stand out in all its true ugliness, causing her to turn away, sick with disillusionment and disgust. She regarded this whole spirit of self-advancement-at-any-price with the profoundest contempt, and considered it low and vulgar and worthy only of menials. Her father, holding his noble birth in high honour, had instilled into his daughter the assurance that her aristocratic antecedents placed her on a level with all the de Rohans and de Montmorencys in the world. She regarded decorations and titles and social honours with contempt, and could not understand how anybody could attach importance to such toys. Her means were sufficient to ensure lifelong freedom from care; luxury, however, did not attract her, for Irene was an idealist, who looked upon love, pure, sanctified love, as the greatest happiness life could offer.

Click HERE for Instant Access

[8]

Had she been English or American, this lonely girl would not have been content with her limited circle of acquaintances, and would have gone in search of her hero through the length and breadth not only of Russia, but of all Europe.

Irene, however, was Russian, and therefore placid and unenterprising! So she not only did not travel, but had not the energy, even at home in Petrograd, to look round and make sure that her hero was not concealed somewhere in the social circles of the capital. She profoundly despised the pitiful types she met in society, and though sick at heart, waited patiently and untiringly for the one man before whom she was destined some day to bow her head. Her own individual faith was largely responsible for this patient, confident expectation. Already in her early childhood, Irene had worked out for herself her own personal credo, in the place of which, without understanding it in the least, most people unthinkingly accept the religion officially adopted by the State. Her faith, of course, rested upon a Christian basis—but[9] her Christianity was of the kind that shapes itself according to the varying idiosyncrasies of every individual believer’s soul and mind.

Irene firmly believed that in spite of the perpetual struggle between good and evil, good is incomparably the stronger of the two, and must always triumph. Therefore, people desirous of attaining happiness, must as a first step be just and honourable, and never offend nor hurt anyone. Then, and then only, can God send them peace and success in all their undertakings, and then only can they be happy without the smallest struggle or effort to attain this natural happiness. Irene believed in this so firmly and deeply, that it always amazed her to see people winning success and worldly goods by means of intrigue and dishonesty.

“The madmen!”—she thought to herself—“how can they not realize that they are building up their well-being on sand, and that each dishonest action may turn out to be the one rotten beam through which the whole edifice will fall to pieces?”

[10]

Irene often endeavoured to explain her theory to other people, and was always astonished at their lack of trust in God’s help, and their incomparably greater faith in their own “smartness” and roguery. How did these blind mules manage not to see what was, to her, clear as day? And Irene profoundly regretted that she was not endowed with oratorical gifts, by means of which she might have helped to save these people from needlessly wasting and misdirecting their energies.

The silent, dreamy girl carefully observed the lives of her acquaintances, and every time that any of them achieved some success, or suffered some misfortune, she tried to account for this circumstance by one or other of their preceding actions. I am afraid that in her eagerness to prove, even to herself, the justice of her theory, she often deceived herself, and dragged in irrelevant facts. She was sincerely happy at the sight of virtue rewarded, and, though naturally anything but cruel or revengeful, she nevertheless rejoiced triumphantly when wickedness[11] was laid low! It is true that occasionally, under the influence of scientific books, which, as the years passed, held an ever-increasing attraction for Irene, she said to herself that people were wicked owing to the particular construction of their skulls or spinal cords, and were as innocent of their own vice as the tiger is innocent of his carnivorous nature. In the same way, it followed that it was not only natural and easy for good people to be good, but that it would be exceedingly difficult for them to act dishonestly, or in any way contrary to their natures. There was, indeed, according to this theory, no such thing as the eternal struggle between good and evil—there were only on the one side healthy and therefore honest natures, and on the other, morally diseased and, therefore, cruel or vicious ones. But when Irene began to meditate on these ideas, there arose in her poor head such a confused chaos of tangled thoughts, that she hastily banished all scientific propositions, and returned to her old faith, in which everything was clear and simple.

