Poor Folk and Other Stories

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I arrived home in a melancholy state of mind, sat down at the table, warmed my teapot and made myself a couple of glasses of tea. Suddenly I saw Gorshkov, our poor lodger, coming towards me. Earlier, on the morning of that day, I had noticed him poking about near the other residents and looking as though he wanted to come up to me. I should tell you in passing, little mother, that he is far worse off than I am. Far, far worse off! He has a wife and children! If I were in his shoes, I don’t know what I should do. Well, anyway, our Gorshkov came in and bowed, a tear festering in his eyelashes as always, shuffling his feet and unable to get a word out. I made him sit down on my other chair – it’s broken, I know, but it must suffice. I offered him some tea. He kept trying to give me reasons why he shouldn’t have any, went on for ages about that, but he finally accepted a glass. He would have drunk it without sugar, and began once more to resist when I tried to persuade him to take some, spent a long time arguing and refusing, and finally put the very smallest lump in his glass, assuring me that the tea I had given him was unusually sweet. Oh, what humiliations people are driven to by poverty!‘Well, what is it, old fellow?’ I said to him. ‘Oh, it’s like this, Makar Alekseyevich, my benefactor,’ he said. IShow the Lord’s mercy and help my unhappy family; I’ve a wife and children, and they have nothing to eat; think how hard that is for me to bear as a father!’ I started to reply, but he broke me off: ‘I’m scared of all the people here, Makar Alekseyevich – that is to say, I’m not so much scared of them, as, well, you know, ashamed in front of them; they’re all such a proud and conceited lot. Normally I wouldn’t have bothered you, my friend and benefactor: I know that you yourself have been in difficulties, I know that you’re not in a position to give me much, but at least lend me something. Also,’ he said, ‘I’ve made so bold as to ask you because I know you have a kind heart, I know that you yourself have been in need, that you are even now experiencing misfortunes – and that your heart will therefore feel compassion.’ He concluded by asking me to forgive him for his ‘insolence and impropriety’. I replied that I would like nothing better than to lend him some money, but that I had none, absolutely nothing. ‘Makar Alekseyevich, old chap,’ he said to me, ‘it’s not much I’m asking for, it’s just that what with one thing and another (here he blushed all over) my wife and children are hungry – if you could even just spare me a copper or two.’ Well, when I heard that I felt a tug at my heart. ‘Why,’ I thought,’they’re even worse off than I am!’ But all I had left was twenty copecks, and I needed it all: I was going to spend it the following day on my most basic requirements. ‘No, my dear fellow, I can’t; what with one thing and another,’ I said. ‘Please, Makar Alekseyevich, old chap, give me something, however little, even if it’s just ten copecks,’ he replied. Well, little mother, I took my twenty copecks out of my money-box and gave it to him: it was my good deed for the day! Oh, poverty! I engaged him in conversation. ‘How is it, old chap, that you’re in such a plight, yet you’re renting a room that costs five silver rubles a month?’ He explained to me that he had taken the room six months earlier and had paid three months’ rent in advance; then, however, circumstances had conspired against him in such a way that he did not know which way to turn, poor fellow. He had hoped that his case would be settled by this time. But it’s an unsavoury sort of case he is got himself into. You see, Varenka, he is up before the courts for something. he is litigating with some merchant or other who swindled the state authorities over the matter of a contract; the deception was found out and the merchant was arrested, but he managed to implicate Gorshkov in his criminal deeds, and Gorshkov was in some way involved in them. But in actual fact Gorshkov was only guilty of negligence, imprudence and inexcusable dereliction of the state is interests. The case has been going on for several years now: various obstacles keep cropping up in Gorshkov is way, making it impossible for him to clear his name. ‘As regards the dishonesty of which I’m accused,’ Gorshkov tells me, ‘I’m not guilty, not guilty at all, and I’m not guilty of swindling and robbery either.’ This case has besmirched his reputation somewhat; he has been fired from the service, and although he has not been found guilty of any crime on the statute-books, until he has been completely acquitted he can’t get back from the merchant a certain whopping sum of money which he is owed and which is now the subject of a court dispute. I believe him, but the court won’t accept his word for it; it’s one of those cases in which there are so many ins and outs that you’d never unravel them all in a hundred years. No sooner have a few of them been ironed out than the merchant produces some more. I feel really sorry for Gorshkov, my dear, and I know what he is going through. The man has no job; no one will take him on because of his unreliable reputation; they’ve used up all the money they had saved, on food; the case is full of complications, yet meanwhile they needed to live; and meanwhile, without particular intention on their part, and quite unsuitably, a child was born – well, that involved expense; the son fell ill – more expense, and died – yet more expense; his wife is ill; she has some chronic ailment or other: in other words he is been suffering, suffering badly. He says, however, that he expects a satis-factory decision on his case in a few days’ time, and that this time there can be no doubt of it whatsoever. I felt sorry, sorry, oh, so sorry for him, little mother! I showed him kindness. he is a lost, frightened man; he is looking for someone to look after him, and that is why I showed him kindness. Well, goodbye, little mother, Christ be with you, keep well. My little dove! I have only to remember you, and it is like having a medicine applied to my sick soul, and even though I suffer for you, that suffering is easy for me.

