Saint Helena, small island. M.A. Aldanov. Saint Helena, small island

Mark Aldanov

"Saint Elena, small island is a story about a prisoner written by an exile. Its author, Russian writer Mark Aldanov, left Soviet Russia in 1918. Prior to that, he, a graduate of Kiev University, completed his studies and worked in Western Europe, traveled to North Africa and the Middle East, studied chemistry, published a study on Leo Tolstoy and two books of dialogues on socio-political and philosophical topics "Armaged-don" . After the release of the second part, where the author reflected on the significance and prospects of the October Revolution in Russia, its circulation was withdrawn from sale and, apparently, destroyed. Shortly thereafter, Aldanov left for Constantinople, and from there he moved to Paris. “Saint Helena, a small island” is the first major work written by him in exile.

The story has a prologue, consisting of just a few lines: “In Napoleon’s school notebook of 1788, compiled according to the geography course of Abbé Lacroix, the following words are entered by the hand of the future emperor: “Sainte Helbne, petite tle” (Saint Helen, small island - French). At this point, the entry in the notebook breaks off.

The heroes of the story are the inhabitants of the island and those who, by the will of fate, were brought there along with the French emperor. The English Governor of this rocky piece of land, Sir Goodson Low, arrived at St. Helena to fulfill his military duty, which consisted in vigilantly guarding the main enemy of Britain. His wife and her daughters from his first marriage followed him. The Russian representative on the island, Count Alexander Antonovich de Balmain, agreed to sail to this wilderness because of a good salary and in the hope of becoming Napoleon's confidant, so that, upon returning to St. Petersburg, he would retell the contents of their conversations to secular friends. However, the hopes of the aging dandy did not come true: the rules established by the British allowed us to ask for an audience with General Bonaparte, and Napoleon accepted only those who addressed him as an emperor. For the same reason, visits were denied to the French commissioner, the Marquis de Montshen. But the fourteen-year-old native of the island, Betsy Balcomb, did not know about the problems of political etiquette, and therefore boldly communicated with Boni, as she called herself the once most powerful person on earth. They, as well as those who voluntarily decided to share his imprisonment with Napoleon, are involved in the events that take place in the last months of the fading emperor's life.

"Saint Helena" - the beginning of Aldanov as a historical novelist. But already here the features that will be continued and developed in his other works on historical topics are fully manifested: the use of both real and fictional characters as actors, a scrupulous study of memoir sources and their hidden citation, supplemented by allusions. to contemporary political realities. Here, for example, Napoleon agrees to receive an Italian traveler. He is stupid and ignorant, but the mind of the imprisoned emperor wants to break free in any way, and he plays a performance in front of his interlocutor, giving harsh assessments to his former and current enemies in the hope that, returning to Europe, the enthusiastic Italian will convey to journalists what he heard from him. And he really writes word for word the great man’s predictions about the future of Europe, including about the future fate of Russia: “He said that Russia would sooner or later lose Poland, that it would hardly hold Finland and would never get Constantinople. He said that all other conquests of the tsars are not worth a copper penny and that even Russia itself will sooner or later go to hell through the fault of some crazy despot. He said that the many millions of ignorant Russian peoples could pose a formidable danger to the whole world and that Europe would be either republican or Cossack.” Of course, only a person who experienced the revolutionary upheavals in Russia in the first two decades of the 20th century could write these lines.

Another episode: a terrible vision comes to the sleeping Napoleon. “He dreamed that a huge enemy army through Belgium, across the unprotected plains near Charleroi, was invading French soil with an avalanche. And the horrors of the enemy invasion, those deeds that he himself had done so many times in foreign countries, presented themselves to him extremely clearly. France, abstract France, apart from war, was the only thing that Napoleon loved in his life. The emperor's dying brain began to work with the speed of feverish delirium. We must repel the invasion. The National Guard must be called to arms. It is necessary to raise the whole people to the defense of the motherland. It is necessary to save Paris, towards which the enemy is irresistibly rushing. Complex strategic combinations began to be born in the mind of Napoleon. There are vantage points on the familiar banks of the Marne. The strongholds of Verdun should interfere with the enemy's bypass movement. But to whom, to whom to entrust the defense of the country? Which of the French generals will understand what needs to be done? The Emperor wakes up his adjutant, the Comte de Montolon. “All his long life, Count Charles-Tristan de Montolon remembered the moment when, waking up from strong jolts in the shoulder, he stretched, opened his eyes, blinked several times at the staggering light and froze. In front of him, holding a candle in his hand, from which melted wax dripped, stood the dying emperor. His face was distorted. His eyes burned with an insane light. “Get up, get dressed, follow me!” - abruptly ordered Napoleon. Trembling all over, the general obeyed. They went into the office. - “Write!” - The room, lit by a single candle, was dark and cold. A deadly, unaccountable fear seized the Comte de Montolon. “Your Majesty,” he said, chattering his teeth, “let me wake up Dr. Antomarka ...” - “Write!” cried Napoleon hoarsely, with suffering in his voice. Montolon took a sheet of paper and began to write. The pen obeyed him badly. Delirious, holding his right side with his hand and sparkling with insane eyes, the emperor dictated a plan to protect France from an imaginary invasion.

The banks of the Marne and the stronghold of Verdun are the places of the bloodiest battles of the First World War, where the army of Kaiser's Germany was defeated. In Aldanov's story, the brilliant brain of Napoleon is able to predict the terrible military cataclysms of the future. But two more decades will pass after Aldanov wrote these lines, and parts of the Wehrmacht will invade France through the territory of Belgium and the Netherlands and occupy it. Paris will fall...

Aldanov understood that historical stories and novels should not be just fictionalized chronicles. Only a precisely verified combination of the past and the present makes the work truly relevant. After Saint Helena, the writer invariably used this technique in his historical fiction.

But Aldanov's "Saint Helena" is also good prose, accessible only to major writers. Perhaps the most powerful pages of the story are devoted to the description of the death of the French emperor: “On the day of the fifth of May, a terrible storm broke out. The waves roared against the impregnable shores of the accursed island of St. Helena. The thin walls of the Longwood house shook. The ominous copper-brown mountains darkened. The stunted trees, drearily covering the nakedness of volcanic rocks, torn off by a thunderstorm, heavily rolled down into a deep abyss, clinging to the stones with their branches ... But the one who was the emperor was no longer aware of anything. It was not easy to part with the soul of the wheezing body of Napoleon. Echoes of the cannonade seemed to the freezing brain thunder strikes, and the lips indistinctly whispered the last words: “Army ... Vanguard ...” At five forty-nine minutes in the afternoon of Antomarka, looking in the direction of the bed, quickly went up to her, put his ear to Napoleon's heart and sadly spread his hands, showing that now even he can do nothing more. Sobs were heard. Count Bertrand rose heavily from his chair and said in a dull whisper: “The Emperor is dead...” And suddenly, looking into the face of the deceased, he recoiled, struck by the memory. "First Consul!" exclaimed the marshal. On the pillow, sparkling with dead beauty, lay the head of General Bonaparte, rejuvenated by death by twenty years.

In Aldanov's story, shortly before his death, Napoleon recalls an insignificant episode from his own youth. “What, however, would be difficult to explain to both believers and atheists,” Napoleon suddenly said in a strangely changed voice, “this is my life. I remembered the other night: in one of my school notebooks, I think from 1788, there is such a note: “Sainte Helbne, petite tle”. I was then preparing for an exam in geography at the rate of Abbé Lacroix ... As now, I see both the notebook and this page in front of me ... And then, after the name of the damned island, there is nothing else in the notebook ... Fate stopped my hand ... Yes, fate stopped my hand ... - he repeated almost in a whisper with sudden horror in his voice ... His terrible eyes widened ... He sat silently for a long time, his head heavily bowed to his chest. “But if the Lord God was specially concerned with my life,” the emperor suddenly said, laughing softly and strangely, “then what did He want to say with it? Unclear..."

