Fathers and Sons
becoming moss-grown, and falling behind the times."
Extracting from his pocket a new yellow handkerchief which he had
contrived to lay hands upon while proceeding to Arkady's room, he
continued, as he flourished the handkerchief in the air:
"Of the fact that, at some cost to myself, I have organised my
peasantry on the _obrok_ system, and apportioned them one-half, even
more, of my land, I will not speak, since I conceive that to have been
my duty, as well as a measure dictated by prudence (though no other
landowner in the neighbourhood would have done as much). Rather, I am
referring to scholarships and to science."
"I see that you have here _The Friend of Health_ for 1855," remarked
Bazarov.
"Yes, a friend sent it me," Vasili Ivanitch hastened to explain.
"Phrenology too we take into account" (he addressed this last to Arkady
rather than to Bazarov, while accompanying it with a nod towards a
small plaster bust of which the cranial surface was divided into a
series of numbered squares). "Yes indeed! Nor are we ignorant of
Schönlein[6] and Rademacher."
"In the province of ---- you still believe in Rademacher?" queried
Bazarov.
Vasili Ivanitch laughed.
"In the province of ---- we still believe in ----? Ah, gentlemen!
Hardly could you expect us to move as fast as you do. You find us in
a state of transition. In my day, the humoralist Hoffmann and the
vitalist Braun had already come to be looked upon with ridicule (and
their fulminations undoubtedly seem absurd); but now you have replaced
Rademacher with a new authority, and are making obeisance to that
authority exactly as though in twenty years' time he too will not have
fallen into contempt."
"Let me tell you, for your comforting," said Bazarov, "that we ridicule
all medicine, and render obeisance to no one."
"What? Do you not wish to become a doctor?"
"Yes; but the one thing does not preclude the other."
Vasili Ivanitch raked out his pipe until only a glowing morsel of ash
remained.
"Perhaps so, perhaps so," he said. "That point I will not dispute.
For who am I that I should dispute such things--I who am a mere
retired army doctor, _et voilà tout_--an army doctor who has taken to
agriculture?"
With that he turned to Arkady.
"Do you know, I served under your grandfather," he said. "He was then
in command of a brigade. Many and many a review have I seen. And the
society in which I mixed, the men whom I had as comrades! Yes, this
humble individual has felt the pulses of Prince Vitzentschein and
Zhukovsky, and also known all the leaders of the Southern Army of '14."
He pursed his lips impressively. "At the same time, of course, my
department was a separate one from theirs. It was the department of the
lancet, you understand. Your grandfather stood high in the esteem of
every one, and was a true soldier."
"We will agree that he was a decent old curmudgeon," drawled Bazarov.
"To think of speaking so, Evgenii!" exclaimed the old man. "General
Kirsanov was not one of those who----"
"Never mind him. As we were driving hither I greatly admired your birch
plantation. It is doing splendidly."
Vasili Ivanitch's face brightened instantly.
"Yes, and see what a garden I have made!" he exclaimed. "Every tree in
it has been planted with my own hands--orchard trees, and bush fruit
trees, and every sort of medicinal herb. Ah, young sirs, though you may
be wise in your generation, many a truth did old Paracelsus[7] discover
_in herbis et verbis et lapidibus_. For myself, I have now retired from
practice; yet twice a week am I given a chance to refurbish my ancient
store of knowledge, since folk come to me for advice, and I cannot well
turn them away. In particular do the poor seek my help, since there is
no other doctor hereabouts. Yet stay! A certain retired major dabbles
in the art. Once I asked him whether he had ever _studied_ medicine,
and he replied that he had not, that all that he did he did 'out of
philanthropy'! 'Out of philanthropy'! Ha, ha, ha! What think you of
that, eh? Ha, ha, ha!"
"Fill me a pipe, Thedika," said Bazarov curtly.
"And there was another doctor who came to visit a patient in this
neighbourhood," continued Vasili Ivanitch in a tone of mock despair.
"But by the time he arrived the patient had already joined his
forefathers, and the servant of the house would not admit the doctor,
saying that the latter's services were no longer required. This the
doctor had scarcely expected, and he was rather taken aback. 'Did the
_barin_ gasp before he died?' he inquired. 'He did, sir,' was the
reply. 'Very much?' 'Yes, very much.' 'Good!--And the doctor returned
home. Ha, ha, ha!"
Yet no one laughed except the old man himself. True, Arkady contrived
to summon up a smile, but Bazarov only stretched himself and yawned.
The conversation lasted about an hour, and then Arkady managed to
get away to his room, which he found to consist of the vestibule to
the bathroom, but at the same time to be clean and inviting. Soon
afterwards Taniushka arrived to announce dinner.
The meal, though hastily prepared, was excellent, and even sumptuous.
Only the wine proved to be rather of the "gooseberry" order--the
dark-coloured sherry procured by Timotheitch from a certain wine
merchant in the town smacking in equal parts of resin and of honey.
