CHAPTER SIX
Panka, an odd-eyed man with faded hair, was a shepherd's assistant, and in addition to his general shepherd's job, he also drove in the mornings. on the dew re-baptized cows. It was during one of his early activities that he spied on the whole matter that elevated Golovan to the heights of national greatness.
It was in the spring, it must have been soon after young Yegor, the bright-brave, went out into the emerald Russian fields, his arms were in red gold up to his elbows, his legs were in pure silver up to his knees, the sun was in his forehead, the moon was in the rear, walking stars were at the ends, and God's the honest and righteous people drove out the small and large cattle that met him. The grass was still so small that the sheep and goat could barely get enough of it, and the thick-lipped cow could not grab much. But under the hedges in the shadows and along the ditches there were already wormwood and nettles growing, which they ate with the dew for the need.
Panka drove out the Crossing cows early, while it was still dark, and right along the bank near Orlik drove them out of the settlement into a clearing, just opposite the end of Third Dvoryanskaya Street, where on one side along the slope there was an old, so-called “Gorodetsky” garden, and on the left on its fragment there was a Golovanov's nest.
It was still cold, especially before dawn, in the mornings, and those who want to sleep seem even colder. Panka’s clothes were, of course, bad, orphan clothes, some kind of rags with a hole in it. The guy turns to one side, turns to the other, prays for Saint Fedul to blow warmth on him, but instead everything is cold. As soon as he opens his eyes, the breeze howls, howls into the hole and wakes him up again. However, the young power took its toll: Panka pulled the scroll over himself completely over his head, like a hut, and dozed off. I didn’t hear what time it was, because the green Epiphany bell tower was far away. And there is no one around, not a single human soul anywhere, only fat merchant cows are panting, and no, no, in Orlik a frisky perch will splash up. The shepherd is dozing in a scroll with holes in it. But suddenly it was as if something had pushed him in the side, probably the marshmallow had found a new hole somewhere else. Panka jumped up, rolled his sleepy eyes, wanted to shout: “Where, komolaya,” and stopped. It seemed to him that someone on the other side was going down the steep slope. Maybe the thief wants to bury something stolen in the clay. Panka became interested: maybe he would lie in wait for the thief and cover him or shout at him “too crazy,” or even better, he would try to take a good look at the funeral, and then swim across Orlik during the day, dig it up and take it all for himself without sharing.
Panka stared and kept looking at Orlik. And it was still a little gray outside.
Here is someone coming down the steep slope, getting off, standing on the water and walking. Yes, he simply walks on water, as if on dry land, and does not splash with anything, but only props himself up with a crutch. Panka was dumbfounded. Then in Orel they were waiting for the miracle worker from the men's monastery, and voices were already heard from the underground. This began immediately after the “Nicodemus funeral”. Bishop Nikodim was evil man, who distinguished himself at the end of his earthly career in that, wanting to have another cavalry, out of servility, he handed over a lot of spiritual soldiers as soldiers, among whom were the only sons of their fathers and even the family sextons and sextons themselves. They left the city in a whole party, bursting into tears. Those who saw them off also wept, and the people themselves, with all their dislike for the priest’s many-sheeped belly, wept and gave them alms. The party officer himself felt so sorry for them that, wanting to put an end to the tears, he ordered the new recruits to sing a song, and when they harmoniously and loudly sang the song they had composed in chorus:
Our Bishop Nicodemus
Arch-fierce crocodile,
It was as if the officer himself began to cry. All this was drowned in a sea of tears and to sensitive souls it seemed to be evil, blatant; to the sky. And indeed, as their cry reached the sky, “voices” went out in Orel. At first the “voices” were indistinct and it was unknown from whom they came, but when Nicodemus died soon after and was buried under the church, then there was a clear speech from the bishop who had previously been buried there (I think Apollos). The previously departed bishop was dissatisfied with the new neighborhood and, without any embarrassment, directly said: “Take this bastard out of here, it’s stuffy for me with him.” And he even threatened that if the “bastard” was not removed, then he himself would “leave and appear in another city.” Many people have heard this. As it used to be, they would go to the monastery for the all-night vigil and, having served the service, go back, and they heard the old bishop moaning: “Take the bastard.” Everyone really wanted the good dead man’s statement to be fulfilled, but the authorities, who were not always attentive to the needs of the people, did not throw Nicodemus out, and the clearly revealed saint could “leave the yard” at any moment.
Now nothing more than this is happening: the saint leaves, and only one poor shepherd sees him, who was so confused by this that he not only did not stop him, but did not even notice how the saint was already out of his sight. disappeared. It was just beginning to get light outside. With light comes courage to a person, and with courage curiosity increases. Panka wanted to approach the very water through which the mysterious creature had just passed; but as soon as he approached, he saw that the wet gate was stuck to the bank with a pole. The matter became clear: it means that it was not the saint who followed, but the non-lethal Golovan who simply swam by: it’s true that he went to greet some deformed children from the depths with milk. Panka was amazed: when is this Golovan sleeping!.. And how can he, such a peasant, sail on such a vessel - on half a gate? It is true that the Orlik river is not a great river and its waters, captured by a lower dam, are quiet, like in a puddle, but still, what is it like to swim on the gate?