[12]

Irene worked carefully and untiringly at herself and her own moral and mental development. She not only did not admit of any dishonourable action, but severely admonished and persecuted herself for every bad thought, every shade of feeling, that tended towards envy or revenge. And so, as always happens when one works long and obstinately for the achievement of a certain result, Irene really succeeded in raising her own honour and integrity to a point beyond reproach. The loftier grew her own ideal, however, the more difficult she found it to reconcile herself to the weaknesses of others. Day by day, her requirements in connection with her unknown hero increased, and day by day he became always more difficult to find. She submitted every man who crossed her path to so severe an examination that not one passed through it successfully. The young married women of her acquaintance, noticing how wistfully she looked at their children, advised her to marry, even without love, only to become a mother and thus attain the one real aim, the[13] one true happiness that life can give to a woman. Irene listened to their advice with amazement. According to her ideas, a woman had no right to bring a new life into the world unless she had found a man who could pass on to the child only the highest and most irreproachable moral qualities. Such an idea is, of course, fundamentally good and logical—but, unfortunately, it is also somewhat difficult to carry out! Nature is so fantastic and capricious, that sometimes a child may bear no likeness whatever to its ideal parents, but may bear a striking and very unwelcome resemblance to some long-forgotten black sheep great-grandfather! On the whole, indeed, resignation, and faith in God’s mercy, are the most suitable frames of mind in this connection; but these are frames of mind that one could hardly expect from Irene! Idealists who passionately believe in their ideals, hypnotize themselves and become the slaves of their own thoughts.

At thirty, in order to avoid any future moral torment at the appearance of a grey hair or a decayed tooth, Irene decided that[14] she was an old woman, and that there was no longer any occasion to think about love. She began to dress always in black, and assumed with men the air of an old maiden aunt. Her dream now was only of friendship, and she longed for the warmth of a friendly hearth.

Her women friends, however, did not believe in her sincerity, did not consider her as old as she imagined herself to be, and were afraid for their husbands. Year by year, Irene felt herself to be always increasingly lonely and isolated, and then, suddenly, came the Japanese War.

Pride in Russia, and in Russia’s might and wealth and brilliant future, was one of Irene’s greatest joys. The Russian people seemed to her to be a race of chivalrous knights, ever ready to fight for truth and Christianity, and to defend the weak and the persecuted. When the Japanese War broke out, she asked herself, with the sincerest astonishment, how such pitiful monkeys ever could have declared war on such indomitable knights. She even pitied the Japanese for having fallen victims[15] to such madness! Her despair and suffering at the news of our first failures is therefore easy to imagine. None of Irene’s near relations were at the war, but each of our losses, nevertheless, found its echo in her heart, like a personal misfortune. Overwhelmed with grief, she attached no importance either to the Russian revolution, or to the reforms that followed. Like all passionate idealists when their ideal is shattered, Irene rushed to the other extreme—that of a profound contempt for Russia.

Everything became cold and indifferent to her in her homeland. She no longer believed in anybody; she trusted neither the masses nor the educated classes. They were all cowards, they were all narrow, lazy, and ignorant. She began to go abroad more frequently. There, in contrast, everything pleased her immensely. She admired the German peasants for their love of work, the Swiss for their orderliness, the French for their wit. In old days, after having passed three months abroad, she had always grown homesick, and on reaching the Russian frontier, had felt inclined to embrace[16] the very railway porters for their good-humoured Slavonic faces! Now, she returned home with regret, found fault with Russian arrangements, and looked with disgust at the endless, monotonous fields, at the dull, slumbering type of life and nature that slipped placidly along outside the windows of the sleepy train.

Her contempt for Russia was encouraged by the countless critical and scathing articles that appeared in the newspapers as a result of the newly granted freedom of the Press. According to these articles all Russia’s resources had been used up by drink and by robbery, and the whole country was in a state of ruin and primitive savagery. They did not attempt to explain why, all this being so, Russia had not, long ago, died of starvation and famine, why our government stock stood higher than before the war, and why Europe set as much value as ever on Russian opinion. But Irene, like most women, did not measure the rights and wrongs of the newspaper accusations. They were in tune with her pessimistic mood, and she no longer[17] believed in Russia, just as she no longer believed in her own happiness.

