The Idiot (87 page)

‘N-no,’ the prince reflected. ‘N-no, it’s too late now; that would be more risky; truly, you’d do better not to say anything at all! And be nice to him, but ... don’t lay it on too thick, and ... and, you know ...’

‘I know, Prince, I know, that is, I know that I probably won’t be able to carry it off; for in a case like this one needs to have a heart like yours. And what’s more, he’s irritable and easily provoked, he’s begun to treat me far too condescendingly sometimes; now he snivels and embraces me, and now he suddenly starts to humiliate me and make contemptuous fun of me; well, now I’ll deliberately show him my lining, heh-heh!
Au revoir
, Prince, for I’m obviously detaining you and disturbing, so to speak, your most interesting emotions ...’

‘But, for God’s sake, keep it secret, as before!’

‘With quiet steps, sir, with quiet steps, sir!’

But although the matter was at an end, the prince was even more worried now than he had been before. Impatiently he awaited next day’s meeting with the general.

The hour of the appointment was from eleven to twelve, but the prince was quite unexpectedly late. Returning home, he found the general waiting for him. At first glance he observed that the general was displeased, possibly for the very reason that he had had to wait. Apologizing, the prince hurriedly seated himself, but somehow felt strangely timid, as though his visitor was made of porcelain, and he was constantly afraid of breaking him. He had never felt timid with the general earlier, and indeed it had never entered his mind to feel so. The prince soon perceived that this was quite a different man from the day before; instead of confusion and distraction there were glimpses of an extraordinary self-control; one might conclude that here was a man who had finally resolved upon something. His calm was, however, more apparent than real. But at any rate, his visitor’s manner was decently familiar, though with a dignified reserve, and initially he even treated the prince with a certain air of condescension: all of this precisely in the way that people who are proud, but have been unfairly insulted, sometimes behave. He spoke mildly, though not without a certain note of disgruntlement.

‘Your book, the one I borrowed from you yesterday,’ he nodded meaningfully at the book he had brought and which lay on the table. ‘Thank you.’

‘Ah, yes; did you read that article, General? How did you like it? It’s interesting, isn’t it?’ The prince was relieved at having the chance to begin the conversation on a side-topic.

‘It may be interesting, but it’s crude and, of course, it’s rubbish. Probably lies every step of the way, too.’

The general spoke with aplomb, even affecting a slight drawl.

‘Oh, but it’s such an uncontrived story; the story of an old soldier who was an eyewitness to the French occupation of Moscow; several parts of it are splendid. What’s more, any memoirs by eyewitnesses are a treasure, no matter who the eyewitness happens to be. Don’t you think so?’

‘If I’d been the editor I would never have published it; and as for memoirs by eyewitnesses, people are more prepared to believe a coarse liar who is entertaining than they are a man of worth and merit. I know some writings about the year 1812 that ... Prince, I’ve made my decision, Prince, I’m leaving this house — Mr Lebedev’s house.’

The general gave the prince a meaningful look.

‘You have your own lodgings in Pavlovsk, at the home of your ... daughter ...’ the prince said quietly, not knowing what to say. He remembered that, after all, the general had come for advice concerning an urgent matter on which his fate depended.

‘At my wife’s, sir; in other words, in my own home, and that of my daughter.’

‘Forgive me, I ...’

‘I’m leaving Lebedev’s house because, dear Prince, I’ve broken with that man; I broke with him last night, and I regret it was not sooner. I demand respect, Prince, and I wish to receive it even from those persons to whom, so to speak, I give my heart. Prince, I often give my heart and am almost invariably deceived. That man was unworthy of my gift.’

‘There’s a lot of disorderliness in him,’ the prince observed cautiously, ‘and certain features ... but in the midst it all one may observe a heart, and a mind that’s cunning and sometimes even entertaining.’

The refinement of the prince’s expressions, and his deferential tone, visibly flattered the general, though he still sometimes glanced with sudden mistrust. But the prince’s tone was so natural and sincere that it was impossible to have any doubts.

