Lenin - God of the Godless

Ferdinard A. Ossendowski

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1 GOD OF THE GODLESS By FERDINAND A. OSSENDOWSKI Author of quot Beasts, Men and Gods, quot quot The Fire of Dessert Folk quot quot Slaves of the Sun, quot Etc. Translated From the Polish by GREGORY MACDONALD 1931 iE. P. DUTTON CO., INC New York IN GOD OP quot THE G quot OBLSS, COPYRIGHT BY. E. P.-DUTJON. St. CO INC. I ALL RIGHTS RESE V D MINTED IN u. s. A. LENIN GOD OF THE GODLESS LENIN GOD OF THE GODLESS CHAPTER I LITTLE VLADIMIR ULYANOV was sitting very still, thought fully watching his mother s preparations. Maria Alexandrovna herself, pale and spiritless, was helping the servant-girl to lay the table. For it was Saturday, when her husband s friends would descend upon them, and she had grown more and more to dislike their weekly assemblies. Her children, except Vladimir, shared her feelings. The girls were tidying up the drawing-room and comparing notes on their father s guests. The elder boy, as usual, had slipped out of the house, cursing them for a gang of brigands. Only Vladimir looked forward to the evening with impatience. At last Ulyanov came into the room. He was a grizzled, broad-shouldered man, with the narrow Mongolian eyes of his younger son, and he knew that he looked a man of substance in his dark-blue frock coat with gold buttons, especially when the red and white ribbon on his chest held the cross of St. Vladimir, which conferred an authority of its own. He sat down in an armchair, drew up a small table, and set out the chess-men, in readiness for a game with Doctor Titov. The Doctor always captured the imagination of Vladimir. The lad would have liked to see him go swimming. No mat ter how deep the water might be, the man would not sink. He would bob up and down like a fishing-float on the surface. A round, bulky man was Doctor Titov. The father said nothing to Maria Alexandrovna. He knew very well that she did not like his guests. On the other hand, he did not want to spoil his pleasures by a quarrel with his wife. 4 LENIN But Madame Ulyanova began the conversation at once. quot My dear, quot she said, quot we would both be better off if you gave up those friends of yours. What good can it do you to have that drunken priest. Father Makary, with his rusty old cassock, or Doctor Titov, or the School Inspector, Peter Petro vitch Shustov That old ramrod he s good for neither God nor Devil 5 Her husband twisted uneasily in his chair and began to wipe his perspiring forehead with a red handkerchief. quot We ve been friends for a long time, quot he muttered. quot Be sides, they have very good connections. They can help one along in life. The great ones of the earth have ears, you know, and when my friends whisper a good word about me. . . . quot U O Lord quot groaned his wife. quot You and your good word You remind me of Tiapkin-Lapkin in Gogol s Inspector. He did that too. He took care to ask the Inspector, when he re turned to Petersburg, to tell the Ministers where Tiapkin-Lapkin was living quot She began to laugh, silently and with bitterness. quot That s no sort of a comparison, my dear, quot he said reproach fully. quot Yes, it is It s exactly the same, quot rejoined his wife. quot You re making a fool of yourself, that s all. Why don t you invite some people who really count, young people or men of in tellect For instance, Dr. Dokhturov, or that school master Nilov, or that marvelous monk, the preacher, Brother Alexis I met them at Madame Vlasova s. They have intelligence. They re worth paying attention to quot quot God forbid quot hissed Ulyanov. There was some fear in his voice, and he waved his hands helplessly. quot Those fellows are dangerous types. They are, well . . . political agitators. quot quot Political agitators quot asked Maria Alexandrovna. quot What do you mean by that quot quot Nothing very good, quot he replied in an impressive whisper. quot The Police Commissioner warned me about them...