Panka wanted to try it himself. He stood on the gate, took a six and, shaggy, and moved to the other side, and there he went ashore to Golovanov’s house to look, because it was already dawning well, and meanwhile Golovanov at that moment shouted from the other side: “Hey! who stole my gate! come on back!”
Panka was a little guy with no great courage and was not accustomed to counting on anyone’s generosity, and therefore he got scared and did something stupid. Instead of giving Golovan his raft back, Panka took it and buried himself in one of the clay pits, of which there were many. Panka lay down in the hole and, no matter how much Golovan called him from the other side, he did not show up. Then Golovan, seeing that he could not reach his ship, threw off his sheepskin coat, stripped naked, tied his entire wardrobe with a belt, put it on his head and sailed through Orlik. And the water was still very cold.
Panka was concerned about one thing, so that Golovan would not see him and beat him, but soon his attention was drawn to something else. Golovan swam across the river and began to get dressed, but suddenly sat down, looked under his left knee and stopped.
It was so close to the hole in which Panka was hiding that he could see everything because of the lump with which he could cover himself. And at this time it was already quite light, the dawn was already blushing, and although most of the townspeople were still sleeping, a young guy with a scythe appeared under the Gorodets Garden, who began to mow down and put nettles into a basket.
Golovan noticed the mower and, standing on his feet, wearing only his shirt, shouted loudly to him:
Kid, give me the braid quickly!
The boy brought the scythe, and Golovan told him:
Go and pick me a big burdock,” and as the guy turned away from him, he took the braid off the braid, squatted down again, pulled the calf off his leg with one hand, and in one fell swoop cut it all off. He threw a cut piece of meat the size of a village flatbread at Orlik, and he pressed the wound with both hands and fell down.
Seeing this, Panka forgot about everything, jumped out and began to call the mower.
The guys took Golovan and dragged him into the hut, and here he came to his senses, ordered to take two towels out of the box and wrap his cut as tightly as possible. They pulled it with all their might until the bleeding stopped.
Then Golovan ordered them to place a bucket of water and a ladle near him, and to go about their business themselves, and not to tell anyone about what had happened. They went and, shaking with horror, told everyone. And those who heard about this immediately guessed that Golovan did it for a reason, and that in this way, out of concern for the people, he threw the weight of his body to the ulcer at the other end, so that it would pass as a sacrifice along all Russian rivers from the small Orlik to the Oka, from the Oka to the Volga , throughout Great Rus' to the wide Caspian Sea, and thus Golovan suffered for everyone, and he himself will not die from this, because he has a living stone in the hands of the pharmacists and he is a “non-lethal” person.
This tale came to everyone's mind, and the prediction came true. Golovan did not die from his terrible wound. After this sacrifice, the wild illness really stopped, and the days of calm came: the fields and meadows were covered with thick greenery, and young Yegor the bright-brave began to ride freely through them, arms up to the elbows in red gold, legs up to the knees in pure silver, the sun in his forehead, there is a month at the rear, and at the ends the stars are passing. The canvases were bleached with the fresh dew of St. George, instead of the knight Yegori, the prophet Jeremiah rode out into the field with a heavy yoke, dragging plows and harrows, nightingales whistled on Boris's day, comforting the martyr, through the efforts of Saint Mavra strong seedlings turned blue, Saint Zosima passed by with a long crutch, a queen bee in his knob carried; The day of Ivan the Theologian, “Father Nikolin”, passed, and Nikola himself was celebrated, and Simon the Zealot stood in the courtyard when the earth celebrated its birthday. On the earth's name day, Golovan climbed out onto the rubble and from then on, little by little, he began to walk and began his work again. His health, apparently, did not suffer in the least, but he just began to “scandy” - he jumped on his left leg.
People probably had a high opinion of the touchingness and courage of his bloody deed, but they judged him as I said: they did not look for natural reasons for him, but, shrouding everything in their imagination, composed a fabulous legend from a natural event, and from a simple , the magnanimous Golovan was made into a mythical person, something like a sorcerer, a magician who possessed an irresistible talisman and could dare anything and not die anywhere.
Whether Golovan knew or didn’t know that people’s rumors attributed such matters to him, I don’t know. However, I think that he knew, because he was very often approached with such requests and questions that can only be addressed to good wizard. And he gave “helpful advice” to many such questions, and in general was not angry at any demand. He visited the settlements as a cow doctor, as a human doctor, as an engineer, as an astrologer, and as a pharmacist. He knew how to remove husks and scabs, again with some kind of “Yermolov ointment,” which cost one copper penny for three people; took out pickled cucumber heat from the head; he knew that herbs needed to be collected from Ivan to half-Peter, and he was great at “showing water,” that is, where to dig a well. But he could do this, however, not at any time, but only from the beginning of June to St. Fyodor Kolodeznik, while “the water in the ground can be heard moving through the joints.” Golovan could do everything else that a person needs, but for the rest he made a vow to God so that the pimp would stop. Then he confirmed it with his blood and held it tightly. But God loved and had mercy on him, and the people, delicate in their feelings, never asked Golovan for anything they didn’t need. According to folk etiquette, this is how we accept it.
