(1881)
About forty versts from our village there dwelt, many years ago, the
great-uncle of my mother, a retired Sergeant of the Guards and a fairly
wealthy landed proprietor, Alexyéi Sergyéitch Telyégin, on his ancestral
estate, Sukhodól. He never went anywhere himself, and therefore did not
visit us; but I was sent to pay my respects to him a couple of times a
year, at first with my governor, and later on alone. Alexyéi Sergyéitch
always received me very cordially, and I spent three or four days with
him. He was already an old man when I made his acquaintance; I remember
that I was twelve years old at my first visit, and he was already over
seventy. He had been born under the Empress Elizabeth, in the last year
of her reign. He lived alone with his wife, Malánya Pávlovna; she was
ten years younger than he. They had had two daughters who had been
married long before, and rarely visited Sukhodól; there had been
quarrels between them and their parents,[28] and Alexyéi Sergyéitch
hardly ever mentioned them.
I see that ancient, truly noble steppe home as though it stood before me
now. Of one story, with a huge mezzanine,[29] erected at the beginning
of the present century from wonderfully thick pine beams--such beams
were brought at that epoch from the Zhízdrin pine forests; there is no
trace of them nowadays!--it was very spacious and contained a multitude
of rooms, which were decidedly low-ceiled and dark, it is true, and the
windows were mere slits in the walls, for the sake of warmth. As was
proper, the offices and the house-serfs' cottages surrounded the
manor-house on all sides, and a park adjoined it, small but with fine
fruit-trees, pellucid apples and seedless pears; for ten versts round
about stretched out the flat, black-loam steppe. There was no lofty
object for the eye: neither a tree nor a belfry; only here and there a
windmill reared itself aloft with holes in its wings; it was a regular
Sukhodól! (Dry Valley). Inside the house the rooms were filled with
ordinary, plain furniture; rather unusual was a verst-post which stood
on a window-sill in the hall, and bore the following inscription:
"If thou walkest 68 times around this hall,[30] thou wilt have gone a
verst; if thou goest 87 times from the extreme corner of the
drawing-room to the right corner of the billiard-room, thou wilt have
gone a verst,"--and so forth. But what most impressed the guest who
arrived for the first time was the great number of pictures hung on the
walls, for the most part the work of so-called Italian masters: ancient
landscapes, and mythological and religious subjects. But as all these
pictures had turned very black, and had even become warped, all that met
the eye was patches of flesh-colour, or a billowy red drapery on an
invisible body--or an arch which seemed suspended in the air, or a
dishevelled tree with blue foliage, or the bosom of a nymph with a large
nipple, like the cover of a soup-tureen; a sliced watermelon, with black
seeds; a turban, with a feather above a horse's head; or the gigantic,
light-brown leg of some apostle or other, with a muscular calf and
up-turned toes, suddenly protruded itself. In the drawing-room, in the
place of honour, hung a portrait of the Empress Katherine II, full
length, a copy from Lampi's well-known portrait--the object of special
reverence, one may say adoration, for the master of the house. From the
ceiling depended crystal chandeliers in bronze fittings, very small and
very dusty.
Alexyéi Sergyéitch himself was a very squat, pot-bellied, little old
man, with a plump, but agreeable face all of one colour, with sunken
lips and very vivacious little eyes beneath lofty eyebrows. He brushed
his scanty hair over the back of his head; it was only since the year
1812 that he had discarded powder. Alexyéi Sergyéitch always wore a grey
"redingote" with three capes which fell over his shoulders, a striped
waistcoat, chamois-leather breeches and dark-red morocco short boots
with a heart-shaped cleft, and a tassel at the top of the leg; he wore a
white muslin neckerchief, a frill, lace cuffs, and two golden English
"onions,"[31] one in each pocket of his waistcoat. In his right hand he
generally held an enamelled snuff-box with "Spanish" snuff, while his
left rested on a cane with a silver handle which had been worn quite
smooth with long use. Alexyéi Sergyéitch had a shrill, nasal voice, and
was incessantly smiling, amiably, but somewhat patronisingly, not
without a certain self-satisfied pompousness. He also laughed in an
amiable manner, with a fine, thin laugh like a string of wax pearls. He
was courteous and affable, in the ancient manner of Katherine's day, and
moved his hands slowly and with a circular motion, also in ancient
style. On account of his weak legs he could not walk, but he was wont
to trip with hurried little steps from one arm-chair to another
arm-chair, in which he suddenly seated himself--or, rather, he fell into
it, as softly as though he had been a pillow.
As I have already said, Alexyéi Sergyéitch never went anywhere, and
associated very little with the neighbours, although he was fond of
society,--for he was loquacious! He had plenty of society in his own
house, it is true: divers Nikanór Nikanóritches, Sevastyéi
Sevastyéitches, Fedúlitches, and Mikhéitches, all poverty-stricken petty
nobles, in threadbare kazák coats and short jackets, frequently from his
own noble shoulders, dwelt beneath his roof, not to mention the poor
gentlewomen in cotton-print gowns, with black kerchiefs on their
shoulders, and worsted reticules in their tightly-clenched
fingers,--divers Avdótiya Sávishnas, Pelagéya Mirónovnas, and plain
Feklúskas and Arínkas, who received asylum in the women's wing. No less
than fifteen persons ever sat down to Alexyéi Sergyéitch's table ... he
was so hospitable!--Among all these parasites two individuals stood
forth with special prominence: a dwarf named Janus or the Two-faced, a
Dane,--or, as some asserted, of Jewish extraction,--and crazy Prince L.
In contrast to the customs of that day the dwarf did not in the least
serve as a butt for the guests, and was not a jester; on the contrary,
he maintained constant silence, wore an irate and surly mien,
contracted his brows in a frown, and gnashed his teeth as soon as any
one addressed a question to him. Alexyéi Sergyéitch also called him a
philosopher, and even respected him. At table he was always the first to
be served after the guests and the master and mistress of the
house.--"God has wronged him," Alexyéi Sergyéitch was wont to say: "that
was the Lord's will; but it is not my place to wrong him."
