FRAGMENT V: LIFE AT UFA (continued 2)

And it is really true that this child was born under a happy star. His mother, who had suffered constantly before her former confinement, had perfect health before his birth; his parents lived in peace together during those halcyon days; a foster-mother was found for him who proved to be more devoted than most real mothers; he was the answer to prayers and the object of fond desires, and the joy over his coming into the world spread far beyond his parents. The very day of his birth, though the season was autumn, was warm as summer.

But what happened at Bagrovo, when the good news came that God had given a son and heir to Alexyéi Stepanitch? This is what happened at Bagrovo. From the 15th of September, Stepan Mihailovitch counted the days and hours, and waited for the special messenger from Ufa. The man had been told to gallop day and night with relays of horses. This method of travelling was new, and Stepan Mihailovitch disapproved of it as a foolish waste of money and an unnecessary tax on the country people. He preferred to use his own horses; but the importance and solemnity of this occasion made him depart from his regular practice. Fortune did not keep him in suspense too long: on the 22nd of September, when he was sleeping after dinner, the messenger arrived, bearing letters and the good news. The old man woke from a sound sleep, and had hardly had time to stretch himself and clear his throat when Mazan rushed into the room and, stammering with joyful excitement, got out the words, "A grandson, batyushka Stepan Mihailovitch! Hearty congratulations!"

The first movement of Stepan Mihailovitch was to cross himself. Then he sprang out of bed, went barefoot to his desk, snatched from it the family tree, took the pen from the ink-bottle, drew a line from the circle containing the name Alexyéi, traced a fresh circle at the end of the line, and wrote in the centre of the circle, "Serghéi."

Farewell! my figures, bright or dark, my people, good or bad—I should rather say, figures that have their bright and dark sides, and people who have both virtues and vices. You are not great heroes, not imposing personalities; you trod your path on earth in silence and obscurity, and it is long, very long, since you left it. But you were men and women, and your inward and outward life was not mere dull prose, but as interesting and instructive to us as we and our life in turn will be interesting and instructive to our descendants. You were actors in that mighty drama which mankind has played on this earth since time immemorial; you played your parts as conscientiously as others, and you deserve as well to be remembered. By the mighty power of the pen and of print, your descendants have now been made acquainted with you.⁵⁴ They have greeted you with sympathy and recognised you as brothers, whenever and however you lived, and whatever clothes you wore. May no harsh judgment and no flippant tongue ever wrong your memory!

THE END.

PRINTED BY

WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,

LONDON AND BECCLES

Footnotes

By SERGE AKSAKOFF.

YEARS OF CHILDHOOD

By SERGE AKSAKOFF.

Translated, for the first time, from the Russian by J. D. DUFF,

Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.

Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.

"We are grateful to Mr. Duff for translating for the first time into English this remarkable book. 'Years of Childhood' becomes the more fascinating the more one reads and thinks about it. Aksakoff read a new and ecstatic meaning into things which are banal and tame to most men and women, and the eager eye of his mind scanned deep into the lives and loves of the people round about him."—Morning Post.

"Serge Aksakoff holds a distinct and, one might say, delightful position in Russian literature. He placed himself, almost without an effort, in the ranks of the great masters of his nation by instinctively obeying the precept that men of letters should look in their own hearts and write. One can hardly thank the translator sufficiently for this first rendering of the book in any other language than Russian."—The Times.

"English readers may well be grateful to Mr. J. D. Duff for his translation of a very unusual book. He promises us a translation of 'A Family History,' which carries on the narrative of Aksakoff's life and gives some account of his family. In the original the two make one book, and all who read this first instalment will welcome the completion of it."—Spectator.

"A book of rare charm."—Observer.

"Mr. Duff, with this admirable rendering, has unearthed a treasure for the English reader. Let us hope that the other portion of these memoirs will appear without delay. For this is Russia herself—convincingly real and intimate." —English Review.

"Apart from its great artistic value, Aksakoff's work has the attractiveness that belongs to all origins. What Mr. Maurice Baring once said, that the story of Aksakoff's memoirs is as vivid and interesting as any novel, is quite true. And it is not only true but remarkable; for reminiscences, especially of childhood, do not usually have the sort of interest that a novel has, however vivid they may be.... The fact is, Aksakoff succeeded in solving perhaps the hardest problem in literature,—the problem of working a child's consciousness as a medium for all it is worth. The book has, for us, this advantage over the other major works of Russian literature, that it has found in Mr. Duff a translator who is not only a scholar, but an artist skilful enough never to force the note for a moment." —New Statesman.

"A charming Russian book. At this time when so many translations from the Russian are appearing, well advised and ill advised, it is good to be able to put the hand on one superlatively good book. Here is a refreshment for tired eyes and tired souls. It is put into beautiful English, and the book can be read aloud with much profit and pleasure."—Country Life.

"Of an extraordinary richness and novelty."—Westminster Gazette.

LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD