My father, Andrew Peter Grineff, having served in his youth under Count
Munich, left the army in 17--, with the grade of First Major. From that
time he lived on his estate in the Principality of Simbirsk, where he
married Avoditia, daughter of a poor noble in the neighborhood. Of
nine children, the issue of this marriage, I was the only survivor. My
brothers and sisters died in childhood.
Through the favor of a near relative of ours, Prince B---, himself
a Major in the Guards, I was enrolled Sergeant of the Guards in the
regiment of Semenofski. It was understood that I was on furlough till my
education should be finished. From my fifth year I was confided to the
care of an old servant Saveliitch, whose steadiness promoted him to the
rank of my personal attendant. Thanks to his care, when I was twelve
years of age I knew how to read and write, and could make a correct
estimate of the points of a hunting dog.
At this time, to complete my education, my father engaged upon a salary
a Frenchman, M. Beaupre, who was brought from Moscow with one year’s
provision of wine and oil from Provence. His arrival of course
displeased Saveliitch.
Beaupre had been in his own country a valet, in Prussia a soldier, then
he came to Russia to be a tutor, not knowing very well what the word
meant in our language. He was a good fellow, astonishingly gay and
absent-minded. His chief foible was a passion for the fair sex. Nor was
he, to use his own expression, an enemy to the bottle--that is to say,
_a la Russe_, he loved drink. But as at home wine was offered only at
table, and then in small glasses, and as, moreover, on these occasions,
the servants passed by the pedagogue, Beaupre soon accustomed himself
to Russian brandy, and, in time, preferred it, as a better tonic, to
the wines of his native country. We became great friends, and although
according to contract he was engaged to teach me French, German, and
_all the sciences_, yet he was content that I should teach him to
chatter Russian. But as each of us minded his own business, our
friendship was constant, and I desired no mentor. However, destiny very
soon separated us, in consequence of an event which I will relate.
Our laundress, a fat girl all scarred by small-pox, and our dairymaid,
who was blind of an eye, agreed, one fine day, to throw themselves at my
mother’s feet and accuse the Frenchman of trifling with their innocence
and inexperience!
My mother would have no jesting upon this point, and she in turn
complained to my father, who, like a man of business, promptly ordered
“that dog of a Frenchman” into his presence. The servant informed him
meekly that Beaupre was at the moment engaged in giving me a lesson.
My father rushed to my room. Beaupre was sleeping upon his bed the sleep
of innocence. I was deep in a most interesting occupation. They had
brought from Moscow, for me, a geographical map, which hung unused
against the wall; the width and strength of its paper had been to me
a standing temptation. I had determined to make a kite of it, and
profiting that morning by Beaupre’s sleep, I had set to work. My father
came in just as I was tying a tail to the Cape of Good Hope! Seeing
my work, he seized me by the ear and shook me soundly; then rushing to
Beaupre’s bed, awakened him without hesitating, pouring forth a volley
of abuse upon the head of the unfortunate Frenchman. In his confusion
Beaupre tried in vain to rise; the poor pedagogue was dead drunk! My
father caught him by the coat-collar and flung him out of the room. That
day he was dismissed, to the inexpressible delight of Saveliitch.
Thus ended my education. I now lived in the family as the eldest son,
not of age whose career is yet to open; amusing myself teaching pigeons
to tumble on the roof, and playing leap-frog in the stable-yard with the
grooms. In this way I reached my sixteenth year.
One Autumn day, my mother was preserving fruit with honey in the family
room, and I, smacking my lips, was looking at the liquid boiling; my
father, seated near the window, had just opened the _Court Almanac_
which he received every year. This book had great influence over him; he
read it with extreme attention, and reading prodigiously stirred up his
bile. My mother, knowing by heart all his ways and oddities, used to try
to hide the miserable book, and often whole months would pass without a
sight of it. But, in revenge whenever he did happen to find it, he would
sit for hours with the book before his eyes.
Well, my father was reading the _Court Almanac_, frequently shrugging
his shoulders, and murmuring: “‘General!’ Umph, he was a sergeant in
my company. ‘Knight of the Orders of Russia.’ Can it be so long since
we--?”
Finally he flung the _Almanac_ away on the sofa and plunged into deep
thought; a proceeding that never presaged anything good.
“Avoditia,” said he, brusquely, to my mother, “how old is Peter?”
“His seventeenth precious year has just begun,” said my mother. “Peter
was born the year Aunt Anastasia lost her eye, and that was--”
“Well, well,” said my father, “it is time he should join the army. It is
high time he should give up his nurse, leap-frog and pigeon training.”