  Your true friend,

  MAKAR DEVUSHKIN

  September9

  Varvara Alekseyevna, Little Mother!

  I am beside myself as I write this to you. I am thoroughly agitated by a terrible thing which has happened. My head is whirling round. I feel as though everything were spinning around me. Oh, my darling, what a thing I have to tell you now! This we did not foresee. No, I do not believe that I did not foresee it; I foresaw it all. My heart sensed it in advance! I even dreamed of something similar the other night.

  This is what happened! I shall tell you without regard for style, just as the Good Lord puts the words into my head. I went to the department today. I arrived, sat down, and started to write. I should also tell you, little mother, that I had been writing the day before as well. Well, it was like this: Timofey Ivanovich came to me yesterday with an order for a document which was required in a hurry. ‘Please copy it cleanly, swiftly and carefully, Makar Alekseyevich,’ he said. ‘It is to be signed today.’ I should observe, little angel, that I was not quite myself yesterday, and had no interest in anything; such were the sadness and depression that had overtaken me. My heart was cold and my soul was dark; my memory held nothing but you, my poor little treasure. Well, so I got down to the task of copying; I did the work cleanly and well, except that – I don’t know how to explain it to you, whether it was the work of the Unclean One, whether it had been preordained by some secret Fate, or whether it simply had to happen that way – I left out a whole line; Lord knows what sense it must have made, it simply didn’t make any. There was a delay over the delivery of the document, and it wasn’t handed to His Excellency for signature until today. I reported for work this morning at the usual time and stationed myself beside Yemelyan Ivanovich. I should observe to you, my dear, that I have recently begun to feel twice as ashamed and apologetic as I used to. I’ve recently begun to find it impossible to look at anyone. If anyone is chair so much as gives a creak, I feel more dead than alive. That was how it was today: I sat huddled up, not making a sound, like a hedgehog, with the result that Yefim Akimovich (there never was such a bully) said so that everyone could hear: ‘What are you sitting there looking so scared for, Makar Alekseyevich?’ And he made such a face that absolutely everyone near us split their sides with laughter, at my expense, of course. They laughed, and they laughed! I stuck my fingers in my ears and shut my eyes, just sat th
ere, not moving. That is what I usually do; that way they usually desist sooner. Suddenly I heard noise, the sound of running footsteps, fuss and bustle; I listened – surely my ears must be deceiving me? My name was being called, someone was asking for me, for Devushkin. My heart began to quiver within me, and I still don’t really know why I was so scared; all I know is that I was more scared than I have ever been in my life before. I became rooted to mychair – asthough nothing were wrong, as though I were not even there. But again the voice started up, coming nearer and nearer. At last it was right next to my ear: ‘Devushkin! Devushkin! Where is Devushkin?’ I raised my eyes: before me stood Yevstafy Ivanovich; he said: ‘Makar Alekseyevich, you’ve to go to His Excellency, at the double! You’ve made a mistake in a document!’ That was all he said, but it was enough, little mother, don’t you think! I went numb, froze, lost all feeling; and began to walk, more dead than alive. I was escorted through one room, through a second, then a third, into a study – I stood before His Excellency! It is impossible for me to give you a positive account of the thoughts that passed through my mind at that moment. I saw His Excellency standing there, and they were all standing around him. I don’t think I bowed; I forgot. Struck dumb, I merely stood there, my lips trembling and my legs shaking. And I had reason to be struck dumb, little mother. For one thing, I was ashamed of myself; I took a glance in a mirror to the right of me, and what I saw in it nearly sent me out of my mind. And for another, I have always tried to do my job as though I myself were not actually there. So that it was hardly likely that His Excellency could know of my existence. Perhaps he might have heard in passing, as it were, that there was a member of staff named Devushkin in the department, but he would never have had any close dealings with him.