Informations

• Publié par: Read Books Ltd.
• Date de parution: 06 août 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781528760379
• Langue: English

Extrait

LENIN
GOD OF THE GODLESS
By
FERDINAND A. OSSENDOWSKI
Author of Beasts, Men and Gods, The Fire of Dessert Folk Slaves of the Sun, Etc.
Translated From the Polish by
GREGORY MACDONALD
LENIN-GOD OF THE GODDESS, COPYRIGHT, 1931, BY. E. P. DUTTON CO., INC. :: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED :: PRINTED IN U. S. A.
LENIN
GOD OF THE GODLESS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIV
CHAPTER XXXV
LENIN GOD OF THE GODLESS
CHAPTER I
L ITTLE V LADIMIR U LYANOV was sitting very still, thoughtfully watching his mother s preparations. Maria Alexandrovna herself, pale and spiritless, was helping the servant-girl to lay the table. For it was Saturday, when her husband s friends would descend upon them, and she had grown more and more to dislike their weekly assemblies. Her children, except Vladimir, shared her feelings. The girls were tidying up the drawing-room and comparing notes on their father s guests. The elder boy, as usual, had slipped out of the house, cursing them for a gang of brigands. Only Vladimir looked forward to the evening with impatience.
At last Ulyanov came into the room. He was a grizzled, broad-shouldered man, with the narrow Mongolian eyes of his younger son, and he knew that he looked a man of substance in his dark-blue frock coat with gold buttons, especially when the red and white ribbon on his chest held the cross of St. Vladimir, which conferred an authority of its own.
He sat down in an armchair, drew up a small table, and set out the chess-men, in readiness for a game with Doctor Titov.
The Doctor always captured the imagination of Vladimir. The lad would have liked to see him go swimming. No matter how deep the water might be, the man would not sink. He would bob up and down like a fishing-float on the surface. A round, bulky man was Doctor Titov.
The father said nothing to Maria Alexandrovna. He knew very well that she did not like his guests. On the other hand, he did not want to spoil his pleasures by a quarrel with his wife.
But Madame Ulyanova began the conversation at once.
My dear, she said, we would both be better off if you gave up those friends of yours. What good can it do you to have that drunken priest, Father Makary, with his rusty old cassock, or Doctor Titov, or the School Inspector, Peter Petrovitch Shustov? That old ramrod!-he s good for neither God nor Devil!
Her husband twisted uneasily in his chair and began to wipe his perspiring forehead with a red handkerchief.
We ve been friends for a long time, he muttered. Besides, they have very good connections. They can help one along in life. The great ones of the earth have ears, you know, and when my friends whisper a good word about me. . . .
O Lord! groaned his wife. You and your good word! You remind me of Tiapkin-Lapkin in Gogol s Inspector. He did that too. He took care to ask the Inspector, when he returned to Petersburg, to tell the Ministers where Tiapkin-Lapkin was living!
She began to laugh, silently and with bitterness.
That s no sort of a comparison, my dear, he said reproachfully.
Yes, it is! It s exactly the same, rejoined his wife. You re making a fool of yourself, that s all. Why don t you invite some people who really count, young people or men of intellect? For instance, Dr. Dokhturov, or that school master Nilov, or that marvelous monk, the preacher, Brother Alexis? I met them at Madame Vlasova s. They have intelligence. They re worth paying attention to!
God forbid! hissed Ulyanov. There was some fear in his voice, and he waved his hands helplessly. Those fellows are dangerous types. They are, well . . . political agitators.
Political agitators! asked Maria Alexandrovna. What do you mean by that?
Nothing very good, he replied in an impressive whisper. The Police Commissioner warned me about them. But I forgot to tell you, Maria, that he is calling on us today, as well.
What are you going to do next? stormed Maria Alexandrovna, striking her hands together in exasperation. We won t hear a single honest opinion expressed tonight. With a policeman present, no one will dare open his mouth. Especially with that busybody!
The husband held his peace, breathing heavily and wiping his forehead.
For a man in a small way, like myself, he muttered, it is necessary to have a powerful friend.
But his wife threw up her hands in despair and went out of the room.
Punctually at eight o clock the guests began to arrive. In a short time they were seated in the drawing-room, where they carried on an animated conversation.
