Homosexuality in Nicholas II’s St. Petersburg: A Look at 1908’s Scandalous Expose K sudu!

Translated and annotated by Greg King

Part IV

The final part of the book K sudu! (To Court!), published in St. Petersburg in 1908 by Kommerch, Typolitan, Vilenchik, and written by poet and journalist Vladimir Ruadze.

Wilhelm von Gloeden’s Sleeping Boy.

Again, a few introductory notes: In presenting a translation of Ruadze’s book I have treated it as a historical artifact.  I have left his commentary and opinions intact however offensive they may be.  Ruadze’s tone is condemnatory and filled with reprehensible homophobic venom.  This reflects certain opinions contemporaneous with the book’s publication and must be read in that light.  Ruadze tends to equate without question homosexuality with pedophilia, failing to note that the majority of pedophiles operating in Nicholas II’s St. Petersburg were in fact men preying on young girls.  The trope of the homosexual as pedophile, though, clearly served Ruadze’s purposes, and he deployed it throughout the book.

For all its hyperbolic homophobia, Ruadze’s book is essentially factual, but this presents us with another problem.  While he refers to actual locations in St. Petersburg by name, he cloaks the identities of those under discussion behind a string of pseudonyms.  If we assume, as seems safe, that the individuals described in of K sudu! represent actual personages it is natural to seek out their true names.  But I confess that here I am at something of a loss.  I would therefore love to hear from readers with their thoughts and ideas which might help shine some light on the mysteries which the book contains.

From K sudu!

Chapter Twenty-Two: Mama Godmother

In “Mama Godmother” we are dealing with a very comical type.

As a citizen, “Mr. Litsky” did not distinguish himself in any way, and his activities ended very sadly.

But as a “homosexual,” as “Mama Godmother,” he was a true ascetic.  In fact, imagine an elderly man running errands for a street boy picked up at Gostiny Dvor, a certain Dolonanov.  Imagine this couple in domestic life, when one yells at the “old man,” has a mistress and children, and the other humbly knits “gifts” for the children on a hoop in his free time and has the unshakable courage to arrange baptisms for Dolonanov’s children

Needless to say, the pocket of the “Mama Godmother” is Dolonanov's pocket, and that he is given a ruble a month for expenses, which he accepts with deep gratitude.

You need to reach a state of blind adoration of the hooligan.  You need to bear all the humiliation on your shoulders and even tolerate the “infidelity” of the sweetheart.

“Poor, poor Mama Godmother,” your entire fate is a heavy cross.  Even among the Jesuits, in Austria, where you were brought up as a boy, you were offended by the Holy Fathers.  You speak of this without bitterness, but, knowing your angelic heart, I am not surprised, and did not the hooligans at the Anichkov Bridge beat you repeatedly, and for what?  For wanting to caress them!  An ungrateful tribe!

Yes, “Mama Godmother,” you are a “true victim” of the Jesuits and the Gostiny Dvor bailiffs, and if homosexuals ever have their own saints, you will occupy one of the first places among them.

Since you spend most of your life along the Fontanka, let you be called “Father Fontansky.”

Chapter Twenty-Three: Mr. D or “Katya of the Golden Spokes”

In homosexual circles there is a kind of demimonde.

It does not include pitiful, pitiable young men who have fallen into need, who have been torn away from their families, but the well-groomed young men of well-to-do parents, who have chosen the path of debauchery by vocation ,by virtue of their innate attraction to vice.

Among them is Mr. D., or, as he is called, “Katya of the Golden Spokes.”

Mr. D is not, in fact, a pure type of homosexual, for, in addition to his unnatural inclinations, he was known in the circle as “Alphonse,” who lived in the care of the aged Princess M.

Who among the homosexuals does not remember his exquisite bachelor apartment on Spasskaya Street, who did not look with curiosity at the well-disguised secret door connecting “Nika's” apartment with the luxurious, princely apartment, through which the elderly lady went to the dwelling of her beloved?

But this door opened only during the day, and at night the apartment was crowded with representatives of homosexual light and demimonde.

This is how "Nika" spent his days, burning his body in the pleasures of bisexual and same-sex love, making both a source of large income.

In those days, “Nika” led an open, broad lifestyle, was not shy of funds and threw money left and right.  He rode fine trotters behind his carriage with golden spokes, hence his unusual nickname.

