PART III
I.
The Epanchin family, or at least the more serious members of it, weresometimes grieved because they seemed so unlike the rest of the world.They were not quite certain, but had at times a strong suspicion thatthings did not happen to them as they did to other people. Others led aquiet, uneventful life, while they were subject to continual upheavals.Others kept on the rails without difficulty; they ran off at theslightest obstacle. Other houses were governed by a timid routine;theirs was somehow different. Perhaps Lizabetha Prokofievna was alonein making these fretful observations; the girls, though not wanting inintelligence, were still young; the general was intelligent, too, butnarrow, and in any difficulty he was content to say, “H’m!” and leavethe matter to his wife. Consequently, on her fell the responsibility. Itwas not that they distinguished themselves as a family by any particularoriginality, or that their excursions off the track led to any breach ofthe proprieties. Oh no.
There was nothing premeditated, there was not even any conscious purposein it all, and yet, in spite of everything, the family, although highlyrespected, was not quite what every highly respected family ought to be.For a long time now Lizabetha Prokofievna had had it in her mind thatall the trouble was owing to her “unfortunate character,” and thisadded to her distress. She blamed her own stupid unconventional“eccentricity.” Always restless, always on the go, she constantly seemedto lose her way, and to get into trouble over the simplest and moreordinary affairs of life.
We said at the beginning of our story, that the Epanchins were likedand esteemed by their neighbours. In spite of his humble origin, IvanFedorovitch himself was received everywhere with respect. He deservedthis, partly on account of his wealth and position, partly because,though limited, he was really a very good fellow. But a certainlimitation of mind seems to be an indispensable asset, if not to allpublic personages, at least to all serious financiers. Added to this,his manner was modest and unassuming; he knew when to be silent, yetnever allowed himself to be trampled upon. Also--and this was moreimportant than all--he had the advantage of being under exaltedpatronage.
As to Lizabetha Prokofievna, she, as the reader knows, belonged to anaristocratic family. True, Russians think more of influential friendsthan of birth, but she had both. She was esteemed and even loved bypeople of consequence in society, whose example in receiving her wastherefore followed by others. It seems hardly necessary to remark thather family worries and anxieties had little or no foundation, or thather imagination increased them to an absurd degree; but if you have awart on your forehead or nose, you imagine that all the world is lookingat it, and that people would make fun of you because of it, even if youhad discovered America! Doubtless Lizabetha Prokofievna was considered“eccentric” in society, but she was none the less esteemed: the pity wasthat she was ceasing to believe in that esteem. When she thought ofher daughters, she said to herself sorrowfully that she was a hindrancerather than a help to their future, that her character and temper wereabsurd, ridiculous, insupportable. Naturally, she put the blame on hersurroundings, and from morning to night was quarrelling with her husbandand children, whom she really loved to the point of self-sacrifice,even, one might say, of passion.
She was, above all distressed by the idea that her daughters might growup “eccentric,” like herself; she believed that no other society girlswere like them. “They are growing into Nihilists!” she repeated over andover again. For years she had tormented herself with this idea, and withthe question: “Why don’t they get married?”
“It is to annoy their mother; that is their one aim in life; it can benothing else. The fact is it is all of a piece with these modern ideas,that wretched woman’s question! Six months ago Aglaya took a fancy tocut off her magnificent hair. Why, even I, when I was young, had nothinglike it! The scissors were in her hand, and I had to go down on my kneesand implore her... She did it, I know, from sheer mischief, to spiteher mother, for she is a naughty, capricious girl, a real spoiled childspiteful and mischievous to a degree! And then Alexandra wanted to shaveher head, not from caprice or mischief, but, like a little fool, simplybecause Aglaya persuaded her she would sleep better without her hair,and not suffer from headache! And how many suitors have they not hadduring the last five years! Excellent offers, too! What more do theywant? Why don’t they get married? For no other reason than to vex theirmother--none--none!”
