In the 1829 issue of the literary almanac *Northern Flowers*, Baron Anton Delvig, a close friend of A. S. Pushkin, published a piece titled “Chorus for the Graduation of the Female Students of the Kharkiv Institute.”
Anton Antonovich wrote it in 1828 during his stay in our beloved city in honor of the graduating class of that year from the Kharkiv Institute for Young Ladies. The headmistress of the institute liked the poem so much that she presented it to the Empress. On this occasion, the author was honored with the attention of Her Majesty Maria Fedorovna.
Indeed, the “lazy darling” (as Anton Delvig was sometimes called, whose laziness had been the stuff of legend ever since his days as a student at the Lyceum) lived in our city from February through June 1828, along with his wife, Sofya Mikhailovna (née Saltykov), due to official business.
What impression did our city make on the couple? What stood out to them? What did they like? The letters the Delvigas wrote to their friends and loved ones from Kharkiv provide answers to all these questions. Thanks to these letters, we can see our beloved city through their eyes.
Here is how Sofya Mikhailovna describes her arrival in our city in her letter dated February 9, 1828:
Busy preparing for a rather long journey [to Kharkiv—author’s note], I was all the more absorbed in it because I was preparing to leave St. Petersburg no more than I would be preparing to witness the end of the world… We were on the road for 15 days, including the 5 days we spent in Moscow with my father and brother… I’ve been here (in Kharkiv) since yesterday, that is, since February 8. We had a dreadful journey and temperatures of 25 degrees below zero, and I’m still completely exhausted; I’m writing to you just to relax, because mail from here is sent only once a week, and I have to wait another three days to send this letter. Things are still in disarray here. We’re staying at an inn until they assign us government housing. I don’t know the city at all yet. I feel like I’m in the middle of a forest here—I don’t know a single soul, and making new acquaintances is even more unpleasant; I take comfort, at least, in the thought that I’ll welcome spring in a wonderful climate—in the shade of Ukrainian cherry trees, as Pushkin says. I am sending you *Northern Flowers* with a portrait of Pushkin and a thousand tender greetings to both of you, our dear and kind friends, from both of us, who truly love you…
Almost a month had passed, and Baroness Delvig began to miss home and shared new and more detailed impressions of the city in a letter dated March 1.
God only knows when I’ll leave Kharkiv. The case for which my husband was sent here is complicated, and no one can tell me when we might expect it to be resolved. My Antosha is very busy, and this only adds to my melancholy, since I’m forced to be alone most of the time—which, is, after all, still better than being surrounded by new faces who, no matter how amiable they may be, have nothing in common with me—neither in interests, nor in acquaintances, nor in connections. I brought some books with me, as you can imagine, since otherwise I would go out of my mind with boredom; I have a piano and some sheet music. The moments I enjoy most are when I’m reading; I have the complete works of Shakespeare. What a delight, my dear friend! I wish with all my heart that you could read them…
As early as March 9, the baroness is eagerly awaiting her planned departure.
…Let’s hope for the best: hope gives us the strength to endure many things; for example, I don’t know what would have become of me if I hadn’t been given hope that I would leave Kharkiv at the end of April. What a pleasure that will be for me.