But one fine day, or rather a bad day for “Nika,” everything fell apart when the princess, having been informed by a calculated footman of “Nika’s” pranks, suddenly broke off all communication with him, and he was set out into the street literally penniless, as the creditors hastened to take everything for their debts.

Then the real tragedy began, the struggle for existence.  “Nika,” accustomed to luxury, had to compete with the “street homosexual maidens,” offering himself for a few rubles to amateurs, and his bosom friend Count Khelm, that shrewd politician and treacherous friend, in the company of the rest of the hooligans, shouted after him: “Katya is a beggar!”

Now “Katya of the Golden Spokes” has again surfaced on the sea of life and is magnificently nestled in the pocket of an amorous merchant, however, without breaking “her” connection with the homosexual world, in which “she” is still considered one of the stars of the demimonde.

Truly one of a kind!

Chapter Twenty-Four: G. Okov

This kept “woman” of the illustrious Count Shev began “her” homosexual career in the Tauride Garden and the first person to bring “her” to prominence was, of course, Count Shev.

Okov is a native of Kiev, and clams to have attended the university there, which is doubtful.  He is of very doubtful appearance, a young man of his mid-twenties, tall, with brown hair.  His face is somewhat spoiled by scars from a childhood disease, but he uses thick layers of cream and powder to conceal this defect.

In homosexual circles he has enjoyed great success, perhaps facilitated by Count Shev’s infatuation with him.  He spent money like crazy on Okov.  Their “love” was not a secret in these circles, and it was evident that when Okov was poisoned after their quarrel.  Everyone knew perfectly well what had happened and what had caused this spat.

“He just wants to extort money,” they said, and they were not really mistaken, for soon after this episode there followed that sensational story of bills of exchange of which I have already spoken, and Okov's flight abroad.

At the present time, Okov freely walks around the Passage and “lures” practitioners of same-sex love.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Nina Zelemin

A sort of uncle.  Petite, usually he wears a lady’s dress, from which he is almost never parted.  Nicholas Zelemin is one of the rarest specimens of homosexual flowers, a fanatic of homosexual vice.

A pupil of the Boginsky Real School, he was left an orphan, but Zelenin received very large sums from his guardian after his parents’ died and very early plunged into the whirlpool of the muddy capital.

His caricature as a woman put an insurmountable barrier between him and real women.  The rich young man felt extremely shy in their company, but at the same time he became very popular with men like Eulenburg.

And so, having left the school, having changed his gymnasium jacket for a woman's dress, “Nina” gave himself over with all the ardor of youth to vice.  Do not think, dear readers, that in those days he did this to earn money, although his large funds melted away like wax because of the appetites of the homosexual “maidens” and of a certain Mr. So-and-So.  But nothing lasts forever, and the young homosexual’s funds ran out, leaving him with only some diamonds and a magnificent wardrobe of women's dresses.  It was necessary to use this to advantage, and this Zelemin did as “Nina.”

Now you can meet him every day on the embankment, heavily powdered, with a provocative smile, in a variegated ladies' toilette.  “Nina” loves to be original and his “outing” with a monkey was even reported in the press.  How much “Nina” resembles a woman can be judged from the fact that not very long ago, for example, the following story was played out in Cubat’s Restaurant.  An officer began to invite “Nina” to sup with him, believing that he was dealing with a woman of easy manners.  “Nina,” hating “womanizers” in her heart, found nothing better than to insult the officer with action and hasten to flee.

Of “Nina’s” patrons, a certain Mr. G., either a financier or an industrialist, is known.  According to homosexuals, “Nina” pretty much “pinched” her admirer.  What torment, to become a thief!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Piho

Piho is known throughout the homosexual world as the most convinced supporter of the sect.

And how could he, Piho, not be a supporter, when with the help of vice he managed to make a fair amount of money, open his own “barber shop,” and in a word, create that atmosphere of contentment of which only his hairdresser's soul could dream.

The nondescript, tongue-tied, bald German Piho was, as a resident of Eichenfeld's brothel, a huge success with the “amateurs.”  How can this be explained?  It is difficult to say whether it was Piho’s ability to “please” the “guest” or simply the psychopathy of homosexuals.  From early morning until late at night, when Piho was not busy in the store, he scoured St. Petersburg in search of “prey.”  It was especially touching to watch him when, having wrinkled his face, he announced to his acquaintances: “I am going out to pick up a pederast.”

“Why do you wear so much makeup?” the more curious asked him.

“To be seen for what I am from afar.”