This question is similar to Pushkin's:

Why were you sent and who sent you?
What, good or evil, were you a faithful doer?
Why did it go out, why did it shine,
Earth wonderful visitor?

And, like Pushkin, Aldanov has no answer to it ...

The story "St. Helena, a small island" was published in the Parisian Russian-language magazine "Modern Notes" (1921. No. 3, 4). The centenary of Napoleon's death was approaching, and the work, written lively and talentedly, and besides, it also appeared so opportunely, aroused genuine reader interest. The general attitude of the public towards him is expressed by a letter sent to the writer I. E. Repin: “Ah, what a book this is! What a pity that I don’t know how to sketch out images from what I read ... But your heroes are living people: they appear so unexpectedly, in such incredible turns and such elusive tones, that it’s a brilliant work to grab it ... Your admirer Ilya Repin ".

In 1922 Aldanov moved to Berlin. “Life here is 4 times cheaper than in Paris,” he explained his decision in a letter to I. A. Bunin. In addition, in crisis-ridden Germany, the prices for printing works were the lowest in Western Europe, which was used by many writers. In the Berlin publishing house "Neva" "Saint Helena, a small island" was published as a separate book. It was designed by Nikolai Vasilyevich Pinegin (1883-1940), a well-known polar explorer and artist who participated in the northern expeditions of V. A. Rusanov and G. Ya. Sedov. After the revolution, he made the way of the cross, well known to Russian emigrants, from Simferopol to Constantinople, Paris and Berlin. The design of Aldanov's story was one of his first experiences as a book graphic artist. A year later, Pinegin returned to Soviet Russia and, starting in 1924, again began to take part in polar expeditions.

The success of "Saint Helena" Aldanov pointed out his further way in literature. In the next five years, he published three more novels: The Ninth Thermidor (1923), The Devil's Bridge (1925) and The Conspiracy Thief (1927), which, together with the story of Napoleon, made up the tetralogy The Thinker. Written first, "Saint Helena" completed a series of books dedicated to the events in Russia and France during the Great Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars.

After the release of the tetralogy, steady fame came to Aldanov. The literary critic A.V. Bakhrakh wrote in his memoirs: “I can hardly be mistaken in asserting that during all the years of emigration the author, the most popular among readers of Russian libraries, was Aldanov.” The story of the overthrow of Robespierre, the description of the passage of the Russian army through the Alps filled with hardships, the story of a conspiracy against Paul I and the image of the last hours of the once powerful ruler of a huge power dying in a foreign land turned out to be in tune with people who survived the horrors of the revolution , deprivation civil war and flight from home. Anticipating such a reaction from readers, Aldanov warned them against an overly straightforward perception of his works. He said: “Some pages of a historical novel may seem like an echo of recent events. But the writer is not responsible for the repetition and length of history ... "

Written by M.A. Aldanov in 1921, the story "St. Helena, a small island" is included in the "Thinker" tetralogy, which also includes the novels "The Ninth Thermidor", "Devil's Bridge" and "Conspiracy". Despite the fact that the story became the final part of the tetralogy in terms of composition, it was written earlier than the novels. First, the work was published on the pages of the Sovremennye Zapiski magazine, and then as a separate book by the Neva publishing house.

At the very beginning of the story, M.A. Aldanov refers to the image of an English girl from a simple family who finds out that she will not get her favorite pudding for dinner anymore. The evil Boni is to blame for this, because of whose actions the family is forced to "endure and save." The Continental System that Napoleon imposed on England appears to the child as a long, ugly snake. So, on one side of the scale lies the image of the evil Boni, and on the other - a delicious pudding, a symbol of a good life. In the girl's dreams, the pudding seems to materialize, acquiring expressive appetizing details: raisins, plums, sweet brown crust. Thus, M.A. Aldanov in the story acts not only as a scrupulous historian, but also as a subtle psychologist. Here, for example, is how he describes the king of boxers Jackson: “Jackson raised his head and flashed at Alexander Antonovich with fragments of huge teeth and the whites of small eyes”, “Byron’s laughter was echoed by the growl of a rhinoceros, exposing a monstrous size, whole and broken teeth.”

Little children are frightened by Napoleon, he is represented in the image of Satan. The victory of the Duke of Wellington over Bonaparte at Waterloo is also drawn with eyes ordinary people the Johnson family. The fate of the family abruptly changes its course, and they move to the island of St. Helena, where the defeated Napoleon was exiled.

Against the background of the development of the main theme - the story of the fate of Napoleon - M.A. Aldanov touches on other, no less interesting ones. For example, the theme of the perception of Russians in Europe is covered in detail. Little Suzi hears a story that they are good people who live in the snow with bears and eat tallow candles. When a girl sees her future husband, Count de Balmain, at a dinner with the governor, she waits with curiosity when he will eat a tallow candle. But it turned out that he was a "perfect gentleman." So with subtle irony conveys M.A. Aldanov ridiculous European ideas about the savagery of Russians. Naturally, the author uses the grotesque technique here. However, the fantastic story told in the story about the life of Russians is not so far from the stories that existed in reality that bears walk the streets in Russia.

Drawing the image of Comte de Balmain, a well-educated man and subtle diplomat, M.A. Aldanov successfully debunks the myth of the savagery and earthiness of the Russian people. Count Alexander is not only fluent in foreign languages, but also knows how to please both the English and the French in a conversation about Waterloo. Noticing that the Marquis de Montshenue frowned, he immediately mentions the courage shown on the day of Waterloo by the French troops. Through the eyes of the count, Byron is shown in the story, who seems to everyone to be proud, and the subtle look of Count Alexander catches the usual shyness in the behavior of the famous writer.

The author of the story is also a fine connoisseur of the peculiarities national characters of people. He endows de Balmain with this knowledge. The count notices in detail the subtleties of the English suit, without losing sight of every little thing: he carefully selects the right tie and even a pin for the suit. Describing de Balmain, M.A. Aldanov is internally proud of his compatriot - an intelligent and educated person, a real aristocrat. De Balmain is not a careerist, although with his intelligence and success with women, it was not difficult to make a career during the reign of Alexander I. In the spirit of Byron's romantic skepticism, which was fashionable at the time, Alexander Antonovich used to emphasize "extreme fatigue from life." The fate of de Balmain is in many ways similar to the paths of spiritual quest of his contemporaries - the heroes of the novel by L.N. Tolstoy "War and Peace" by Andrei Bolkonsky and Pierre

Bezukhov (thirst for exploits and military glory, disappointment, passion for Freemasonry).

De Balmain is a thinker in spirit. It is noteworthy that he collects meetings with famous people. Agreeing to the post of commissar of the Russian emperor on the island of St. Helena, Alexander Antonovich looked forward to witty conversations and even friendship with Napoleon himself. When, during a walk with his young wife, de Balmain finally saw Napoleon throwing pebbles into the water, his thoughts were similar to what Prince Andrei was thinking about while lying on the field of Austerlitz: “This man throwing pebbles into the water was the ruler of the world ... Everything empty, everything is a lie, everything is a deceit ... ".

The subtle charms of a diplomatic career (acquaintance with monarchs, hunting for jaguars) are ironically rethought through the eyes of Tishka, the servant of the count, for whom “there is no life on a damned island”: there are no women, nowhere to get vodka, but in English and conversation is not a conversation.

From the letters of de Balmain's comrades, pictures of Russian history emerge, which Alexander Antonovich looks at from the position of a European, constantly comparing the image of Russia, which draws his patriotic feeling, with the attitude towards it in Western Europe. The story also describes the reading circle of an educated person of that era.

Despite the deep disclosure of the image of de Balmain, Napoleon is still the central figure in the story. M.A. Aldanov pays tribute to the talented commander, a man with great vitality and a phenomenal memory. On the island, this unspent energy is eaten away by boredom. Greedy interest in people is replaced by disgust. However, Napoleon, strong in spirit, is trying to fight his fate of living: he communicates with a fourteen-year-old girl Betsy Balcombe and finds joy in this friendship, rides on dangerous road on horseback.