The most cruel pain of all, however, was that occasioned by a gradually awakening doubt about the justice of her own beliefs. It seemed to her that, logically, it was time God rewarded her in some way for her scrupulous honesty, and she suffered at the absence of this reward. In observing the lives of others, Irene could persuade herself that if they had no outward success, they enjoyed the greater blessing of inner peace and happiness. It was difficult, however, to deceive her own self in this matter; for, indeed, poor Irene not only had no happiness, but the boon of inner peace had not even been granted to her. Her soul had been wounded, torn, immersed in darkness and despair, from which there seemed no escape. And yet there, before her very eyes, wicked and dishonourable people triumphed and rejoiced. How was this to be explained? Could her credo have been a mistake, could she have been struggling and wandering all her life along the wrong path? Such an[18] admission would have been, for Irene, equal to suicide—for she could never have reconciled herself to a world in which only wickedness and deceit triumph.

Life in Russia grew at last so unbearable that she decided to emigrate. Her first idea was to go and live in England, with which country she was acquainted through the medium of her beloved English novels. By chance, however, Zola’s “Rome,” with its magnificent descriptions of Roman life, fell into her hands, and she suddenly felt drawn towards Italy. It is for this reason that we find her, on this warm autumn day, sitting in the garden of the Monte Pincio.

Click HERE for Instant Access

The Golovikha

Our final illustration of the Skazkas which satirize women is the story of the Golovikha. It is all the more valuable, inasmuch as it is one of the few folk-tales which throw any light on the working of Russian communal institutions. The word Golovikha means, in its strict sense, the wife of a Golova, or elected chief [Golova = head] of a Volost, or association of village communities; but here it is used for a “female Golova,” a species of “mayoress.”

The Golovikha.[55]

A certain woman was very bumptious. Her husband came from a village council one day, and she asked him:

“What have you been deciding over there?”

“What have we been deciding? why choosing a Golova.”

“Whom have you chosen?”

“No one as yet.”

“Choose me,” says the woman.

So as soon as her husband went back to the council (she was a bad sort; he wanted to give her a lesson) he told the elders what she had said. They immediately chose her as Golova.

"Marfa Boretskaya, also known as Martha the Mayoress (Russian: Марфа Посадница - Marfa Posadnitsa), was the wife of Isaac Boretsky, Novgorod's posadnik in 1438–1439 and again in 1453. According to legend and historical tradition, she led the republic's struggle against Muscovy between her husband's death and the city's eventual annexation by Ivan III of Russia in 1478. Source: Wikipedia"

Well the woman got along, settled all questions, took bribes, and drank spirits at the peasant’s expense. But the time came to collect the poll-tax. The Golova couldn’t do it, wasn’t able to collect it in time. There came a Cossack, and asked for the Golova; but the woman had hidden herself. As soon as she learnt that the Cossack had come, off she ran home.

Some links in this article are affiliate links from which we may receive a tiny commission, at no cost to you, should you visit a merchant via our link and subsequently make a purchase.

“Where, oh where can I hide myself?” she cries to her husband. “Husband dear! tie me up in a bag, and put me out there where the corn-sacks are.”

[Pg 56]Now there were five sacks of seed-corn outside, so her husband tied up the Golova, and set her in the midst of them. Up came the Cossack and said:

“Ho! so the Golova’s in hiding.”

Click HERE for Instant Access

Then he took to slashing at the sacks one after another with his whip, and the woman to howling at the pitch of her voice:

“Oh, my father! I won’t be a Golova, I won’t be a Golova.”

At last the Cossack left off beating the sacks, and rode away. But the woman had had enough of Golova-ing; from that time forward she took to obeying her husband.