"Why is he a philosopher?" I asked one day. (Janus did not like me. No
sooner would I approach him, than he would begin to snarl and growl
hoarsely, "Stranger! don't bother me!")
"But God have mercy, why isn't he a philosopher?" replied Alexyéi
Sergyéitch. "Just observe, my little gentleman, how finely he holds his
tongue!"
"But why is he two-faced?"
"Because, my young sir, he has one face outside; there it is for you,
ninny, and judge it.... But the other, the real one, he hides. And I am
the only one who knows that face, and for that I love him.... Because 't
is a good face. Thou, for example, gazest and beholdest nothing ... but
even without words, I see when he is condemning me for anything; for he
is strict! And always with reason. Which thing thou canst not
understand, young sir; but just believe me, an old man!"
The true history of the two-faced Janus--whence he had come, how he had
got into Alexyéi Sergyéitch's house--no one knew. On the other hand, the
story of Prince L. was well known to all. As a young man of twenty, he
had come from a wealthy and distinguished family to Petersburg, to serve
in a regiment of the Guards; the Empress Katherine noticed him at the
first Court reception, and halting in front of him and pointing to him
with her fan, she said, in a loud voice, addressing one of her
favourites: "Look, Adám Vasílievitch, see what a beauty! A regular
doll!" The blood flew to the poor young fellow's head. On reaching home
he ordered his calash to be harnessed up, and donning his ribbon of the
Order of Saint Anna, he started out to drive all over the town, as
though he had actually fallen into luck.--"Crush every one who does not
get out of the way!" he shouted to his coachman.--All this was
immediately brought to the Empress's knowledge; an order was issued that
he was to be adjudged insane and given in charge of his two brothers;
and the latter, without the least delay, carried him off to the country
and chained him up in a stone bag.--As they were desirous to make use of
his property, they did not release the unfortunate man even when he
recovered his senses and came to himself, but continued to keep him
incarcerated until he really did lose his mind.--But their wickedness
profited them nothing. Prince L. outlived his brothers, and after long
sufferings, found himself under the guardianship of Alexyéi Sergyéitch,
who was a connection of his. He was a fat, perfectly bald man, with a
long, thin nose and blue goggle-eyes. He had got entirely out of the way
of speaking--he merely mumbled something unintelligible; but he sang the
ancient Russian ballads admirably, having retained, to extreme old age,
his silvery freshness of voice, and in his singing he enunciated every
word clearly and distinctly. Something in the nature of fury came over
him at times, and then he became terrifying. He would stand in one
corner, with his face to the wall, and all perspiring and
crimson,--crimson all over his bald head to the nape of his neck.
Emitting a malicious laugh, and stamping his feet, he would issue orders
that some one was to be castigated,--probably his brothers.--"Thrash!"--
he yelled hoarsely, choking and coughing with laughter,--"scourge, spare
not, thrash, thrash, thrash the monsters my malefactors! That's right!
That's right!" Just before he died he greatly amazed and frightened
Alexyéi Sergyéitch. He entered the latter's room all pale and quiet, and
inclining his body in obeisance to the girdle, he first returned thanks
for the asylum and oversight, and then requested that a priest might be
sent for; for Death had come to him--he had beheld her--and he must
pardon all men and whiten himself.
"How was it that thou didst see her?" muttered the astounded Alexyéi
Sergyéitch, who now heard a coherent speech from him for the first
time.--"What is she like? Has she a scythe?"
"No," replied Prince L.--"She's a plain old woman in a loose gown--only
she has but one eye in her forehead, and that eye has no lid."
And on the following day Prince L. actually expired, after having
fulfilled all his religious obligations and taken leave of every one
intelligently and with emotion.
"That's the way I shall die also," Alexyéi Sergyéitch was wont to
remark. And, in fact, something similar happened with him--of which,
later on.
But now let us return to our former subject. Alexyéi Sergyéitch did not
consort with the neighbours, as I have already said; and they did not
like him any too well, calling him eccentric, arrogant, a mocker, and
even a Martinist who did not recognise the authorities, without
themselves understanding, of course, the meaning of the last word. To a
certain extent the neighbours were right. Alexyéi Sergyéitch had resided
for nearly seventy years in succession in his Sukhodól, having almost no
dealings whatever with the superior authorities, with the military
officials, or the courts. "The court is for the bandit, the military
officer for the soldier," he was wont to say; "but I, God be thanked, am
neither a bandit nor a soldier." Alexyéi Sergyéitch really was somewhat
eccentric, but the soul within him was not of the petty sort. I will
narrate a few things about him.
I never found out authoritatively what were his political views, if,
indeed, one can apply to him such a very new-fangled expression; but he
was, in his way, rather an aristocrat than a nobly-born master of serfs.
More than once he complained because God had not given him a son and
heir "for the honour of the race, for the continuation of the family."
On the wall of his study hung the genealogical tree of the Telyégins,
with very profuse branches, and multitudinous circles in the shape of
apples, enclosed in a gilt frame.
"We Telyégins,"[32] he said, "are a very ancient stock, existing from
remote antiquity; there have been a great many of us Telyégins, but we
have not run after foreigners, we have not bowed our backs, we have not
wearied ourselves by standing on the porches of the mighty, we have not
nourished ourselves on the courts, we have not earned wages, we have not
pined for Moscow, we have not intrigued in Peter;[33] we have sat
still, each on his place, his own master on his own land ... thrifty,
domesticated birds, my dear sir!--Although I myself have served in the
Guards, yet it was not for long, I thank you!"
