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Translator: C. Hagberg Wright

MIMI'S MARRIAGE

TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY

C. HAGBERG WRIGHT, LL.D.

T. FISHER UNWIN LTD.

ADELPHI TERRACE, LONDON

INTRODUCTION

The writer of these genial satires on the weaknesses of her sex was born in 1857. She belonged to a noble family with estates in Southern Russia, and was educated at the Pavlovsk Institute, one of the great schools for women in Russia. Soon after her debut in society, she married an officer in the Russian army.

At the end of it all Mimi's heart is touched but not broken. Perhaps she Was even slightly disillusioned by the calmness with which her "correct" admirer met the crisis of her departure from the Caucasus.

The secondary characters are also well drawn; notably that of the mother of Mimi, a self-sacrificing "doormat" whose mission in life is to make things smooth for her cherished daughter; but to those who seek to discover the personality of an author through the medium of his puppets, and are ready to find a veiled autobiography in the career of the hero or heroine, it may be suggested that the character of Vava, the lonely, idealistic, day-dreaming cousin of Mimi, is far nearer to the writer's heart than the fascinating heroine who fills the title-role.

Pushkin, Lermontov, Tolstoy have each revelled in the beauty of the great southern mountain range, with its luxuriant forests, its snow-clad peaks, and innumerable springs of mineral water.

The Slav temperament, with its swift transitions from feverish gaiety to nervous exhaustion, finds peculiar relief in reverting to the simple life of the Caucasian watering-places. There many a disgraced official or disappointed genius has regained contentment if not happiness, and realised, despite the pain of exile, that there is a sweetness in adversity.

C. HAGBERG WRIGHT.

MIMI'S MARRIAGE

Mimotchka, or Mimi, is sometimes used as a diminutive name for Marie.

And really how lucky Mimotchka is I know that many girls of her age among her friends, and especially their mothers, are ready to burst with envy and vexation that they could not get Spiridon Ivanovitch for themselves, and say that he was mercilessly hunted down, and that Mimotchka was thrown at his head.... But, goodness me, what won't envious women's tongues say! Instead of repeating such absurdities, let us rather rejoice with Mimotchka, rejoice with our whole heart, as do her good aunts.

"Well, thank God, thank God!" says Aunt Sophy; "I am so glad about Mimotchka. I do hope she will be happy with him. It's just as well that he isn't young; Mimi is still such a child, she requires an elderly, serious man...."

"Of course it's best that he isn't young," confirms Aunt Mary; "it's easier to keep such a husband under her thumb. And, as a good aunt, I advise you, Mimotchka, to take your Spiridon Ivanovitch well in hand in time."

"I told you that everything was for the best," says Aunt Julia, in conclusion. "Just think how fortunate it is that you 'broke it off' with that other good-for-nothing fellow!"

At dances in Russia a leader or conductor is generally chosen, who directs and calls out the figures in the cotillion, mazourka, and quadrilles, which are more complicated than in England.

Then he took to calling, then he began to pay her attention, and finally made her an offer.

The brilliant guardsman and adroit dancer passed for a dangerous lady-killer. He flirted with all the pretty girls, widows, and married women that he was acquainted with, and was said to be the object of the affections of many of them. So that to carry him off from them all must have been very flattering to the vanity of both Mimotchka and her mamma.

"Do you know, Mimotchka," said Aunt Mary to her, "he is so nice, so very nice, that if I were only a little younger, on my word of honour, I should try and cut you out."

"Yes, you will make a handsome couple," confirmed Aunt Sophy.

Having given their blessing, Mimotchka's parents set about preparing a most luxurious trousseau for the future princess. It had to be done on credit, because their affairs were just then terribly involved.... However, as long as Mimotchka could remember, her parents' affairs had always been terribly involved; but this did not prevent their living without denying themselves any pleasures, excepting always the pleasure of paying their debts, the sum of which had thus grown and grown like ill weeds.

In view of the approaching marriage, they again had to borrow from one and another, but to owe a few thousand of roubles more or less--what could that matter when the happiness of an only daughter was concerned? And then in the future Mimi would have the childless uncle's coal mines! All Mimotchka's relations made her presents. Aunt Sophy gave her a costly fur cloak Aunt Mary an elegant tea-gown in vert-jaspe plush, lined with bleu-nuage satin, and trimmed with rich lace. Aunt Julia gave the silver. All the linen was marked with a princess's coronet. Aunt Julia said that this was not correct, because Mimotchka was not a princess, and the linen ought to be marked with the bride's monogram, and that it was ridiculous to be in such a hurry about the coronet, as if they could not conceal their joy that Mimotchka was going to be a princess. But Aunt Mary and Aunt Sophy backed up mamma, saying, "After all, what did it matter? Would not the linen that was made after the marriage be marked with a princess's coronet; why, then, not have the same marks on all at once?" And so all the linen was marked with a princess's coronet.

Before Mimotchka's engagement was officially announced, papa came to a clear understanding with the young man. He confessed that just at the present time his affairs were perhaps rather involved, and that he was not in a position to give anything to Mimotchka.... But he took on himself all the expenses of fitting up a nest for the young couple, and promised to help them afterwards, as far as was possible, by allowing his daughter a part of his income.

In his turn he confessed that just now he was passing through some rather unpleasant monetary difficulties. Of course, these difficulties could not give him any very serious anxiety while he was alone and an unmarried man, and, after all, his uncle's coal mines must come eventually to him; but none the less he would consider himself the most abject and dishonourable of men if, under the present circumstances, he were to allow himself to marry a portionless girl, that is, without waiting, if not for the death of the childless coal uncle, at any rate for some advancement in the service.

About ?250.

Mamma maintained that papa had never made any such promise.