Before passing on to another subject, it may be advisable to quote one of the stories in which the value of a good and wise wife is fully acknowledged. I have chosen for that purpose one of the variants of a tale from which, in all probability, our own story of “Whittington and his Cat” has been derived. With respect to its origin, there can be very little doubt, such a feature as that of the incense-burning pointing directly to a Buddhist source. It is called—

Click HERE for Instant Access

Which Desirest Thou-Riches or a Good Russian Wife

The Three Copecks.[56] There once was a poor little orphan-lad who had nothing at all to live on; so he went to a rich moujik and hired himself out to him, agreeing to work for one copeck a year. And when he had worked for a whole year, and had received his copeck, he went to a well and threw it into the water, saying, “If it don’t sink, I’ll keep it. It will be plain enough I’ve served my master faithfully.” But the copeck sank. 

Well, he remained in service a second year, and received a second copeck. Again he flung it into the well, and again it sank to the bottom. He remained a third year; worked and worked, till the time came for payment. Then his [Pg 57]master gave him a rouble. “No,” says the orphan, “I don’t want your money; give me my copeck.” He got his copeck and flung it into the well. Lo and behold! there were all three copecks floating on the surface of the water. So he took them and went into the town. 

Now as he went along the street, it happened that some small boys had got hold of a kitten and were tormenting it. And he felt sorry for it, and said: “Let me have that kitten, my boys?” “Yes, we’ll sell it you.” “What do you want for it?” “Three copecks.” Well the orphan bought the kitten, and afterwards hired himself to a merchant, to sit in his shop. That merchant’s business began to prosper wonderfully. He couldn’t supply goods fast enough; purchasers carried off everything in a twinkling. 

Some links in this article are affiliate links from which we may receive a tiny commission, at no cost to you, should you visit a merchant via our link and subsequently make a purchase.

The merchant got ready to go to sea, freighted a ship, and said to the orphan: “Give me your cat; maybe it will catch mice on board, and amuse me.” “Pray take it, master! only if you lose it, I shan’t let you off cheap.” The merchant arrived in a far off land, and put up at an inn. The landlord saw that he had a great deal of money, so he gave him a bedroom which was infested by countless swarms of rats and mice, saying to himself, “If they should happen to eat him up, his money will belong to me.” For in that country they knew nothing about cats, and the rats and mice had completely got the upper hand. 

Well the merchant took the cat with him to his room and went to bed. Next morning the landlord came into the room. There was the merchant alive and well, holding the cat in his arms, and stroking its fur; the cat was purring away, singing its song, and on the floor lay a perfect heap of dead rats and mice! “Master merchant, sell me that beastie,” says the landlord. “Certainly.” “What do you want for it?” [Pg 58]“A mere trifle. I’ll make the beastie stand on his hind legs while I hold him up by his forelegs, and you shall pile gold pieces around him, so as just to hide him—I shall be content with that!” 

The landlord agreed to the bargain. The merchant gave him the cat, received a sackful of gold, and as soon as he had settled his affairs, started on his way back. As he sailed across the seas, he thought: “Why should I give the gold to that orphan? Such a lot of money in return for a mere cat! that would be too much of a good thing. No, much better keep it myself.” The moment he had made up his mind to the sin, all of a sudden there arose a storm—such a tremendous one! the ship was on the point of sinking. “Ah, accursed one that I am! I’ve been longing for what doesn’t belong to me; O Lord, forgive me a sinner! I won’t keep back a single copeck.” 

The moment the merchant began praying the winds were stilled, the sea became calm, and the ship went sailing on prosperously to the quay. “Hail, master!” says the orphan. “But where’s my cat?” “I’ve sold it,” answers the merchant; “There’s your money, take it in full.” The orphan received the sack of gold, took leave of the merchant, and went to the strand, where the shipmen were. From them he obtained a shipload of incense in exchange for his gold, and he strewed the incense along the strand, and burnt it in honor of God. The sweet savor spread through all that land, and suddenly an old man appeared, and he said to the orphan: “Which desirest thou—riches, or a good wife?” “I know not, old man.” “Well then, go afield. 

Click HERE for Instant Access

Three brothers are ploughing over there. Ask them to tell thee.” The orphan went afield. He looked, and saw peasants tilling the soil. “God lend you aid!” says he. [Pg 59]“Thanks, good man!” say they. “What dost thou want?” “An old man has sent me here, and told me to ask you which of the two I shall wish for—riches or a good wife?” “Ask our elder brother; he’s sitting in that cart there.” The orphan went to the cart and saw a little boy—one that seemed about three years old. “Can this be their elder brother?” thought he—however he asked him: “Which dost thou tell me to choose—riches, or a good wife?” 