However, the Delvigs’ departure in April never took place. In her letter dated April 21, Sofya Mikhailovna describes her anguish:
Despite the pleasant company in Kharkiv and the kindness of all the ladies I’ve mentioned, I can’t wait to leave them behind, because—I’m tired of the gossip I constantly hear. It’s always present in small towns (you know a thing or two about those yourself), but I’ll bet you anything that nowhere else do they indulge in it quite like they do here. The people of Kharkiv have a very peculiar tendency to meddle in matters that do not concern them and to act as censors of the behavior of people who should be of no interest to them whatsoever. What endless squabbles! Even I, having been here only for a moment, could not escape them! This doesn’t upset me in the least, since I don’t really care about the opinion that people I don’t respect (to put it mildly) might have of me, but it bores me to no end…
Furthermore, the April letter is even more interesting:
I was sick and in bed, and I’ve only just gotten up. Do you remember that my husband and I took a short trip? Well, that’s what made me sick, since we took that little trip in the most dreadful weather and both caught colds; my husband was sick too, and I nearly came down with a fever; I happily avoided it thanks to the care of a very good doctor who was recommended to us here… I am simply not cut out for the Kharkiv way of life during the three months I’ve lived here, which have seemed immeasurably long to me. I want to be far away from all the gossip I hear every day; besides, I can’t wait to be back with my husband’s family. There are only two people here whom I will sincerely miss—Madame Shcherbinina, who is truly charming and impossible not to love, and another woman with the same qualities… Many of my acquaintances in St. Petersburg advised me not to follow my husband to Kharkiv, saying that his absence would last only three months and that I could spare myself the trip to join him for such a short time. Three months now seem like a year to me, even when I’m with my husband—what would it be like if I were left without him!…
In May, the baroness was apparently in a good mood, and on the 19th she wrote in a less harsh tone:
You can’t imagine, my angel, how bored I am with my stay here and the gossip I’m forced to listen to. You know what? They tried to drag me into some silly scandal, even though I don’t bother anyone and don’t say anything about anyone. It made me spend a few unpleasant minutes, because I hate gossip and have always tried to behave in a way that gives no cause for it. Here’s what amuses and comforts me here. The weather has been lovely for several days now; Batinka and I go for walks outside the city in the evenings, admire the beautiful scenery, and listen to the nightingales, of which there are an awful lot here. You can’t imagine what a delight this is for me: I’m ready to listen to them all night long!
But on June 6, the baroness candidly admits that she would have considered herself the unhappiest woman in the world if she had been condemned to spend the rest of her life here.
I wrote to you 10 days ago, informing you that I was leaving Kharkiv, and indeed, our trip had already been scheduled, much to my delight, for the following day, when these gentlemen (including my husband) received a letter from St. Petersburg instructing them to stay here a little longer to handle a new matter that had been entrusted to them: yet another investigation. Imagine my despair: I had already said goodbye to everyone and was fully prepared to leave. I tore up my letter to you, since it was no longer relevant… Fortunately, this matter cannot drag on, as they say, for more than two weeks—or even less; ten days have already passed since we received that fateful news—and so I hope to be able to leave here in four or five days; They have almost finished the matter; my husband is working with all his might and as quickly as he can, and the others are doing the same, for they, too, are annoyed that they must prolong their stay here after having prepared to leave. I am very distressed that I have disappointed my father-in-law and mother-in-law, who are eagerly awaiting our visit. Moreover, it is important for us not to arrive too late in St. Petersburg, where we have financial and other rather urgent matters to attend to… I am sending you, my angel, my husband’s epigram on the Kharkiv gossip; he asks you to share your opinion on it. I should tell you, so that you might understand it better, that Kharkiv and Lopan are the names of two rivers—the dirtiest and stinkiest in the whole world. As for the wonderful local climate, about which I’ve heard so much boasting—I can say nothing more about it than: “The tambourines behind the mountains are red.” At any rate, it did not give us cause to marvel at it; perhaps it was just an off year. Be that as it may, I am leaving Kharkiv with pleasure, and I would consider myself the unhappiest woman in the world if I were condemned to spend my life here. Orenburg is a different story altogether! I’d fly there right now!
Finally, on June 12, 1828, the Delvigs left our city—much to Sofya Mikhailovna’s great joy.
Her husband, Anton Antonovich Delvig, was more than brief in his descriptions of our city in his letters. In the spring of 1828, he wrote to his friend Evgeny Abramovich Baratynsky:
I am writing to inform you that in the city of Kharkiv, the misery is classic, characterized by the three unities, the most unbearable of which is called boredom… I hope and pray that God will help me escape from here.
Throughout our city’s long history, a vast number of people have visited it on business trips. Each of their memories of Kharkiv is priceless to us—especially when we read not only enthusiastic reviews about it… Sometimes it’s easier to see from the outside what you don’t notice when you’re living on the inside.
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