One of the chapters of the novel *The Master and Margarita* is called "The Great Ball at Satan's." As the reader recalls, Margarita was the queen of this ball; she greeted the guests—famous villains and villainesses. Almost all the invitees were real historical figures. Here, Koroviev introduces the next guest:
“–…Madam Minkina, oh how lovely! A bit nervous. Why burn the maid’s face with curling tongs! Of course, under these conditions, she’ll be cut down!..”
Before telling the story of Nastasya Minkina, it is necessary to recall her famous lover—Count Arakcheev, the most influential man during the reign of Emperor Alexander I, and his estate in Gruzino.
“From Chudovo, turn left, 13 versts, Gruzino. A few years ago I visited this village, which belonged to the late Count A.A. Arakcheev. The road there leads along a beautiful highway lined with trees. Between Petersburg and Novgorod, Gruzino is certainly the most remarkable and picturesque place. Behind Lake Gruzinets, across which I crossed by ferry, on a significant elevation stands a church and large stone buildings hidden in the dense greenery of the garden: this is Gruzino. A historical tradition, passed down by the author of the Stepennaia Kniga, states that St. Apostle Andrew, passing from Novgorod to Rome, was in Gruzino (Druzino) and planted his staff there, and that on this spot, soon after the baptism of Novgorod and in memory of the tradition, a church was built in the name of St. Andrew the First-Called. In this church is kept a precious rarity: a banner or standard of Grand Prince Vladimir of Kiev; this banner was donated to the church by Senator Klyucharev and brought from Poland by his son. It is known that the Gruzino volost, belonging to the Novgorod Derevyanitsky Monastery, was given by Emperor Peter I to Prince Menshikov and later was under economic administration. Emperor Paul I granted Arakcheev baronial dignity and 2,000 souls of peasants, allowing him to choose them wherever he wished. Arakcheev desired to have Gruzino.
The former owner of Gruzino adorned his estate with elegant buildings and monuments. At the magnificent monument erected to Emperor Paul I lies a tombstone; this is the tomb of Count Arakcheev with the inscription: ‘May even my ashes remain at the foot of Your image.’ Upon the death of Count Arakcheev, the sovereign emperor decreed to forever give the Gruzino volost to the Novgorod Count Arakcheev Cadet Corps, which is housed in one of the local buildings. Besides this excellent use of the late count’s property, according to his will, 1,439,220 rubles in assignations will be awarded to whoever writes the best history of Emperor Alexander I’s reign in Russian by 1925—that is, the most complete, reliable, and eloquent.
The main house or palace, where the blessed memory Emperor Alexander stayed during his visit to Gruzino, is filled with items dedicated to memories of the emperor. In the study, on the writing desk lies, among other things, a portfolio in which the count presented matters to the sovereign for report. All these items, testifying to the favor of the unforgettable emperor towards him, according to the will of the late Count Alexey Andreyevich, must remain here in the same form and order as we see them now, forever.
The Gruzino garden is located on hilly, extremely picturesque terrain and is decorated with monuments, gazebos, and more. In short, Gruzino belongs, as we said, to the most curious places between Petersburg and Novgorod,” wrote the censor and art historian David Ivanovich Matskevich in his travel notes.
“Arakcheevshchina” became a term denoting harsh command and stick discipline. This is largely true, as Arakcheev himself was convinced: “Only under the stick is anything done.” His reputation as a dull and cruel satrap was formed during his lifetime. Pushkin wrote three biting epigrams about him, two of which used expressive dots instead of obscene words.
Alexey Andreyevich Arakcheev came from minor landed nobility. In his childhood, he studied with a village deacon and by the age of fourteen knew only, by his own words, “Russian literacy and the four rules of arithmetic.” In 1783, after numerous petitions, Alexey was accepted into the cadets of the Artillery and Engineering Noble Corps. He studied brilliantly and was highly regarded by the authorities. But the cadets disliked Arakcheev for his harsh and unsociable character; he was constantly tormented and even often beaten. Arakcheev did not endure insults for long: as soon as he was appointed senior in the corps, he took revenge fully and retaliated indiscriminately. The cadets hated Arakcheev so much that they attempted to kill him: they placed a heavy stone at the top of the stairs and, when Arakcheev stepped onto the bottom step, they dropped it on him.