The razor becomes a symbol of the liver disease that torments Napoleon in the story: “The emperor was positively cheerful: he stopped feeling pain in his side, and it seemed to him, as it sometimes happened to him, that the razor had disappeared and that death might be far away. ".

Napoleon's speech is aphoristic ("Success is the greatest speaker in the world", "... You must always reserve the right to laugh tomorrow at what you assert today", "... The heart of a statesman is in his head. He must be cold as ice") .

Napoleon's sayings clearly show that he studied the human race well and, if he made mistakes, evaluating the people around him, they were not caused by accidental miscalculations, but by a deliberate desire to make them. So, for example, Napoleon did not make Madame Stael his mistress, because he did not like her as a woman, did not appoint Chateaubriand as a minister, because he believed that he would not cope with this position. The foresight of the French emperor and his intellectual potential are many times greater than the results of his historical activity. “... He knew life better than any philosophers,” writes M.A. Aldanov. It is noteworthy that the practicality of a person who lives primarily with the mind, and not with the heart, is combined in the image of Napoleon with a certain amount of romanticism: “The Emperor looked at the sky and searched for his star ... There was nothing more to look for on earth.” Seeing a comet in the sky, Bonaparte recalls that before the death of Julius Caesar, there was also a comet in the sky. In the real life of Napoleon, there were many different coincidences and mysterious coincidences: for example, the map of St. Helena, made by the naturalist Bory de Saint-Vincent during a scientific expedition in 1801, Napoleon kept all his life. Among the few things he took with him to the island.

This book is the epilogue to my The Thinker series. However, "Saint Helena" was written earlier than "The Ninth Thermidor", "Devil's Bridge" and "Conspiracy". It appeared five years ago on the pages of the Sovremennye Zapiski magazine, and then came out as a separate book (published by Neva) with illustrations by the artist Pinegin.

With the release (hopefully next year) of The Conspiracy, the Thinker series (I The Ninth Thermidor; II The Devil's Bridge; III The Conspiracy; IV St. Helena, the Little Island) will be completed. I am aware, of course, that the incorrect order of appearance of my historical novels is associated with considerable inconvenience, and in particular makes it difficult to understand what it would be too bold of me to call the symbolism of the series. I apologize again to the readers.

One day, early in her childhood, Susie Johnson heard from her mother that no more pudding would be served before dinner. Susie wept in grief.

My little darling, - her mother said to her gently and didactically. - Betsy Brown and the other girls won't get pudding either. You have to be patient and save. The evil Bonn is to blame for everything, which arranged the continental system for the dear old country.

Susie inquired through tears what the Continental System was. But Mistress Johnson did not quite understand it herself. It seemed to the girl that the continental system was something like a long, ugly snake.

In the evening, going to bed, Susie, at the direction of her mother, prayed to the Lord that He save the dear country from the evil Bonn, who took away from her, and from Betsy Brown, and other English girls, delicious pudding - with raisins, plums and a sweet brown crust - That's right, in order to eat everything yourself.

Evil Boney Miss Susie feared and hated more than anything in the world. Whenever she misbehaved, mother and Miss Mary said that they would give her to Boni, and at the same time they made terrible eyes. The first time Susie heard Boni's name was one morning at breakfast, she asked in horror who Boni was.

He is Satan himself! - exclaimed, unable to resist, her teacher.

Oh Miss Mary! said Mrs. Johnson reproachfully, disliking indecent words.

But daddy, Lieutenant Colonel Johnson, looking up from the latest issue of the Morning Post and slamming his fist on the table, declared that Miss Mary was absolutely right: Boney really was damned Satan himself. At the same time, Lieutenant Colonel Johnson rolled his eyes and in the words "d-damned d-devil" somehow especially terribly stretched the letter "d".

It wasn't until Miss Susie got older, just before she was eight years old, that she was told that Bonn wasn't just Bonn, that it was a nickname, sort of like her cousin Edward Brown's name was Eddie. She learned that the evil Bonn has another, long and difficult name: Napoleon Bonaparte, and that he is Kinggeorge (just a king, - she corrected, smiling, mother) among the French who live overseas, eat frogs (shame!) destroy the dear old country and fight like real Huns, dishonestly, committing all sorts of atrocities.

Soon after it daddy, Lieutenant Colonel Johnson, was killed by the evil Bonn in the war. And even later, by dinner, sweets began to appear again. Reading the newspapers, the big ones were talking animatedly that things were going badly for the evil Boni: he was being beaten by the Russians. Susie immediately inquired about the Russians and learned, with some fear, but also with satisfaction, that they are a good people who live in the snow with bears, eat tallow candles, but love the expensive old country and do not like the accursed French: the Russian King Alexander, a distant relative Kingdzhorzha, and one Russian count with a surname that is impossible to pronounce or remember, even set fire to their capital Moscow in order to burn Boni who climbed there and to please Kingdzhorzha. Susie liked it very much.

Almost every day, during all the time of her childhood, Miss Susie heard about various atrocities of Boni. Finally, one summer morning, their young cousin, Lieutenant Edward Brown, ran into their house, all beaming and decorated with brilliant orders. In a conversation, joyful and fast, he often uttered the word Waterloo, - and in a few minutes the whole house became aware that the Duke of Wellington and Cousin Eddie defeated the evil Boni, avenged daddy and that from now on the dear old country has nothing more to fear. In addition to Eddie, the Germans took part in the victory over Boni - very good people who fight honestly and do not commit any atrocities. But the Germans helped only a little, and the main thing was done by dear old fellows, dear old Duke of Wellington, and especially dear old cousin Eddie.

Then fate took a strange turn for Susie and her entire family. An ugly, unpleasant military man, with a drawn upper lip and a sharp chin, Sir Goodson Low began to visit their house. He treated Mrs. Johnson with a peculiar respect, and spent long evenings alone with her. In the winter of that year, when Cousin Eddie returned, Mrs. Johnson, blushing slightly, told Susie and her little sister that they would have a new daddy for she is marrying Sir Goodson. Miss Mary told the girls in the strictest confidence that Sir Goodson was of humble birth: he was as far from them as they were from the Duke of Norfolk, the first peer of England. But this is not a problem, for Sir Goodson is a very good man and a famous general. At the same time, it turned out that they were all moving very far away, to some island of St. Helena, where their new daddy appointed governor, and that the evil Boney is already on this island, whom they will guard - and will not allow him to escape and kill the English. Then all of them for a long time - two and a half months - rode across the big sea in a ship with masts and guns, they shook terribly, everyone, but not her - she alone was not a bit sick - and finally arrived at St. Helena, to the big Plantation House. A beautiful house, a wonderful garden with unprecedented mimosas, Susie liked very much. Having run around the apartment, the first thing she asked was in which basement Boni was locked and whether it was possible to see him at least from a distance, if it was not very dangerous. But it turned out, much to her reassurance, that Bonnie was not in the house at all, that he lived elsewhere, at Longwood Villa, very far from Plantation House, and that they, apart from daddy, they will not see him, neither near nor from afar.

On the island of St. Helena, Susie, imperceptibly to everyone but herself, has turned from a small child into a charming girl. They said she was beautiful. She was in her sixteenth year and was already sometimes called Miss Susanna, when the representative of the Russian emperor on the island of St. Helena, Count Alexander de Balmain, fell in love with her and proposed to her.

Susie saw her future husband for the first time at a dinner given by the governor in honor of the foreign commissioners. She immediately drew attention to the fact that Comte de Balmain was a handsome man, much more handsome than the Austrian commissioner, Baron Stürmer, and the French, the Marquis de Montshen. When the negroes brought the candelabra into the hall, Miss Susanna, with curiosity and disgust, prepared herself for the Russian to take out the candle and eat it. But the Russian did not. It even seemed to Miss Susanna that the Comte de Balmain was a perfect gentleman.

