In Russia there are three predominating types of soldiers, which
embrace the soldiers of all arms,--those of the Caucasus, of the line,
the guards, the infantry, the cavalry, the artillery, and the others.
These three types, with many subdivisions and combinations, are as
follows:--
(1) The obedient,
(2) The domineering or dictatorial, and
(3) The desperate.
The obedient are subdivided into the apathetic obedient and the
energetic obedient.
The domineering are subdivided into the gruffly domineering and the
diplomatically domineering.
The desperate are subdivided into the desperate jesters and the simply
desperate.
The type more frequently encountered than the rest--the type most
gentle, most sympathetic, and for the most part endowed with the
Christian virtues of meekness, devotion, patience, and submission to
the will of God--is that of the obedient.
The distinctive character of the apathetic obedient is a certain
invincible indifference and disdain of all the turns of fortune which
may overtake him.
The characteristic trait of the drunken obedient is a mild poetical
tendency and sensitiveness.
The characteristic trait of the energetic obedient is his limitation in
intellectual faculties, united with an endless assiduity and fervor.
The type of the domineering is to be found more especially in the
higher spheres of the army: corporals, non-commissioned officers,
sergeants and others. In the first division of the gruffly domineering
are the high-born, the energetic, and especially the martial type, not
excepting those who are stern in a lofty poetic way (to this category
belonged Corporal Antónof, with whom I intend to make the reader
acquainted).
The second division is composed of the diplomatically domineering,
and this class has for some time been making rapid advances. The
diplomatically domineering is always eloquent, knows how to read, goes
about in a pink shirt, does not eat from the common kettle, often
smokes cheap Muscat tobacco, considers himself immeasurably higher than
the simple soldier, and is himself rarely as good a soldier as the
gruffly domineering of the first class.
The type of the desperate is almost the same as that of the
domineering, that is, it is good in the first division,--the desperate
jesters, the characteristic features of whom are invariably jollity,
a huge unconcern in regard to every thing, a wealth of nature and
boldness.
The second division is in the same way detestable: the criminally
desperate, who, however, it must be said for the honor of the Russian
soldier, are very rarely met with, and, if they are met with, then they
are quickly drummed out of comradeship with the true soldier. Atheism,
and a certain audacity in crime, are the chief traits of this character.
Velenchúk came under the head of the energetically obedient. He was a
Little Russian by birth, had been fifteen years in the service; and
while he was not a fine-looking nor a very skilful soldier, still he
was simple-hearted, kind, and extraordinarily full of zeal, though
for the most part misdirected zeal, and he was extraordinarily honest.
I say extraordinarily honest, because the year before there had been
an occurrence in which he had given a remarkable exhibition of this
characteristic. You must know that almost every soldier has his own
trade. The greater number are tailors and shoemakers. Velenchúk
himself practised the trade of tailoring; and, judging from the fact
that Sergeant Mikháil Doroféïtch gave him his custom, it is safe to
say that he had reached a famous degree of accomplishment. The year
before, it happened that while in camp, Velenchúk took a fine cloak
to make for Mikháil Doroféïtch. But that very night, after he had cut
the cloth, and stitched on the trimmings, and put it under his pillow
in his tent, a misfortune befell him: the cloth, which was worth seven
rubles, disappeared during the night. Velenchúk with tears in his eyes,
with pale quivering lips and with stifled lamentations, confessed the
circumstance to the sergeant.
Mikháil Doroféïtch fell into a passion. In the first moment of his
indignation he threatened the tailor; but afterwards, like a kindly
man with plenty of means, he waved his hand, and did not exact from
Velenchúk the value of the cloak. In spite of the fussy tailor's
endeavors, and the tears that he shed while telling about his
misfortune, the thief was not detected. Although strong suspicions
were attached to a corruptly desperate soldier named Chernof, who
slept in the same tent with him, still there was no decisive proof.
The diplomatically dictatorial Mikháil Doroféïtch, as a man of means,
having various arrangements with the inspector of arms and steward of
the mess, the aristocrats of the battery, quickly forgot all about
the loss of this particular cloak. Velenchúk, on the contrary, did not
forget his unhappiness. The soldiers declared that at this time they
were apprehensive about him, lest he should make way with himself, or
flee to the mountains, so heavily did his misfortune weigh upon him. He
did not eat, he did not drink, was not able to work, and wept all the
time. At the end of three days he appeared before Mikháil Doroféïtch,
and without any color in his face, and with a trembling hand, drew out
of his sleeve a piece of gold, and gave it to him.
"Faith,[3] and here's all that I have, Mikháil Doroféïtch; and this I
got from Zhdánof," he said, beginning to sob again. "I will give _you_
two more rubles, truly I will, when I have earned them. He (who the
_he_ was, Velenchúk himself did not know) made me seem like a rascal in
your eyes. He, the beastly viper, stole from a brother soldier his hard
earnings; and here I have been in the service fifteen years." ...
To the honor of Mikháil Doroféïtch, it must be said that he did not
require of Velenchúk the last two rubles, though Velenchúk brought them
to him at the end of two months.
[Footnote 3: _yéï Bogu._]