And such and such a subject was friends with other representatives of the world.  However, he always remains a street homosexual.

Cute specimen!

Chapter Twenty-Seven: “Plevichka”

She sings simple songs with a woman's voice.

She is always cheerful, and successfully imitates the range of real “stars.”  The street calls him a singer.  But who is he, you ask of this long-nosed, painted-up freak.

He will look at you with a somewhat haughty glance and blurt out point-blank: “I am von Epard’s son.”  It is in vain that you will challenge him, since he really is the left-hand [i.e., illegitimate] son of a prominent court dignitary and was even brought up in his house, although as the son of a footman.  The fruits of this upbringing were not slow to have a brilliant effect on the “singer.”

“Neither fish nor fowl,” his comrades say of him.

He works for 25 rubles a month and seems to be happy with his existence.

He owes the fact that he became what he did to a financier, von Zlen, who made a habit of taking the boy boxes of sweets and out to cafés and to his apartment to corrupt him and make a “diva” of him.

That is why I attack these secular and bourgeois criminals with such hatred, and I speak of the others without bitterness.  As a matter of fact, all of them, with the possible exception of Piho and the two or three actual bandits, are victims, and only victims.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Evening at Ogarkov

It’s eight o’clock in the evening.  The “diva” of the homosexual demimonde, Zhenya Ogarkov, casually lounges on the sofa, accepting the congratulations of the Count’s friends who have just arrived and his various “girlfriends.”

The sumptuous dining room has been turned into a conservatory.  The Count was not stingy, and in the morning he sent several baskets of roses, camellias, and orchids.  The guests also came with hands full of flowers and confections.  A wreath of roses with wide red ribbons rose majestically above the pile of offerings: on it, an inscription, “From Baron Latennorff to Zhenya Ogarkov.”

All old acquaintances gathered in the dining room.

In addition to the Count, who presented the “girl” with a bracelet with turquoise and diamonds came other friends from the demimonde.

The gracious host invites everyone to sit down at the table with a gesture.

They sit in such a way that each of the divas of the demimonde has a cavalier on both sides.  In the center is Zhenya, with the Count on the right.

The conversation revolves on the latest masquerades, who lives with whom, and what “newcomers” have recently appeared.

But then the wine loosens the tongues, the eyes begin to light up with special carnivorous lights, the company draws closer and the immodest body movements make those who have not lost their shyness blush.

Now “Mr. Ggel” has leaned over Ogarkov’s shoulder and is trying to hold him close to him.  The heavily drunk Count was always glancing gloomily at his rival, but suddenly he jumped up as if an electric current ran through the dining room.  “Scoundrel!” he shouted, then the Count drove away in a disturbed mood.

Two hours later, the guests go home in pairs.  Such evenings were often arranged at Ogarkov's place, but each time the evening did not turn into an orgy, as Zhenya still had enough of an aesthetic taste not to turn the apartment into a temple of “same-sex” love for everyone.  But this was not the case in Eichenfeld’s den, where I invite the reader to follow me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Masquerade at Eichenfeld’s

Max Eichenfeld is agitated, for he is hosting a great masquerade ball.  The whole homosexual world will gather at his place today.  There's a reason for Max to worry!  “Alfred, don’t forget that you’re to act as a footman tonight.  I’ll take care of the teas myself.”  Soon Max appears, already dressed for the reception of guests in a gown with bare arms and neck.

On the eve of the battle, glancing around the reception room with the anxious gaze of the commander, he seems to say to himself: “If only there was enough room.”

A few minutes before the start of the congress, the barber Piho crawls out of his room, dressed in a sheet casually thrown over his shoulder.  Looking at this outlandish pair of gamines in strange masquerade attire, the simple-minded Alfred can’t help but laugh.

But now the clock is striking nine, and the bell rattles in the hall.

One by one, invited and uninvited homosexuals enter the room.

There is ”C,” a friend of the “lady” of the house, and “T,” who seduces the singer with confections.  Here is the “Countess Granddaughter,” the heroine of the Fontanka, dressed as a pierrette with a string of pearls on “her” head, with a diamond pendant descending to her forehead.  She runs from one acquaintance to another and whispers in their ears: “Eichenfeld bought 20 yards of silk that I just saw in the bedroom!”

No one listens.  They are waiting for the main attraction, Zkenya in a blue gown, who is supposed to come this evening with her “baron” and about whom legends swirl in homosexual circles.