Golovan, however, was not so burdened by the mystical cloud that surrounded his folk fama that he did not, it seems, make any efforts to destroy everything that had developed about him. He knew it was in vain. When I greedily ran through the pages of Victor Hugo’s novel “Toilers of the Sea” and met Gilliatt there, with his brilliantly outlined severity towards himself and condescension towards others, reaching the height of perfect selflessness, I was struck not only by the greatness of this appearance and the power of his image, but also and the identity of the Guernsey hero with a living face, whom I knew under the name of Golovan. One spirit lived in them and similar hearts beat in selfless battle. They did not differ much in their fate: throughout their lives some kind of mystery thickened around them, precisely because they were too pure and clear, and both one and the other did not experience a single drop of personal happiness.
1 Rumor, rumor (lat.).
The writer worked on it thoroughly. This is evidenced by his remark in a letter on October 16, 1880 to the editor of the Historical Bulletin magazine S. N. Shubinsky: “Golovan is written all along, but now we need to go across it.”
As can be seen from the title, the story belongs to a series of works about the “righteous”. It is connected with other works of this cycle by some external details. Thus, Ivan Flyagin, the hero of the story “The Enchanted Wanderer,” was also called Golovan.
Unlike Flyagin, Golovan does not have proper names and last names. This, according to the writer, “is almost a myth, and its history is a legend.” And at the same time, the prototype of Golovan is completely real personality: Oryol peasant who bought his freedom.
... “a large part of him, having escaped from decay, continued to live in grateful memory” ... - not an entirely accurate quote from G.’s poem ( This material will help you write a story correctly on the topic of the Non-Lethal Golovan. Summary does not make it possible to understand the full meaning of the work, so this material will be useful for a deep understanding of the work of writers and poets, as well as their novels, stories, plays, poems.) R. Derzhavin “Monument”. From Derzhavin: “...a large part of me, having escaped from decay, will begin to live after death...”
"Spanish" - Spanish.
Zeleynik is a healer who heals with herbs.
Molokans are a religious sect in Russia that adhered to ascetic rules of life and did not recognize the rituals of the official church.
Berdo is a comb in a handloom. “Cool Vertograd” is a handwritten medical book dating back to the 16th-17th centuries. Translated from Polish at the end of the 17th century by Simeon of Polotsk for Princess Sophia. Was popular among the people until early XIX"century. Here and further Leskov quotes the recommendations of the medical book according to the publication: Florinsky V. M. Russian common herbalists and medical books: Collection of medical manuscripts of the XVI and XVII centuries. Kazan, 1879. In the medical book, human organs are indicated in the very general view, approximately. For example, the safenova vein is located “between the thumb and the other”, the spa-tika vein is on right side body, and the basic vein is on the left. Recommended medicines mainly use herbs: antelprosum, sworborine (or sworoborine) vinegar - infused with rose hips, etc. Mithridate is a complex medicine made up of fifty-four elements; recommended as a universal remedy. Monuscristi sugar is a type of sugar.
Polynya - wormwood.
"Vered" - boil, abscess.
Chervena is red.
In udesekh - in members.
Dondezhe - for now.
Diaghilev bark is a medicinal plant. Zhokhat - here: to clamp.
Deer tears or bezoar stone is a stone from the stomach of a goat or llama, used as a folk medicine.
Komolaya is hornless.
Underground - underground.
Nikodim - Bishop of Oryol in 1828-1839.
To have one more cavalry... - to become a holder of the order again.
Apollos - Bishop of Oryol from 1788 to 1798 (civil name Baibakov).
Old Believers are adherents of old church rituals that existed before the schism, that is, before the reform of Patriarch Nikon in 1660.
Fedoseevtsy - an Old Believer sect that emerged from the Bespopovtsy at the beginning of the 18th century; Fedoseevites preached celibacy and did not recognize prayers for the Tsar.
"Pilipons" (Filippovtsy) - an Old Believer sect that spread the cult of self-immolation; separated from the Bespopovites in the 30s of the 18th century.
Rebaptismians (Anabaptists) are a religious sect in which the rite of baptism was performed on adults with the aim of “consciously” introducing them to the faith.
The Khlysty are a religious sect that arose in Russia in the 17th century. The ritual of prayer was accompanied by blows of the whip, frenzied chants and jumping.
“Zodia” is one of the twelve parts of the zodiac (Greek) - the solar belt, an ancient astronomical index. Each of the twelve parts of the circle (equal to one month) bore the name of the constellation in which the Sun resided during its annual movement (for example, March was called and designated by the sign of Aries, etc.). Plaisir tube - here: spyglass.
He did not recognize the weeks of Daniel as prophesied for the Russian kingdom... - that is, he did not extend them to Russia bible prophecy Daniel about the coming of the Messiah in 70X7 years (“weeks”).
Poppe (Pop A.) (1688-1744) - English poet, author of the poem “An Essay on Man.”
Alexey Petrovich Ermolov (1772-1861) - Russian general, ally of Suvorov and Kutuzov. Commanded the Caucasian expeditionary forces. He was sympathetic to the Decembrists.
Stogny - squares (ancient Slavic).
At the discovery of the relics of the new saint... - Presumably we are talking about the relics of the Voronezh Bishop Tikhon of Zadonsk, “discovered” in August 1861.