At dinner they spoke either French or English. The Russian spoke English very well - with an Oxford accent, like Cousin Eddie. True, Miss Susanna immediately noticed that his Oxford pronunciation did not come out exactly like Cousin Eddie's, and that ti-ech Russian has something strange. But for some reason she liked it. In French, the Comte de Balmain spoke quite amazingly - Miss Susie herself could hardly express herself in this language. It even seemed to her that he spoke much better French than the Marquis de Montshen. The Marquis, however, was of a different opinion and listened with some irony to the burrish speech of his Russian colleague. The conversation was, as almost always, about General Bonaparte and about the troubles that he continued to cause to the whole world, and in particular to Sir Goodson Low and foreign commissars. Montshenu, an old émigré who in his time was considered an extreme reactionary even in Koblenz, related several incidents from the time of the Corsican's youth. It turned out that Bonaparte once personally strangled a woman of easy virtue. The marquis described this incident with extremely precise indication of the place, circumstances, names and all the details of the murder.

Mark Aldanov

SAINT HELENA, LITTLE ISLAND

Preface to the second edition

One day, early in her childhood, Susie Johnson heard from her mother that no more pudding would be served before dinner. Susie wept in grief.

In the evening, going to bed, Susie, at the direction of her mother, prayed to the Lord that He would save the dear country from the evil Bonn, who took away from her, and from Betsy Brown, and other English girls a delicious pudding - with raisins, plums and a sweet brown crust - That's right, in order to eat everything yourself.

He is Satan himself! - exclaimed, unable to resist, her teacher.

Oh Miss Mary! said Mrs. Johnson reproachfully, disliking indecent words.

Quel scélerat, Seigneur, quel scélerat! exclaimed Montshenue in conclusion.

M.A. Aldanov. Saint Helena, small island[Novel: Ch. I-VI] // Modern notes. 1921. Prince. III. pp. 46–87.

Page 46

SAINT HELENA, LITTLE ISLAND*)

Chapter I

One day, early in her childhood, Susie Johnson heard from her mother that no more pudding would be served before dinner. Susie wept in grief.

My little darling **), - said her mother gently and instructively. - Betsy Brown and the other girls won't get pudding either. You have to be patient and save. The evil Boni is to blame for everything, who arranged the continental system for the dear old country.

Susie inquired through tears what the Continental System was. But Mrs. Johnson did not quite understand it herself. It seemed to the girl that the continental system was something like a long, ugly snake.

In the evening, going to bed, Susie, at the direction of her mother, prayed to the Lord that He save the dear old country from the evil Bonnie, who took away from her, and from Betsy Brown, and other English girls a delicious pudding - with raisins, plums and a sweet brown crust. - that's right, in order to eat everything yourself.

–– ––

*) In Napoleon's school notebook dated 1788 ( Fonds Libri , ¹ 11), compiled according to the course of geography of Abbé Lacroix, the following words are entered by the hand of the future emperor: “ Sainte H é le ne, petite î le"("St. Helena, little island"). At this point, the entry in the notebook breaks off.

**) Sweet baby.

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He is Satan himself! - exclaimed, unable to resist, her teacher.

Oh Miss Mary! said Mrs. Johnson reproachfully, disliking indecent words.

But daddy, Lieutenant Colonel Johnson, looking up from the latest issue of " morning post ”and slamming his fist on the table, categorically stated that Miss Mary was absolutely right: Bonnie really is the damned Satan himself. At the same time, Lieutenant Colonel Johnson rolled his eyes and in words d - damned d - devil somehow especially terribly stretched the letter d.

It wasn't until Miss Susie got older, just before she was eight years old, that she was told that Boney wasn't just Boney, that it was a nickname, sort of like her cousin Edward Brown's name was Eddie. She learned that the evil Boni has another, long and difficult name: Napoleon Bonaparte, and that he is Kinggeorge (just king - corrected, smiling, mother) among the French who live overseas, eat frogs ( shame ! *), want to destroy the dear old country and fight like real Huns, dishonestly, committing all sorts of atrocities.

Soon after it daddy, Lieutenant Colonel Johnson, was killed by the evil Boney in the war. Later still, pudding began to reappear at dinner time. Reading the newspapers, the big ones were talking animatedly that things were going badly for the evil Boni: he was being beaten by the Russians. Susie immediately inquired about the Russians and learned with some fear, but also with satisfaction, that they are a good people who live in the snow with bears, eat tallow candles, but love the expensive old country and do not like the accursed French: the Russian King Alexander,

–– ––

*) What a shame!

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a distant relative of Kinggeorge, and one Russian count with a surname that is impossible to pronounce or remember, even set fire to their capital Moscow in order to burn Boni who had climbed there and please Kinggeorge. Susie liked it very much.

Almost every day during her childhood, Miss Susie had to hear about various atrocities of Boni. Finally, one summer morning, their young cousin, Lieutenant Edward Brown, ran into their house, all beaming and decorated with brilliant orders. In a conversation, joyful and fast, he often uttered the word Waterloo - and in a few minutes the whole house became aware that the Duke of Wellington and Cousin Eddie had defeated the evil Boni, avenged daddy, and that from now on the dear old country has nothing more to fear. In addition to Eddie, the Germans took part in the victory over Boni - a very good people who, unlike the French, fight honestly and do not commit any atrocities. But the Germans helped only a little, and all the main things were done by dear old fellows, dear old Duke of Wellington, and especially dear old cousin Eddie.

Then fate took a strange turn for Susie and her entire family. An ugly and unpleasant military man with a drawn upper lip and a sharp chin, Sir Goodson Low, began to visit their house. He treated Mrs. Johnson with a peculiar respect, and spent long evenings alone with her. In the winter of that year, when Cousin Eddie returned, Mrs. Johnson, blushing slightly, told Susie and her little sister that they would have a new daddy for she is marrying Sir Goodson. Miss Mary told the girls in the strictest confidence that Sir Goodson was of humble birth: he was as far from them as they were from the Duke of Norfolk, the first peer of England. But this is not a problem, for Sir Goodson Lowe is a very good man and a famous general. At the same time, it turned out that they were all moving very far away, to some island of St. Helena, where their new daddy appointed governor, and that the evil Boni is already on this island, whom they will guard and not

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let him escape again and kill the English. Then all of them for a long time - two and a half months - rode across the big sea to big ship with masts and cannons, and they shook terribly, everyone, but not her - she was the only one who was not a bit sick - and finally they arrived on St. Helena, in the big house Plantation House. A wonderful home, a wonderful garden with unprecedented mimosas, Susie liked very much. Having run around the apartment, the first thing she asked was in which basement Boni was locked and whether it was possible to see him at least from a distance, if it was not very dangerous. But it turned out, much to her reassurance, that Bonnie was not in the house at all, that he lived elsewhere, at Longwood Villa, very far from Plantation House, and that they, apart from daddy, it will not be seen either near or from a distance.

On the island of St. Elena Susi, imperceptibly to everyone except herself, has turned from a small child into a charming girl. They said she was beautiful. She was in her sixteenth year, and was already sometimes called Miss Susanna, when the representative of the Russian emperor on the island of St. Helena, Count Alexandre de Balmain.

Susie saw her future husband for the first time at a dinner given by the governor in honor of three foreign commissioners. She immediately drew attention to the fact that the Comte de Balmain was a handsome man, much more handsome than the Austrian commissioner, Baron Stürmer, and the French, the Marquis de Montshen. When the negroes brought the candelabra into the hall, Miss Susanna, with curiosity and disgust, prepared herself for the Russian to take out the candle and eat it. But the Russian did not. It even seemed to Miss Susanna that the Comte de Balmain looked like a perfect gentleman, a perfect gentleman.