Alexyéi Sergyéitch preferred the olden days.--"Things were freer then,
more seemly, I assure you on my honour! But ever since the year one
thousand and eight hundred" (why precisely from that year he did not
explain), "this warring and this soldiering have come into fashion, my
dear fellow. These military gentlemen have mounted upon their heads some
sort of plumes made of cocks' tails, and made themselves like cocks;
they have drawn their necks up tightly, very tightly ... they speak in
hoarse tones, their eyes are popping out of their heads--and how can
they help being hoarse? The other day some police corporal or other came
to see me.--'I have come to you, Your Well-Born,' quoth he.... (A pretty
way he had chosen to surprise me! ... for I know myself that I am
well-born....) 'I have a matter of business with you.' But I said to him:
'Respected sir, first undo the hooks on thy collar. Otherwise, which God
forbid, thou wilt sneeze! Akh, what will become of thee! What will
become of thee!--Thou wilt burst like a puff-ball.... And I shall be
responsible for it!' And how they drink, those military
gentlemen--o-ho-ho! I generally give orders that they shall be served
with champagne from the Don, because Don champagne and Pontacq are all
the same to them; it slips down their throats so smoothly and so
fast--how are they to distinguish the difference? And here's another
thing: they have begun to suck that sucking-bottle, to smoke tobacco. A
military man will stick that same sucking-bottle under his moustache,
between his lips, and emit smoke through his nostrils, his mouth, and
even his ears--and think himself a hero! There are my horrid
sons-in-law, for example; although one of them is a senator, and the
other is some sort of a curator, they suck at the sucking-bottle
also,--and yet they regard themselves as clever men!..."
Alexyéi Sergyéitch could not endure smoking tobacco, nor dogs,
especially small dogs.--"Come, if thou art a Frenchman, then keep a
lap-dog. Thou runnest, thou skippest hither and thither, and it follows
thee, with its tail in the air ... but of what use is it to fellows like
me?"--He was very neat and exacting. He never spoke of the Empress
Katherine otherwise than with enthusiasm, and in a lofty, somewhat
bookish style: "She was a demi-god, not a human being!--Only contemplate
yon smile, my good sir," he was wont to add, pointing at the Lampi
portrait, "and admit that she was a demi-god! I, in my lifetime, have
been so happy as to have been vouchsafed the bliss of beholding yon
smile, and to all eternity it will never be erased from my heart!"--And
thereupon he would impart anecdotes from the life of Katherine such as
it has never been my lot to read or hear anywhere. Here is one of them.
Alexyéi Sergyéitch did not permit the slightest hint at the failings of
the great Empress. "Yes, and in conclusion," he cried: "is it possible
to judge her as one judges other people?--One day, as she was sitting in
her powder-mantle, at the time of her morning toilet, she gave orders
that her hair should be combed out.... And what happened? The
waiting-woman passes the comb through it, and electric sparks fly from
it in a perfect shower!--Then she called to her the body physician,
Rodgerson, who was present on duty, and says to him: 'I know that people
condemn me for certain actions; but dost thou see this electricity?
Consequently, with such a nature and constitution as mine, thou mayest
thyself judge, for thou art a physician, that it is unjust to condemn
me, but they should understand me!'"
The following incident was ineffaceably retained in the memory of
Alexyéi Sergyéitch. He was standing one day on the inner watch in the
palace, and he was only sixteen years of age. And lo, the Empress passes
him--he presents arms.... "And she," cried Alexyéi Sergyéitch, again with
rapture, "smiling at my youth and my zeal, deigned to give me her hand
to kiss, and patted me on the cheek, and inquired who I was, and whence
I came, and from what family? And then ..." (here the old man's voice
generally broke) ... "then she bade me give my mother her compliments
and thank her for rearing her children so well. And whether I was in
heaven or on earth, and how and whither she withdrew,--whether she
soared up on high, or passed into another room,--I know not to this
day!"
I often tried to question Alexyéi Sergyéitch about those olden days,
about the men who surrounded the Empress.... But he generally evaded the
subject. "What's the use of talking about old times?"--he said ... "one
only tortures himself. One says to himself,--'Thou wert a young man
then, but now thy last teeth have vanished from thy mouth.' And there's
no denying it--the old times were good ... well, and God be with them!
And as for those men--I suppose, thou fidgety child, that thou art
talking about the accidental men? Thou hast seen a bubble spring forth
on water? So long as it is whole and lasts, what beautiful colours play
upon it! Red and yellow and blue; all one can say is, ''Tis a rainbow
or a diamond!'--But it soon bursts, and no trace of it remains. And
that's what those men were like."
"Well, and how about Potyómkin?" I asked one day.
Alexyéi Sergyéitch assumed a pompous mien. "Potyómkin, Grigóry
Alexándritch, was a statesman, a theologian, a nursling of Katherine's,
her offspring, one must say.... But enough of that, my little sir!"
Alexyéi Sergyéitch was a very devout man and went to church regularly,
although it was beyond his strength. There was no superstition
perceptible in him; he ridiculed signs, the evil eye, and other
"twaddle," yet he did not like it when a hare ran across his path, and
it was not quite agreeable for him to meet a priest.[34] He was very
respectful to ecclesiastical persons, nevertheless, and asked their
blessing, and even kissed their hand every time, but he talked with them
reluctantly.--"They emit a very strong odour," he explained; "but I,
sinful man that I am, have grown effeminate beyond measure;--their hair
is so long[35] and oily, and they comb it out in all directions,
thinking thereby to show me respect, and they clear their throats loudly
in the middle of conversation, either out of timidity or because they
wish to please me in that way also. Well, but they remind me of my hour
of death. But be that as it may, I want to live a while longer. Only,
little sir, don't repeat these remarks of mine; respect the
ecclesiastical profession--only fools do not respect it; and I am to
blame for talking nonsense in my old age."
Alexyéi Sergyéitch had received a scanty education,[36] like all nobles
of that epoch; but he had completed it, to a certain degree, by reading.
He read only Russian books of the end of the last century; he considered
the newer writers unleavened and weak in style. During his reading he
placed beside him, on a round, one-legged little table, a silver jug
filled with a special effervescent kvas flavoured with mint, whose
pleasant odour disseminated itself through all the rooms. He placed
large, round spectacles on the tip of his nose; but in his later years
he did not so much read as stare thoughtfully over the rims of the
spectacles, elevating his brows, mowing with his lips and sighing. Once
I caught him weeping, with a book on his knees, which greatly surprised
me, I admit.