Finding a wall (Old Slavic) - an attack of pain
(wailing).
Smell - pungent odor.
Tavern - trade in alcoholic beverages (tavern - tavern), independent of the state.
Lubok okat - here: a roof over a cart, made (rounded) from lubok (tree bark).
Subdeacon - assistant to the deacon.
"Aphedron's sores" - hemorrhoids.
Odrets - stretcher.
Pokrovets - cloth, coverlet.
Navels are daisies.
"Sacrifices" - donations.
Architriclinus (Greek) - elder, master,
Irreconcilable... impatient and wait-and-see. - This refers to the political groupings of revolutionary democrats, radicals and liberals.
He served as a conscience judge. - A conscience court is an institution in old Russia, where controversial cases were decided not according to the law, but according to the conscience of the judges.
He wanted emancipation... such as in the Baltic region - that is, the liberation of peasants without land (it was carried out in the Baltic states in 1817-1819).
Gully - ravine.
"Kitrat" - notebook.
Nomads (Greek) - nomads.
The SerZovs are middle-aged people.
White - old (person).
Fight the visions that tormented St. Anthony.- Saint Anthony (III century BC), according to legend, struggled with temptations and visions for many years.
Sources:
- Leskov N. S. Novels and stories / Comp. and note. L. M. Krupchanova. - M.: Moscow. worker, 1981.- 463 p.
Current page: 1 (book has 4 pages in total)
Nikolay Semyonovich Leskov
NON-LETHAL GOLOVAN
From the stories of the three righteous men
Perfect love casts out fear.
John
1
He himself is almost a myth, and his story is a legend. To talk about it, you have to be French, because some people of this nation manage to explain to others what they themselves do not understand. I say all this with the aim of asking my reader forbearance for the comprehensive imperfection of my story about a person, the reproduction of which would cost much effort. the best master than me. But Golovan may soon be completely forgotten, and that would be a loss. Golovan is worth attention, and although I don’t know him enough to be able to draw a complete picture of him, I will, however, select and present some features of this low-ranking mortal man who managed to become known as "non-lethal".
The nickname “non-lethal” given to Golovan did not express ridicule and was by no means an empty, meaningless sound - he was nicknamed non-lethal due to the strong conviction that Golovan was a special person; a person who is not afraid of death. How could such an opinion be formed about him among people who walk under God and always remember their mortality? Was there a sufficient reason for this, developed in a consistent convention, or was this nickname given to him by simplicity, which is akin to stupidity?
It seemed to me that the latter was more likely, but how others judged it - I don’t know, because in my childhood I didn’t think about it, and when I grew up and could understand things, the “non-lethal” Golovan was no longer in the world. He died, and not in the most tidy way: he died during the so-called " big fire", drowning in a boiling pit, where he fell while saving someone's life or someone's property. However, “a large part of him, having escaped from decay, continued to live in grateful memory” 1
Inaccurate quote from Derzhavin’s poem “Monument”.
And I want to try to put on paper what I knew and heard about him, so that in this way his noteworthy memory will continue in the world.
2
Non-lethal Golovan was a simple man. His face, with extremely large features, has been etched in my memory since early days and remained in it forever. I met him at an age when they say that children cannot yet receive lasting impressions and make memories from them for the rest of their lives, but, however, it happened differently with me. This incident was noted by my grandmother as follows:
“Yesterday (May 26, 1835) I came from Gorokhov to see Mashenka (my mother), I did not find Semyon Dmitrich (my father) at home, on a business trip to Yelets for the investigation of a terrible murder. In the whole house there were only us, the women and the girl servants. The coachman left with him (my father), only the janitor Kondrat remained, and at night the watchman in the hall came to spend the night from the board (the provincial board, where my father was an adviser). Today, at twelve o'clock, Mashenka went into the garden to look at the flowers and water the canifer, and took Nikolushka (me) with her in the arms of Anna (an old woman who is still alive). And when they were walking back to breakfast, as soon as Anna began to unlock the gate, the chained Ryabka fell on them, right with the chain, and rushed straight onto Anna’s chest, but at that very moment, as Ryabka, leaning on his paws, threw himself on Anna’s chest, Golovan grabbed him by the collar, squeezed him and threw him into the graveyard. There they shot him with a gun, but the child escaped.”
The child was me, and no matter how accurate the evidence is that a one and a half year old child cannot remember what happened to him, I, however, remember this incident.
I, of course, don’t remember where the enraged Ryabka came from and where Golovan took her after she wheezed, floundering with her paws and wriggling her whole body in his high-raised iron hand; but I remember the moment... just a moment. It was like the shine of lightning among dark night when for some reason you suddenly see an extraordinary number of objects at once: a bed curtain, a screen, a window, a canary trembling on a perch, and a glass with a silver spoon, on the handle of which magnesium has settled in specks. This is probably the property of fear, which has large eyes. In one such moment, I now see in front of me a huge dog’s muzzle in small speckles - dry fur, completely red eyes and an open mouth, full of cloudy foam in a bluish, as if pomaded throat... a grin that was about to snap shut, but suddenly the upper lip above it turned out, the slit stretched towards the ears, and from below, the protruding neck moved convulsively, like a naked human elbow. Above all this stood a huge human figure with a huge head, and she took and carried the mad dog. All this time the man's face smiled.