The thought of a separation so affected my poor mother that she let the
spoon fall into the preserving pan, and tears rained from her eyes.
As for me, it is difficult to express my joy. The idea of army service
was mingled in my head with that of liberty, and the pleasures offered
by a great city like Saint Petersburg. I saw myself an officer in the
Guards, which, in my opinion was the height of felicity.
As my father neither liked to change his plans, nor delay their
execution, the day of my departure was instantly fixed. That evening,
saying that he would give me a letter to my future chief, he called for
writing materials.
“Do not forget, Andrew,” said my mother, “to salute for me Prince B.
Tell him that I depend upon his favor for my darling Peter.”
“What nonsense,” said my father, frowning, “why should I write to Prince
B.?”
“You have just said that you would write to Peter’s future chief.”
“Well, what then?”
“Prince B. is his chief. You know very well that Peter is enrolled in
the Semenofski regiment.”
“Enrolled! what’s that to me? Enrolled or not enrolled, he shall not go
to Saint Petersburg. What would he learn there? Extravagance and folly.
No! let him serve in the army, let him smell powder, let him be a
soldier and not a do-nothing in the Guards; let him wear the straps of
his knapsack out. Where is the certificate of his birth and baptism?”
My mother brought the certificate, which she kept in a little box with
my baptismal robe, and handed it to my father. He read it, placed it
before him on the table, and commenced his letter.
I was devoured by curiosity. Where am I going, thought I, if not to
Saint Petersburg? I did not take my eyes from the pen which my father
moved slowly across the paper.
At last, the letter finished, he put it and my certificate under the
same envelope, took off his spectacles, called me and said:
“This letter is addressed to Andrew Karlovitch, my old friend and
comrade. You are going to Orenbourg to serve under orders.”
All my brilliant dreams vanished. In place of the gay life of Saint
Petersburg, ennui awaited me in a wild and distant province of the
empire. Military life seemed now a calamity.
The next morning a kibitka was at the door; my trunk was placed on it,
and also a case holding tea and a tea-service, with some napkins full
of rolls and pastry, the last sweet bits of the paternal home. Both my
parents gave me their solemn benediction. My father said, “Adieu, Peter.
Serve faithfully him to whom your oath is given; obey your chiefs;
neither seek favor, nor solicit service, but do not reject them; and
remember the proverb: ‘Take care of thy coat whilst it is new, and thy
honor whilst it is fresh.’”
My darling mother, all in tears, told me to take care of my health; and
counseled Saveliitch to guard her child from danger.
I was wrapped up in a short touloup lined with hare-skin, and over that
a pelisse lined fox-skin. I took my seat in the kibitka with Saveliitch,
and shedding bitter tears, set out for my destination.
That night I arrived at Simbirsk, where I was to stay twenty-four hours,
in order that Saveliitch might make various purchases entrusted to him.
Early in the morning Saveliitch went to the shops, whilst I stayed in
the inn. Tired of gazing out of the window upon a dirty little street,
I rambled about the inn, and at last entered the billiard-room. I
found there a tall gentleman, some forty years of age, with heavy black
moustaches, in his dressing-gown, holding a cue and smoking his pipe.
He was playing with the marker, who was to drink a glass of brandy and
water if he gained, and if he lost was to pass, on all-fours, under the
billiard table. I watched them playing. The more they played the more
frequent became the promenades on all-fours, so that finally the marker
stayed under the table. The gentleman pronounced over him some energetic
expression, as a funeral oration, and then proposed that I should play
a game with him. I declared that I did not know how to play billiards.
That seemed strange to him. He looked at me with commiseration.
However, we opened a conversation. I learned that his name was Ivan
Zourine; that he was a chief of a squadron of Hussars stationed then at
Simbirsk recruiting soldiers, and that his quarters were at my inn. He
invited me to mess with him, soldier-fashion, pot-luck. I accepted with
pleasure, and we sat down to dinner. Zourine drank deeply, and invited
me to drink also, saying that I must become accustomed to the service.
He told stories of garrison life which made me laugh till I held my
sides, and we rose from the table intimate friends. He then proposed
to teach me how to play billiards. “It is,” said he, “indispensable
for soldiers like ourselves. For example, suppose we arrive in a town,
what’s to be done? We can not always make sport of the Jews. As a last
resort there is the inn and the billiard-room; but to play billiards,
one must know how.” These reasons convinced me, and I set about learning
with enthusiasm.