He recalled the following wretched doggerel:
O all-conquering race of man!
Rest is unknown to thee!
Thou findest it only
When thou swallowest the dust of the grave....
Bitter, bitter is this rest!
Sleep, ye dead.... But weep, ye living!
These verses were composed by a certain Górmitch-Gormítzky, a roving
poetaster, whom Alexyéi Sergyéitch had harboured in his house because he
seemed to him a delicate and even subtle man; he wore shoes with knots
of ribbon, pronounced his _o's_ broadly, and, raising his eyes to
heaven, he sighed frequently. In addition to all these merits,
Górmitch-Gormítzky spoke French passably well, for he had been educated
in a Jesuit college, while Alexyéi Sergyéitch only "understood" it. But
having once drunk himself dead-drunk in a dram-shop, this same subtle
Gormítzky displayed outrageous violence. He thrashed "to flinders"
Alexyéi Sergyéitch's valet, the cook, two laundresses who happened
along, and even an independent carpenter, and smashed several panes in
the windows, yelling lustily the while: "Here now, I'll just show these
Russian sluggards, these unlicked katzápy!"[37]--And what strength that
puny little man displayed! Eight men could hardly control him! For this
turbulence Alexyéi Sergyéitch gave orders that the rhymster should be
flung out of the house, after he had preliminarily been rolled in the
snow (it happened in the winter), to sober him.
"Yes," Alexyéi Sergyéitch was wont to say, "my day is over; the horse is
worn out. I used to keep poets at my expense, and I used to buy pictures
and books from the Jews--and my geese were quite as good as those of
Mukhán, and I had genuine slate-coloured tumbler-pigeons.... I was an
amateur of all sorts of things! Except that I never was a dog-fancier,
because of the drunkenness and the clownishness! I was mettlesome,
untamable! God forbid that a Telyégin should be anything but first-class
in everything! And I had a splendid horse-breeding establishment.... And
those horses came ... whence, thinkest thou, my little sir?--From those
very renowned studs of the Tzar Iván Alexyéitch, the brother of Peter
the Great.... I'm telling you the truth! All stallions, dark brown in
colour, with manes to their knees, tails to their hoofs.... Lions!
Vanity of vanities, all is vanity! But what's the use of regretting it?
Every man has his limit fixed for him.--You cannot fly higher than
heaven, nor live in the water, nor escape from the earth.... Let us live
on a while longer, at any rate!"
And again the old man smiled and took a pinch of his Spanish tobacco.
His peasants loved him. Their master was kind, according to them, and
not a heart-breaker.--Only, they also repeated that he was a worn-out
steed. Formerly Alexyéi Sergyéitch had gone into everything himself: he
had ridden out into the fields, and to the flour-mill, and to the
oil-mill and the storehouses, and looked in to the peasants' cottages;
every one was familiar with his racing-drozhky,[38] upholstered in
crimson plush and drawn by a well-grown horse with a broad blaze
extending clear across its forehead, named "Lantern"--from that same
famous breeding establishment. Alexyéi Sergyéitch drove him himself with
the ends of the reins wound round his fists. But when his seventieth
birthday came the old man gave up everything, and entrusted the
management of his estate to the peasant bailiff Antíp, of whom he
secretly stood in awe and called Micromegas (memories of Voltaire!), or
simply "robber."
"Well, robber, hast thou gathered a big lot of stolen goods?" he would
say, looking the robber straight in the eye.
"Everything is according to your grace," Antíp would reply merrily.
"Grace is all right, only just look out for thyself, Micromegas! Don't
dare to touch my peasants, my subjects behind my back! They will make
complaint ... my cane is not far off, seest thou?"
"I always keep your little cane well in mind, dear little father Alexyéi
Sergyéitch," replied Antíp-Micromegas, stroking his beard.
"That's right, keep it in mind!" and master and bailiff laughed in each
other's faces.
With his house-serfs, with his serfs in general, with his "subjects"
(Alexyéi Sergyéitch loved that word), he dealt gently.--"Because, judge
for thyself, little nephew, if thou hast nothing of thine own save the
cross on thy neck,[39] and that a brass one, don't hanker after other
folks' things.... What sense is there in that?" There is no denying the
fact that no one even thought of the so-called problem of the serfs at
that epoch; and it could not disturb Alexyéi Sergyéitch. He very calmly
ruled his "subjects"; but he condemned bad landed proprietors and called
them the enemies of their class.
He divided the nobles in general into three categories: the judicious,
"of whom there are not many"; the profligate, "of whom there is a goodly
number"; and the licentious, "of whom there are enough to dam a pond."
And if any one of them was harsh and oppressive to his subjects, that
man was guilty in the sight of God, and culpable in the sight of
men!--Yes; the house-serfs led an easy life in the old man's house; the
"subjects behind his back" were less well off, as a matter of course,
despite the cane wherewith he threatened Micromegas.--And how many there
were of them--of those house-serfs--in his manor! And for the most part
they were old, sinewy, hairy, grumbling, stoop-shouldered, clad in
long-skirted nankeen kaftans, and imbued with a strong acrid odour! And
in the women's department nothing was to be heard but the trampling of
bare feet, and the rustling of petticoats.--The head valet was named
Irinárkh, and Alexyéi Sergyéitch always summoned him with a
long-drawn-out call: "I-ri-na-a-árkh!"--He called the others: "Young
fellow! Boy! What subject is there?!"--He could not endure bells. "God
have mercy, this is no tavern!" And what amazed me was, that no matter
at what time Alexyéi Sergyéitch called his valet, the man instantly
presented himself, just as though he had sprung out of the earth, and
placing his heels together, and putting his hands behind his back, stood
before his master a grim and, as it were, an irate but zealous servant!
Alexyéi Sergyéitch was lavish beyond his means; but he did not like to
be called "benefactor."--"What sort of a benefactor am I to you, sir?...
