Yama

I

A long, long time ago, long before the railroads, the stage-drivers⁠—both government and private⁠—used to live, from generation to generation, at the very farthest confine of a large southern city. And that is why the entire region was called the Yamskaya Sloboda⁠—the Stage-drivers’ Borough; or simply Yamskaya, or Yamkas⁠—Little Ditches, or, shorter still, Yama⁠—The Pit. In the course of time, when hauling by steam killed off transportation by horses, the mettlesome tribe of the stage-drivers little by little lost its boisterous ways and its brave customs, went over into other occupations, fell apart and scattered. But for many years⁠—even up to this time⁠—a shady renown has remained to Yama, as of a place exceedingly gay, tipsy, brawling, and in the nighttime not without danger.

Somehow it came about of itself, that on the ruins of those ancient, long-warmed nests, where of yore the rosy-cheeked, sprightly wives of the soldiery and the plump widows of Yama, with their black eyebrows, had secretly traded in vodka and free love, there began to spring up wide-open brothels, permitted by the authorities, regulated by official supervision and subject to express, strict rules. Towards the end of the nineteenth century both streets of Yama⁠—Great Yamskaya and Little Yamskaya⁠—proved to be entirely occupied, on one side of the street as well as the other, exclusively with houses of ill-fame.1 Of the private houses no more than five or six were left, but even they were taken up by public houses, beer halls, and general stores, catering to the needs of Yama prostitution.