“Choose the good wife.” So the orphan returned to the old man. “I’m told to ask for the wife,” says he. “That’s all right!” said the old man, and disappeared from sight. The orphan looked round; by his side stood a beautiful woman. “Hail, good youth!” says she. “I am thy wife; let us go and seek a place where we may live.”[57] 

One of the sins to which the Popular Tale shows itself most hostile is that of avarice. The folk-tales of all lands delight to gird at misers and skinflints, to place them in unpleasant positions, and to gloat over the sufferings which attend their death and embitter their ghostly existence. As a specimen of the manner in which the humor of the Russian peasant has manipulated the stories of this class, most of which probably reached him from the East, we may take the following tale of— [Pg 60] The Miser.[58]

Click HERE for Instant Access

6 Tips for NOT Dating Russian Women

Look around the (online dating) web and you will notice that the online dating scene is a lot focused on single Russian women and other East European women. The reason that in particular women from these countries are looking for a foreign partner is generally known, but will not be discussed in this article. But I do like to give you some tips when you must NOT be dating or contacting Russian women.

Let me give you 6 valuable tips:

Tip 1.
If you are a single man and you don't want to be single anymore then you probably already are using the Internet as a source to find a new partner. But fun dating, chatting and playing around with people from your own culture or country is something different then being determined to find specific a Russian woman with the one and only purpose: to marry her. This means traveling to Russia (to meet her), possible language barrier, learning about the Russian (women) culture, be prepared for unexpected situations, like money expenses, possible scam situations (if you are looking in the wrong places) and many more.

Some links in this article are affiliate links from which we may receive a tiny commission, at no cost to you, should you visit a merchant via our link and subsequently make a purchase.

If you are not convinced about yourself that this is all worth for you, then don't start dating or contacting Russian women. A serious looking Russian woman who is a formal member of a serious established agency has already prepared herself before she decides to register herself as a possible candidate for serious looking single men from all over the world. She is not looking for pen pals or everlasting months of email correspondence, no she is looking for a life partner with one main purpose: to build a happy family.

Tip 2.

If you think that register yourself at some dubious free dating site would be enough to present yourself as a serious looking single man, who is looking for a serious marriage minded Russian woman with the expectation that many women will contact you first, then don't start to find your future Russian wife in these places, because you will not find them here. These kind of sites can be fun of course, but are also hotbeds for possible scammers.  Believe me, I have unfortunately a lot of experience with men who started at the wrong places. Be smart and take a huge head-start by avoiding these places.

Click HERE for Instant Access

Tip 3.
There are people who register themselves in mens catalogs with photographs as if they are looking like Tarzans or use photos only wearing swimming shorts, just to impress young good looking ladies. And write a biography using 3 lines like Hello, my name is [name], I am a single man looking for a young beautiful woman who also likes music, going out, having fun and drive fast cars, if you are interested, then please write me back.

If you identify yourself with that kind of persons, then don't contact or try to impress Russian women in such way. Russian women are not looking for Brad Pitt look-alikes or muscles like Sylvester Stallone. They are not judging looks at all, and you will find out why if you take the trouble to do this the right way.

Tip 4.
If you think Russian women are looking for any (western) man just because you think they are looking for a new country, a better life, a wealthy man, no matter if he is 20 years older than she is, then please keep on dreaming. They just seek compatible partners for long term-relationships and marriage and want to love and be loved, that's all no more, no less!  Click HERE to look for your Russian bride.

Tip 5.
If you don't have a regular job or (enough) income or don't have a house/apartment (rent or owned) big enough to live with a family, or if you have any serious criminal records (I am not talking about non paid parking tickets), then don't try to bring a Russian woman into your country. You will not succeed. Not because of my personal advice which has nothing to do with this, but because of the strict regulations, procedures and rules that are imposed by the authorities when you have the intention to immigrate a Russian woman into your country.