Two years after entering the cadet corps, Arakcheev was already a non-commissioned officer, and upon graduation received the rank of lieutenant. Soon the heir to the throne, Grand Duke Pavel Petrovich, noticed him and appointed him commander of his artillery—Pavel had his own small army in Gatchina, similar to Peter’s “amusement” regiments. Arakcheev revered Pavel and once, in a fit of mystical enthusiasm, fell to his knees and exclaimed:
– I have only God and You!
With Pavel I’s accession to the throne began Arakcheev’s rapid rise. At twenty-seven, he was already a colonel and commandant of Saint Petersburg; the emperor gifted him the estate of Gruzino in Novgorod province with the surrounding village of Oskuy and nineteen villages, as well as two thousand souls of peasants. On the day of the emperor’s coronation, Arakcheev was elevated to baronial dignity. Over the next four years, ranks, positions, and orders poured upon him continuously. In 1799, the emperor appointed Arakcheev commander of all artillery and granted him the title of count of the Russian Empire. Besides the title, Pavel I gave his favorite a coat of arms with the motto: “Faithful without flattery.” Soon wits altered the motto by changing just one letter in the first word—from “без” (without) to “бес” (demon)—making it read that Arakcheev was “a demon devoted to flattery.”
To be fair, Arakcheev, unlike other royal favorites, earned the sovereign’s favor through knowledge, abilities, and hard work. Wherever he appeared as a commander, order was soon established. He was an “effective manager” of his country and his era. Naturally, he achieved this by strictly Arakcheev methods. Street curses and slaps were the mildest “methods.” And Arakcheev, by his position, dealt not with privates and corporals, but with senior officers, often highly decorated.
Once, during an inspection of the Life Guards Preobrazhensky Regiment, Arakcheev insulted officers particularly harshly, and they complained to the sovereign through an influential comrade. Since then, Pavel I’s attitude toward Arakcheev cooled. Soon Arakcheev slapped a young officer of his staff, von Fitinghof. Finally, a real tragedy occurred: Arakcheev mortally insulted Lieutenant Colonel Len, a Suvorov veteran awarded the St. George Cross for bravery. Len held back and silently endured the abuse, but after the service loaded two pistols and went to Arakcheev, but did not find him. Returning home, Len wrote a letter to the offender and shot himself.
And this human machine was, it turns out, a secret sensualist. To be honest, he was an unremarkable lover, never shining in appearance or charm. Here is his verbal portrait: “In appearance, Arakcheev resembled a large monkey in uniform. He was tall, lean, and sinewy: there was nothing graceful in his build, as he was very stooped and had a long thin neck on which one could study the anatomy of veins, muscles, etc. Moreover, he somehow convulsively wrinkled his chin. He had large fleshy ears, a thick ugly head always tilted to one side; his complexion was impure, cheeks sunken, nose broad and angular, nostrils flared, mouth large, forehead overhanging…” Add to this an unpleasant voice, what was then called a “fistula” (a kind of old flute).
Of course, an unattractive man can be irresistible. But that is a kind of talent, and Arakcheev was talentless in the art of love and did not bother with fuss. In Gruzino, he bought beautiful serf girls from neighboring landlords and made them his concubines. Having had his fill of one slave, he married her off, providing a small dowry.
But then a miracle happened: the Zmey Gorynych, devourer of maidens, fell in love with one of his captives. Her name was Nastasya Fyodorovna Minkina; she was the daughter of a coachman, with some Gypsy blood in her veins. Apparently, that’s why she was born a dark-eyed, swarthy brunette with curly hair. Round-faced and stately, she immediately enchanted Arakcheev. The peasants said about her: “…since the count bought her, she cast a fog over him and got such power that God forbid.”
The nineteen-year-old Nastasya became the count’s last successful acquisition. She turned out to be remarkably clever, quickly grasped household management, could count, and soon learned to write quite competently. Arakcheev trusted his mistress completely and entrusted her with running the house and commanding the servants.
Here, Minkina’s harsh character, fitting Arakcheev’s, showed itself. At first, she tormented only possible rivals, then began to torment all the household. She was Arakcheev in a skirt. But if the cruelty of the master had some administrative sense, then Minkina’s cruelty was petty female malice and intoxication with power.