I'm doing myself a favour, not you, my good sir!" (When he was angry or
indignant he always called people "you.")--"To a beggar give once, give
twice, give thrice," he was wont to say.... "Well, and if he returns for
the fourth time--give to him yet again, only add therewith: 'My good
man, thou shouldst work with something else besides thy mouth all the
time.'"
"Uncle," I used to ask him, "what if the beggar should return for the
fifth time after that?"
"Why, then, do thou give to him for the fifth time."
The sick people who appealed to him for aid he had cured at his own
expense, although he himself did not believe in doctors, and never sent
for them.--"My deceased mother," he asserted, "used to heal all maladies
with olive-oil and salt; she both administered it internally and rubbed
it on externally, and everything passed off splendidly. And who was my
mother? She had her birth under Peter the First--only think of that!"
Alexyéi Sergyéitch was a Russian man in every respect; he loved Russian
viands, he loved Russian songs, but the accordion, "a factory
invention," he detested; he loved to watch the maidens in their choral
songs, the women in their dances. In his youth, it was said, he had sung
rollickingly and danced with agility. He loved to steam himself in the
bath,--and steamed himself so energetically that Irinárkh, who served
him as bath-attendant, thrashed him with a birch-besom soaked in beer,
rubbed him down with shredded linden bark,[40] then with a bit of
woollen cloth, rolled a soap bladder over his master's shoulders,--this
faithfully-devoted Irinárkh was accustomed to say every time, as he
climbed down from the shelf as red as "a new brass statue": "Well, for
this time I, the servant of God, Irinárkh Tolobyéeff, am still whole....
What will happen next time?"
And Alexyéi Sergyéitch spoke splendid Russian, somewhat old-fashioned,
but piquant and pure as spring water, constantly interspersing his
speech with his pet words: "honour bright," "God have mercy," "at any
rate," "sir," and "little sir."...
Enough concerning him, however. Let us talk about Alexyéi Sergyéitch's
spouse, Malánya Pávlovna.
Malánya Pávlovna was a native of Moscow, and had been accounted the
greatest beauty in town, _la Vénus de Moscou_.--When I knew her she was
already a gaunt old woman, with delicate but insignificant features,
little curved hare-like teeth in a tiny little mouth, with a multitude
of tight little curls on her forehead, and dyed eyebrows. She constantly
wore a pyramidal cap with rose-coloured ribbons, a high ruff around her
neck, a short white gown and prunella shoes with red heels; and over her
gown she wore a jacket of blue satin, with the sleeve depending from
the right shoulder. She had worn precisely such a toilet on St. Peter's
day, 1789! On that day, being still a maiden, she had gone with her
relatives to the Khodýnskoe Field,[41] to see the famous prize-fight
arranged by the Orlóffs.
"And Count Alexyéi Grigórievitch ..." (oh, how many times did I hear
that tale!), ... "having descried me, approached, made a low obeisance,
holding his hat in both hands, and spake thus: 'My stunning beauty, why
dost thou allow that sleeve to hang from thy shoulder? Is it that thou
wishest to have a match at fisticuffs with me?... With pleasure; only I
tell thee beforehand that thou hast vanquished me--I surrender!--and I
am thy captive!'--and every one stared at us and marvelled."
And so she had worn that style of toilet ever since.
"Only, I wore no cap then, but a hat _à la bergère de Trianon_; and
although I was powdered, yet my hair gleamed through it like gold!"
Malánya Pávlovna was stupid to sanctity, as the saying goes; she
chattered at random, and did not herself quite know what issued from her
mouth--but it was chiefly about Orlóff.--Orlóff had become, one may say,
the principal interest of her life. She usually entered--no! she
floated into--the room, moving her head in a measured way like a
peacock, came to a halt in the middle of it, with one foot turned out in
a strange sort of way, and holding the pendent sleeve in two fingers
(that must have been the pose which had pleased Orlóff once on a time),
she looked about her with arrogant carelessness, as befits a beauty,--
she even sniffed and whispered "The idea!" exactly as though some
important cavalier-adorer were besieging her with compliments,--then
suddenly walked on, clattering her heels and shrugging her shoulders.--
She also took Spanish snuff out of a tiny bonbon box, scooping it out
with a tiny golden spoon, and from time to time, especially when a new
person made his appearance, she raised--not to her eyes, but to her nose
(her vision was excellent)--a double lorgnette in the shape of a pair of
horns, showing off and twisting about her little white hand with one
finger standing out apart.
How many times did Malánya Pávlovna describe to me her wedding in the
Church of the Ascension, "which is on the Arbát Square--such a fine
church!--and all Moscow was present at it ... there was such a crush! 'T
was frightful! There were equipages drawn by six horses, golden
carriages, runners ... one of Count Zavadóvsky's runners even fell under
the wheels! And the bishop himself married us,[42] and what an address
he delivered! Everybody wept--wherever I looked there was nothing but
tears, tears ... and the Governor-General's horses were
tiger-coloured.... And how many, many flowers people brought!... They
overwhelmed us with flowers! And one foreigner, a rich, very rich man,
shot himself for love on that occasion, and Orlóff was present also....
And approaching Alexyéi Sergyéitch he congratulated him and called him a
lucky dog.... 'Thou art a lucky dog, brother gaper!' he said. And in
reply Alexyéi Sergyéitch made such a wonderful obeisance, and swept the
plume of his hat along the floor from left to right ... as much as to
say: 'There is a line drawn now, Your Radiance, between you and my
spouse which you must not step across!'--And Orlóff, Alexyéi
Grigórievitch, immediately understood and lauded him.--Oh, what a man he
was! What a man! And then, on another occasion, Alexis and I were at a
ball in his house--I was already married--and what magnificent diamond
buttons he wore! And I could not restrain myself, but praised them.
'What splendid diamonds you have, Count!' And thereupon he took a knife
from the table, cut off one button and presented it to me--saying: 'You
have in your eyes, my dear little dove, diamonds a hundredfold finer;
just stand before the mirror and compare them.' And I did stand there,
and he stood beside me.--'Well? Who is right?'--says he--and keeps
rolling his eyes all round me. And then Alexyéi Sergyéitch was greatly
dismayed; but I said to him: 'Alexis,' I said to him, 'please do not be
dismayed; thou shouldst know me better!' And he answered me: 'Be at
ease, Mélanie!'--And those same diamonds I now have encircling a
medallion of Alexyéi Grigórievitch--I think, my dear, that thou hast
seen me wear it on my shoulder on festival days, on a ribbon of St.