Tip 6
If you think, that when she finally joins you in your country, you can start living your normal life again and if you think she is capable enough to find her own way in your (for her) strange country, to find at once a job, to teach herself your language and find by herself new friends and if you think she should be thankful that you have pulled her out her poor mafia controlled and corrupted country, then don't start even thinking about contacting a Russian woman. At least the first months she will need extra support from you to settle herself with you as a just married husband-and-wife couple and she has to adjust to your country (customs), your culture, your language, your friends, your colleagues, your shops, your train and bus schedule, your etc. and that takes time and patience from both of you.

Click HERE for Instant Access

The Fiend

The Fiend.[18]

In a certain country there lived an old couple who had a daughter called Marusia (Mary). In their village it was customary to celebrate the feast of St. Andrew the First-Called (November 30). The girls used to assemble in some cottage, bake pampushki,[19] and enjoy themselves for a whole week, or even longer. Well, the girls met together once when this festival arrived, and brewed and baked what was wanted. In the evening came the lads with the music, bringing liquor with them, and dancing and revelry commenced. All the girls danced well, but Marusia the best of all. After a while there came into the cottage such a fine fellow! Marry, come up! regular blood and milk, and smartly and richly dressed.

“Hail, fair maidens!” says he.

“Hail, good youth!” say they.

[Pg 25]“You’re merry-making?”

“Be so good as to join us.”

Thereupon he pulled out of his pocket a purse full of gold, ordered liquor, nuts and gingerbread. All was ready in a trice, and he began treating the lads and lasses, giving each a share. Then he took to dancing. Why, it was a treat to look at him! Marusia struck his fancy more than anyone else; so he stuck close to her. The time came for going home.

“Marusia,” says he, “come and see me off.”

She went to see him off.

“Marusia, sweetheart!” says he, “would you like me to marry you?”

“If you like to marry me, I will gladly marry you. But where do you come from?”

“From such and such a place. I’m clerk at a merchant’s.”

Then they bade each other farewell and separated. When Marusia got home, her mother asked her:

“Well, daughter! have you enjoyed yourself?”

“Yes, mother. But I’ve something pleasant to tell you besides. There was a lad there from the neighborhood, good-looking and with lots of money, and he promised to marry me.”

“Harkye Marusia! When you go to where the girls are to-morrow, take a ball of thread with you, make a noose in it, and, when you are going to see him off, throw it over one of his buttons, and quietly unroll the ball; then, by means of the thread, you will be able to find out where he lives.”

Next day Marusia went to the gathering, and took a ball of thread with her. The youth came again.

“Good evening, Marusia!” said he.

“Good evening!” said she.

Games began and dances. Even more than before did he stick to Marusia, not a step would he budge from her. The time came for going home.

“Come and see me off, Marusia!” says the stranger.

She went out into the street, and while she was taking leave of him she quietly dropped the noose over one of his buttons. He went his way, but she remained where she was, unrolling the [Pg 26]ball. When she had unrolled the whole of it, she ran after the thread to find out where her betrothed lived. At first the thread followed the road, then it stretched across hedges and ditches, and led Marusia towards the church and right up to the porch. Marusia tried the door; it was locked. She went round the church, found a ladder, set it against a window, and climbed up it to see what was going on inside. Having got into the church, she looked—and saw her betrothed standing beside a grave and devouring a dead body—for a corpse had been left for that night in the church.

She wanted to get down the ladder quietly, but her fright prevented her from taking proper heed, and she made a little noise. Then she ran home—almost beside herself, fancying all the time she was being pursued. She was all but dead before she got in. Next morning her mother asked her:

“Well, Marusia! did you see the youth?”

“I saw him, mother,” she replied. But what else she had seen she did not tell.

In the morning Marusia was sitting, considering whether she would go to the gathering or not.

“Go,” said her mother. “Amuse yourself while you’re young!”

So she went to the gathering; the Fiend[20] was there already. Games, fun, dancing, began anew; the girls knew nothing of what had happened. When they began to separate and go homewards:

“Come, Marusia!” says the Evil One, “see me off.”

