Old Portraits Page #2

"Old Portraits" is a collection of short stories by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev, exploring themes of nostalgia, memory, and the passage of time. Through a series of rich character studies and evocative settings, Turgenev reflects on the lives and relationships of individuals, often highlighting the impact of the past on the present. The narratives delve into the emotional landscapes of the characters, revealing deep insights into human nature and the fleeting nature of beauty and youth. Turgenev's lyrical prose captures the essence of Russian society in the 19th century, making this work a poignant meditation on life, love, and loss.

								

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
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