Thoughts Evoked By The Census Of Moscow | Page 6

money to buy
anything. I gave him money for a saw, and told him of a place where he
could find work. I had already made arrangements with Piotr and
Semyon, that they should take an assistant, and they looked up a mate
for him.
"See that you come. There is a great deal of work there."
"I will come; why should I not come? Do you suppose I like to beg? I
can work."
The peasant declares that he will come, and it seems to me that he is
not deceiving me, and that he intents to come.
On the following day I go to my peasants, and inquire whether that man
has arrived. He has not been there; and in this way several men
deceived me. And those also deceived me who said that they only
required money for a ticket in order to return home, and who chanced
upon me again in the street a week later. Many of these I recognized,
and they recognized me, and sometimes, having forgotten me, they
repeated the same trick on me; and others, on catching sight of me, beat
a retreat. Thus I perceived, that in the ranks of this class also deceivers
existed. But these cheats were very pitiable creatures: all of them were
but half-clad, poverty-stricken, gaunt, sickly men; they were the very
people who really freeze to death, or hang themselves, as we learn from
the newspapers.

CHAPTER II
.

When I mentioned this poverty of the town to inhabitants of the town,
they always said to me: "Oh, all that you have seen is nothing. You
ought to see the Khitroff market-place, and the lodging-houses for the
night there. There you would see a regular 'golden company.'" {1} One
jester told me that this was no longer a company, but a GOLDEN
REGIMENT: so greatly had their numbers increased. The jester was
right, but he would have been still more accurate if he had said that
these people now form in Moscow neither a company nor a regiment,
but an entire army, almost fifty thousand in number, I think. [The old
inhabitants, when they spoke to me about the poverty in town, always

referred to it with a certain satisfaction, as though pluming themselves
over me, because they knew it. I remember that when I was in London,
the old inhabitants there also rather boasted when they spoke of the
poverty of London. The case is the same with us.] {2}
And I wanted to have a sight of this poverty of which I had been told.
Several times I set out in the direction of the Khitroff market-place, but
on every occasion I began to feel uncomfortable and ashamed. "Why
am I going to gaze on the sufferings of people whom I cannot help?"
said one voice. "No, if you live here, and see all the charms of city life,
go and view this also," said another voice. In December three years ago,
therefore, on a cold and windy day, I betook myself to that centre of
poverty, the Khitroff market-place. This was at four o'clock in the
afternoon of a week-day. As I passed through the Solyanka, I already
began to see more and more people in old garments which had not
originally belonged to them, and in still stranger foot-gear, people with
a peculiar, unhealthy hue of countenance, and especially with a singular
indifference to every thing around them, which was peculiar to them all.
A man in the strangest of all possible attire, which was utterly unlike
any thing else, walked along with perfect unconcern, evidently without
a thought of the appearance which he must present to the eyes of others.
All these people were making their way towards a single point. Without
inquiring the way, with which I was not acquainted, I followed them,
and came out on the Khitroff market-place. On the market-place,
women both old and young, of the same description, in tattered cloaks
and jackets of various shapes, in ragged shoes and overshoes, and
equally unconcerned, notwithstanding the hideousness of their attire,
sat, bargained for something, strolled about, and scolded. There were
not many people in the market itself. Evidently market-hours were over,
and the majority of the people were ascending the rise beyond the
market and through the place, all still proceeding in one direction. I
followed them. The farther I advanced, the greater in numbers were the
people of this sort who flowed together on one road. Passing through
the market-place and proceeding along the street, I overtook two
women; one was old, the other young. Both wore something ragged
and gray. As they walked they were discussing some matter. After
every necessary word, they uttered one or two unnecessary ones, of the
most improper