In the late 1840s and early 1850s, Pavel Ivanovich Yakushkin, a well-known writer, ethnographer, and collector of folk songs, proverbs, riddles, and folk tales, lived in the Sloboda Ukraine.
Starting in 1849, Pavel Ivanovich decided to try his hand at teaching and taught history and geography in Oboyan and Bogodukhov, as well as Russian grammar at the Kharkiv District School.
His friends recalled a very curious incident related to this:
P. I. Yakushkin simply used the same system of addressing students that is now recognized as mandatory for everyone and has become commonplace. To the school principal, who was in the habit of addressing his subordinates informally, Yakushkin remarked: “I use the informal ‘you’ only with good friends, people I value and respect, but I use the formal ‘you’ even with servants.”
While serving in the Kharkiv Governorate, Yakushkin continued to collect folklore and ethnographic data. The Crimean War found him in the town of Bogodukhov. Here is what he himself writes about it:
…in the God-saved town of Bohodukhiv; and the town of Bohodukhiv lies so far off, in such a remote area, that its residents had to wait at least two weeks after the newspapers were published in St. Petersburg to read them. The newspapers, of course, were major ones—if not of the whole world, then certainly of all of Bogodukhov, encompassing both the town itself and the entire Bohodukhiv District. Those familiar with the Bogodukhov post office who wished to learn the news from the papers would come to the post office on the day the mail arrived and wait impatiently for the mail—and with it, any news.
Pavel Ivanovich asked the Governor-General of Kharkiv for permission to join the militia, but his request was denied.
Yakushkin recalls the coverage of the Crimean War in Kharkiv as follows:
…In Kharkiv, there were other rumors, though they were not much different from those in Bohodukhiv. At that time, at least four couriers passed through Kharkiv daily on their way from Sevastopol in the Crimea to St. Petersburg with reports, and for the people of Kharkiv, the words of a fairy tale were literally coming true: it ran down their mustaches but never reached their mouths. The couriers traveled, but in Kharkiv they didn’t say a word to anyone, and we learned the news only from the newspapers we received from St. Petersburg…
Still, one episode of that war—one connected to our city—has been immortalized thanks to Yakushkin’s notes:
They began bringing the wounded to Kharkiv. Plans were made to set up hospitals for, I believe, two thousand patients. The transport of the wounded to Kharkiv was more than unsatisfactory. On one occasion, everyone was surprised by the unanimous gratitude expressed toward the transport supervisor—all the patients on that transport, even though there were, it seems, several hundred of them, spoke of the transport supervisor with nothing but gratitude.
Rumors about this remarkable transport supervisor were circulating in Kharkiv.
One fine day, a young woman came to the Governor-General:
“Please give me a receipt, Your Excellency,” she said to the Governor-General.
“What receipt?” he asked, completely taken aback by such a request from this young woman. “What receipt?”
“I brought the wounded from Sevastopol.”
“You? From Sevastopol?”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“How is that possible?”
“The group of patients had been entrusted to an officer. I’d known this officer for a long time, so I went to Sevastopol with him. From Sevastopol, they sent him to Kharkiv with the wounded.” But on the road—such a disaster happened! He fell ill on the road! It’s a good thing I happened to be there! We couldn’t just leave the wounded standing in the middle of the road! So I took all his money—who can you trust with money? If you trust someone, they’ll squander it, and you’ll be held accountable! So, I took the money and drove the vehicle myself.
— “Well, did you get him there safely?” asked the Governor-General.
— “Thank God, Your Excellency!” “It seems nothing went wrong along the way.”
“Did you spend a lot of money?”
“A lot, Your Excellency!”
“Did you spend your own money too?”
“Where would I get my own money?!” I still have plenty of government funds left! Please take this!” said the young woman, handing over the money.
The Governor-General took the money—and gasped. Knowing the standard rates, he never imagined it would be possible to transport the patients to Kharkiv so cheaply.
“But please, Your Excellency, order a receipt to be issued as soon as possible, or else my man will likely breathe his last before I even get there—he’s on his deathbed.”
“Did you take good care of the people?”
“I think I took care of everyone, Your Excellency; not a single soldier was unhappy the whole way.”
“And did they sign your logbook?”
“What logbook? I can’t read or write!”
“All right, go on!”
“But what about the receipt?”
“Come back later!”
“But when?”
“In about three hours.”
“Then I’ll start getting ready to head back, Your Excellency: my husband is on his deathbed.” “All right, all right, go on!
”They sent a soldier to ask: Were they satisfied with this girl’s instructions during the journey?
“Not even my own mother could have done better!” they replied. “She looked after everyone herself the whole way, took care of everyone herself!”
“Has anyone complained about her?”
“What complaint?! For heaven’s sake, not even a mother could please everyone that well. She kept all the non-commissioned officers in line.”
“How did she keep them in line?”
“Like this: ‘Any non-commissioned officer who doesn’t obey me—I’ll arrest you,’ she’d say. ‘Don’t get out of hand with me!’” So everyone listened to her; that’s why things ran so smoothly.
The girl went back to the governor-general; rumor had it that he gave her twenty-five silver rubles for her service and sent her on her way.
She must have been a fine girl!
Unfortunately, the name of this heroine has remained unknown.
When a large infirmary for the wounded was set up in Kharkiv, Yakushkin often visited it, talking with the wounded soldiers and recording their stories. This led to his wonderful essays, “From Stories About the Crimean War.”
Although he was not accepted into the Ratniki (as the militia was called at the time), Pavel Ivanovich visited them at the Kharkiv hospital. As a very sensitive person, he offered a fascinating description of them that remains relevant to this day. It is with this description that I would like to conclude this note.
Living in Kharkiv, it was hard not to see the wounded, and if anyone wanted to talk to them, they would have heard stories they wouldn’t forget for a long time! I loved talking to them, and I was always struck by the good nature of the soldiers—especially the warriors…
I was always struck by the calmness with which the wounded narrators spoke of their exploits, by the indifference—or, rather, the complete absence of self-praise—in the stories of men who had faced terrible dangers. Even if they were unfamiliar with the regulations—which have since been abolished—and even if they did not know how to respond to their superiors as required, no one knew how to die the way a Russian soldier or warrior did…
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