She was afraid, and didn’t stir. Then all the other girls opened out upon her.

“What are you thinking about? Have you grown so bashful, forsooth? Go and see the good lad off.”

There was no help for it. Out she went, not knowing what would come of it. As soon as they got into the streets he began questioning her:

“You were in the church last night?”

[Pg 27]“No.”

“And saw what I was doing there?”

“No.”

“Very well! To-morrow your father will die!”

Having said this, he disappeared.

Marusia returned home grave and sad. When she woke up in the morning, her father lay dead!

They wept and wailed over him, and laid him in the coffin. In the evening her mother went off to the priest’s, but Marusia remained at home. At last she became afraid of being alone in the house. “Suppose I go to my friends,” she thought. So she went, and found the Evil One there.

“Good evening, Marusia! why arn’t you merry?”

“How can I be merry? My father is dead!”

“Oh! poor thing!”

They all grieved for her. Even the Accursed One himself grieved; just as if it hadn’t all been his own doing. By and by they began saying farewell and going home.

“Marusia,” says he, “see me off.”

She didn’t want to.

“What are you thinking of, child?” insist the girls. “What are you afraid of? Go and see him off.”

So she went to see him off. They passed out into the street.

“Tell me, Marusia,” says he, “were you in the church?”

“No.”

“Did you see what I was doing?”

“No.”

“Very well! To-morrow your mother will die.”

He spoke and disappeared. Marusia returned home sadder than ever. The night went by; next morning, when she awoke, her mother lay dead! She cried all day long; but when the sun set, and it grew dark around, Marusia became afraid of being left alone; so she went to her companions.

“Why, whatever’s the matter with you? you’re clean out of countenance!”[21] say the girls.

[Pg 28]“How am I likely to be cheerful? Yesterday my father died, and to-day my mother.”

“Poor thing! Poor unhappy girl!” they all exclaim sympathizingly.

Well, the time came to say good-bye. “See me off, Marusia,” says the Fiend. So she went out to see him off.

“Tell me; were you in the church?”

“No.”

“And saw what I was doing?”

“No.”

“Very well! To-morrow evening you will die yourself!”

Marusia spent the night with her friends; in the morning she got up and considered what she should do. She bethought herself that she had a grandmother—an old, very old woman, who had become blind from length of years. “Suppose I go and ask her advice,” she said, and then went off to her grandmother’s.

“Good-day, granny!” says she.

“Good-day, granddaughter! What news is there with you? How are your father and mother?”

“They are dead, granny,” replied the girl, and then told her all that had happened.

Some links in this article are affiliate links from which we may receive a tiny commission, at no cost to you, should you visit a merchant via our link and subsequently make a purchase.

The old woman listened, and said:—

“Oh dear me! my poor unhappy child! Go quickly to the priest, and ask him this favor—that if you die, your body shall not be taken out of the house through the doorway, but that the ground shall be dug away from under the threshold, and that you shall be dragged out through that opening. And also beg that you may be buried at a crossway, at a spot where four roads meet.”

Marusia went to the priest, wept bitterly, and made him promise to do everything according to her grandmother’s instructions. Then she returned home, bought a coffin, lay down in it, and straightway expired.

Well, they told the priest, and he buried, first her father and [Pg 29]mother, and then Marusia herself. Her body was passed underneath the threshold and buried at a crossway.

Soon afterwards a seigneur’s son happened to drive past Marusia’s grave. On that grave he saw growing a wondrous flower, such a one as he had never seen before. Said the young seigneur to his servant:—

“Go and pluck up that flower by the roots. We’ll take it home and put it in a flower-pot. Perhaps it will blossom there.”

Well, they dug up the flower, took it home, put it in a glazed flower-pot, and set it in a window. The flower began to grow larger and more beautiful. One night the servant hadn’t gone to sleep somehow, and he happened to be looking at the window, when he saw a wondrous thing take place. All of a sudden the flower began to tremble, then it fell from its stem to the ground, and turned into a lovely maiden. The flower was beautiful, but the maiden was more beautiful still. She wandered from room to room, got herself various things to eat and drink, ate and drank, then stamped upon the ground and became a flower as before, mounted to the window, and resumed her place upon the stem. Next day the servant told the young seigneur of the wonders which he had seen during the night.