But Lizabetha Prokofievna felt somewhat consoled when she could say thatone of her girls, Adelaida, was settled at last. “It will be one off ourhands!” she declared aloud, though in private she expressed herself withgreater tenderness. The engagement was both happy and suitable, and wastherefore approved in society. Prince S. was a distinguished man, hehad money, and his future wife was devoted to him; what more couldbe desired? Lizabetha Prokofievna had felt less anxious about thisdaughter, however, although she considered her artistic tastessuspicious. But to make up for them she was, as her mother expressed it,“merry,” and had plenty of “common-sense.” It was Aglaya’s future whichdisturbed her most. With regard to her eldest daughter, Alexandra, themother never quite knew whether there was cause for anxiety or not.Sometimes she felt as if there was nothing to be expected from her. Shewas twenty-five now, and must be fated to be an old maid, and “with suchbeauty, too!” The mother spent whole nights in weeping and lamenting,while all the time the cause of her grief slumbered peacefully. “What isthe matter with her? Is she a Nihilist, or simply a fool?”
But Lizabetha Prokofievna knew perfectly well how unnecessary was thelast question. She set a high value on Alexandra Ivanovna’s judgment,and often consulted her in difficulties; but that she was a ‘wethen’ she never for a moment doubted. “She is so calm; nothing rousesher--though wet hens are not always calm! Oh! I can’t understandit!” Her eldest daughter inspired Lizabetha with a kind of puzzledcompassion. She did not feel this in Aglaya’s case, though the latterwas her idol. It may be said that these outbursts and epithets, such as“wet hen” (in which the maternal solicitude usually showed itself),only made Alexandra laugh. Sometimes the most trivial thing annoyed Mrs.Epanchin, and drove her into a frenzy. For instance, Alexandra Ivanovnaliked to sleep late, and was always dreaming, though her dreams had thepeculiarity of being as innocent and naive as those of a child of seven;and the very innocence of her dreams annoyed her mother. Once she dreamtof nine hens, and this was the cause of quite a serious quarrel--noone knew why. Another time she had--it was most unusual--a dream witha spark of originality in it. She dreamt of a monk in a dark room, intowhich she was too frightened to go. Adelaida and Aglaya rushed off withshrieks of laughter to relate this to their mother, but she was quiteangry, and said her daughters were all fools.
“H’m! she is as stupid as a fool! A veritable ‘wet hen’! Nothing excitesher; and yet she is not happy; some days it makes one miserable onlyto look at her! Why is she unhappy, I wonder?” At times LizabethaProkofievna put this question to her husband, and as usual she spokein the threatening tone of one who demands an immediate answer. IvanFedorovitch would frown, shrug his shoulders, and at last give hisopinion: “She needs a husband!”
“God forbid that he should share your ideas, Ivan Fedorovitch!” his wifeflashed back. “Or that he should be as gross and churlish as you!”
The general promptly made his escape, and Lizabetha Prokofievna after awhile grew calm again. That evening, of course, she would be unusuallyattentive, gentle, and respectful to her “gross and churlish” husband,her “dear, kind Ivan Fedorovitch,” for she had never left off lovinghim. She was even still “in love” with him. He knew it well, and for hispart held her in the greatest esteem.
But the mother’s great and continual anxiety was Aglaya. “She is exactlylike me--my image in everything,” said Mrs. Epanchin to herself. “Atyrant! A real little demon! A Nihilist! Eccentric, senseless andmischievous! Good Lord, how unhappy she will be!”
But as we said before, the fact of Adelaida’s approaching marriage wasbalm to the mother. F
or a whole month she forgot her fears and worries.
Adelaida’s fate was settled; and with her name that of Aglaya’s waslinked, in society gossip. People whispered that Aglaya, too, was “asgood as engaged;” and Aglaya always looked so sweet and behaved sowell (during this period), that the mother’s heart was full of joy. Ofcourse, Evgenie Pavlovitch must be thoroughly studied first, beforethe final step should be taken; but, really, how lovely dear Aglaya hadbecome--she actually grew more beautiful every day! And then--Yes, andthen--this abominable prince showed his face again, and everything wenttopsy-turvy at once, and everyone seemed as mad as March hares.
What had really happened?
If it had been any other family than the Epanchins’, nothing particularwould have happened. But, thanks to Mrs. Epanchin’s invariable fussinessand anxiety, there could not be the slightest hitch in the simplestmatters of everyday life, but she immediately foresaw the most dreadfuland alarming consequences, and suffered accordingly.
What then
The Idiot Page 69