The aunts took the matter up warmly, and set to work to effect a reconciliation. They went from one to another, almost choked themselves with excitement, talked till their throats were dry, shrugged their shoulders, threw up their hands, severely discussed and judged the matter from all sides, admonished the young man, admonished mamma, and pitied and comforted the unfortunate Mimotchka.

"I don't understand how it can all finish," said Aunt Sophy, "but it seems to me that it would be really best for them to separate now.... Anyhow, he has shown himself a dishonourable fellow. He got the command, and now he won't marry her!"

"But he must be made to marry her," said Aunt Julia. "It's impossible to compromise a girl like that and go unpunished."

Mamma, panting with excitement, and beside herself with vexation, read this letter to her sisters. The aunts comforted and quieted her.

"Well, perhaps it's for the best," said Aunt Sophy; "speaking openly, I never cared for him. I always felt that no good would come out of that connection."

"No, don't let us be partial," remarked Aunt Mary, "he has qualities.... Only, as a man that has been a good deal spoilt, he is perhaps a little selfish.... Yes, and wants to make a good career too.... That was evident from the very beginning. I must acknowledge that, when I heard that my late brother-in-law was asked to exert himself about getting that appointment, I said to my husband, "You may say what you like, but, il y a du louche."

"Well, let him go, and Heaven bless him!" concluded Aunt Julia. "There are as good fish in the sea as ever came out. Mimotchka can make a much better match. It's a good thing that he has left Petersburg. At any rate it will all be done with and forgotten. It's no use despairing. Believe me, everything is for the best."

And perhaps really it is all for the best. Thank Heaven, Mimotchka is once more engaged, once more receiving congratulations.... This time not only the day, but also the "hour" of the marriage is fixed, and that hour is so near that Aunt Julia's carriage and black horses are waiting at the door to take Mimotchka to the fashionable church where the guests are assembling.

On the bed, with its folded-back pink curtains, lies the white dress, the tulle veil, and the wreath of orange blossoms.

When Mimotchka was four years old she had not any idea either of "The little shooter," or "The canary bird," but she could sing "Il ?tait une berg?r" ... and "Malbrough s'en va-t-en guerre." At seven she could already lisp and chatter very prettily in French. Mdlle. Victoire, her nurse, had, up to that time, taught her the French alphabet and a few little songs. Then she was given Perrault's and Berken's fairy tales, which acquainted her with the histories of Bluebeard, Puss-in-Boots, and Peau D'Ane.

Russian nursery rhymes.

And what a cherub Mimotchka was, with her sweet little face, her flaxen hair, her plump, bare arms and shoulders, dressed like a doll in a white frock with a broad sash! It was impossible not to admire her, and not to tell her that she was a most charming child. And Mimotchka liked to be told so, cast down her eyes, made a pretty curtsy, and was already coquettish.

Having finished or half finished her course of study , Mimotchka returned home, a grown-up young lady, and wore long dresses. She was pretty, graceful, and feminine. She could speak and read French; could even write in that language freely enough to compose an invitation to tea or a letter to her dressmaker. She had learnt something besides at her school, but as that "something" was unnecessary, unimportant, and uninteresting, she promptly forgot it.

Don't think either that because Mimotchka was so fond of French novels she was unpatriotic, or that she had forgotten the Russian alphabet. Not at all. She would have been glad to read Russian, but there was really nothing to read! If a careful mother wished to give her daughter a Russian book to read, what could you recommend her besides Fillipoff's or Galakhoff's selections from the best authors, which, of course, cannot be expected to satisfy the imagination of a girl at an age when she naturally dreams of love and of marriage....

Mamma once raised this question at her sisters', and the aunts only confirmed her own opinion, that in Russian there was absolutely nothing whatever to read.

"I was told," said she, "over and over again of a certain Stchedrin.... And my husband read his books and went into such ecstasies.... And so one day I tried to read them--I understood nothing! Really, literally nothing!... Such coarseness, all about peasants and their shirts.... And so I told my husband. 'Well,' I said, 'I don't know, either I am too stupid, or goodness knows what it all means!'"

Amusing, too, with a fainting, but fast-beating heart and lightly raised skirt, to run through the dark, unknown ways of Paris, to penetrate into the boudoirs of brilliant cocottes, to rest on their soft velvet or satin couches, to take baths of milk, to bathe in champagne, to adorn one's self with lace and diamonds, to feast, to squander money, to fall in love sentimentally with some handsome but poorly dressed young fellow, an illegitimate son, turning out in the end to be a viscount, a marquis, or even a prince, and of course a millionaire. They may be all fairy tales, but at any rate not dull ones, like those about "Annoushka" and "Lubinka."

And Mimotchka, amidst toilettes and visits, devours this sort of light literature, and it imperceptibly poisons her mind. At that wonderful time when a poet would have likened her awakening heart to a bud ready to open, her soul was filled with the image of Henri, Armand, or Maurice. Such a hero as Maurice neither eats nor drinks, nor is subject to any unpoetical weakness or maladies. The only thing that the author allows him from time to time is a slight scratch , in consequence of which Maurice appears before the readers with his arm in a sling and an interesting pallor on his countenance. The author does not allow him either any fixed occupation or business, so that the whole time of the fascinating hero is devoted to love and ladies. Of course he is endowed with every imaginable quality and all possible talents; he rides, swims, and shoots admirably, makes every woman he meets fall in love with him, eclipses every man in nobleness and bravery, scatters purses filled with gold all around him, and comes into one inheritance after another. The image of Maurice, his sayings, manners, and doings, are imprinted on Mimotchka's heart, and, like that hero's other victims, she is deeply in love with him.

And so, having finished, or half finished, her studies, Mimotchka returns home a grown-up young lady, and wears long dresses.

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