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something strange. But for some reason she liked it. In French, the Comte de Balmain spoke absolutely amazingly - Miss Susie herself could hardly express herself in this language. It even seemed to her that he spoke much better French than the Marquis de Montshen, the latter, however, had a different opinion and listened with some irony to the burry, purely Parisian, speech of his Russian colleague.

The conversation was, as almost always, about General Bonaparte and about the troubles that he continued to cause to the whole world, and in particular to Sir Goodson Low and foreign commissars. Montshenu, an old émigré, who in his time was considered an extreme reactionary even in Koblenz, related several incidents from the time of the Corsican's youth. It turned out that Bonaparte once personally strangled a woman of easy virtue. The marquis described this incident with extremely precise indication of the place, circumstances, names and all the details of the murder.

Quel sc é l é rat, Seigneur, quel sc é l é rat!*) exclaimed Monshenyu in conclusion.

The Comte de Balmain, after listening courteously to the French commissioner, for his part told a few anecdotes about Napoleon, but in a different way. At the same time, it turned out that the count, although a diplomat by profession, had done several campaigns in the rank of colonel and had many military awards. De Balmain told this quite to the point, showing with a slight ironic smile that he did not attach the slightest importance to his military exploits - especially in the presence of such an honored warrior as Sir Goodson Lowe. The Comte de Balmain saw Napoleon only once in his entire life - on the battlefield of Waterloo. He was seconded by Emperor Alexander to the English high command and during the famous battle was inseparably in the retinue of the Duke of Wellington. At the word "Waterloo" the faces of all Englishmen and Englishwomen

–– ––

*) What a villain, Lord, what a villain!

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broke into a smile, and Montshenu frowned slightly, despite his émigré hatred of Napoleon. De Balmain immediately noticed this and, addressing the marquis, spoke with the greatest praise of the courage shown on the day of Waterloo by the French troops.

- Bonaparte at a d é ploy é tout son terrible g é nie, et Dieu salt s "il en a!*)

And he masterfully described how Bonaparte, from the top of the Belle-Alliance hill, led the battle, which he considered completely won. Suddenly - it was about one o'clock in the afternoon - the Germans of Blucher suddenly appeared in the rear of his army instead of the French corps of Pear.

- Il faudrait la plume d "un Chateaubriand pour d é crire le d é sespoir qui s "est peint alors sur la figure mobile de C é sar **).

Thus ended de Balmain's story. He saw all this through a field tube. A visiting guest sitting at the table, a gray-haired, silent English officer who received two wounds at Waterloo and did not see anything of this, thought that the Russian staff officers had amazing field pipes. But Miss Susanna liked the Russian's story very much. And she liked it even more that during the story, de Balmain looked twice in that direction of the table, where there was no one but her and old Miss Mary.

Sir Goodson Low, grinning, remarked that the battle of Waterloo would still have been won by the British, even if Blucher had not come to the rescue.

H é , h é , qui sait, qui sait, mon g é n é ral!- objected the Marquis. - Quand on an affaire a 1"armee francaise... ***)

- Nous n "en safons rien en effet, - noticed with his

–– ––

*) Bonaparte showed all his terrible genius there; but God knows that he has enough genius.

**) One would need a Chateaubriand pen to describe the boundless despair that was depicted then on the mobile face of Caesar.

* * *) Who knows, general, who knows! When dealing with the French army...

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side Baron Stürmer. - Ces prafes allemands fous ont rendu un choli serfice. *)

De Balmain, who did not care who won at Waterloo, the British or the Germans, praised both Blucher and Wellington.

- Quel rude homme, votre Iron DuKe**), - he said to Sir Goodson - and immediately realized, seeing the sour smile of the latter, that he had made a mistake: the governor did not like Wellington, who once called him, albeit in an undertone, but quite clearly, an old fool. De Balmain was in full agreement with this assessment of Sir Goodson's mental abilities, and thought, in addition, that the Duke of Wellington himself was not much smarter than the governor of St. Helena. Wanting to make amends for his mistake, he added with a slight smile that great people have small weaknesses: the winner at Waterloo so wants to be like General Bonaparte in everything that he asked the famous David to paint his portrait and ... (here he again looked in the direction of Miss Susanna ) became close friends with the lioness Grassini. But - David refused to write to the Duke, and Madame Grassini is now fifteen years older than she was during her closeness to General Bonaparte.

The Marquis de Montshenu immediately called Grassini a voiceless rubbish (in his time there were not such singers at the old court) and expressed surprise why His Majesty King Louis XVIII, in the discussion of whose actions he, however, does not dare to enter, did not order David to be hanged: after all, this scoundrel before Bonaparte painted portraits of Danton, Robespierre and Marat and was friendly with all the revolutionary bastards.

Montshenu belonged to a very noble family, who was related to the French and Spanish royal houses; therefore he allowed himself, even in front of the ladies, the most rude expressions, rightly believing that

–– ––

*) Indeed, this is completely unknown. The Germans have rendered you a glorious service.

**) What kind of man is your iron duke!

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they will in no way be attributed to bad education.

A silent, gray-haired officer, in general surprise, intervened in the conversation and, looking coldly at the marquis, said in English that King Louis XVIII, probably because he did not order Mr. judgment, and secondly, all civilized people revere the great painter in Mr. David.

Baron Stürmer, with a pleasant smile, translated the remark of the officer to the Marquis, who did not know English. There was a moment of silence. He was interrupted by de Balmain. He told with equal skill that when Danton was being carried to the scaffold, David from the terrace of the Caf é de la R é gence sketched his figure on the chariot of the Parisian executioner. Danton saw his former friend and shouted to him with his monstrous voice: “Ham!”. “However,” the count added, “Monsieur ... is right: one must be indulgent towards brilliant artists. Lady Lowe, noticing that the conversation could take on an unpleasant character, brought him back to the eternal topic, on which everyone was always in agreement. She spoke of Bonaparte.

Sir Goodson related how, at the beginning of his stay on St. Helena, he tried in vain to establish good relations with the Corsican. “When the Countess of Loudon, wife of Lord Moir, Governor-General of India,” he said, reverently pronouncing the English title, “was passing through here, I gave a dinner in her honor and invited General Bonaparte. Here is the invitation I sent him.

And with the memory with which he remembered by heart all the papers he sent, the governor quoted:

"Sir Goodson and Lady Low ask General Bonaparte to join them for dinner on Monday at 6 o'clock to meet with the Countess."

“Tell me what was offensive in this invitation of mine,” he added, turning to de Balmain. “So you know, I didn’t get any response. Yes, I didn't receive

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no response to my invitation! he repeated in a tragic voice, solemnly looking around at all those present.

De Balmain suppressed a grin with difficulty and thought that one had to be a complete fool to send an invitation to Napoleon meet with the Countess. He nodded his head sympathetically. At this time the ladies got up from the table; the men stayed and were served port and cigars. Miss Susanna, going out, with an incomprehensible and joyful excitement, felt on her back the look of de Balmain's beautiful eyes.

She positively liked him very much. There was only one thing she didn't like. When she approached him from behind with the candelabra for tea with jam, it turned out that the Russian count had a rather large bald spot on the back of his head, the size of a saucer for jam. Although this bald spot was skillfully disguised by strands of hair smoothed transversely, and although de Balmain, seeing the young miss suddenly approaching from behind, instantly and naturally turned around so that the bald spot completely disappeared, as if it had not been there at all, nothing was hidden from the fifteen-year-old eyes of Miss Susanna. She didn't like it much. But only this one.

Comte de Balmain began to visit them often in the house, joked with her a lot, teased her, corrected her French mistakes - they often spoke, at the request of Lady Lowe, in French. By the sixteenth year of her birth, when some of the household had habitually presented her with dolls, he brought Miss Susie a beautiful dressing-case, ordered from Paris, with her initials on the red silk of the box. Miss Mary, wide-eyed, called Susie aside and told her that such a dressing-case must cost at least ten guineas, which Miss Susanna could scarcely believe, and would not have believed, had it not been for the all-knowing Miss Mary. Susie very embarrassedly thanked the count for such an unheard-of gift. De Balmain laughed affectionately, repeated her confused phrases, imitating English pronunciation French words, and it seemed to Miss Susanna that her eyes

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it is moist and slightly oily, like a renklod plum. She liked it too. And late at night, when she went to bed, she was struck by the thought that a gift from Paris should have been ordered six months in advance! She choked with excitement and could not sleep for at least a quarter of an hour.

