Russian Short Stories from Pushkin to Buida (Penguin Classics)

by Chandler, Robert

  The Emperor ordered that inquiries should be made at once about where it had come from and what it signified.

  They plunged into an examination of the records and the lists, but nothing was written in the records. They began asking this one and that, but nobody knew anything. By good luck, though, Platov the Don Cossack was still alive and even still lying on his bed of ire and smoking his pipe. As soon as he heard about all that disturbance at the Court, he rose up from his bed, threw down his pipe and reported to the Emperor with all his decorations. The Emperor said, ‘What need have you of me, courageous old man?’

  And Platov answered, ‘I need nothing for myself, Your Majesty, since I eat and drink all I want and I’m satisfied with everything. But,’ he says, ‘I have come to report about that nymphusoria they found. This is the way it was,’ he says, ‘this is how it happened right before my eyes in England, and right here beside it is the key, and I’ve got their own nitroscope, that you can use to blow it up and look at it, and with this key you can wind up the nymphusoria through its belly, and it will hop around in any space you want and do fairiations to each side.’

  They wound it up, it began to jump, and Platov said, ‘You’re right, Your Majesty,’ he says, ‘that the work is mighty fine and interesting, only it’s not right for us to marvel at it with nothing but the rapture of our feelings. It ought to be submitted for Russian inspection at Tula or Sesterbek (at that time Sestroretsk was still called Sesterbek), to see whether our craftsmen can’t outdo it, so that the Englishmen won’t keep lording it over us Russians.’

  Emperor Nicholas had great confidence in his Russian men and didn’t like to yield to any foreigner, and so he answered Platov, ‘You speak well, courageous old man, and I charge you with the task of proving this matter. With all my cares I do not need this little box. You take it with you, and lie no more on your bed of ire, but go to the silent Don, and strike up intimidating conversations there with my Don people about their life and devotion and what is pleasing to them. And when you go through Tula, show this nymphusoria to my Tula craftsmen, that they may ponder over it. Tell them from me that my brother marvelled at this thing, and he praised above all others the foreigners who made this nymphusoria, but I place my hope in my own people, that they are surpassed by no one. They will heed my word and will do something.’

  5

  Platov took the steel flea, and when he went through Tula toward the Don, he showed it to the Tula gunsmiths and passed the Emperor’s words on to them and then asked, ‘Now what can we do about it, Orthodox brethren?’

  The gunsmiths replied, ‘Worthy old man we feel the gracious word of the Emperor, and we never can forget it, because he puts his hope in his own people, but what we can do about it in this here case we can’t say in just one minute, because the English nation ain’t stupid either; they’re even sort of cunning, and their art is full of horse sense. We mustn’t go out after them till we’ve pondered about it and got God’s blessing. Now, if you have confidence in us like the Emperor, then journey hence to your home upon the silent Don, and leave us this here little flea just like it is, in its case and in the golden snuffbox of the Tsar. Make yourself merry along the Don and heal the wounds you have suffered for our fatherland, and when you return through Tula, tarry and send for us: by that time, God willing, it may be that we’ll have something thunk up.’

  Platov was not completely satisfied because the Tula workmen demanded so much time and didn’t talk very clearly about just what they hoped to make. He asked them this way and that, and using his Don Cossack cunning he talked with them in every sort of way, but the Tula men were no less cunning than he was, because they already had thought up such a plan that they couldn’t really hope even Platov would believe them, and they wanted to carry out their bold idea right away and then hand it over.

  They said, ‘Even we ourselves don’t know yet what we’ll do, but we’ll only rest our faith in God and trust that the Tsar’s word won’t be put to shame through our doings.’

  Platov kept twisting and turning this way and that, and so did the men from Tula.