  Angrily, he began: ‘What is the meaning of this, sir? Where was your concentration? An important document, urgently required, and you go and spoil it. What is the meaning of it, eh?’ At that point His Excellency turned to Yevstafy Ivanovich. I could only hear certain isolated words and phrases: ‘Negligence! Indiscretion! You will get us into trouble!’ For some reason I suddenly had an urge to open my mouth. I wanted to beg forgiveness, but could not, I wanted to flee, but dared not attempt to, and then… then, little mother, something happened that even now makes the pen want to fall from my hand. One of my metal buttons – the devil take it – a button which had been hanging from my uniform by a thread – suddenly fell off (I must have brushed against it by accident), bounced on the floor with a ping, and rolled straight, just like that, the accursed object, to His Excellency is feet – and this while everyone was completely silent, too! There went any hope I might have had of excusing myself, of making an apology, of accounting for my misdeed – all the things I had been preparing to say to His Excellency! What happened next was dreadful. His Excellency at once fastened his attention on my appearance and on what I was wearing. I recalled what I had seen in the mirror: I rushed to retrieve the button! I lost my head! I stooped down and tried to get hold of the button, but it spun and rolled, in short, I couldn’t catch hold of it, and gave a fine display of dexterity in the process. Then I suddenly felt the last of my strength desert me, and knew that all, all was lost! My entire reputation was ruined, I was finished as a human being! And then, for no reason at all, I started to hear the voices of Teresa and Falcon, and my ears began to ring. At last I managed to retrieve the button, got to my feet, straightened myself up, and had I not been such a fool I would have stood to attention and kept still. But oh, no: I began pressing the button against the torn-off threads, as though that would make it stay on again; and, what is more, I smiled, and smiled again. At first His Excellency turned away, but then he glanced at me again – I could hear him saying to yevstafy Voinovich: ‘What on earth?… Look at the state he is in!… How does he… What does he…’ Oh, my darling, the sound of those words! I knew that this time I had truly excelled myself! I heard yevstafy Voinovich say: ‘He has a good record, has never put a foot wrong–exemplary conduct, draws a reasonable salary, in accordance with his grade…’ Well, do something to ease his position,’ said His Excellency. ‘Give him something in advance.’ ‘But he’s already been paid,’ Yevstay Voinovich replied. ‘He’s been paid in advance for ages now. He must be having some difficulties or other – but he’s always shown good conduct, and he’s got a good record, a spotless record.’ I burned, my little angel, I burned in the fires of hell! I died inwardly! ‘Well,’ His Excellency said in a loud voice, ‘it must be copied out again, and quickly; Devshkin, come here and copy it out again, without mistakes this time; and listen…’ At that point His Excellency turned to the other people present and issued various instructions; then they all went their separate ways. No sooner had they dispersed than His Excellency hurriedly took out his pocket-book and produced a hundred ruble note from it. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘It is the least I can do, look on it as you please…’–and he shoved it into my hand. My angel, I gave a start of shock, my whole being was shaken; I don’t know what came over me–I tried to kiss his hand. But he blushed all over, my little dove, and–I depart from the truth by not one hair is breaddi, my darling–he took my unworthy hand and shook.it, shook it properly as though it were the hand of someone who was his equal, someone equal in rank to himself, a general. ‘Off you go,’ he said, ‘it is the least I can do… Don’t make any more mistakes, but on this occasion we’ll manage to get by.’

