Lermontov's Hero of Our Time, "Maxim Maximych" - entire chapter
100 Days of Charming Rotten Scoundrels tutorial - Goethe, Pushkin, Lermontov, Turgenev
100 Days of Charming Rotten Scoundrels tutorial - Goethe, Pushkin, Lermontov, Turgenev
February 20 - May 31, 2024
Lermontov's Hero of Our Time
April 21, 2024
"Maxim Maximych" - entire chapter
Next passage:
Tuesday, April 23
"Pechorin's Journal Foreword" - 1 page
"Taman" - 12 pages
I recovered from too much Byron, if such a thing is even remotely possible!!! AND I am finishing Dostoevsky’s Demons with my University of Iowa students next week - during today’s discussion we came across this quote from the second half of the novel:
“He takes another man’s idea, tacks on to it its antithesis, and the epigram is made. There is such a thing as crime, there is no such thing as crime; there is no such thing as justice, there are no just men; atheism, Darwinism, the Moscow bells.… But alas, he no longer believes in the Moscow bells; Rome, laurels.… But he has no belief in laurels even.… We have a conventional attack of Byronic spleen, a grimace from Heine, something of Pechorin—and the machine goes on rolling, whistling, at full speed.”
Dostoevsky lambasts the character who utters this speech - who is constructed as a caricature of Turgenev!!! ALL the late Dostoevsky novels exist in dialogue with Turgenev - as well as Pushkin and Lermontov!!! We will be heading into Fathers and Sons next week - Chernyshevsky’s What’s to Be Done is a response to Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons - AND Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground is a response to BOTH!!! We will be reading it in September!!! Right now we are working not creating a foundation for the understanding of the EXPLOSIVE genius of Dostoevsky!!! My brave and daring undergraduates are LOVING The Idiot AND Demons - after reading Eugene Onegin AND Hero of Our Time AND Fathers and Sons earlier this semester!!! We get to read ALL of these masterpieces at a leisurely pace!!!
The Hero of Our Time narrator is traveling through the Terek river valley and the Daryal gorges - admires the beauty of Kazbek mountain - while traveling into Vladikavkaz - and encounters his old buddy - Maxim Maximich!!! The connection continues - and evolves into a simple feast!!!
“Maksim Maksimich was well versed in the culinary arts and turned out a wonderful roast pheasant with an excellent pickled cucumber sauce. I must admit that without him I would've had only a cold snack. A bottle of Kakherian wine helped us overlook the modesty of the meal, which consisted of only one dish.”
And who should show up in the same location - with an elegant carriage and a servant resembling a Russian Figaro?! Pechorin!!!
“A fine carriage!" he added. "Probably some official on his way to conduct a hearing in Tiflis. You can see he doesn't know our hills. No, my dear fellow, they're not for the likes of you. Even an English carriage wouldn't stand the jolting!”
Maxim Maximich is elated!!! Can’t sleep… Refuses tea… Can’t calm down at night… He assumes Pechorin cared for him as much as he does for Pechorin… And is sorely and miserably disappointed…
“He'll come at once, I'm sure!" Maksim Maksimich told me triumphantly. "I'll go out to the gates to meet him. Pity I don't know N----."
“In an hour one of the veterans brought in a steaming samovar and a teapot. "Maksim Maksimich, will you have some tea?" I called to him from the window.
"Thank you, I really don't care for any."
"You'd better have some. It's late already and getting chilly."
"No, thank you ..."
“It was clear that the old man was hurt by Pechorin's unconcern, all the more so since he had spoken to me so recently about their friendship, and only an hour before had been certain that Pechorin would come running as soon as he heard his name.”
“I've got to see the commandant," he said, "so if Pechorin comes will you please send for me?"
I promised to do so. He ran off as if his legs had regained the strength and agility of youth.
A portrait of Pechorin follows - based on the impressions of the narrator - who is particularly fascinated by his eyes:
“Firstly, they didn't laugh when he did. Have you ever had opportunity to observe this peculiarity in some people? It's a sign either of evil nature or of deep constant sadness. They shone with a phosphorescent glow, if one may so put it, under half-closed eyelids. It was no reflection of spiritual warmth or fertile imagination. It was the flash of smooth steel, blinding but cold. His glance was brief but piercing and oppressive, it had the disturbing effect of an indiscreet question, and might have seemed audacious had it not been so calmly casual.”
Poor Maxim Maximich:
“He could barely catch his breath, beads of perspiration rolled down his face, damp strands of gray hair that had escaped from under his cap stuck to his forehead, and his knees shook. He was about to throw his arms around Pechorin's neck, but the latter extended his hand rather coldly, though his smile was pleasant enough. For a moment the captain was taken aback, then he eagerly gripped the hand with both of his. He was still unable to speak.”
But the eternally bored Pechorin can’t stay - he is off to Persia (today’s Iran - much in the news lately as well - what a geopolitically prescient novel!!!)
"I've been bored stiff," replied Pechorin, smiling.
“Remember Bela?"
Pechorin turned white a little and turned away.
"Yes, I remember," he said, deliberately yawning almost in the same breath.
“I really have nothing to tell, dear Maksim Maksimich. And I have to say goodbye now, for I must be off . . . In rather a hurry . . . It was kind of you not to have forgotten me," he added, taking the old man's hand.
The old man frowned. He was both grieved and hurt, though he did his best to conceal his feelings. "Forgotten!" he muttered. "No, I've forgotten nothing. Oh well, never mind . . . Only I didn't expect our meeting would be like this."
Poor Maxim Maximich… He travelled in the wretched conditions of mountain crossings with Pechorin’s papers - and in his frustration and dejection he threatens to turn Pechorin’s journals into gun cartridges… BUT the narrator wants to keep them - good reading material is hard to get in the mountainous regions…
Poor Maxim Maximich…
“I understood what he meant. For the first time in his life, perhaps, the poor old man had neglected his duties for his personal convenience, to put it in official language, and this had been his reward!
"I'm very sorry, Maksim Maksimich," I said, "very sorry indeed, that we have to part so soon."
"How can we ignorant old fogies keep up with you haughty young men of the world? Here, with Circassian bullets flying about, you put up with us somehow . . . but if we chanced to meet later on you'd be ashamed to shake hands with the likes of us."
"I haven't deserved this reproach, Maksim Maksimich."
"I'm just speaking at random, you know. Anyway, I wish you luck and a pleasant journey."
That empty and soulless gaze after the death of Bela was one thing - but disregard for Maxim Maximich is devastating… Tolstoy will reverse the dejection roles in his Cossacks - we will read it in 2028!!!
“It's sad to see a young man's finest hopes and dreams shattered, to see him lose the rosy illusions with which he viewed man's deeds and emotions, although there is still hope that he may exchange the old delusions for new ones no less transitory but also no less sweet. But what is there to exchange them for at Maksim Maksimich's age? Without wishing it, the heart would harden and the soul wither…”
Tomorrow we get to hear Pechorin’s own voice… Will we understand him better?! Only one way to find out…
PS Maksimich, Maximich, Maximych are all correct translations of the name!!!
View of Tiflis, today’s Tbilisi, Georgia, by Mikhail Lermontov, painted in 1837!!!