Vladimir had eyes only for two of them. With a sly grin he nudged his sister, Sacha, glancing at the same time towards the Doctor.
His head was round, bald and very red. His eyes protruded abnormally, weak and pale in colour, so as to give the impression that they were actually white. Below them the face fell away into three folds of chin, which lay like so much putty upon a crumpled shirt front. The domed head, balanced as though casually upon the gigantic rotundity of his body, gave an uneasy sense of disproportion. . . . Some sudden movement might send it rolling down his waistcoat, as he sat on the high sofa swinging his fat, short legs above the floor.
An apple on a watermelon, whispered Vladimir to his sister, screwing up his eyes. Sacha pinched his arm and put her hand over her mouth to conceal her giggles.
The lad turned to examine the new guest, Bogatov, the Police Commissioner, about whom there were all sorts of stories in the town, and whose very name was the terror of evil-doers. He was lean but strongly built. His cheeks were covered with fine side-whiskers. The ends of his long, carefully waxed moustaches pointed upwards almost to his half-closed, cunning eyes. He was lounging comfortably in his armchair, constantly adjusting his sword and the decorations hanging at his throat. His splendid appearance was completed by his high, shining boots, and long spurs which clicked softly as he moved.
Vladimir could only gaze at him in admiration. He liked the energy radiating from Bogatov s muscular frame, the self-confidence reflected in every word he spoke and in the least glance of his unscrupulous eyes. At the same time, in the depths of the little boy s heart there arose perhaps some secret animosity, almost hatred. He felt a desire to make this strong and self-confident man uncomfortable, to torment him and to shame him.
The Commissioner, drawing at his thick cigarette, was telling a story. They were all bending forward, with servile smiles of admiration, to hear what he had to say. Ulyanov alone was sitting upright and rigid, anxious not to miss a single word; for as a schoolmaster he had learned the art of listening, and this he had passed on to Vladimir. Father and son were silently taking it all in, noting every word and action of the Commissioner.
Dr. Titov, with his head on one side, vainly attempted to turn his heavy body towards the speaker. Inspector Shustov crowed softly as he fidgeted in his chair. Father Makary, whose eyes were raised to heaven, stroked his long beard with one white and full-fleshed hand, while with the other he pressed against his chest a heavy cross of silver and blue enamel, hanging on a golden chain, with little jewels glittering in the crown of Christ.
Well, gentlemen, Bogatov was saying in his low clear voice, Mr. Aksakov belongs to one of the oldest families. He is esteemed and reverenced by the whole countryside. But when he refused the peasants timber to rebuild the village which had been burnt down, they attacked the manor house. They were received with bullets. Two of them were killed, three were wounded and the rest were successfully dispersed. Then they sent a farmhand on horseback for me. I went to the place without delay. After sniffing about for an hour, I found the wounded and had them brought to me. I tried to get the details out of them, tried to find out who were mixed up in it. They kept mum. So you won t answer, my lads? I asked them. When I d clouted three of them across the head, and perhaps knocked a few teeth out . . . broken a nose or two . . . when there was a bit of blood on them . . . they sang a different tune. You know, our Governor doesn t like a noise, troublesome reports to Petersburg, all that sort of thing. He has to put up with letters, enquiries-no end of a fuss. So he takes me aside and says, Simon Simonovitch, you re the man who s got to punish the rebels. Teach them once and for all not to cut up against the nobility. . . . Well, I took some of my policemen along and I did justice according to my lights. The fellows who caused the trouble got a hundred strokes each, and every other man and woman in that village got twenty-five strokes. That was just to give them a lesson. Now everything is quiet and peaceful, like the inside of a church. The rod: that s the best medicine for our peasants.
He laughed comfortably at the end of his story and the Doctor nodded in agreement.
You re right, sir. The rod is a cure like cupping. It draws off blood from the head and heart.
It is a mild, fatherly punishment, Father Makary observed in his sing-song voice, caressing t