  Now, little mother, this is what I have decided: I ask you and Fedora – and if I had any children, I would ask them, too – to say your prayers henceforth in the following manner: to pray, not for your fathers, but for His Excellency, and to do so each day and every day until the end of your lives! I also want to say this, little mother – and I say it solemnly, listen carefully, little mother: I swear that no matter how afflicted by mental agony I was in the cruel days of our misfortunes when I looked at you, at the miseries you had to suffer, and at myself, at my degradation and my incompetence, in spite of all that I swear that the hundred rubles are less dear to me than the fact that His Excellency himself deigned to shake my unworthy hand, wretch and drunkard that I am! By doing that he restored me to himself. By that action he has resurrected my spirit, has made my life sweeter for ever, and I am firmly convinced that, no matter how grievously I may have sinned in the eyes of the All-Highest, my prayer for the happiness and prosperity of His Excellency will reach His throne…

  Little mother! I am now in a dreadful state of mental disarray and agitation! My heart is thumping as if it wanted to leap out of my breast. At the same time, I seem to have lost all my energy. I am sending you forty-five paper rubles; I am giving the landlady twenty, and leave thirty-five for myself: I’ll spend twenty on setting my clothes to rights, and keep fifteen for daily expenses. The only thing is that all these events which took place this morning have shaken my being to its foundations. I am going to go to bed. But I feel peaceful, very peaceful. Only there is a crack in my soul, and I can hear it trembling, quivering, stirring deep inside me. I shall come and see you: but for the moment I am simply intoxicated by all these sensations… God sees it all, my little mother, my priceless little dove!

  Your worthy friend,

  MAKAR DEVUSHKIN

  September 10

  My dear Makar Alekseyevich,

  I cannot tell you how glad I am about your good fortune; and I can also understand the effect your superior is benevolent actions must have had on you, my friend. So now you can rest from your woes! Only for God is sake don’t go wasting money again. Try to live as quiet, as modest an existence as possible, and starting from today begin putting something by each day so that misfortune may not take you unawares a second time. For heaven is sake don’t worry about us. Fedora and I will get by somehow. Why have you sent us such a lot of money, Makar Alekseyevich? We really don’t need it. We are content with what we have already. To be sure, we shall soon need money for our move from this apartment, but Fedora has hopes of receiving repayment of an old debt of many years. I shall,
however, keep twenty rubles in case of emergencies. I am sending the rest back to you. Please look after it, Makar Alekseyevich. Goodbye. Live quietly now, look after your health and be of good cheer. I would write you more, but am experiencing a dreadful sense of tiredness – yesterday I stayed in bed all day. Your promise to look in is a sensible one. Please pay me a visit, Makar Alekseyevich.

  V. D.

  September 11

  My dear Varvara Alekseyevna,

  I beg you, my darling, not to part from me now, not now, when my happiness is complete and I want for nothing. My little dove! Don’t pay any attention to what Fedora says – I will do everything you ask; I will behave well and mind my P’s and Q is – my respect for His Excellency alone prompts me to do that; we shall write each other happy letters again, we shall confide to each other our thoughts, our joys, and our concerns, if concerns there be; we shall live alongside each other in happiness and concord. We shall study literature… My little angel! My fortunes have changed, and everything has taken a turn for the better. The landlady has become more compliant, Teresa has become more intelligent, even Faldoni is quicker on his feet these days. I have settled my differences with Ratazyayev. I went to him of my own accord, to celebrate. I must admit he’s a good fellow, little mother, and all the bad things people have been saying about him are a lot of nonsense. I have now discovered that all that was pernicious slander. He had absolutely no intention of writing about us: he told me that himself. He read me a new thing he’s written. And when he called me ‘Lovelace’ that time, it wasn’t meant as an insult or as some kind of improper epithet: he explained it to me. It’s a straight borrowing from foreign literature, and means ‘Mr Quick-On-His-Toes’, and if one is to express it more elegantly, in more literary fashion, then it means ‘a fellow with whom one should not meddle’ – there! And not whatever it was I thought. It was an innocent joke, my little angel. And there I went, uneducated as I am, and foolishly took offence. And indeed, now I’ve apologized to him… The weather is first-rate today, Varenka, really fine. Oh, to be sure, there was a bit of drizzle this morning, which felt as though it had been strained through a sieve. But it was nothing! It made the air a bit fresher. I went out and bought a wonderful pair of boots. I strolled along the Nevsky. I read the Bee* Oh! But I’m forgetting to tell you the most important part.