George--because he was a very brave hero, a cavalier of the Order of St.
George: he burned the Turks!"[43]
Notwithstanding all this, Malánya Pávlovna was a very kind woman; she
was easy to please.--"She doesn't nag you, and she doesn't sneer at
you," the maids said of her.--Malánya Pávlovna was passionately fond of
all sweets, and a special old woman, who occupied herself with nothing
but the preserves, and therefore was called the preserve-woman, brought
to her, half a score of times in a day, a Chinese plate now with
candied rose-leaves, again with barberries in honey, or orange sherbet.
Malánya Pávlovna feared solitude--dreadful thoughts come then--and was
almost constantly surrounded by female hangers-on whom she urgently
entreated: "Talk, talk! Why do you sit there and do nothing but warm
your seats?"--and they began to twitter like canary-birds. Being no less
devout than Alexyéi Sergyéitch, she was very fond of praying; but as,
according to her own words, she had not learned to recite prayers well,
she kept for that purpose the widow of a deacon, who prayed so tastily!
She would never stumble to all eternity! And, in fact, that deacon's
widow understood how to utter prayerful words in an irrepressible sort
of way, without a break even when she inhaled or exhaled her breath--and
Malánya Pávlovna listened and melted with emotion. She had another widow
also attached to her service; the latter's duty consisted in telling her
stories at night,--"but only old ones," entreated Malánya Pávlovna,
"those I already know; all the new ones are spurious."
Malánya Pávlovna was very frivolous and sometimes suspicious. All of a
sudden she would take some idea into her head. She did not like the
dwarf Janus, for example; it always seemed to her as though he would
suddenly start in and begin to shriek: "But do you know who I am? A
Buryát Prince! So, then, submit!"--And if she did not, he would set fire
to the house out of melancholy. Malánya Pávlovna was as lavish as
Alexyéi Sergyéitch; but she never gave money--she did not wish to soil
her pretty little hands--but kerchiefs, ear-rings, gowns, ribbons, or
she would send a patty from the table, or a bit of the roast, or if not
that, a glass of wine. She was also fond of regaling the peasant-women
on holidays. They would begin to dance, and she would click her heels
and strike an attitude.
Alexyéi Sergyéitch was very well aware that his wife was stupid; but he
had trained himself, almost from the first year of his married life, to
pretend that she was very keen of tongue and fond of saying stinging
things. As soon as she got to chattering he would immediately shake his
little finger at her and say: "Okh, what a naughty little tongue! What a
naughty little tongue! Won't it catch it in the next world! It will be
pierced with red-hot needles!"--But Malánya Pávlovna did not take
offence at this; on the contrary, she seemed to feel flattered at
hearing such remarks--as much as to say: "Well, I can't help it! It
isn't my fault that I was born witty!"
Malánya Pávlovna worshipped her husband, and all her life remained an
exemplary and faithful wife. But there had been an "object" in her life
also, a young nephew, a hussar, who had been slain, so she assumed, in
a duel on her account---but, according to more trustworthy information,
he had died from a blow received on the head from a billiard-cue, in
tavern company. The water-colour portrait of this "object" was preserved
by her in a secret casket. Malánya Pávlovna crimsoned to the very ears
every time she alluded to Kapítonushka--that was the "object's"
name;--while Alexyéi Sergyéitch scowled intentionally, again menaced his
wife with his little finger and said, "Trust not a horse in the meadow,
a wife in the house! Okh, that Kapítonushka, Kupidónushka!"--Then
Malánya Pávlovna bristled up all over and exclaimed:
"Alexis, shame on you, Alexis!--You yourself probably flirted with
divers little ladies in your youth--and so you take it for granted...."
"Come, that will do, that will do, Malániushka," Alexyéi Sergyéitch
interrupted her, with a smile;--"thy gown is white, and thy soul is
whiter still!"
"It is whiter, Alexis; it is whiter!"
"Okh, what a naughty little tongue, on my honour, what a naughty little
tongue!" repeated Alexyéi Sergyéitch, tapping her on the cheek.
To mention Malánya Pávlovna's "convictions" would be still more out of
place than to mention those of Alexyéi Sergyéitch; but I once chanced to
be the witness of a strange manifestation of my aunt's hidden feelings.
I once chanced, in the course of conversation, to mention the well-known
Sheshkóvsky.[44] Malánya Pávlovna suddenly became livid in the face,--as
livid as a corpse,--turned green, despite the layer of paint and powder,
and in a dull, entirely-genuine voice (which very rarely happened with
her--as a general thing she seemed always somewhat affected, assumed an
artificial tone and lisped) said: "Okh! whom hast thou mentioned! And at
nightfall, into the bargain!--Don't utter that name!" I was amazed; what
significance could that name possess for such an inoffensive and
innocent being, who would not have known how to devise, much less to
execute, anything reprehensible?--This alarm, which revealed itself
after a lapse of nearly half a century, induced in me reflections which
were not altogether cheerful.
Alexyéi Sergyéitch died in his eighty-eighth year, in the year 1848,
which evidently disturbed even him. And his death was rather strange.
That morning he had felt well, although he no longer quitted his
arm-chair at all. But suddenly he called to his wife: "Malániushka, come
hither!"
"What dost thou want, Alexis?"
"It is time for me to die, that's what, my darling."
"God be with you, Alexyéi Sergyéitch! Why so?"
"This is why. In the first place, one must show moderation; and more
than that; I was looking at my legs a little while ago ... they were
strange legs--and that settles it!--I looked at my hands---and those
were strange also! I looked at my belly--and the belly belonged to some
one else!--Which signifies that I am devouring some other person's
life.[45] Send for the priest; and in the meanwhile, lay me on my bed,
from which I shall not rise again."