“Ah, brother!” said the youth, “why didn’t you wake me? To-night we’ll both keep watch together.”

The night came; they slept not, but watched. Exactly at twelve o’clock the blossom began to shake, flew from place to place, and then fell to the ground, and the beautiful maiden appeared, got herself things to eat and drink, and sat down to supper. The young seigneur rushed forward and seized her by her white hands. Impossible was it for him sufficiently to look at her, to gaze on her beauty!

Next morning he said to his father and mother, “Please allow me to get married. I’ve found myself a bride.”

His parents gave their consent. As for Marusia, she said:

“Only on this condition will I marry you—that for four years I need not go to church.”

[Pg 30]“Very good,” said he.

Well, they were married, and they lived together one year, two years, and had a son. But one day they had visitors at their house, who enjoyed themselves, and drank, and began bragging about their wives. This one’s wife was handsome; that one’s was handsomer still.

“You may say what you like,” says the host, “but a handsomer wife than mine does not exist in the whole world!”

“Handsome, yes!” reply the guests, “but a heathen.”

“How so?”

“Why, she never goes to church.”

Her husband found these observations distasteful. He waited till Sunday, and then told his wife to get dressed for church.

“I don’t care what you may say,” says he. “Go and get ready directly.”

Well, they got ready, and went to church. The husband went in—didn’t see anything particular. But when she looked round—there was the Fiend sitting at a window.

“Ha! here you are, at last!” he cried. “Remember old times. Were you in the church that night?”

“No.”

“And did you see what I was doing there?”

“No.”

“Very well! To-morrow both your husband and your son will die.”

Marusia rushed straight out of the church and away to her grandmother. The old woman gave her two phials, the one full of holy water, the other of the water of life, and told her what she was to do. Next day both Marusia’s husband and her son died. Then the Fiend came flying to her and asked:—

“Tell me; were you in the church?”

“I was.”

“And did you see what I was doing?”

“You were eating a corpse.”

She spoke, and splashed the holy water over him; in a [Pg 31]moment he turned into mere dust and ashes, which blew to the winds. Afterwards she sprinkled her husband and her boy with the water of life: straightway they revived. And from that time forward they knew neither sorrow nor separation, but they all lived together long and happily.[22]

Another lively sketch of a peasant’s love-making is given in the introduction to the story of “Ivan the widow’s son and Grisha.”[23] The tale is one of magic and enchantment, of living clouds and seven-headed snakes; but the opening is a little piece of still-life very quaintly portrayed. A certain villager, named Trofim, having been unable to find a wife, his Aunt Melania comes to his aid, promising to procure him an interview with a widow who has been left well provided for, and whose personal appearance is attractive—“real blood and milk! When she’s got on her holiday clothes, she’s as fine as a peacock!” Trofim grovels with gratitude at his aunt’s feet. “My own dear auntie, Melania Prokhorovna, get me married for heaven’s sake! I’ll buy you an embroidered kerchief in return, the very best in the whole market.” The widow comes to pay Melania a visit, and is induced to believe, on the evidence of beans (frequently used for the purpose of divination), that her destined husband is close at hand. At this propitious [Pg 32]moment Trofim appears. Melania makes a little speech to the young couple, ending her recommendation to get married with the words:—

“I can see well enough by the bridegroom’s eyes that the bride is to his taste, only I don’t know what the bride thinks about taking him.”

“I don’t mind!” says the widow. “Well, then, glory be to God! Now, stand up, we’ll say a prayer before the Holy Pictures; then give each other a kiss, and go in Heaven’s name and get married at once!” And so the question is settled.

From a courtship and a marriage in peasant life we may turn to a death and a burial. There are frequent allusions in the Skazkas to these gloomy subjects, with reference to which we will quote two stories, the one pathetic, the other (unintentionally) grotesque. Neither of them bears any title in the original, but we may style the first—,

Click HERE for Instant Access