SIX

INTRODUCTION

IX of the narratives included in the present volume are representative of Count Tolstor's literary activity in the years 1856, 1857, and 1859; the first, which gives the volume its name, is of earlier date, having been written in 1852, the same year as "Childhood, Boyhood, and Youth." Literally translated, the title, Utro Pomye shchika, means "A Proprietor's Morning," and was probably intended as a part of a projected novel; but it is complete in itself, representing the experiences of a conscientious young Russian in dealing with his serfs, endeavoring to lift them from their degradation, and finding their ingrained obstinacy and conservatism too powerful to overcome. One cannot help feeling that it is autobiographical, or at least founded on similar experiences, Count Tolstoï, it will be remembered, having suddenly quitted the University of Kazan, in spite of the entreaties of his friends, and retired to his paternal estate of Yasnaya Polyana near Tula. The aunt, whose letter is cited in the first chapter, must have been Tolstor's aunt mentioned in the second chapter of "My Confession."

The "Recollections of a Billiard-marker" and "Two Hussars" are both evidently reminiscent of Count Tolstor's gambling days. Both must have been suggested by some such terrible experience as that told of his gambling debt in the Caucasus. The style of the first is peculiarly rugged and staccato, with a quite wonderful skill in reproducing the slang of the billiard-saloon. The other is a powerful delineation of the contrast between the dissipated, high-handed, bold hussar of the early days, with his freaks of generosity, with his nobility and gallantry, and his son, no less dissipated, but mean, contemptible, and narrow.

"Lucerne" and "Albert " are likewise evidently tran

scripts from the author's own experiences. The Quixotic benefactor, the autobiographic Prince Nekhliudof, who in the one case patronizes the strolling Swiss singer and in the other tries to rescue the drunken violinist from himself, is Count Tolstor.

"Family Happiness" is a romance complete in itself. It is the autobiography of a young, passionate, and susceptible woman, who, being thrown into the society of her guardian, marries him, and too late discovers that the love which she has to bestow is met by a philosophic liking so cold as thoroughly to disenchant her. She narrowly escapes shipwreck, not through any inherent badness, but by the force of inertia, which lets her drift with the stream toward the chasm of illicit passion. She wins a certain serenity, and happiness returns in her acceptance of the inevitable and in her devotion to duty. It is a wonderful study of a woman's soul, and is the most poetic of Count Tolstor's works; it is shot through and through with the music of nightingales.

In interesting contrast to these characteristic stories is the little gem entitled Kavkazsky Plyennik, or "A Prisoner in the Caucasus." It is founded on a personal experience thus related by Count Tolstor's brother-inlaw, C. H. Behrs, in his "Recollections":

"A certain Sodo, of the tribe of the Tchetchenians, and with whom the count was on friendly terms, had bought a young horse, and one day proposed to him to take a ride into the country surrounding the fortress, where the detachment of the Russian army in which he then served was posted. Two other officers of the artillery joined the party. Though all such excursions had been strictly forbidden by the military authorities in consequence of the serious dangers with which they were accompanied, not one of them, except Sodo, was furnished with any other weapon than the ordinary Circassian saber. Having tried his own horse, Sodo begged his friend to mount it, and himself leaped on the count's trotter, which, of course, was no good at a fast gallop. They were already about five versts from the fortress when suddenly they saw close before them a band of Tchetchenians, some.

twenty in number. The Tchetchenians began to pull their guns from their covers, and divided themselves into two parties. One-half of them set off in chase of the two officers, who were already making what speed they could back to the fortress, and soon overtook them. One of the officers was pulled from his horse and hacked to pieces; the other was taken prisoner. Sodo, followed by Lyof Nikolayevitch, pushed off in another direction toward a Cossack picket that was posted at about a verst distant. Their pursuers were close upon them, and there was nothing before them but death or captivity, with its usual accompaniment, to be put into a pit neck high and left there to starve, for the mountaineers were noted for their cruel treatment of the unlucky wretches who fell into their hands. It was possible for Lyof Nikolayevitch to escape on his friend's swift-footed steed, but he would not abandon him. Sodo, like a true mountaineer, had not failed to bring his gun with him, but unfortunately it was unloaded. He none the less aimed at his pursuers, and with a wild cry of defiance made as if he were on the point of firing. To judge from what followed, we may presume it was their intention to take them both prisoners, in order that they might better revenge themselves on Sodo. At any rate they none of them fired. It was this alone that saved their lives. They managed to get within sight of the picket, whence the sharp-eyed sentry had from a distance seen the danger they were in, and instantly gave the alarm. The Cossacks soon turned out, and before long compelled the Tchetchenians to cease their pursuit."

The style is perfectly simple and lucid; the pictures of life in the Tartar aul among the mountains are intensely vivid, painted with strong masterly touches; the heroism of the young officer in standing by his friend and fellow-captain is most affecting, and the reader will not soon forget the little black-eyed laughing maiden Dina, with the rubles jingling in her braided hair. She stands forth as one of the most fascinating of the author's creations, as the story itself is one that well deserves to be called classic.