I'll tell you another small episode in the life of Eivan Errmolaevitch(1), which seems to me very attractive under the influence of the "new views." Eivan Errmolaevitch decided to teach his son, a boy of eleven. It is necessary to say that a need to teach and learn was realized by Eivan Errmolaevitch in vague degree. Usually he positively had no need of any public knowledge, in any teaching. His life and that of his family, including the son, was so full and so well supplied with knowledge that there was not even a shadow of necessity in any extraneous instructions or advice. In short there was no need of anything that was not drawn right there on the spot and on the business. But sometimes, something unknown and incomprehensible, something, coming from very far away, frightened Eivan Errmolaevitch. He began to think that somewhere in a distance, something bad and difficult was going on, that there was a need to deal with it skilfully. He felt a danger for himself as a distant sound of the bell, he knew that somewhere there was a fire and someone was burning. And he knew that there was some trouble, even though he did not know for sure who was burning and where, and what was the trouble. At such a moment Eivan Errmolaevitch was talking, "No, there is a need to educate Mischootka. That's it!"
Surprisingly strange circumstances led him to the idea of education. One day while mowing, I went with him to the meadow, which was leased by the Germans, - the Kurlands. Once a Kurland met our eyes, he was sitting on a haystack and was eating something. We saw, he was eating fish. "What kind of fish are you eating?" - Eivan Errmolaevitch asked. "A sprat." - The Kurland replied. "Let me taste some." The German gave a piece, Eivan Errmolaevitch looked at the fish, turned it over in his hands trying on, then bit, chewed a little and asked, "How much?" The German said the price. Eivan Errmolaevitch ate up the fish, thanked him, and we moved on. And here for no apparent reason, Eivan Errmolaevitch breathed a deep sigh and said, "No, there is a need to teach Mischootka! Worse, the right word, be lost! Look, what kind of fish he is eating!" So it happened too, that he went somewhere out of the house to the mill, to the station; where he saw a lot of different people and he listened to ??different conversations while having tea in a tavern. And overwhelmed with all the weight of novelty, gradually he became somewhat drier, harder in his speech and kept saying, "I must! Here we collect the harvest and I'll send him to a teacher."
But while Eivan Errmolaevitch was at home doing his chores, all of his thoughts disappeared, and he forgot why he had suddenly decided to teach Mischootka. In short, only some nasty oppression that he felt being away from home, some nasty, evil spirits of the time that he could not represent in any form, led him to the idea of the need to teach his son. Sometimes Eivan Errmolaevitch dropped in to see me and to ask advice on this matter. But I was so imbued with his views that I myself could not properly determine: "Why must he teach Mischootka?" And most importantly, I really could not imagine what kind of things he ought to be taught. Therefore, talking about the teachings, Eivan Errmolaevitch and I confirmed only one thing, "That's it!" Being somewhat depressed, he was sitting, gloomily thinking and repeating, "I must, we must!" And I gave him the same answer, "Yes, we must, Eivan Errmolaevitch!" "What the hell!" - He said, obviously trying to match his words with some thorough arguments, but as usual he couldn't reinforce his argument and then, after a pause long enough, he exclaimed, "Oh, no, it's impossible without it!" I answered, "Yes, you can't do without it? Of course, impossible! But what was I talking about? I mean, yes, you must! Nothing more! Of course, mate! What's there?" Thus, we were talking in this way for a long time, and sometimes we disagreed, feeling a terrible burden at heart, "We must, we must." However, the nature and the purpose were unknown, incomprehensible to Eivan Errmolaevitch, but I was too lazy to explain something and I had forgotten what it meant: "We must."
Being sick at heart, with great reluctance, Eivan Errmolaevitch was gradually leading from his intention to execution. All people already harvested the grains, autumn had passed so long ago and winter began to set the path, but he could not send his son to a teacher. At first, he thought to send Mischka to a school mistress, but at the station folks told him that the mistress means nothing.