Also, in addition, the flies made themselves a nuisance, owing to the
fact that the page boy whose duty it was to keep them at bay with a
green whisk had, for the nonce, been banished, lest he should excite
too much comment on the part of the up-to-date visitors. Lastly, Arina
Vlasievna had robed herself in gala attire--that is to say, in a
high-peaked cap with yellow ribands and a blue, embroidered shawl. She
burst into renewed weeping on beholding her beloved Eniusha, but, this
time, gave her husband no occasion to chide her, so speedily did her
own fear of staining her shawl cause her to wipe away the tears. None
but the two young men ate anything, for the host and hostess had long
ago dined; while as waiters there officiated Thedika (much burdened
with the novelty of wearing shoes) and a woman of a masculine type of
face, and with a hump on her back, who was also accustomed to execute
the functions of housekeeper, keeper of the poultry, and sempstress.
During the meal Vasili Ivanitch paced to and fro, and discussed,
in cheerful, and even rapturous, terms, the grave fears which
Napoleon's[8] policy and the intricacy of the Italian question inspired
in his breast. Arina Vlasievna, for her part, quite disregarded Arkady,
and offered him not a single dish, but, seated with her hand supporting
her face (to which a pair of puffy, cherry-coloured lips and a few
moles communicated a kindly expression), kept her eyes fixed upon her
son, while her breath came in a succession of pants. Her great desire
was to ask her son how long he was going to stay, but she dared not
do so for fear he should reply: "Only for two days," or something
of the kind--which was a prospect of a nature to make her heart die
within her. On the roast being served, Vasili Ivanitch disappeared, and
returned, the next moment, with an uncorked bottle of champagne.
"See here," he exclaimed. "Rustic though we may be, we still keep
something to make merry with on state occasions."
That said, he filled three tumblers and a wine-glass, proposed a health
to "our inestimable guests," heel-tapped his glass in the military
fashion, and forced his wife to drain hers to the dregs. Presently the
pastry course supervened; during which, though Arkady could not bear
anything sweet, he deemed it his duty to partake of no less than four
out of the many confections which had been prepared for his benefit.
And this obligation he felt to be the more binding in that Bazarov
bluntly declined all, and lit a cigar. Lastly there appeared tea,
cream, biscuits, and butter; after which Vasili Ivanitch conducted the
party into the garden, in order that the guests might admire the beauty
of the evening. As he passed a certain bench he whispered in Arkady's
ear:
"This is where I love to sit and meditate as I watch the sun sinking.
It is just the spot for a hermit like myself. And, further on, I have
planted a few of Horace's favourite trees."
"What trees?" asked Bazarov, who had partially overheard.
"Acacia trees."
The other yawned, and, on observing this, Vasili Ivanitch hastened to
say:
"I expect that you travellers would like now to seek the arms of
Morpheus?"
"We should," Bazarov assented. "Yes, that is a true saying."
Upon which the son said "Good night" to his mother, and kissed her
on the forehead, while she bestowed upon him a threefold embrace and
(covertly) a blessing; while Vasili Ivanitch conducted Arkady to his
room, and wished him "such God-given rest as I myself used to enjoy
during the happier years of my life."
And certainly Arkady slept splendidly in the mint-scented annexe to
the bathroom, where the only sound to be heard was that of a cricket
chirping lustily against a rival from behind the stove.
Meanwhile, on leaving Arkady, Vasili Ivanitch repaired to the study,
where, squatting at the foot of the sofa, he was about to enter into a
discursive conversation with his son when the latter dismissed him, on
the plea that he desired, rather, to go to sleep. Yet never once did
Bazarov close his eyes that night, but lay staring into the darkness,
since his memories of childhood had less power to move him than had
the remembrance of the bitter experience through which he had recently
passed.
For her part, Arina Vlasievna said her prayers with an overflowing
heart, and then indulged in a long talk with Anfisushka; who, planted
like a block before her mistress, with her solitary eye fixed upon
the latter, communicated in a mysterious whisper her opinions and
prognostications on the subject of Evgenii Vasilitch. Finally Arina
Vlasievna's pleasurable emotion, coupled with the wine and the tobacco
smoke, so caused the old lady's head to start whirling that, when
her husband came to bed, he found himself obliged to moderate her
exuberance with a gesture.
Arina Vlasievna was a true Russian housewife of the old school. That
is to say, she ought to have lived a couple of hundred years earlier,
during the period when the ancient Muscovite Empire was in being.
At once pious and extremely nervous, she believed in every species
of portent, divination, proverb, and vision; also in such things as
_urodivïe_,[9] household demons, wood spirits, unlucky encounters,
spells, popular medicines, Thursday salt, and an ever-imminent end
to the world. Again, she placed much faith in such ideas as that, if
a lighted candle lasts through the night preceding Easter Day, the
buckwheat crops will come up well; that, should a human eye chance to
fall upon a mushroom during the process of its growth, such growth
will terminate forthwith; that the devil loves to be where-soever
there is water; and that all Jews bear on their breasts a blood-red
stain. Again, she stood in great awe of mice, adders, frogs, sparrows,
leeches, thunder, cold water, draughts, horses, billy-goats, fair
men, and black cats, and also looked upon crickets and dogs as
unclean creatures. Again, she never ate veal, pigeons, crabs, cheese,
asparagus, artichokes, hare, or water melons (the last-named for the
reason that, when split open, they reminded her of the head of John
the Baptist!). Nor could she ever speak of oysters without a shudder.
Again, though she loved eating, she observed every fast; though she
slept ten hours out of the twenty-four, she never even went to bed if
Vasili Ivanitch had got a headache; she read no books beyond _Alexis_
or _Siskins of the Forest_; she wrote, at most, two letters a year; she