  Platov wriggled and wriggled till he saw that he couldn’t outwriggle a Tula man, and then he handed over the snuffbox with the nymphusoria and said, ‘Well, there’s nothing to do. Let it be your way,’ he says. ‘I know you – what kind you are. Still, there’s nothing to do – I believe you. Only take care and don’t try to swap diamonds on me, and don’t spoil the fine English workmanship, and don’t fool around very long, because I travel fast. Two weeks won’t go by before I return again from the silent Don to Petersburg. At that time see to it that I have something to show the Emperor.’

  The gunsmiths reassured him completely, ‘We ain’t going to harm the fine workmanship,’ they said, ‘and we won’t change diamonds on you, and two weeks are enough time for us, and by the time you come back you will have something worthy to be shown to his Imperial Splendour.’

  But exactly what it was they just wouldn’t say.

  6

  Platov departed from Tula; and three of the gunsmiths, the most skilful of them all – one of them a cross-eyed left-handed man with a birthmark on his cheek and bald spots on his temples where the hair had been pulled out when he was an apprentice – these three bade farewell to their fellow workmen and their families, and without saying anything to anybody they took their bags, put what food they needed into them, and disappeared from town.

  The only thing anybody noticed was that they didn’t go out through the Moscow gate, but through the one on the other side, in the direction of Kiev, and people thought they had gone to Kiev to bow down before the saints resting there in peace or to take counsel with some of the holy men still alive there, who were always available in abundance in Kiev.

  But this was only close to the truth and not the truth itself. Neither time nor distance allowed the Tula craftsmen in three weeks to walk to Kiev and then on top of that to make something that would put the English nation to shame. They might have done better to go and pray in Moscow, which was only ‘twice fifty miles away’, and a good many holy saints rest in peace there too. In the other direction too it was ‘twice fifty miles’ to Oryol and then another good three hundred from Oryol to Kiev. You won’t get over that much ground in a hurry, and even when you’ve done it you won’t get rested in a hurry: for a long time your feet will feel as numb as glass and your hands will tremble.

  Some people even thought the craftsmen had bragged a little too much to Platov and then after they thought it over had got scared and run away for good, taking along the Tsar’s gold snuffbox, and the diamond, and the English steel flea in its case that had brought them all the trouble.

  However, this supposition too was completely unfounded, and was unworthy of the clever men on whom the hope of the nation now rested.

  7

  The inhabitants of Tula, who are intelligent people and knowledgeable about metal work, are also well known as the finest experts in religion. Their fame in this connection has spread all over their native land and has even reached Mount Athos: they are not only masters at singing their fancy trills; they also know how to paint the picture Evening Bells, and if any of them dedicate themselves to greater service and enter monastic life, they become famous as the best managers of monastery household affairs, and they make the most capable collectors of alms. On holy Mount Athos everybody knows that the Tula inhabitants are a most remunerative people, and if it wasn’t for them, most likely the dark corners of Russia would not see very many holy relics from the distant East, and Mount Athos would be deprived of many useful contributions from Russian generosity and piety. Today the ‘Tula men of Mount Athos’ carry holy relics all over our native land and skilfully collect contributions even where there is nothing to collect. The Tula man is full of churchly piety and is highly practical in this matter, and so the three master craftsmen who took it on themselves to uphold Platov, and with him all Russia, made no mistake when they headed south instead of towards Moscow. Th
ey didn’t go to Kiev at all but to Mtsensk, to the district town of Oryol Province in which there stands the ancient ‘stone-graven’ icon of Saint Nicholas, which was brought here in the most ancient times along the river Zusha on a large cross, likewise made of stone. This icon is ‘awesome and most terrible’ in appearance. The sainted archbishop of Myra in Lycia is represented on it full-length, clothed all over in silver-gilt clothing, swarthy of face and holding a temple in one hand and the sword of ‘Military Conquest’ in the other. It was just this ‘Conquest’ that held the meaning of the whole thing: Saint Nicholas in general and ‘Nicholas of Mtsensk’ in particular was the patron saint of commerce and warfare, and so the Tula gunsmiths went to make their bows to him. They held their prayer service right in front of the icon, and then in front of the stone cross, and finally, returning home by night and saying nothing to anybody, they set about their work in awful secrecy. All three of them got together in Lefty’s house; they locked the doors, boarded up the windows, lighted a lamp before the icon of Saint Nicholas and started to work.