Then a month passed, where there was a lot of incomprehensible, exciting, terrible and joyful. Miss Susanna felt that something extraordinary, the most important thing in the world, was about to happen. This extraordinary thing happened in the evening. The Comte de Balmain had a long talk with her parents, locking himself up with them in the governor's office. Then he left, and Sir Goodson Low accompanied him to the gate, at which stood his carriage with a Negro and a Russian groom, where they talked for quite some time. Meanwhile, Lady Lowe went out to her daughter and told her, embarrassed and excited, that the Comte de Balmain was asking for her hand in marriage. Lady Low was very embarrassed by the fact that she herself married 4 years before her daughter. She had a premonition that they would laugh at this. Mother told Susie that the Comte de Balmain was an excellent match. True, it is strange to marry a Russian and it is a pity that you will have to stay in Russia for a long time. But, by the way, the count of Scottish origin and part of their family had recently lived in England: Lady Lowe personally knew the last in the Scottish line of this famous family, Ramsay Boswell de Balmain, who had rights to the estate and castle of Balmoral. And most importantly - the count is a wonderful person and a perfect gentleman, a perfect gentleman.

Wo u are so young, Suzy, arn "t you?*), said Lady Low with a sigh.

I am, mother **), - answered Miss Susanna, herself not hearing and not understanding her words.

God bless you ***).

At this they both cried. Then came Miss Mary

–– ––

*) You are so young, Susie, aren't you?

**) Yes mom.

***) God bless you.

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who also cried. Then Sir Goodson appeared and said that we should not cry, but rejoice. A day later, Miss Susanna Johnson became the bride of Count Alexander de Balmain, insanely happy and head over heels in love with her fiancé. The Russian commissar was waiting for his government's permission to leave St. Helena. Before leaving, the wedding was to take place.

Chapter II.

Alexander Antonovich de Balmain, standing in front of the mirror, was tying his tie for the third time. It didn't turn out all right. It was necessary to make exactly the knot that I wore in Lately George Brian Brummel. The count often met the first of the European dandy (then this word had just replaced the previous nicknames: petits ma î tres, rou é s, incroyables) at the time when he served in the Russian embassy in London. The buckle on his shoes, the famous Brummel buckle, he adopted long ago and well. But things didn't go well with ties. It also seemed to de Balmain that society on the island of St. Helena, due to inexperience, would not be able to appreciate the ingenious simplicity of Brummel's style, and he wondered if he could adopt a different, bolder tone of the toilet - in the spirit, for example, of Lord Byron's costumes.

"Do not go from one bi to another, ”Alexander Antonovich asked himself, recalling the saying that went around in London society, according to which there were three real people in the world and all with surnames starting with the letter B: Bonaparte, Byron and Brummel.

Count de Balmain also met Byron in London more than once: the periods of Alexander Antonovich's stay in England coincided with the heyday of fame and social success of the young author of Childe Harold. For the first time, de Balmain saw the poet at a party at Lady Garrowby's, where all the high society was called to Madame Steel. Byron is not

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he sat agilely in his armchair, scowling at the guests, and scarcely got up when the ladies appeared. The men who glanced unkindly at his transparent face, sparkling with the deathly beauty of the statue, and at the black tailcoat that he wore instead of the usual blue, explained the impolite immobility of the lord by his painful desire to hide his lameness. Several ladies, forgetting decency, glared at the handsome man. Brummel himself, who appeared for a moment in the salon, accompanied by the envious glances of young dandy, who tried to remember and adopt every little thing of his simple attire, gave Byron a quick glance and, although it was not his style, nodded his head approvingly: he was not afraid of any rivalry - he was Brummel. A well-known Tory leader sat next to Byron and at length expounded to the young peer the intentions of the highest conservative politics in anticipation of Bonaparte's defeat. Byron listened attentively, not looking at his interlocutor, and then, after a pause, expressed the hope that these views would not come true, he himself wholeheartedly wishes Napoleon victory - to spite the monarchs, the Tory party and the editors of the Morning Post newspaper. De Balmain could not remember, without laughing, the blinking eyes of the Conservative lord who was at a loss at this answer. During the whole evening, Byron said very little - mainly about the weather, and, apparently, least of all thought about what to say. He did not pay any attention to the broken and talkative Mrs. Steel, which greatly offended her. The author of "Childe Harold" perked up only when the sounds of the harpsichord were heard: Catalani sang Gretry's romance in her velvety voice: "Je crains de lui parler la nuit". Byron's sparkling eyes widened and seemed to lose touch with the ground. "He's drawing," de Balmain said to himself to console himself, but at the same time he could not help but think that he had never seen anything more beautiful than that face and those crazy eyes. After the concert, Byron immediately got up and left unnoticed. In society, he was considered proud; It seemed to de Balmain that he was simply shy. A few days later

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Alexander Antonovich met the lord in a different setting, late at night at Stevens' trendy restaurant, where they happened to be table neighbors. Byron dined with two friends: in one of them, a small brunette with kind restless eyes, de Balmain immediately recognized the great actor Keane, who on Wednesdays and Fridays drove London crazy with the three-minute agony of the Danish prince in the fifth act of Hamlet, and on Mondays - with the words "And buried, gentle Tyrrel?" from Richard III. Another companion of Byron, a monstrously built man, unnaturally wearing a suit, somehow especially carefully touching the plates and glasses, as if afraid to break them, and with his whole appearance strongly reminiscent of a rhinoceros, was the king of boxers Jackson. The table of three celebrities attracted the attention of the entire restaurant: ladies and foreigners looked at Byron, cocottes and Englishmen looked at Jackson, who was reported to each other with respectful horror, as if with one blow of his fist he would knock down an ox. Byron's menu drew general attention: he ate exclusively lobsters and biscuits, washing them down with strong vodka and hot water. The Metropolitan Hotel, who knew the habits of the famous lord, brought him five or six times alternately a glass of vodka and a glass of hot water. De Balmain looked at the poet and did not recognize Lady Garrowby's silent guest. Byron's face shone with animation, he told something and laughed loudly good-naturedly, listening to the artistic speech of Keane, who imitated Mrs. Siddons, Campble, Garrick Sheridan, Fox, the Prince Regent and others with extraordinary skill. famous people. Byron's laughter was echoed by the snarl of a rhinoceros, which showed a monstrous amount of whole and broken teeth. Keane ate with a knife, called the poet "your grace" and looked around uneasily, especially at de Balmain, who was staring at them not quite politely. Finally, he could not stand it and said something quietly to his comrades. Jackson raised his head and flashed at Alexander Antonovich at once with fragments of huge teeth and the whites of small eyes;

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de Balmain instinctively put his hand in his pocket, where he always kept a small double-barreled pistol - Lepage's custom-made masterpiece. But Byron quickly said a few words to the rhinoceros, and he immediately calmed down.

“Yes, this crazy lord is a very interesting person... Extraordinary courage in his thoughts. "Childe Harold" - well, in verse I'm a bad judge ... But a black tailcoat with this fantastic waistcoat. Tr e's personnel... Still, Brummel's style is more accurate. You have to be Byron to be eccentric. And he swam the English Channel, if he's not lying. Doesn't seem to lie. Others break, but it's all natural for him. The eyes are completely unusual ... Why did his wife run away from him? Is it true what that chick said? .. "

Not so long ago, a young officer who came to St. Helena from England, blushing and in a whisper (although there were no ladies during the conversation), told de Balmain the scandalous rumors circulating in London about the reasons for Byron's divorce from his wife.