Nastasya tried even harder to bind her lover to herself. But she could not get pregnant. She persuaded a pregnant peasant woman to give her the unborn child. It was not difficult for Nastasya to fake her own pregnancy, especially since the count visited the estate sporadically. In 1803, Minkina supposedly “gave birth” to a boy. Arakcheev’s joy knew no bounds. The boy was baptized Mikhail. The deceived father ordered his adjutant to obtain nobility for Misha by any means. The count’s envoy bought documents in Vitebsk in the name of Mikhail Shumsky—a noble boy of that name had just died. Since then, Nastasya Minkina began signing with the false surname Shumskaya.
Arakcheev’s feelings did not fade with the years; he indulged Nastasya in every way, built her a separate wing opposite the lord’s house. Even Emperor Alexander I visited there and drank tea with the lord’s concubine—a touching union of the sovereign with his people. In 1806, the count immortalized his love for Minkina by erecting a peculiar monument in his estate in the form of a luxurious cast-iron vase. The metal used for casting cannons seemed preferable to bronze and marble.
And in the same year, Arakcheev… got married. His mother, Elizaveta Andreyevna, had long lamented that her son was still unmarried. It was also improper for such a high official to remain a bachelor. He was matched with eighteen-year-old Natalia Khomutova from a modest family of Yaroslavl nobility. The couple lived in Petersburg, but now Arakcheev appeared even less in society—he did not want to show his pretty wife to the city’s social whirl. Moreover, the count forbade Natalia to travel anywhere alone.
Arakcheev usually dined at home, and besides his wife, several invited officers were always at the table. The count was sometimes in a cheerful mood and showered his wife with army jokes, which made the young adjutants uncomfortable. The countess blushed and remained silent.
Arakcheev’s rudeness and jealousy completed the destruction of the family. Once the count went to the troops, and soon Natalia Fyodorovna ordered the carriage to be prepared to go somewhere. The footman reported that the master forbade her to be taken anywhere except to her mother and other relatives. The countess ordered to be taken to her mother and stayed there. Arakcheev, returning to the capital, immediately went after his wife, but she refused to return to him. The count went after her every day and finally persuaded her. They got into the carriage and set off. What happened in the carriage is unknown, but halfway Arakcheev got out and walked home on foot, and the wife, now practically the ex-wife, returned to her mother forever.
It was said that since then Arakcheev’s attitude toward marriage became simply intolerable. A contemporary claimed that he even hindered the marriages of his serfs: “The count paired them off—the groom with the bride he chose; Ivan stood with Matryona and Sidor with Pelageya. When all were thus arranged, the count ordered Pelageya to go to Ivan, and Matryona to Sidor, and so he ordered them to be wed. Hence in families there were quarrels, disputes, and debauchery.”
In reality, it was not quite so. Arakcheev, according to the “Rules on Weddings” he composed, strictly examined newlyweds on divine law and, if anyone erred, postponed the wedding for a year. Sometimes they had to retake the exam for several years.
In Saint Petersburg, Arakcheev also had mistresses—seekers of ranks and positions for their husbands and relatives. The count had a long affair with the wife of the Ober-Procurator of the Synod with the amusing surname Pukalov. Arakcheev was friends with her husband Ivan Antonovich and cohabited with his young wife Varvara Petrovna. Many knew about this affair: “…he (Pukalov) considered mind and conscience merchandise and sold them to whoever paid more; he also rented out his wife’s body, and Count Alexey Andreyevich Arakcheev subscribed to Mrs. Pukalova’s body indefinitely. Ivan Antonovich finally resigned from service of his own accord, but as the subscription to his wife’s body continued, he remained a house man at the count’s, a friend of the house, and engaged in industry—providing stools (Pukalov called order stars ‘stools’) and almonds (he called medals ‘almonds’) à prix fixe (at a fixed price). A stool cost 10,000 rubles, an almond 5,000 rubles.”