Malánya Pávlovna was in utter consternation, but she put the old man to
bed, and sent for the priest. Alexyéi Sergyéitch made his confession,
received the holy communion, took leave of the members of his household,
and began to sink into a stupor. Malánya Pávlovna was sitting beside his
bed.
"Alexis!" she suddenly shrieked, "do not frighten me, do not close thy
dear eyes! Hast thou any pain?"
The old man looked at his wife.--"No, I have no pain ... but I find
it ... rather difficult ... difficult to breathe." Then, after a brief
pause:--"Malániushka," he said, "now life has galloped past--but dost
thou remember our wedding ... what a fine young couple we were?"
"We were, my beauty, Alexis my incomparable one!"
Again the old man remained silent for a space.
"And shall we meet again in the other world, Malániushka?"
"I shall pray to God that we may, Alexis."--And the old woman burst into
tears.
"Come, don't cry, silly one; perchance the Lord God will make us young
again there--and we shall again be a fine young pair!"
"He will make us young, Alexis!"
"Everything is possible to Him, to the Lord," remarked Alexyéi
Sergyéitch.--"He is a worker of wonders!--I presume He will make thee a
clever woman also.... Come, my dear, I was jesting; give me thy hand to
kiss."
"And I will kiss thine."
And the two old people kissed each other's hands.
Alexyéi Sergyéitch began to quiet down and sink into a comatose state.
Malánya Pávlovna gazed at him with emotion, brushing the tears from her
eyelashes with the tip of her finger. She sat thus for a couple of
hours.
"Has he fallen asleep?" asked in a whisper the old woman who knew how to
pray so tastily, peering out from behind Irinárkh, who was standing as
motionless as a pillar at the door, and staring intently at his dying
master.
"Yes," replied Malánya Pávlovna, also in a whisper. And suddenly Alexyéi
Sergyéitch opened his eyes.
"My faithful companion," he stammered, "my respected spouse, I would
like to bow myself to thy feet for all thy love and faithfulness--but
how am I to rise? Let me at least sign thee with the cross."
Malánya Pávlovna drew nearer, bent over.... But the hand which had been
raised fell back powerless on the coverlet, and a few moments later
Alexyéi Sergyéitch ceased to be.
His daughters with their husbands only arrived in time for the funeral;
neither one of them had any children. Alexyéi Sergyéitch had not
discriminated against them in his will, although he had not referred to
them on his death-bed.
"My heart is locked against them," he had said to me one day. Knowing
his kind-heartedness, I was surprised at his words.--It is a difficult
matter to judge between parents and children.--"A vast ravine begins
with a tiny rift," Alexyéi Sergyéitch had said to me on another
occasion, referring to the same subject. "A wound an arshín long will
heal over, but if you cut off so much as a nail, it will not grow
again!"
I have an idea that the daughters were ashamed of their eccentric old
folks.
A month later Malánya Pávlovna expired also. She hardly rose from her
bed again after the day of Alexyéi Sergyéitch's death, and did not
array herself; but they buried her in the blue jacket, and with the
medal of Orlóff on her shoulder, only minus the diamonds. The daughters
shared those between them, under the pretext that those diamonds were to
be used for the setting of holy pictures; but as a matter of fact they
used them to adorn their own persons.
And now how vividly do my old people stand before me, and what a good
memory I cherish of them! And yet, during my very last visit to them (I
was already a student at the time) an incident occurred which injected
some discord into the harmoniously-patriarchal mood with which the
Telyégin house inspired me.
Among the number of the household serfs was a certain Iván, nicknamed
"Sukhíkh--the coachman, or the little coachman, as he was called, on
account of his small size, in spite of his years, which were not few. He
was a tiny scrap of a man, nimble, snub-nosed, curly-haired, with a
perennial smile on his infantile countenance, and little, mouse-like
eyes. He was a great joker and buffoon; he was able to acquire any
trick; he set off fireworks, snakes, played all card-games, galloped his
horse while standing erect on it, flew higher than any one else in the
swing, and even knew how to present Chinese shadows. There was no one
who could amuse children better than he, and he would have been only
too glad to occupy himself with them all day long. When he got to
laughing he set the whole house astir. People would answer him from this
point and that--every one would join in.... They would both abuse him
and laugh.--Iván danced marvellously--especially 'the fish.'--The chorus
would thunder out a dance tune, the young fellow would step into the
middle of the circle, and begin to leap and twist about and stamp his
feet, and then come down with a crash on the ground--and there represent
the movements of a fish which has been thrown out of the water upon the
dry land; and he would writhe about this way and that, and even bring
his heels up to his neck; and then, when he sprang to his feet and began
to shout, the earth would simply tremble beneath him! Alexyéi Sergyéitch
was extremely fond of choral songs and dances, as I have already said;
he could never refrain from shouting: 'Send hither Vániushka! the little
coachman! Give us 'the fish,' be lively!'--and a minute later he would
whisper in ecstasy: 'Akh, what a devil of a man he is!'"
Well, then,--on my last visit this same Iván Sukhíkh comes to me in my
room, and without uttering a word plumps down on his knees.
"What is the matter with thee, Iván?"
"Save me, master!"
"Why, what's the trouble?"
And thereupon Iván related to me his grief.
He had been swapped twenty years previously by the Messrs. Sukhóy for
another serf, a man belonging to the Telyégins--he had simply been
exchanged, without any formalities and documents. The man who had been
given in exchange for him had died, but the Messrs. Sukhóy had forgotten
all about Iván and had left him in Alexyéi Sergyéitch's house as his
property; his nickname alone served as a reminder of his
origin.[46]--But lo and behold! his former owners had died also, their
estate had fallen into other hands, and the new owner, concerning whom
rumours were in circulation to the effect that he was a cruel man, a
torturer, having learned that one of his serfs was to be found at
Alexyéi Sergyéitch's without any passport and right, began to demand his
return; in case of refusal he threatened to have recourse to the courts
and a penalty--and he did not threaten idly, as he himself held the rank
of Privy Councillor,[47] and had great weight in the government.[48]
Iván, in his affright, darted to Alexyéi Sergyéitch. The old man was
sorry for his dancer, and he offered to buy Iván from the privy
councillor at a good price; but the privy councillor would not hear of
such a thing; he was a Little Russian and obstinate as the devil. The
poor fellow had to be surrendered.