‘That there are good qualities in him,’ the general interjected. ‘I was the first to declare when I was almost about to give that individual my friendship. After all, I have no need of his house and his hospitality, as I possess a household of my own. I’m not trying to justify my own defects; I’m intemperate; I drank wine with him and now, perhaps, I regret that. But after all, it was not merely for drinking (Prince, you must forgive the coarseness of expression on the part of a man who’s exasperated), not merely for that that I associated with him, was it? I was, in fact, as you say, attracted by his qualities. But everything has its limits - even qualities; and if he suddenly, to my face, has the insolence to assert that in the year 1812, still a lad, in his childhood, he lost his left leg and buried it in the Vagankov Cemetery, in Moscow, that goes beyond all limits and shows lack of respect, displays effrontery ...’

‘Perhaps it was only a joke, to make you laugh.’

‘I understand, sir. An innocent lie to make one laugh, even though it may be a crude one, does not insult the human heart. A man may lie, if you will, from simple friendship, in order to afford enjoyment to his partner in conversation; but if disrespect shows through, if precisely by such disrespect, perhaps, the intention is to show that the friendship is a burden, then all that’s left to a decent man is to turn away and end the friendship, thus showing the insulter his proper place.’

The general even reddened as he spoke.

‘But Lebedev couldn’t have been in Moscow in 1812; he’s too young for that; it’s absurd.’

‘That, for one thing; but supposing he could have been born then: how can he assert to my face that a French chasseur pointed his cannon at him and blew off his leg, just like that, for fun; that he picked up that leg and took it home, then buried it in the Vagankov Cemetery, and then he put a gravestone over it with on one side the inscription: “Here lies the leg of Collegiate Assessor Lebedev”, and on the other: “Rest, dear ashes, until
the joyous morn”, and that he has a service held over it every year (which is blasphemy), and makes a trip to Moscow for that purpose every year. As proof he invites me to Moscow in order to show me the grave, and even that same French cannon in the Kremlin, captured from the enemy; he says it’s the eleventh from the gate, a French falconet of the old make.’

‘And yet both his legs are fine, and in full view!’ the prince laughed. ‘I assure you, it’s an innocent joke; don’t be angry.’

‘You must allow me to have my opinion about that, sir; with regard to his legs being in full view — it may not be so improbable, after all; he says it’s a Chernosvitov leg.’
¹

‘Ah, yes, they say it’s possible to dance with one of those.’

‘I know that for a fact, sir. The first thing Chernosvitov did when he’d invented his leg was to pop over and show it to me. But the Chernosvitov leg was invented later, far later ... And what’s more, he claims that even his deceased wife, throughout the duration of their entire marriage, never knew that he, her husband, had a wooden leg. “If you,” he said, when I pointed out all the absurdities to him, “if you were one of Napoleon’s pageboys in 1812, you may at least permit me to bury my leg in the Vagankov Cemetery.”’

‘But were you really ...’ the prince began, and grew embarrassed.

The general gave the prince a decidedly haughty look, which was almost one of mockery.

‘Do go on, Prince,’ he drawled with particular smoothness, ‘please do. I am a tolerant man, you may say it all: admit that you find preposterous even the very idea of seeing a man in his present state of humiliation and ... uselessness, and of hearing at the same time that this man was a personal witness of ... great events.
He
hasn’t managed to ... tell you any tales about me yet, has he?’

‘No; I’ve heard nothing from Lebedev - if it’s Lebedev you’re talking about...’

‘Hm, I thought the contrary. Actually, the conversation we had yesterday was about that ... strange article in the
Archive.
I commented on its absurdity, and as I myself was a personal witness ... You’re smiling, Prince, you’re looking at my face?’

‘N-no, I ...’

‘I may look young,’ the general drew out his words, ‘but I’m rather older than I appear. In 1812 I was about ten or eleven. I don’t really know my age. In the army service list it’s less; all my life it’s been a weakness of mine to understate my age.’

‘I assure you, General, that I in no way find it strange that you were in Moscow in 1812 and ... of course, you’re able to report ... just like everyone else who was there. Indeed, one of our autobiographers
²
begins his book by relating that as a babe in arms in Moscow in 1812 he was fed with bread by the French soldiers.’