Zourine encouraged me in a loud tone; he was astonished at my rapid
progress, and after a few lesson he proposed to play for money, were it
only two kopecks, not for the gain, merely to avoid playing for nothing,
which was, according to him, a very bad habit. I agreed. Zourine ordered
punch, which he advised me to taste in order to become used to the
service, “for,” said he, “what kind of service would that be without
punch?”
I took his advice, and we continued to play; the more I tasted of my
glass the bolder I grew. I made the balls fly over the cushions; I was
angry with the marker who was counting. Heaven knows why. I increased
the stake, and behaved, altogether, like a boy just cut free, for the
first time, from his mother’s apron-strings. The time passed quickly. At
last, Zourine glanced at the clock, laid down his cue, and said that I
had lost a hundred roubles to him.
I was in great confusion, because my money was all in the hands of
Saveliitch. I began to mumble excuses, when Zourine exclaimed, “Oh!
well! Good God! I can wait till morning; don’t be distressed about
it. Now let us go to supper.” What could I do? I finished the day as
foolishly as I began it.
Zourine never ceased pouring out drinks for me; advising me to become
accustomed to the service. Rising from table, I could scarcely stand. At
midnight Zourine brought me back to the inn.
Saveliitch met us at the door, and uttered a cry of horror when he saw
the unmistakable signs of my “zeal for the service.”
“What has happened to thee?” said he, in heart-broken accents; “where
have you been filling yourself like a sack? Oh! heavenly father! a
misfortune like this never came before.”
“Silence! old owl,” said I, stammering, “I am sure you are drunk
yourself; go to bed, but first put me there.”
I awoke next morning with a severe headache; the events of the evening
I recalled vaguely, but my recollections became vivid at the sight of
Saveliitch who came to me with a cup of tea.
“You begin young, Peter Grineff,” said the old men, shaking his head.
“Eh! from whom do you inherit it? Neither your father nor grandfather
were drunkards. Your mother’s name can not be mentioned; she never
deigned to taste any thing but cider. Whose fault is it then? That
cursed Frenchman’s; he taught three fine things, that miserable
dog--that pagan--for thy teacher, as if his lordship, thy father, had
not people of his own.”
I was ashamed before the old man; I turned my face away saying, “I
do not want any tea, go away, Saveliitch.” It was not easy to stop
Saveliitch, once he began to preach.
“Now, Peter, you see what it is to play the fool. You have a headache,
you have no appetite, a drunkard is good for nothing. Here, take some of
this decoction of cucumber and honey, or half a glass of brandy to sober
you. What do you say to that?”
At that instant a boy entered the room with a note for me from Zourine.
I unfolded it and read as follows:
“Do me the favor, my dear Peter, to send me by my servant the hundred
roubles that you lost to me yesterday. I am horribly in want of money.
Your devoted. ZOURINE.”
As I was perfectly in his power, I assumed an air of indifference, and
ordered Saveliitch to give a hundred roubles to the boy.
“What? why?” said the old man, surprised.
“I owe that sum,” said I, coolly.
“You owe it? When had you time enough to contract such a debt?” said
he, with redoubled astonishment. “No, no, that’s impossible. Do what you
like, my lord, but I can not give the money.”
I reflected that if in this decisive moment I did not oblige the
obstinate old fellow to obey me, it would be impossible in the future to
escape from his tutelage. Looking at him therefore, haughtily, I said,
“I am thy master; thou art my servant. The money is mine, and I lost
because I chose to lose it; I advise thee to obey when ordered, and not
assume the airs of a master.”
My words affected Saveliitch so much that he clasped his hands and stood
bowed down mute and motionless.
“What are you doing there like a post?” I cried out, angrily.
Saveliitch was in tears.
“Oh! my dear master Peter,” stammered he, with trembling voice, “do not
kill me with grief. Oh my light, listen to me, an old man; write to
that brigand that you were jesting, that we never had so much money. A
hundred roubles! God of goodness! Tell him thy parents strictly forbade
thee to play for any thing but nuts.”
“Silence,” said I, with severity, “give the money or I’ll chase you out
of the room.”
Saveliitch looked at me with agony, and went for the money. I pitied the
good old man, but I wanted to emancipate myself, and prove that I was no
longer a child. Saveliitch sent the money to Zourine, and then hastened
our departure from that cursed inn.
I left Simbirsk with a troubled conscience; a secret remorse oppressed
me. I took no leave of my teacher, not dreaming that I should ever meet
him again.