But no amorous escapades in the capital overshadowed Arakcheev’s heart for his beloved Nastasya. Even when in 1819 he somehow learned that Mikhail was not their son—he forgave and never reproached his mistress for the deception. True, she used all her charms, fawned, and flattered. She constantly sent the count “reports on the work done,” such as: “In our house, thank God, all is well—people are healthy, as are the cattle and birds…”
But mostly she wrote about personal matters:
“Oh, friend, count, may God grant you health and that I could serve you. One thought comforts me—love me, do not change me for temporary admirers who use all their tricks to catch love, and you know your health. This torments your faithful and devoted friend and servant. Kissing your hand several times.” (Spelling and punctuation preserved.)
Arakcheev’s health was indeed undermined. He spared no subordinates but did not spare himself. He was tormented by insomnia, becoming increasingly capricious and irritable. Sometimes he would call a doctor, who would feel his pulse.
– Well, am I sick? What am I sick with?
– I don’t know, your excellency!
– Well, then I’ll tell you: because you’re a fool!
After scolding the doctor, the count sometimes calmed down and fell asleep. And in the morning, he worked like a machine again. The human machine cannot slow down: stopping for him is death.
Moreover, his adopted son Mikhail constantly upset him. He was kind but weak-willed. He studied poorly at the Page Corps, was lazy. It is unknown when Shumsky learned the truth about his origin; they say since then he started drinking. Most importantly, he began to avoid his adoptive father. However, through the count’s patronage, he was enrolled as a chamber page and soon appointed a wing adjutant. He was often seen drunk on duty until he was caught in such a state by the sovereign. Alexander I sent Mikhail to serve under Arakcheev and, to console the count, gave the young man the rank of lieutenant.
Since then, Shumsky was constantly either under the watchful eye of his adoptive father or in Gruzino under Nastasya’s supervision. There he indulged in drinking without hindrance. It was said that in the count’s absence, Nastasya Minkina also began to drink—one visitor to Gruzino described her as “a drunken, fat, and spiteful woman.”
The general tension and nervousness increased in this strange family. Minkina’s cruelty became unbearable. For trivial reasons, she beat sisters Tatyana and Fedosya Ivanova, and sentenced Praskovya Antonova to whipping with rods. Minkina now always personally supervised the executions. This time she thought Praskovya had too few lashes and ordered her to be beaten additionally with whips. The girl was carried away barely alive. She was nursed by her brother Vasily, who worked in the lord’s kitchen, and his wife Darya, who was ten years older than her husband (quirks of Arakcheev’s marital games). Almost all the servants gathered at the bedside. Feldsher Stepan Isakov came, smeared the girl’s bloodied back with ointment, and applied bandages. Despair seized everyone.
– We must kill the villainess; we cannot endure her anymore, – the serfs decided.
Vasily Antonov volunteered to “suffer for the community.”
At dawn on September 10, 1825, Vasily took a kitchen knife and entered the “lady’s” bedroom. Nastasya woke up, tried to resist, shielding herself with her hands. Vasily grabbed her by the hair and slashed her throat with the knife…
At that very moment in the capital, Count Arakcheev woke up. With a gloomy premonition, he began preparing secret papers for the sovereign. Alexander I had recently left for Taganrog, where his wife was recovering her health. Arakcheev was to follow; the emperor and his temporary deputy had an important state matter—to suppress a conspiracy, to crush secret societies. Lists of noble conspirators and all secret threads were already in their hands. The emperor intended to do this, as always, hiding behind Arakcheev’s back. And the count was ready to put his chest forward, knowing that the conspirators’ hatred was directed personally against him as well.
He did not yet know that the conspiracy was in his own house.
But then Arakcheev was informed that a messenger had arrived from Gruzino with news: Nastasya Fyodorovna was dangerously ill. The count immediately got into a carriage and rushed to Gruzino. Doctor Daller and Colonel von Friken went with him—both already knew from the messenger what had really happened and were racking their brains on how to prepare Arakcheev for the deadly truth. A few versts before arriving, they met an officer named Kafka. Arakcheev ordered to stop and asked him about Nastasya Fyodorovna’s condition. Kafka answered frankly:
– Nothing, your excellency, only the skin remains on the head.
Arakcheev did not immediately understand the meaning of what was said. Then he howled, threw himself out of the carriage onto the ground, rolled on the grass, tore it out by the roots, then began pulling his hair and shouting:
– They killed her, they killed her, so kill me too, stab me quickly!