De Balmain again pulled the ends of his tie with his thin, long fingers. This time it didn't work out well. Alexander Antonovich opened a small box, thought for a minute at the sight of a dozen pins lying in it, thinking about the correspondence of each to a tie and suit, carefully stuck one in and began to put on a vest. De Balmain, with his great experience of life, knew perfectly well the importance of a suit for people. Brummel, the son of a tailor, became the first man in the most prim society in the world, almost exclusively due to his ability to dress. And, carefully concealing this, de Balmain gave two hours a day to the toilet: less was impossible. The Count always dressed himself; nor the Tishka he brought from Russia, now groom, but before just small, nor the local Negro lackey was present at his toilet.

“Today, I’ll probably get new works by Byron,” thought de Balmain, remembering with pleasure,

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that any minute they should bring the European mail brought by ship yesterday. “And the letters must certainly turn out. It cannot be that Nesselrode has not yet given an answer... Is Lucy not going to write anything again? However, to hell with her ... Newspapers and books will be in any case. Less would all-??? poems. And many smart people in Europe now write poetry: Goethe, Denin. What the hell, I'll start soon myself ... And decent money is paid for it. They say that Murray gave Byron 600 pounds for "Childe Harold", and he gave them to someone. They would be very useful - with the high cost on this damned island. How much more will be the cost of the wedding "...

De Balmain buttoned his waistcoat and sprayed himself with perfume.

“Still, there is something frivolous in this. Not that frivolous, but ridicule. - "What do you do?" - "I write poems". en voil a un m é tier. All human pursuits are not too smart - mine included - but this is perhaps the dumbest of the rest. In the service there is no ridicule, but in poetry there is ... In our country, writers, however, have not yet become fashionable. If the late Derzhavin were not a minister, who would read him? "Come, Alcides, to the daring hydra, humble her, you fierce brutality" ... C"est compl e tement idiot... Who else writes poetry? Ce pauvre ba tard de Joukovsky, un brave homme d "ailleurs...Or Gargantua Krylov ... And a few more boys. Chaadaev said that in the Tsarskoye Selo Lyceum two boys write beautiful poetry. Engelhardt also praised them. The more talented one seems to be called Illichevsky. And the other... I forgot... Diable... I forgot... The memory becomes bad. They say that by the age of forty, memory always weakens ... And the wrinkle, it seems, is new, right here, near the nose.

De Balmain went to another mirror, which hung in a corner, to the side of the window, and which he especially liked. In this mirror, he always looked younger, and the baldness was not so noticeable. The sight calmed him down a bit.

Susie fell in love...

Alexander Antonovich carefully sat down in an armchair to

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do not crumple the suit, and thought. For the hundredth time, he asked himself if he was acting crazy, marrying at forty, and even after such a life, and even a 16-year-old girl, and even an Englishwoman.

Chapter III.

Comte de Balmain was the grandson of a well-born Scottish native, who was first in the French, then in the Turkish service, and finally settled down in the Russian under Empress Anna Ioannovna. Alexander Antonovich's father held the high post of governor-general of the Kursk governorate. After graduating from the cadet corps, de Balmain, who had lost his father in early childhood, entered the cavalry guard regiment and at the age of 2 reached the rank of staff captain, when a strange and unexpected incident happened to him. For a street scandal with the police after a stormy night, he was suddenly ordered by Emperor Paul to be deprived of the nobility, demoted to the rank and file and immediately placed in the barracks. He stayed there for only three days. During this time, an event that was even stranger, though not entirely unexpected, happened - no longer with him alone, but with all of Russia.

On the third day after his misfortune, de Balmain, completely stricken by what had happened to him, destroyed by physical fatigue, incessant humiliation, sleepless nights and the filth of the Pavlovsk barracks, was taken out with his company in the morning for training. But their detachment did not reach Tsaritsyn Lug, but for some reason stood near Nevsky Prospekt. The officers whispered in confusion. Suddenly, on the opposite side of the Nevsky, a man in a round hat appeared. He was shouting something excitedly. Alexander Antonovich looked at him with all his eyes: under Paul, they were exiled to Siberia for a round hat, because, according to the emperor, the French Revolution came from it and from vests. De Balmain's heart began to beat with joyful and terrible foreboding. At this time, a rapidly rushing

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carriage "vis-a-vis", harnessed by a train of six, with a coachman in national costume and with a whooping postilion - all this was also strictly forbidden. The general sat motionless in the carriage with a frowning, intelligent face, pale and tired, as if after a merry night, De Balmain immediately recognized the military governor of St. Petersburg, Count von der Palen. The soldiers became quiet. The general stopped his carriage, called the company commander and, leaning out of the carriage, said something to him. The officer changed his face and crossed himself. De Balmain could not bear the agonizing excitement. He lost his head.

Pyotr Alekseevich, for God's sake, what happened? he cried in a voice that was not his own, stepping out of the line towards Palen.

The company commander and soldiers froze. Pahlen looked at him in bewilderment. young man, recognized him, smiled slightly and said a few words to the company commander, pointing at de Balmain with his eyes.

Guys! - he then said in a sonorous, calm voice, - His Majesty Emperor Paul died this night from apoplexy. You will be led to swear allegiance to his son, Emperor Alexander the First. There will be no teaching today. You will be given a glass of vodka.

And, nodding to the company commander, Palen touched the coachman with his hand. The postilion roared in a terrible voice; the carriage on wet snow rushed further - in the direction of the Winter Palace. The petrified de Balmain could still see how Count von der Pahlen, driving off, despite the March weather, took off his hat and wiped his huge forehead with a handkerchief.

The soldiers were silent.

Why would you die? It seems that yesterday there was no illness, - said, finally, one.

Why is it so useless to swear? So you swear to everyone.

Serve for 25 years.

Oh, what are we! Whoever is a pop is a dad. There will be vodka, and thanks for that.

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It’s all the same for us, as you know, but for their nobles... The old tsar didn’t complain too much about officers.

Two hours later, accompanied by the unkind looks of the soldiers, de Balmain was driving from the barracks in a cab to the bathhouse, from there to his old apartment - to drink champagne (by evening there was not a single bottle of champagne left in St. Petersburg). And the next day, like everyone else, he went to the Mikhailovsky Castle to say goodbye to the ashes of Emperor Paul I.

During these two days, people in officer uniforms entered the palaces without hindrance and did whatever they wanted there. No one paid attention to the royal family. For several days the officers were masters of Russia. Only the day before the ghost of the rack and the executioner stood before the conspirators. But on March 12, the general opinion was that the killers were provided not only with security, but also honor, and money, and power. Everyone assured that he participated in the conspiracy, or at least knew about it from the first minute - they began to renounce only after a few days. Various assumptions were made about the future. It was said that Palen intended to introduce a constitutional form of government in Russia, and that Platon Zubov sent Delolme's "English Constitution" to the library of the cadet corps. It was also said that Colonel of the Izmailovsky Regiment Nikolai Bibikov proposed to slaughter the entire royal family.

