The Man Who Was Afraid [22]
yourself, punish him with your own hand, not with somebody else's. Are there any good fellows there?"
"There are two," Foma smiled, recalling Yozhov. "One of them is so bold--terrible!"
"Whose is he?"
"A guard's son."
"Mm! Bold did you say?"
"Dreadfully bold!"
"Well, let him be! And the other?"
"The other one is red-headed. Smolin."
"Ah! Evidently Mitry Ivanovitch's son. Stick to him, he's good company. Mitry is a clever peasant. If the son takes after his father it is all right. But that other one--you know, Foma, you had better invite them to our house on Sunday. I'll buy some presents and you can treat them. We'll see what sort of boys they are."
"Smolin asked me to come to him this Sunday," said Foma, looking up at his father questioningly.
"So. Well, you may go! That's all right, go. Observe what kind of people there are in the world. You cannot pass your life alone, without friendship. Your godfather and I, for instance, have been friends for more than twenty years, and I have profited a great deal by his common sense. So you, too, try to be friendly with those that are better and wiser than you. Rub against a good man, like a copper coin against silver, and you may then pass for a silver coin yourself."
And, bursting into laughter at his comparison, Ignat added seriously:
"I was only jesting. Try to be, not artificial, but genuine. And have some common sense, no matter how little, but your own. Have you many lessons to do?"
"Many!" sighed the boy, and to his sigh, like an echo, his aunt answered with a heavy sigh.
"Well, study. Don't be worse than others at school. Although, I'll tell you, even if there were twenty-five classes in your school, they could never teach you there anything save reading, writing and arithmetic. You may also learn some naughty things, but God protect you! I shall give you a terrible spanking if you do. If you smoke tobacco I'll cut your lips off."
"Remember God, Fomushka," said the aunt. "See that you don't forget our Lord."
"That's true! Honour God and your father. But I wish to tell you that school books are but a trivial matter. You need these as a carpenter needs an adze and a pointer. They are tools, but the tools cannot teach you how to make use of them. Understand? Let us see: Suppose an adze were handed to a carpenter for him to square a beam with it. It's not enough to have hands and an adze; it is also necessary for him to know how to strike the wood so as not to hit his foot instead. To you the knowledge of reading and writing is given, and you must regulate your life with it. Thus it follows that books alone are but a trifle in this matter; it is necessary to be able to take advantage of them. And it is this ability that is more cunning than any books, and yet nothing about it is written in the books. This, Foma, you must learn from Life itself. A book is a dead thing, you may take it as you please, you may tear it, break it--it will not cry out. While should you but make a single wrong step in life, or wrongly occupy a place in it, Life will start to bawl at you in a thousand voices; it will deal you a blow, felling you to the ground."
Foma, his elbows leaning on the table, attentively listened to his father, and under the sound of his powerful voice he pictured to himself now the carpenter squaring a beam, now himself, his hands outstretched, carefully and stealthily approaching some colossal and living thing, and desiring to grasp that terrible something.
"A man must preserve himself for his work and must be thoroughly acquainted with the road to it. A man, dear, is like the pilot on a ship. In youth, as at high tide, go straight! A way is open to you everywhere. But you must know when it is time to steer. The waters recede--here you see a sandbank, there, a rock; it is necessary to know all this and to slip off in time, in order to reach the harbour safe and sound."
"I will reach it!" said the boy, looking at his father proudly and with confidence.
"Eh? You speak courageously!" Ignat burst into laughter. And the
"There are two," Foma smiled, recalling Yozhov. "One of them is so bold--terrible!"
"Whose is he?"
"A guard's son."
"Mm! Bold did you say?"
"Dreadfully bold!"
"Well, let him be! And the other?"
"The other one is red-headed. Smolin."
"Ah! Evidently Mitry Ivanovitch's son. Stick to him, he's good company. Mitry is a clever peasant. If the son takes after his father it is all right. But that other one--you know, Foma, you had better invite them to our house on Sunday. I'll buy some presents and you can treat them. We'll see what sort of boys they are."
"Smolin asked me to come to him this Sunday," said Foma, looking up at his father questioningly.
"So. Well, you may go! That's all right, go. Observe what kind of people there are in the world. You cannot pass your life alone, without friendship. Your godfather and I, for instance, have been friends for more than twenty years, and I have profited a great deal by his common sense. So you, too, try to be friendly with those that are better and wiser than you. Rub against a good man, like a copper coin against silver, and you may then pass for a silver coin yourself."
And, bursting into laughter at his comparison, Ignat added seriously:
"I was only jesting. Try to be, not artificial, but genuine. And have some common sense, no matter how little, but your own. Have you many lessons to do?"
"Many!" sighed the boy, and to his sigh, like an echo, his aunt answered with a heavy sigh.
"Well, study. Don't be worse than others at school. Although, I'll tell you, even if there were twenty-five classes in your school, they could never teach you there anything save reading, writing and arithmetic. You may also learn some naughty things, but God protect you! I shall give you a terrible spanking if you do. If you smoke tobacco I'll cut your lips off."
"Remember God, Fomushka," said the aunt. "See that you don't forget our Lord."
"That's true! Honour God and your father. But I wish to tell you that school books are but a trivial matter. You need these as a carpenter needs an adze and a pointer. They are tools, but the tools cannot teach you how to make use of them. Understand? Let us see: Suppose an adze were handed to a carpenter for him to square a beam with it. It's not enough to have hands and an adze; it is also necessary for him to know how to strike the wood so as not to hit his foot instead. To you the knowledge of reading and writing is given, and you must regulate your life with it. Thus it follows that books alone are but a trifle in this matter; it is necessary to be able to take advantage of them. And it is this ability that is more cunning than any books, and yet nothing about it is written in the books. This, Foma, you must learn from Life itself. A book is a dead thing, you may take it as you please, you may tear it, break it--it will not cry out. While should you but make a single wrong step in life, or wrongly occupy a place in it, Life will start to bawl at you in a thousand voices; it will deal you a blow, felling you to the ground."
Foma, his elbows leaning on the table, attentively listened to his father, and under the sound of his powerful voice he pictured to himself now the carpenter squaring a beam, now himself, his hands outstretched, carefully and stealthily approaching some colossal and living thing, and desiring to grasp that terrible something.
"A man must preserve himself for his work and must be thoroughly acquainted with the road to it. A man, dear, is like the pilot on a ship. In youth, as at high tide, go straight! A way is open to you everywhere. But you must know when it is time to steer. The waters recede--here you see a sandbank, there, a rock; it is necessary to know all this and to slip off in time, in order to reach the harbour safe and sound."
"I will reach it!" said the boy, looking at his father proudly and with confidence.
"Eh? You speak courageously!" Ignat burst into laughter. And the