While waiting for the “diva,” the guests surround the table in a picturesque ring.  In the center of this strange circle shines the dazzling diamonds adorning Mr. K., the former manager of a Fabergé store.  Others have costumes literally covered in diamonds.  Then a bell announces the long-awaited Zhenya, on the arm of the “baron” in the costume of a French officer.

The “baron’s” angelic, effeminate, meaningless face smiled guiltily and embarrassedly at the guests.  Zhenya greeted her host with the majestic grace of an assured woman, and everyone moved to the table.

All began to shower Zhenya with pleasantries.  There were endless bottles of champagne, which led to good humor.  The longer the drinking went on, the louder the group became.  At the same time, “Katya of the Golden Spokes” leaned over to Zhenya and whispered about Klev’s abominations.  Klev, who was standing alongside, assured Zhenya that Katya was a scoundrel.

In a word, the guests opened up on each other with all their might, and the conversation took on the most cynical and specific tone.

Finally, couples began to leave the room: some went to the “mistress’s” bedroom, some to the kitchen, some to the corridor, and some took possession of the attic.  Homosexuals scattered all over the apartment to satisfy their desires as the evening turned into an orgy.

Chapter Thirty: Along the Fontanka

From early morning, the “divas” of the homosexual world are already at work.  As early as ten o'clock, they go in a merry crowd to the garden near the circus and discuss the plans of the day.

Go to the so-called “dog garden” on the Fontanka at this time and you will see a whole gang of suspicious young people.  But then noon comes, and a greedy pack of predators heads for Nevsky, where the main focuses are the Passage and the Café de Paris.  This favorite coffee shop in the basement of the Passage is a real cesspool, gloomy and disgusting, where the insolent expropriations and frauds that St. Petersburg, terrorized by hooli gans, are so amazed by.

The daytime exchange of live goods continues until the closing of the Passage, and then the hooligans again retreat to the Fontanka.

From 8 pm. to midnight, along the Fontanka from the palace of Count Sheremetiev to the “Dog Garden,” a kind of festivities of homosexuals is formed of the poorest and most ragged; the more feathered ones go to the Tauride Garden.

Of course, I am talking about the summer distribution of time, since in winter walks are very difficult due to the cold.  In these hours, things are happening on the Fontanka that surpass all imagination.  They are almost invisible to the eyes of passers-by, as pedestrians, frightened by the influx of ragamuffins, hurry to leave behind the dangerous encounters and literally close their eyes and plug their ears so as not to see or hear anything.

Near the public place [i.e., public toilet] at the circus, whole lines of lovers of homosexual sensations form while waiting.  In these lines they get acquainted with the intimate details of the market, and only then agree on where to go and for how much.

You think, reader, that the police are ignorant of all that I am talking about now.  Yet any of the policemen on duty will confirm what I have said, for not very long ago “Katya of the Golden Spokes” was mercilessly beaten by a policeman for going to this evil place twenty times and making a noise.

After 12 o’clock, the “unoccupied” from the Tauride Garden retreat to the backyards of the houses adjacent to this area, and real “dog weddings” begin.

This is how the homosexual “street” spends its time, depraved and taught all the subtleties of debauchery by aristocratic offspring, who at this hour rest serenely in their beds with their boys.

After all, as Count Shev shouted loudly in the Hotel Europe: “I buy all the liquor of the bar so you can close, as my boy is waiting for me!”

Chapter Thirty-One: The “Temperance Society”

What a cheap joke is the “Temperance Society!”  You can see whole lines of fallen women, alcoholics barely standing on their feet, huge gangs of thieves and hooligans, and of course the whole homosexual world. And so it is every day, with the same contingent of the public.  On the bench sits a respectable bank accountant, an old man who has sent his family to the country.  A bully, a typical homosexual representative, passes.  “Fight!” he shouts at the old man, who turns in embarrassment.  Five minutes pass, then a second one appears, even more insist in shouting, “Fight!”  He reaches out and slaps the face of the accountant, who hurries away in confusion.

Yet an hour later we see this old man in the company of these hooligans.  The old man lovingly whispers pleasantries to them and apparently invites them somewhere, as they nod their heads in agreement.

Or take another scene: A very beautiful, slender young man with brown hair, a student and an acquaintance of Zhenya, is much noticed and followed.  And again fights as people are dragged away by their arms, many students in school uniforms.