‘There, you see,’ the general approved tolerantly. ‘My own case, of course, stands out from the ordinary, but it doesn’t contain anything unusual. Very often the truth seems impossible. A pageboy! It does sound strange, of course. But the episode with the ten-year-old boy may perhaps be explained precisely by his age. It wouldn’t have happened to a fifteen-year-old, and that is unquestionably so, because as a fifteen-year-old I would not have run away from our wooden house on Staraya Basmannaya on the day of Napoleon’s entrance to Moscow, leaving my mother, who was too late to leave Moscow, and trembling with fear. At fifteen I’d have been afraid, but at ten I was afraid of nothing and pushed my way through the crowd right up to the front steps of the palace just as Napoleon was getting off his horse.’

‘Without a doubt, that was an excellent observation of yours, that at ten years old it’s possible not to be afraid ...’ the prince confirmed timidly, tormented by the thought that he might blush at any moment.

‘Without any doubt all, and it all happened as simply and naturally as can only be the case in real life. Were a novelist to take up the matter, he’d weave fables and fantasies.’

‘Oh, that is true!’ exclaimed the prince. ‘That thought struck me, too, and even recently. I know of a genuine case of murder for the sake of a watch, it’s in the newspapers just now. If an author had invented it, the experts on our national life would have instantly shouted that it was incredible; yet as one reads it in the papers as a fact, one feels it’s precisely from such facts that one comes to learn about Russian reality. That was a splendid observation of yours, General!’ the prince concluded with ardour, hugely relieved at being able to divert attention from the obvious blush on his face.

‘Isn’t it so? Isn’t it?’ exclaimed the general, his eyes even sparkling with pleasure. ‘A boy, a child, not understanding the danger, makes his way through the crowd in order to see the glitter, the uniforms, the retinue and, at last, the great man, about whom so much had been trumpeted to him. For at the time, for several years on end, people had done nothing but shout about him. The world was filled with that name; I, so to speak, sucked it in with my mother’s milk. Napoleon, as he walked by at two paces from me, happened to discern my gaze; I was dressed in the clothes of a young nobleman, my family dressed me well. I was the only one like that, in that crowd, so you will admit ...’

‘Without a doubt, that must have struck him and proved to him that not everyone had left, and that even some noblemen with their children had remained.’

‘Precisely, precisely! He was anxious to attract the boyars! When he cast his aquiline gaze at me, my eyes must have sparkled in response to it.
“Voilà un garçon bien éveillé!
Qui est ton
père?”
³
I at once replied to him, almost choking with excitement: “A general who died in the fields of his fatherland.”
“Le fils d’un boyard et d’un brave pardessus le marché! J’aime les boyards. M‘aimes-tu, petit?
”
⁴
To this swift questio
n I replied just as swiftly: “The Russian heart is able to discern a great man even in its fatherland’s enemy!” Though really, I can’t remember if those were his actual words ... I was a child ... but that was probably the gist of it! Napoleon was struck, he thought for a moment and said to his retinue: “I like the pride of this boy! But if all Russians think like this child, then ...” He didn’t finish, and entered the palace. I at once joined the retinue and ran after him. The members of the retinue were already stepping aside for me and looking on me as a favourite. But all that just fleeted past ... I remember only that, as he entered the first hall, the emperor suddenly stopped in front of a portrait of Empress Catherine, looked at it for a long time and, said, at last: “She was a great woman!” - and walked past. Two days later everyone in the palace and the Kremlin knew me, and called me
“le petit boyard”.
I only went home to sleep. At home they were almost beside themselves. Another two days later, Napoleon’s page, Baron de Bazancourt,
⁵
died after failing to endure the campaign. Napoleon remembered me. I was taken and brought to the palace without explanation, was given the uniform of the deceased, a boy of about twelve, and when they had led me to the emperor, wearing the uniform, and he had nodded at me, they told me that I had been granted favour and been made a page of his majesty. I was pleased, I really did feel an ardent sympathy for him, and had done for a long time ... well, and also there was the resplendent uniform, which is something that means a great deal to a child ... I went about in a dark-green coat with long, narrow tails; gold buttons, red trimmings on the sleeves with gold braid, a high, stiff, open collar, embroidered in gold, embroidery on the tails; white, close-fitting buckskin breeches, silk stockings, shoes with buckles ... and during the emperor’s outings on horseback, and if I was part of the retinue, high hessian boots. Although the situation was none too good, and enormous calamities were already being anticipated, etiquette was observed as far as possible, and one could even say that it was observed with more punctilio the more strongly those calamities were sensed to be imminent.’