He was barely seated back in the carriage. But already at the estate, seeing Minkina’s corpse on the table, the count again went into a frenzy. He ran around the yard before the gathered peasants and shouted:
– Villains! Cut me too! You took everything from me!
Before the funeral, Arakcheev was in some stupor. When the coffin was lowered into the grave, he seemed to come to and threw himself into the pit shouting:
– Without her, life is not needed! Kill me!
In a letter to the emperor, the suspicious Arakcheev hinted at a conspiracy directly against him: “…to make me incapable of serving you and fulfilling your holy will, father, it can also be assumed that the murderer had designs on me…”
The investigation arrested all of Arakcheev’s servants; interrogations were conducted with severity. Soon the main culprit and accomplices were identified. But the investigators, under the pressure of the all-powerful Arakcheev, sought to hold as many serfs responsible as possible, exceeded their authority, and violated laws. According to Herzen, Arakcheev himself, bound with a bloodied cloth taken from Minkina’s corpse, came to interrogate the unfortunate. There was one decent magistrate who refused to flog a pregnant peasant woman. “The magistrate was arrested and resigned; I sincerely regret not knowing his name, but may his past sins be forgiven for this moment—simply put, heroism, with such bandits it was no joke to show human feeling,” Herzen wrote.
All those whom the investigation deemed guilty were sentenced to punishment by whip and penal labor. They were flogged in Gruzino, on the square in front of the cathedral, in the presence of all the serfs, old and young. Vasily Antonov and his sister were whipped to death on the spot; another woman died a few days later. The rest endured the punishment and, after their wounds healed, were sent by stages to Siberia.
Arakcheev did not manage to enjoy revenge; he suffered a new blow—the death of Emperor Alexander I in Taganrog. Moreover, immersed in his grief and then occupied with retribution, the count failed in his duty, simply put, he missed the Decembrist uprising. The count realized that he could not count on the favor of the new sovereign Nicholas I.
Sorting through Minkina’s papers, the count made a bitter discovery—Nastasya had been unfaithful to him, as evidenced by love notes from young officers. So she did not love him, she had pretended for many years!
Besides, the count found in Minkina’s wing many letters of petition and gifts from capital dignitaries seeking favor from the count. There were forty carts full of such offerings! Arakcheev ordered the gifts returned, but since the donors did not admit it, the count threatened to publish the lists in newspapers with the petitions of nobles to the serf girl Nastasya. They were quickly taken away!
Arakcheev retired. He never recovered from so many cruel blows of fate until the end of his days.
Mikhail Shumsky continued to grieve the count—he kept drinking and behaving badly. In 1826, shortly after the described events, he appeared drunk at the theater with a sliced watermelon. He settled in the parterre and began eating the watermelon, pulling out the pulp with his hand. In front sat a merchant with a bald head. Shumsky applauded in an original way—slapping the old man’s bald head. When the man was outraged, Shumsky put the watermelon on his head and loudly declared:
– Old man, here’s your wig!
The rowdy was arrested and soon “for indecent behavior,” as stated in the order, transferred to the Caucasus. There he fought bravely, wrote penitential letters to Arakcheev, and after a year was returned from the Caucasus. But he started drinking again and was eventually discharged from the army allegedly “due to illness.” Shumsky wandered, sometimes returning to Gruzino, sometimes leaving. Finally, he settled in a monastery. Arakcheev generously provided him with a stipend of one hundred rubles a month, and later Shumsky received a pension from the emperor of 1,200 rubles a year. He changed several monasteries and died in 1851.
In his last years, Arakcheev’s character softened. Before his death in 1834, he bequeathed significant sums to charity. His last words were: “Forgive me, those whom I offended.”
And to new generations of Russian rulers, he left pearls of administrative wisdom:
“We will do everything: from us Russians, the impossible must be demanded to achieve the possible.”
“To make a Russian do something decent, you must first break his face.”
“As for the opinions of the people, one should not pay attention to them, for they will do nothing important.”
Sources:
https://nataturka.ru/muzey-usadba/usadba-gruzino.html
https://www.sovsekretno.ru/articles/zverskaya-lyubov/