It might be a blessing that there are only a few of them.  However, if homosexual vice develops at the same rapid pace as in recent years, then we will count them in the hundreds and in the thousands.

Chapter Thirty-Two: At the People’s House

The same atmosphere of the Tauride Garden reigns in the People’s House.  And the audience is the same as there.  Today in the Tauride, tomorrow at the Narodny.  For in winter, the whole homosexual world is concentrated in the People’s House.

You can recognize, if you look closely, any homosexual, by the bright red ties, as this is a kind of homosexual flag.  Some of them have a red handkerchief sticking out of their pockets, and those who “buy” the goods wear a special, specific mask of desire on their faces.  It is only necessary to spy the glance of such a gentleman, thrown as if in passing, to be convinced that he did not come here in vain, that it was only his passion for “boys” that drove him here.

And so I myself had to observe a scene at the majestic entrance of the People’s House.  A tall, gray-haired colonel, a Cossack, was coming out of here, and a young man, dressed in a dapper manner, was coming towards him.  The colonel glanced at him quickly and, obviously, understood who he was dealing with, asked for a cigarette, and then began to invite him to his place.

I stood by and watched what would happen next.  The young man hesitated for a few moments, and then asked, “Where?”

“I have an apartment on Kamennoostrovsky.”  A minute later the colonel and the young man were gone.

A long time later I met this colonel in a different setting at a sporting festival, and it turned out that he was Prince S.

Does he remember his encounter from the People’s House?  Most likely, he does not; as I found out later, he was one of the well-known homosexuals.

Final Words

Gentlemen, protect your children from the vile gang of homosexuals, since the state does not protect them!

There can be no two interpretations of this book’s impressions.  They are heavy, chaotic, as if some terrible nightmare has taken possession of St. Petersburg.

After all, just ten years ago, homosexuality hid in the underground of the capital, without bothering or corrupting the street, and now, when the ulcers of homosexual depravity have been exposed, when homosexuals themselves have crawled out of their secret hiding places and their hungry beasts of prey are heard everywhere like some kind of snake hiss – now is not the time to spare them and protect them from the public judgment.

Harden made the beginning, and his ardent diatribe must henceforth serve as a rallying cry in the struggle against impending debauchery.

“Tear off their masks!” we say.  We will pull them from their still crumpled bedsheets, warm after a night of depravity with victims of their inclination and will present them, pale and trembling, before the court of public opinion.  We will say, “Look at them!  Admire them now!”  And we shall do so not only in the name of trampled virtue but also in the name of civil duty, since vice forms in the mechanism of the state that undesirable friction from which sooner or later clogs every machine.

I do not exaggerate the dangers.  All the types of homosexuals I have identified in this book are not important in themselves, but what is important is the impetuous power of imitation by which vice has developed and strengthened on the banks of the Neva.

Did we see in the ranks only the renegades of society, cretins, and those paralyzed by insanity?

No, there are also gifted people among them, healthy in body and spirit, who only in the absence of will allowed themselves to be recruited into the “sect.”  And they are an unfortunate majority, although they have enough conscience not to advertise and avoid publicity, but this does not at all make evil lose its capacity and serious significance.

A great deal of work has been done by me to trace them all and to acquaint myself with their lives, but it is also a great sense of satisfaction that I can now show them all in all their useless nakedness.

Perhaps the reader has not endured the heavy feeling which I impose upon him, but then I repent that I have tried to make them ridiculous and pathetic, so as not to make them appear so vile.

To look for an explanation of the depravity which appeared suddenly and was in its infancy only a few years ago, it is necessary to look at modern literature.  All these books like Wings and other same-sex pornography have evidently fallen on good soil and are giving good sprouts.

What I am describing is taking place in front of the eyes of thousands of people, and it is impossible that our vigilant police would not be aware of what anyone interested in this question can find out.

Meanwhile, the spread of debauchery threatens the most disastrous consequences.  Is it not possible to protect boys, who are incomparably weaker under home care and enjoy much greater freedom than girls?   And how many homeless orphans, or even just children of poor parents, have fallen into the grasping hands of homosexuals?

It is time to put an end to this outrageous debauchery and limit the lust of homosexuals.

Is it possible that there are not people in society who will open a serious and decisive struggle along the entire line of attack, and will not the authorities come to their aid in such an important and holy cause?

The question remains: why I have chosen certain persons out of a number of homosexuals, transparently alluding to their social position, and I will answer them: They have carried their banner too victoriously and openly!