The figure described was Golovan. I am afraid that I will not be able to draw his portrait at all precisely because I see him very well and clearly.
It was, like Peter the Great’s, fifteen vershoks; his build was broad, lean and muscular; he was dark, chubby, with blue eyes, a very large nose and thick lips. The hair on Golovan’s head and trimmed beard was very thick, the color of salt and pepper. The head was always cropped short, the beard and mustache were also trimmed. A calm and happy smile did not leave Golovan’s face for a minute: it shone in every feature, but mainly played on the lips and in the eyes, smart and kind, but as if a little mocking. Golovan seemed to have no other expression, at least I don’t remember anything else. In addition to this unsophisticated portrait of Golovan, it is necessary to mention one oddity or peculiarity, which was his gait. Golovan walked very quickly, always as if he was hurrying somewhere, but not smoothly, but with a jump. He did not limp, but, in the local expression, “shkandybal,” that is, he stepped on one, the right, leg with a firm step, and jumped on the left. It seemed that his leg did not bend, but had a spring somewhere in a muscle or in a joint. This is how people walk on an artificial leg, but Golovan’s was not an artificial one; although, however, this feature also did not depend on nature, but he created it for himself, and this was a mystery that cannot be explained immediately.
Golovan dressed like a peasant - always, in summer and winter, in scorching heat and in forty-degree frosts, he wore a long, naked sheepskin sheepskin coat, all oiled and blackened. I never saw him in other clothes, and my father, I remember, often joked about this sheepskin coat, calling it “eternal.”
Golovan’s sheepskin coat was belted with a “cheque” strap with a white harness set, which had turned yellow in many places, and completely crumbled in others and left tatters and holes on the outside. But the sheepskin coat was kept neat from any small tenants - I knew this better than others, because I often sat in Golovan’s bosom, listening to his speeches, and always felt very calm here.
The wide collar of the sheepskin coat was never fastened, but, on the contrary, was wide open all the way to the waist. There was a “subsoil” here, which was a very spacious room for bottles of cream, which Golovan supplied to the kitchen of the Oryol noble assembly. This has been his trade ever since he “got free” and got a “Yermolov cow” for living.
The powerful chest of the “non-lethal” was covered by one canvas shirt of Little Russian cut, that is, with a straight collar, always clean as a boil and certainly with a long colored tie. This tie was sometimes a ribbon, sometimes just a piece of woolen material or even chintz, but it gave Golovan’s appearance something fresh and gentlemanly, which suited him very well, because he really was a gentleman.
3
Golovan and I were neighbors. Our house in Orel was on Third Dvoryanskaya Street and stood third from the bank cliff above the Orlik River. The place here is quite beautiful. Then, before the fires, this was the edge of a real city. To the right behind Orlik there were small huts of the settlement, which adjoined the root part, ending with the Church of St. Basil the Great. On the side there was a very steep and inconvenient descent along a cliff, and behind, behind the gardens, there was a deep ravine and behind it a steppe pasture, on which some kind of store stuck out. Here in the morning there was soldier drill and stick fighting - the most early paintings, which I saw and observed most often. On the same pasture, or, better to say, on the narrow strip that separated our gardens with fences from the ravine, six or seven Golovan’s cows and a red bull of the “Ermolov” breed that belonged to him grazed. Golovan kept the bull for his small but beautiful herd, and also bred it for “holding” in houses where there was an economic need for it. It brought him income.
Golovan's means of living lay in his milk-producing cows and their healthy spouse. Golovan, as I said above, supplied the noble club with cream and milk, which were famous for their high merits, which depended, of course, on the good breed of his cattle and on good care for them. The oil supplied by Golovan was fresh, yellow as a yolk, and aromatic, and the cream “did not flow,” that is, if you turned the bottle upside down, the cream did not flow out of it, but fell like a thick, heavy mass. Golovan did not sell low-grade products, and therefore he had no rivals, and the nobles then not only knew how to eat well, but also had something to pay for. In addition, Golovan also supplied the club with excellently large eggs from especially large Dutch chickens, of which he had plenty, and, finally, “prepared the calves,” watering them skillfully and always in time, for example, for the largest congress of nobles or for other special occasions in noble circle.
In these views, which determined Golovan’s means of living, it was very convenient for him to stick to the streets of the nobility, where he provided food for interesting persons whom the Oryol residents once recognized in Panshin, in Lavretsky and in other heroes and heroines of the “Noble Nest”.
Golovan lived, however, not in the street itself, but “on the fly.” The building, which was called the “Golovanov House,” did not stand in the order of houses, but on a small terrace of the cliff under the left side of the street. The area of this terrace was six yards in length and the same in width. It was a block of earth that had once moved down, but on the road it stopped, grew stronger and, not providing solid support for anyone, was hardly anyone’s property. It was still possible then.
Golovanov’s building in the proper sense could not be called either a yard or a house. It was a large, low barn, occupying the entire space of the fallen block. Perhaps this shapeless building was erected here much earlier than the block decided to descend, and then it formed part of the nearest courtyard, the owner of which did not pursue it and gave it to Golovan for such a cheap price that the hero could offer him. I even remember that they said that this barn was given to Golovan for some kind of service, which he was a great hunter and craftsman to provide.