"Well, judge for yourself," - they said, - "What is it that a skirt could do? After all, teaching is a serious matter because, take your Mischka, how to subjugate him? What a teacher should be there? Come on, knock out his shit! You think this is easy? No, mate, you will sweat for it! Look, it should be so that he could not even utter a word! Well, what can a woman do about it? No, I advise you to find a teacher, who is more serious, that's it! He should lay a siege to your Mischka from the first word without relief, to drive him with the rules, to drive him to the point that the spirit goes out of him, that his cheek goes out! It's like this (shows his fist) ... Amen! Then, bro, he will come to life! If not so, you could not erase peasant's spirit from him even in two years, I pray. I know this for myself! Sometimes, my father would not take his eyes off me. When I was learning, he would stand nearby with a stick! If he turned a little, then I made off leaping over a fence. And what do you think? He beat me! Yeah, but I remember his kindness! And how much he beat me! My father used to accompany me with a stick from home to school. If I looked back - one hit, if I turned to the left - another! Sometimes only by force he drove me to school! And you are telling, - a skirt! You want to get an order of a skirt!"
Thus it was decided to give Mischka to a teacher. Eivan Errmolaevitch purposely went to one of the nearby villages, where there was a local school, made a deal with a teacher, and finally there came the day when I had to take Mischka to school. Until that moment, Mischka usually would not answer a word to all the talk about the teachings.
"Here," - Eivan Errmolaevitch said - "I'll soon take you to school, look, you must learn!" Mischka was silent, did not answer a word. He was a lively, cheerful, talkative boy, but as soon as the conversation was turning to school, Mischka was silent like a stone: he was not anxious, did not rejoice and looked somewhat carefully. On the day of the departure, Eivan Errmolaevitch finally said with a sigh: "Well, Mischka, let's go. Mother, dress Mischka!" The mother was dressing him and crying. Eivan Errmolaevitch also was almost crying, not understanding why there should be all this torment. But Mischka would not say a word. They asked him, "Are you glad that you are going to school?" - Silence. They asked him, "Suppose, you do not like to go to school?" - Again, there was no response.
But on the day of the departure, Mischka gave his answer. He escaped at the very moment when all was ready, when the groom already brought a yoked horse, when Eivan Errmolaevitch was also dressed and had Mischka dressed up. Mischka all that time had been silent, like iron. Eivan Errmolaevitch himself had been weighed down by the leaving to school much more than Mischka. Eivan Errmolaevitch suffered from the upcoming departure, Mischka was only silent. And at the time when Eivan Errmolaevitch, reluctantly and with deep contrition, was getting into the sled and with a sigh, "Well, Mischka, climb up, bro," - he found that Mihhailo was out. They called him, shouted - no answer. They were looking for him again and again but he wasn't found. They scanned the whole attic, all corners of the house and in the yard - there was no Mihhailo! Eivan Errmolaevitch was greatly alarmed. "After all, I was asking the devil," - he was angry, - "Do you want to go into training or not? He was silent like a stone, like a cudgel, but then ran away! Well, you, - will run to me! I'll knock out the answer!" But the anger was immediately replaced with compassion at the parent's heart. Eivan Errmolaevitch profoundly regretted that had started all this "music." He thought: "Mischka could live and watch around the house, getting used to the work, - and what's now?"
By the evening, thoughts of Eivan Errmolaevitch finally tipped in favour of the fact that there was no need to contrive all of this "music." Dusk was approaching, but Mischka had not been found. Everybody, including the workers, was deeply depressed. Their state changed into great joy when their mutual friend, a man from the neighbouring village, brought Mischka home in the dark night. All were glad to forget the talks about learning, any intent "to scold," and so on. They just asked, "You, bro, ain't you frozen? I suppose, you are hungry." And the workers openly expressed their approval: "Deftly you escaped, Mishanka... Right, well done!" Mischka felt like a winner and became stronger in the last few hours of his flight. When he was brought home, he immediately changed clothes, shoes and went around the yard, quickly running and looking into barns, sheds, and so on, as if he wanted to make sure that everything was in place, everything was nice, everything was as it had been earlier. Nobody was even asking Mischka if he wanted to learn or not.
During the next week Eivan Errmolaevitch was not even thinking about the school and the "scientists." He was just "coming to himself," he had some troubles with hay. But again and again he had to visit the folks at the station or in the town. Again and again he was going back with anxious thoughts, "No, there is no doubt, I have to teach Mihailo. Nothing could be done, another time"...
1) The events, described in the story, took place in Czarist Russia, in the late nineteenth century. Eivan Ermolaevich was a prosperous farmer. Mischka is a diminutive name, derived from the name of Michael. In the word "Mischka," the stress is on the first syllable, in the words "Eivan, Mischootka, Mihhailo" - the second, in the word "Errmolaevitch" - the third.