The greatest source of angst for late imperial dacha commentators, as for educated Russian society in general, was the native Russian peasant. As early as the summer of 1860, a Moscow columnist sent in a report from Kuntsevo, where he was staying at one of the dachas belonging to the Naryshkin family. The journalist assumed the position of one of the Naryshkins’ house guests, admiring the views, the hospitality, and the picturesque local peasants. But the latter refused to keep a respectful distance: “Peasant kids of both sexes run around the gardens trying to get tangled up under your feet and offering you bundles of lilacs or other flowers from the fields or the forest, depending on the season.”96Although this incident presented only a very mild inconvenience and would hardly have registered with journalists two or three decades later, it anticipates yet another argument mobilized in late imperial Russia against the dacha: the summer vacation industry was held responsible for diverting peasants from their fitting agricultural or artisanal occupations. Peasants who had not left to take menial jobs in the city occupied themselves with small-scale kitchen gardening, woodcutting, fishing, and petty trade—all with the dachnik consumer in view.97 Some villages had given up agriculture and handicrafts and moved over entirely to the dacha economy; such cases were inevitably treated with severe disapproval, as they were seen as contributing to the moral erosion of the countryside.98The incursion of a money economy into the villages was supposedly cutting peasants loose from feudalism and pushing them in the direction of an unwholesome modernity.
The prolific feuilletonist V. O. Mikhnevich was reluctant to use the neutral