  One day, two days, three days they sat without going out anywhere, all of them tapping away with their hammers. They were making something, but what it was they were making nobody knew.

  Everyone was curious, but nobody could find out a thing, because the workmen said nothing and never stuck their noses outside. All sorts of people would go up to the little house and knock on the door with all sorts of excuses, to ask for fire or borrow some salt, but the three experts would not open up for any kind of request. Even how they got food nobody knew. People tried to scare them, and pretended that the house next door was on fire to see whether they wouldn’t run out in fright and give away the secret of what they were making, but nothing could take in those shrewd workmen. Lefty stuck his head out only once and shouted, ‘Go ahead and burn up; we ain’t got time,’ and then he drew in his plucked head, banged the shutters tight and got to work again. Through the tiny cracks people could only see the glitter of a light and hear the ringing blows of tiny hammers tapping on anvils.

  In a word, the whole thing was handled in such awful secrecy that there was no way to find out anything about it, and it lasted right up to the return of the Cossack Platov from the silent Don on his way to the Emperor, and during all that time the craftsmen saw nobody and said nothing.

  8

  Platov travelled in great haste and ceremony: he himself sat in the carriage, and on the coach-boxes two Cossack scurriers holding whips sat on each side of the driver and poured it on him unmercifully so as to make him hurry. If either one of the Cossacks dozed off, Platov would give him a kick from inside the carriage, and they would tear along even more wildly. These measures worked so well that there was no holding back the horses at a single station anywhere; they would always gallop on a hundred paces past the halting-place. Then the Cossack would work on the driver once more in the opposite direction, and they would go back to the entrance.

  That was the way they rolled into Tula: there too at first they flew a hundred paces beyond the Moscow gate, and then the Cossack worked on the driver with his whip in the opposite direction, and at the entrance they started hitching up fresh horses. Platov didn’t get out of the carriage, but only told his scurrier to go as fast as possible and get the craftsmen he had left the flea with.

  One scurrier dashed off to get them to come as fast as possible and bring him the work that was to put the Englishmen to shame, and that scurrier had run only a short distance when Platov sent first one and then another after him so as to speed things up.

  He sent off all his scurriers and then began dispatching ordinary people from the curious crowd, and in impatience he even stuck his own legs out of the carriage and was about to start running impatiently himself, and he gritted his teeth because they were all so slow in coming into sight.

  In those days everything had to be done just right and very fast, so as not to lose a minute that might be useful to Russia.

  9

  At that very moment the Tula craftsmen who were making the marvellous thing had finished their work. The scurriers ran up to them puffing and blowing, and the ordinary people from the curious crowd – well, they didn’t even get there at all, because their legs, being out of practice, scattered and fell all along the way, and then in terror, for fear they might catch sight of Platov, they lit out for home and hid wherever they could.

  As soon as the scurriers ran up, they gave a shout, and when they saw that nobody opened up, they jerked at the bolts on the shutters, but the bolts were so strong they wouldn’t give at all; they pulled at the doors, but the doors were fastened from the inside with heavy oak bars. Then the scurriers picked up a beam from the street and stuck it under the eave of the roof the way firemen do, and in one blow they prized the whole roof off the hut. But as soon as they got the roof off, they themselves keeled over, because the workmen with their unceaseless labour in their crowded little shanty had expired so much that a man who wasn’t used to it, coming right in when the wind was dead, instinkly choked.

  The messengers cried out, ‘What are you doing, you so-and-so’s, you swine? What do you mean by knocking us over with that expiration? Or ain’t you got any fear of God left in you?’

  And they answered, ‘Just a minute, we’re driving in the last nail, and as soon as we hammer it down we’ll bring out our work.’

  The messengers said, ‘He’ll eat us alive before then and won’t even leave our souls for the funeral.’