The barn was divided in two: one half, coated with clay and whitewashed, with three windows facing Orlik, was the living quarters of Golovan and the five women who were with him, and the other contained stalls for cows and a bull. In the low attic lived Dutch chickens and a black “Spanish” rooster, which lived for a very long time and was considered a “witch bird.” In it, Golovan grew a rooster stone, which is suitable for many cases: to bring happiness, to return a taken away state from enemy hands, and to remake old people into young ones. This stone takes seven years to mature and matures only when the rooster stops crowing.
The barn was so large that both compartments - the living quarters and the cattle section - were very spacious, but, despite all the care taken about them, they did not retain heat well. However, warmth was needed only for women, and Golovan himself was insensitive to atmospheric changes and spent summer and winter sleeping on a willow wicker in a stall, next to his favorite - the red Tyrolean bull "Vaska". The cold did not bother him, and this was one of the features of this mythical face through which he received his fabulous reputation.
Of the five women who lived with Golovan, three were his sisters, one was his mother, and the fifth was called Pavla, or, sometimes, Pavlageyushka. But more often it was called “Golovanov’s sin.” That’s what I’ve been used to hearing since childhood, when I didn’t even understand the meaning of this hint. For me this Pavla was just very affectionate woman, and I still remember her tall height, pale face with bright scarlet spots on her cheeks and amazing black and regular eyebrows.
Such black eyebrows in regular semicircles can only be seen in paintings depicting a Persian woman resting on the lap of an elderly Turk. Our girls, however, knew and very early on they told me the secret of these eyebrows: the fact was that Golovan was a greengrocer and, loving Pavla, so that no one would recognize her, he anointed her sleepy eyebrows with bear lard. After that, of course, there was nothing surprising in Pavla’s eyebrows, and she became attached to Golovan not through her own strength.
Our girls knew all this.
Pavla herself was an extremely meek woman and “kept silent.” She was so silent that I never heard from her more than one, and then the most necessary word: “hello,” “sit down,” “goodbye.” But in every one of these a short word There was an abyss of greetings, goodwill and affection. The sound of her quiet voice, the look of her gray eyes and every movement expressed the same thing. I also remember that she had amazing beautiful hands, which is very rare in the working class, and she was such a worker that she was distinguished for her activity even in the hardworking family of Golovan.
They all had a lot to do: the “non-lethal” himself was busy with work from morning until late at night. He was a shepherd, a supplier, and a cheese maker. At dawn, he drove his herd outside our fences to the dew and kept moving his stately cows from bluff to bluff, choosing for them where the grass was thickest. At the time when they stood up in our house. Golovan appeared with empty bottles, which he picked up at the club instead of new ones, which he took there today; with his own hands he cut jugs of new milk yield into the ice of our glacier and talked about something with my father, and when I, having learned to read and write, went for a walk in the garden, he was already sitting under our fence again and guiding his cows. There was a small gate in the fence through which I could go out to Golovan and talk to him. He knew how to tell one hundred and four sacred stories so well that I knew them from him, without ever learning them from a book. Some people used to come to him here ordinary people- always looking for advice. Sometimes, as soon as he arrived, he began:
- I was looking for you, Golovanich, advise me.
- What's happened?
- But this and that; Something has gone wrong in the household or there are family troubles.
More often they came with questions of this second category. Golovanich listens, and he himself weaves willow trees or shouts at the cows and keeps smiling, as if not paying attention, and then he turns his blue eyes at his interlocutor and answers:
- I, brother, am a bad adviser! Call God for advice.
- How will you call him?
- Oh, brother, it’s very simple: pray and act as if you need to die now. So tell me: what would you do in such a time?
He will think and answer.
Golovan will either agree or say:
“And I, brother, would have done it better when I was dying.”
And, as usual, he tells everything cheerfully, with a constant smile.
His advice must have been very good, because they always listened to them and thanked him very much for them.
Could such a person have had a “sin” in the person of the meek Pavlageyushka, who at that time, I think, was just over thirty years old, beyond which she did not move further? I did not understand this “sin” and remained clear of offending her and Golovan with rather general suspicions. But there was reason for suspicion, and a very strong reason, even, judging by appearances, irrefutable. Who was she to Golovanov? Alien. This is not enough: he once knew her, he was the same gentleman with her, he wanted to marry her, but this did not happen: Golovan was given as a service to the hero of the Caucasus, Alexei Petrovich Ermolov, and at that time Pavel was married to the rider Ferapont, according to local accent "Kept". Golovan was a necessary and useful servant, because he knew how to do everything - he was not only good cook and a pastry chef, but also a quick-witted and lively traveling servant. Alexey Petrovich paid for Golovan what was due to his landowner, and, in addition, they say that he lent Golovan himself money for the ransom. I don’t know if this is true, but Golovan actually bought out soon after returning from Ermolov and always called Alexei Petrovich his “benefactor.” When Golovan was released, Alexey Petrovich gave him a good cow and calf to farm, from which he started the “Ermolovsky plant.”