"I have got used to living here, I have made myself at home here, I have
eaten bread here, and here I wish to die," Ivan said to me--and there
was no grin on his face now; on the contrary, he seemed turned into
stone.... "But now I must go to that malefactor.... Am I a dog that I am
to be driven from one kennel to another with a slip-noose round my
neck--and a 'take that'? Save me, master; entreat your uncle,--remember
how I have always amused you.... Or something bad will surely come of
it; the matter will not pass off without sin."
"Without what sin, Iván?"
"Why, I will kill that gentleman.--When I arrive I shall say to him:
'Let me go back, master; otherwise, look out, beware.... I will kill
you.'"
If a chaffinch or a bullfinch could talk and had begun to assure me that
it would claw another bird, it would not have caused me greater
astonishment than did Iván on that occasion.--What! Ványa Sukhíkh, that
dancer, jester, buffoon, that favourite of the children, and a child
himself--that kindest-hearted of beings--a murderer! What nonsense! I
did not believe him for a single moment. I was startled in the extreme
that he should have been able to utter such a word! Nevertheless, I
betook myself to Alexyéi Sergyéitch. I did not repeat to him what Iván
had said to me, but I tried in every way to beg him to see whether he
could not set the matter right.
"My little sir," the old man replied to me, "I would be only too
delighted, but how can I?--I have offered that Topknot[49] huge
remuneration. I offered him three hundred rubles, I assure thee on my
honour! but in vain. What is one to do? We had acted illegally, on
faith, after the ancient fashion ... and now see what a bad thing has
come of it! I am sure that Topknot will take Iván from me by force the
first thing we know; he has a strong hand, the Governor eats sour
cabbage-soup with him--the Topknot will send a soldier! I'm afraid of
those soldiers! In former days, there's no denying it, I would have
defended Iván,--but just look at me now, how decrepit I have grown. How
am I to wage war?"--And, in fact, during my last visit I found that
Alexyéi Sergyéitch had aged very greatly; even the pupils of his eyes
had acquired a milky hue--like that in infants--and on his lips there
appeared not the discerning smile of former days, but that
strainedly-sweet, unconscious smirk which never leaves the faces of very
old people even in their sleep.
I imparted Alexyéi Sergyéitch's decision to Iván. He stood a while, held
his peace, and shook his head.--"Well," he said at last, "what is fated
to be cannot be avoided. Only my word is firm. That is to say: only one
thing remains for me ... play the wag to the end.--Master, please give
me something for liquor!" I gave it; he drank himself drunk--and on that
same day he danced "the fish" in such wise that the maidens and married
women fairly squealed with delight, so whimsically amusing was he.
The next day I went home, and three months later--when I was already in
Petersburg--I learned that Iván had actually kept his word!--He had been
sent to his new master; his master had summoned him to his study and
announced to him that he was to serve as his coachman, that he entrusted
him with a tróika of Vyátka horses,[50] and that he should exact a
strict account from him if he treated them badly, and, in general, if he
were not punctual.--"I'm not fond of jesting," he said.--Iván listened
to his master, first made obeisance to his very feet, and then informed
him that it was as his mercy liked, but he could not be his
servant.--"Release me on quit-rent, Your High-Born," he said, "or make a
soldier of me; otherwise there will be a catastrophe before long."
The master flared up.--"Akh, damn thee! What is this thou darest to say
to me?--Know, in the first place, that I am 'Your Excellency,' and not
'Your High-Born'; in the second place, thou art beyond the age, and thy
size is not such that I can hand thee over as a soldier; and, in
conclusion,--what calamity art thou threatening me with? Art thou
preparing to commit arson?"
"No, your Excellency, not to commit arson."
"To kill me, then, pray?"
Iván maintained a stubborn silence.--"I will not be your servant," he
said at last.
"Here, then, I'll show thee," roared the gentleman, "whether thou wilt
be my servant or not!"--And after having cruelly flogged Iván, he
nevertheless ordered that the tróika of Vyátka horses should be placed
in his charge, and appointed him a coachman at the stables.
Iván submitted, to all appearances; he began to drive as coachman. As he
was a proficient in that line his master speedily took a fancy to
him,--the more so as Iván behaved very discreetly and quietly, and the
horses throve under his care; he tended them so that they became as
plump as cucumbers,--one could never leave off admiring them! The master
began to drive out more frequently with him than with the other
coachmen. He used to ask: "Dost thou remember, Iván, how unpleasant was
thy first meeting with me? I think thou hast got rid of thy folly?" But
to these words Iván never made any reply.
So, then, one day, just before the Epiphany, the master set out for the
town with Iván in his tróika with bells, in a broad sledge lined with
rugs. The horses began to ascend a hill at a walk, while Iván descended
from the box and went back to the sledge, as though he had dropped
something.--The cold was very severe. The master sat there all wrapped
up, and with his beaver cap drawn down over his ears. Then Iván pulled a
hatchet out from under the skirts of his coat, approached his master
from behind, knocked off his cap, and saying: "I warned thee, Piótr
Petróvitch--now thou hast thyself to thank for this!"--he laid open his
head with one slash. Then he brought the horses to a standstill, put the
cap back on his murdered master's head, and again mounting the box, he
drove him to the town, straight to the court-house.
"Here's the general from Sukhóy for you, murdered; and I killed him.--I
told him I would do it, and I have done it. Bind me!"
They seized Iván, tried him, condemned him to the knout and then to
penal servitude.--The merry, bird-like dancer reached the mines--and
there vanished forever....
Yes; involuntarily--although in a different sense,--one repeats with
Alexyéi Sergyéitch:--"The old times were good ... well, yes, but God be
with them! I want nothing to do with them!"