  But the craftsmen answered, ‘He won’t have time to gobble you up, because we drove the last nail in while you were standing there talking. Run and tell him we’re bringing it right now.’

  The scurriers dashed off, but their hearts weren’t in it, because they thought the craftsmen might fool them, and for that reason they ran and ran, but kept looking back. But the craftsmen were coming along behind them, and they had hurried so fast they hadn’t even got dressed quite the way they ought for a meeting with an important person, and while they ran they were still fastening the hooks of their kaftans. Two of them had nothing in their hands, but the third one, Lefty, had the Tsar’s jewel casket wrapped in a green cloth cover with the English steel flea inside.

  10

  The scurriers ran up to Platov and said, ‘Here they are in person!’

  Platov barked at the craftsmen, ‘Is it ready?’

  ‘It’s all ready,’ they answered.

  ‘Give it here.’

  They handed it over.

  The carriage was already hitched up, and the driver and postillion were in their places. The Cossacks at once took their seats beside the driver and raised their whips over his head and held them brandished there.

  Platov snatched off the green cover, opened the little casket, took the gold snuffbox out of its padding and the diamond nut out of the snuffbox. He saw the English flea lying there just the way it had before, and apart from it nothing else was there.

  Platov said, ‘What’s the meaning of this? Where is your work that you wanted to console the Emperor with?’

  The gunsmiths answered, ‘Our work is right there.’

  Platov asked, ‘What kind of work?’

  The gunsmiths answered, ‘What’s the use of explaining? Everything is right there in front of your eyes. Just take a look at it.’

  Platov squared his shoulders and shouted, ‘Where’s the key to the flea?’

  ‘Why, it’s right here,’ they answered. ‘Where the flea is, there the key is – in the same nut.’

  Platov tried to take hold of the key, but his fingers were too stubby. He grabbed and grabbed but couldn’t catch either the flea or the key to its bellyworks, and suddenly he burst out and started swearing with colourful Cossack words.

  He shouted, ‘You scoundrels, you’ve done nothing at all, and on top of it you’ve probably ruined the whole thing! I’ll take off your heads!’

  But the Tula men answered him, ‘There ain’t no use insulting us. From you, as the Emperor’s messenger, we
’ve got to put up with all insults, but just because you wouldn’t trust us and thought we were the kind that would even cheat the Emperor hisself, we ain’t going to tell you the secret of our work now; just be so kind as to take it to the Emperor, and he’ll see what sort of men he’s got in us, and whether we’ve done anything to make him ashamed of us.’

  Platov shouted, ‘You’re lying, you scoundrels, and I won’t let you get away from me like that. One of you will go with me to Petersburg, and there I’ll get out of him what kind of scullduggery you’ve been up to.’

  And with this he reached out, grabbed the cross-eyed Lefty by the collar with his stubby fingers, so that all the hooks flew off his kazakin shirt, and pitched him into the carriage at his feet.

  ‘Lie there like a puddle,’ he said, ‘till we get to Petersburg. You’ll answer to me for all of them. And you,’ he said to the scurriers, ‘get a move on! Look sharp now, and see to it that I’m in Petersburg at the Emperor’s the day after tomorrow!’

  The craftsmen stuck their necks out for their comrade and asked how he could be taken away from them like that without his grasp port. Then he would have no way to get back! But instead of answering them Platov just showed them his fist – a frightful one, all knotty and hacked apart and somehow grown back together again – and waving it in front of them he said, ‘There’s a grasp port for you!’

  And he said to his Cossacks, ‘Let’s go, boys!’

  His Cossacks, drivers and steeds all started working at once and they whisked Lefty away without his grasp port, and two days later, just as Platov had ordered, they rolled up to the Emperor’s palace, arriving at such a properly furious gallop that they drove right past the columns.

  Platov stood up, hooked on his decorations and went in to the Emperor, telling his Cossack scurriers to keep watch at the entrance over cross-eyed Lefty.