4
When exactly Golovan settled in the barn at the collapse - I don’t know this at all, but it coincided with the first days of his “free humanity” - when he had to take great care of his relatives who remained in slavery. Golovan was ransomed alone, while his mother, his three sisters and his aunt, who later became my nanny, remained “in the fortress.” Their dearly beloved Pavel, or Pavlageyushka, was in the same position. Golovan’s first priority was to redeem them all, and for this he needed money. Based on his skill, he could have become a cook or a confectioner, but he preferred something else, namely dairy farming, which he started with the help of the “Yermolov cow”. It was believed that he chose this because he himself was Molokans2
Molokans- a religious sect in Russia that adhered to ascetic rules of life and did not recognize the rituals of the official church.
Perhaps it simply meant that he was always fiddling with the milk, but it may be that this name was aimed directly at his faith, in which he seemed strange, as in many other actions. It is very possible that he knew the Molokans in the Caucasus and borrowed something from them. But this relates to his oddities, which will be discussed below.
Dairy farming went well: after three years, Golovan already had two cows and a bull, then three, four, and he made so much money that he bought out his mother, then every year he bought out a sister, and he took them all and brought them into his spacious, but cool shack. So, at the age of six or seven, he freed the whole family, but the beautiful Pavel flew away from him. By the time he could redeem her, she was already far away. Her husband, the horseman Khrapon, was bad person- he did not please the master in some way and, as an example to others, was sent as a recruit without credit.
While in service, Khrapon got into the “races,” that is, riding a fire brigade to Moscow, and asked for his wife to go there; but soon he did something bad there too and fled, and the wife he had abandoned, having a quiet and timid disposition, was afraid of the treacherous life of the capital and returned to Oryol. Here, too, she did not find any support in the old place and, driven by need, came to Golovan. He, of course, immediately accepted her and placed her in the same spacious room where his sisters and mother lived. How Golovan’s mother and sisters looked at Pavla’s installation, I don’t know for sure, but her installation in their house did not sow any discord. All the women lived very amicably among themselves and even loved poor Pavlageyushka very much, and Golovan showed equal attentiveness to all of them, and showed special respect only to his mother, who was already so old that in the summer he carried her in his arms and sat her in the sun, like a sick child . I remember how she would “break into” a terrible cough and kept praying “to clean up.”
All of Golovan’s sisters were elderly girls and they all helped their brother with the housework: they cleaned and milked the cows, looked after the chickens and spun extraordinary yarn, from which they then wove extraordinary fabrics that I have never seen before. This yarn was called by the very ugly word “spitting”. The material for it was brought from somewhere in bags by Golovan, and I saw and remember this material: it consisted of small, knotty scraps of multi-colored paper threads. Each scrap was from an inch to a quarter of an arshin in length, and on each such scrap there was certainly a more or less thick knot or knot. I don’t know where Golovan got these scraps from, but it’s obvious that they were factory waste. That's what his sisters told me.
“This,” they said, “is a nice little one, where they spin and weave paper, so when they reach such a knot, they tear it off and throw it on the floor and spit- because he doesn’t go to the berd, but his brother collects them, and we make warm blankets from them.
I saw how they patiently took apart all these scraps of thread, tied them piece by piece, and wound the motley, multi-colored thread thus formed onto long spools; then they were pulled, rolled up even thicker, stretched on pegs along the wall, something of the same color was sorted for kai, and finally, these “spit blankets” were woven through a special reed into “spit blankets.” These blankets were similar in appearance to modern flannelette ones: each of them also had two borders, but the canvas itself was always marbled. The knots in them were somehow smoothed out from bunching and although they were, of course, very noticeable, they did not prevent these blankets from being light, warm and even sometimes quite beautiful. Moreover, they were sold very cheaply - less than a ruble apiece.
This handicraft industry in Golovan’s family went on without stopping, and he probably found a sale for spit blankets without difficulty.
Pavlageyushka also knitted and knitted spittle and wove blankets, but in addition, out of zeal for the family that sheltered her, she also carried out all the hardest work in the house: she walked down the steep slope to Orlik for water, carried fuel, and so on and so forth.
Even then, firewood was very expensive in Orel, and poor people heated themselves either with buckwheat husks or with manure, and the latter required a lot of preparation.
Pavla did all this with her thin hands, in eternal silence, looking at the light of God from under her Persian eyebrows. Whether she knew that her name was “sin,” I don’t know, but that was her name among the people who firmly stand behind the nicknames they invented. And how could it be otherwise: where a loving woman lives in the house of a man who loved her and sought to marry her, there, of course, is sin. And indeed, at the time when I saw Pavla as a child, she was unanimously revered as “Golovanov’s sin,” but Golovanov himself did not lose the slightest share of general respect through this and retained the nickname “non-lethal.”
The lacemaker Domna Platonovna, known to the narrator, “has the most immense and diverse acquaintance” and is sure that she owes this to her simplicity and “kindness.” People, according to Domna Platonovna, are vile and generally “bastards,” and you can’t trust anyone, which is confirmed by frequent cases when Domna Platonovna is deceived. The lacemaker is “wider across herself” and constantly complains about her health and powerful sleep, from which she suffers a lot of grief and misfortune. Domna Platonovna’s disposition is not touchy, she is indifferent to earning money and, being carried away, like an “artist,” by her works, she has many private affairs, for which lace plays only the role of a “passport”: she makes wooers, looks for money for mortgages, and carries notes everywhere. At the same time, he maintains a subtle appeal and says about a pregnant woman: “she is in her own marital interest.”
Having met the narrator, who lives in the apartment of a Polish colonel, for whom Domna Platonovna is looking for a groom, she notices that a Russian woman is stupid and pathetic in love. And he tells the story of Colonel Domutkovskaya, or Leonidka. Leonidka got into trouble with her husband, and she gets a tenant, a “friend” who doesn’t pay the rent. Domna Platonovna promises to find Leonidka someone who “will have both love and help,” but Leonidka refuses. The lodger whips Leonidka with a whip, and after a while they have such a “carom” that the “barbarian” disappears altogether. Leonidka is left without furniture, goes to live with the “first swindler” Dislensha and, despite Domna Platonovna’s advice, is going to apologize to her husband. Having not received an answer to the letter of repentance, she decides to go to her husband and asks Domna Platonovna for money for the trip. The lacemaker does not give money, confident that a woman cannot get out of trouble except through her own fall.
At this time, a colonel he knows asks Domna Platonovna to introduce him to some “educated” young lady and gives her money. The “scoundrel” colonel starts crying, doesn’t take the money and runs away. Two days later he returns and offers his sewing services. Domna Platonovna urges her not to “crack,” but Leonidka does not want to go to her husband for “hateful money” and goes to rich people to ask for help, but ultimately “makes up her mind” and promises “not to be capricious.” Domna Platonovna gives her a closet in her apartment, buys clothes and makes a deal with a general she knows. But when he arrives, the colonel does not unlock the door. Domna Platonovna calls her a “freeloader” and “a nobleman’s robe” and beats her so much that she feels sorry for herself. Leonidka looks crazy, cries, calls for God and mommy. In a dream, Domna Platonovna sees Leonida Petrovna with a small dog and wants to pick up a stick from the ground to drive the dog away, but a dead hand appears from under the ground and grabs the lacemaker. The next day, Leonidka has a meeting with the general, after which he completely changes: he refuses to talk to Domna Platonovna, returns her money for the apartment, categorically refusing to pay “for the troubles.” The colonel is no longer going to go to her husband, because “such scoundrels” do not return to their husbands. She rents an apartment and, leaving the lacemaker, adds that she is not angry with Domna Platonovna, because she is “completely stupid.” A year later, Domna Platonovna finds out that Leonidka is “having romances” not only with the general, but also with his son, and decides to renew their acquaintance. She comes to the colonel when the general’s daughter-in-law is sitting with her, Leonidka offers her “coffee” and sends her to the kitchen, thanking her for the fact that the lacemaker made her “trash.” Domna Platonovna is offended, scolds and talks about “pur miur love” to the general’s daughter-in-law. A scandal breaks out, after which the general abandons the colonel, and she begins to live in such a way that “today there is one prince, and tomorrow another count.”
Domna Platonovna tells the narrator that in her youth she was a simple woman, but she was “trained” so much that now she can’t trust anyone. Returning home from a merchant friend who treats her to a drink, Domna Platonovna spares money for a cab, walks, and some gentleman snatches the bag from her hands. The narrator suggests that it would be better if she didn’t skimp and pay money to the cab driver, but the lacemaker is sure that they all have “the same strike,” and tells how she was once driven “at the drop of a hat” because of little money. Once on the ground, she meets an officer who scolds the cab driver and defends the lacemaker. But upon returning home, Domna Platonovna discovers that in the bundle, instead of lace, there are only “harem pants thrown off”: as the police explain, this officer was coming from the bathhouse and simply robbed the lacemaker. Another time, Domna Platonovna buys a shirt on the street that was wrapped in an old washcloth at home. And when Domna Platonovna decides to woo the land surveyor, his friend says that he is already married. The lacemaker wooes her friend, but the land surveyor, a man who “will confuse and impoverish the whole state,” slanders the groom with a “navel” and upsets the wedding. One day, Domna Platonovna even gives herself up to the desecration of demons: returning from the fair, she finds herself in a field at night, “dark” faces are spinning around and a little man the size of a rooster invites her to create love, dances waltzes on the lacemaker’s belly, and disappears in the morning. Domna Platonovna mastered the demon, but failed to control the man: she buys furniture for a merchant’s wife, sits on top of it on a cart, but falls through and “shines naked” throughout the city until the policeman stops the cart. Domna Platonovna cannot understand in any way whether it is her sin that she swapped husbands with her godfather in a dream. After this and after the story with the captive Turk Ispulatka, Domna Platonovna “sews up” at night.
A few years later, the narrator takes a poor man to a typhus hospital and recognizes the much-changed Domna Platonovna as the “elder.” After some time, the narrator is called to Domna Platonovna, and she asks him to take care of the piano student Valerochka, who robbed his master. It is not possible to save the thief, Domna Platonovna fades away and prays, and the narrator admits that she loves Valera and asks for pity, while everyone laughs at her. A month later, Domna Platonovna dies from rapid exhaustion, and gives the chest and her “simple belongings” to the narrator so that he gives everything to Valerka.
Retold