Through the Nativity Gates, to the left of the Palace Church, de Balmain climbed the same spiral staircase along which the murderers walked, to the mezzanine of the Mikhailovsky Castle. The strangled emperor lay on the bed in the bedroom, dressed in the uniform of the guards. His face, in black and blue stripes, was carefully but poorly made up and painted by artists. A huge hat was pulled over his head and left eye. The neck was covered with a wide tie. The body was crowded with regicides. They were still drunk - after the murder. The destruction of the palace cellars began. Various details and rumors were told here, often greatly exaggerated. They said that the soul of the whole affair was Palen, who, however, provided for himself in case of failure of the assassination attempt: he

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then he would have come with a detachment of soldiers and arrested Alexander and the conspirators. The physical killers of Pavel were Nikolai Zubov, Prince Yashvil, Tatarinov and Skaryatin, and General Bennigsen was the manager. It was also said that the British ambassador Whitward, who acted through his mistress Zherebtsova, the sister of Platon Zubov, gave the money for the enterprise. According to others, the ubiquitous Buonaparte, a few days before the assassination, learned about the English conspiracy against the tsar, and the people of the first consul rushed as if from Paris to St. Petersburg - to warn and save Paul. There was no doubt that peace would now be concluded with England, and war would be declared with France (an order had already been given to turn back the Cossacks sent by Paul to conquer India). It was even said that the French ambassador, paying his last debt to the ashes of the emperor, as if by accident, but in fact on purpose, moved his tie off his neck - and the terrible traces of the Skaryatinsky scarf were revealed to the eyes of the grenadiers on duty. With particular pleasure they talked about the role of Alexander in the case and even exaggerated this role, which ensured the safety of everyone. They described in varying detail a dinner at Talyzin's, an expedition of two detachments, and the ominous cawing of frightened crows on the old lindens of the Summer Garden. It was reported in a whisper that Platon Zubov was very scared when the chamber hussar Kirillov at the door of the royal bedroom raised a cry, and that the emperor would certainly have escaped, if not for the composure of Bennigsen, who ordered the murder as a battle: They conveyed the terrible details of the mockery of the corpse: words Palena at the Conspirators' Dinner"pour faire une omelette il faut casser les oeufs”- were literally executed by drunken officers.

De Balmain became terrified. He left the bedroom and went into the adjoining - in this strange palace - a small Dutch kitchen. The room was empty. But in the corner, on a stool, with her head on the stove, sat Princess Anna Gagarina, the mistress of the murdered emperor, and sobbed muffledly inconsolably. 20-year-old de Balmain suddenly felt

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inexplicable pity for this ugly woman, who alone in the whole world, except for the distant, powerful and mysterious Buonaparte, regretted the death of the mad king. He wanted to say something tender, comforting to her, but thought of nothing and went on wandering through the gloomy chambers of the castle crowded with people. In the oval hall, where the guards from the horse guards were usually placed, it was especially noisy and cheerful. Surrounded by a respectful crowd of courtiers, Catherine's last favorite, Prince Platon Zubov, stood there with his usual smile on his tiny plump lips, and made various jokes, to which loud and almost universal laughter invariably answered. A few steps away from this group staggered Plato's brother, Nikolai, a hussar of enormous stature and extraordinary strength, the son-in-law of Field Marshal Suvorov. He was completely drunk, and there was a big bruise on his swollen face. Holding the dry, phlegmatic, long-nosed Bennigsen by the button of his uniform, who listened complacently to his drunken chatter sprinkled with popular exclamations, Nikolai Zubov argued that he would have more power in his hands than Alexei Orlov.

No, think about it, your German image, - he said ... - Wait, think about it: after all, it was easy for Alyoshka to strangle Pyotr, who was dying, and even when Fedka Baryatinsky fell into his arms. And my son was stronger ... look what a bruise he gave me ... no, you wait, you figure it out for yourself, but you listen to me, you kike muzzle ...

Someone in Platon Zubov's group quoted a couplet just composed by Vielgorsky on Pavel's death:

"Que la bont é divine, arbitre de son sort, lui donne Ie repos que

nous rendit sa"-mort". The smile of Platon Aleksandrovich expressed complete approval, and laughter immediately rang out. Someone else started talking about the new imperial couple. Everyone immediately fell silent. Prince Zubov narrowed his eyes slightly when he heard the name of Alexander, and casually noticed that the Empress Lizanka was a very pretty girl.

Platosha! exclaimed the drunken hussar enthusiastically,

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releasing the Bennigsen button. - Oh, you son of a bitch ... Lizanka ... What kind of Lizanka is she to you? You can’t live with any queen... You, brother, love old women... Oh, it’s a pity for the deceased Katya... Here, brother, there was a queen, an old witch, huh? German, but how did she lift Russia up, huh? Did you open my father-in-law, huh? Let me hug you, even though you are a son of a bitch...

Feeling a sharp disgust, de Balmain left the oval hall. In one of the adjacent passage rooms, he saw a little boy unknown to him in mourning with a tearful and frightened face, and with him a respectable frowning lady, with a mysterious look holding a pencil and a piece of white paper in her hand. The boy was the son of Paul, later Emperor Nicholas I, and the lady was his governess, Mrs. Adlerberg. Someone told de Balmain that the Empress Dowager Maria Feodorovna, wanting to know the names of all the murderers of her husband, purposely placed a child here with a governess and ordered the latter to write down all those officers who would turn pale, passing by the little son of the murdered. This melodramatic idea of two German women amused de Balmain, especially when he saw how Prince Platon Zubov, walking around the room, stopped near the child, gently patted him on the cheek with the long fingers of his small beautiful hand and said: - No, how he looks like a grandfather. Surprisingly.

Alexander Antonovich was about to leave, when suddenly someone next to him announced that all the royal family. De Balmain, along with many other officers, rushed there. Walking in front, squealing hysterically from time to time, covered in red spots on her healthy, full, short-sighted face, was Empress Maria Feodorovna, arm in arm with Master of the Horse Mukhanov; Behind her, pale as death, Alexander. The lower jaw of his unusually pretty half-childish face trembled convulsively. Entering the bedroom - the doors were wide open - Maria Fedorovna let go of Mukhanov's hand, stopped and, whispering theatrically: " Gott, helfe mir ertragen! ”, - moved on; but before reaching the bed,

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leaned back with a hoarse cry. Alexander's face turned from pale to dark grey. Suddenly, the empress turned to her son and loudly, for all to hear, said to him in Russian:

Let me congratulate you: you are the emperor.

Mukhanov, the ringmaster hastily lowered his eyes. Alexander stepped forward, opened his mouth, raised his hands, waved them in the air - and suddenly fell to the floor, unconscious. Elizaveta Alekseevna and the courtiers rushed to raise the king.

Chapter IV.

These March days, hanging over the entire reign of Emperor Alexander I, were of great importance for de Balmain. Of course, the rank, the nobility, and the title were immediately returned to him. But the three days he spent in the soldiers' barracks forever discouraged him from military service. It seemed to him disgusting to continue to torture and humiliate others in the same way that they had tortured and humiliated himself for three days. In addition, after the March scenes in the Mikhailovsky Castle, the count wanted to leave Petersburg - away from the bloodied people who from the bloodied palaces fully controlled the fate of the huge state. Not that de Balmain's convictions suggested such a desire to him - he had no convictions. They were replaced by his inherent decency and early acquired indifference. He wanted to make his life as refined, comfortable, varied and elegant as possible. He was also attracted to Paris and London to get acquainted with the two powerful powers of the West, the victim of the rivalry of which, as it seemed to him, fell the mad Russian emperor. Alexander Antonovich left the regiment and entered the diplomatic service. His position at that time was very advantageous: on the one hand, he suffered from the Pavlovian regime; on the other - in fateful days was locked in

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barracks and, therefore, obviously for everyone had neither a direct nor an indirect relationship to regicide. These two circumstances, in connection with de Balmain's mind, handsome appearance, successes with women and readiness to serve any principles, were quite enough to ensure his most brilliant career in the reign of Alexander I. De Balmain's career was, however, only good, and not brilliant - mainly because he himself was in no hurry to do it. He was not so much ambitious as curious. He wanted to watch from the front row of seats up close, a great political performance, and sometimes appear backstage and on stage. To live and see was de Balmain's need, and he really lived and saw a lot.

Scot by blood, but Russian by upbringing and partly by nature, grandson of an adventurer and himself a romantic at heart, semi-military, semi-civilian, brilliant diplomat and former cavalry guard, secular lion and favorite of women, hero of countless light novels, famous high society of all European capitals under the nickname la coqueluche des salons, Comte de Balmain took from life what he could - and he could quite a lot. Doing nothing during his responsible missions in Naples, Vienna, London, however, in the middle of his forties, he was physically tired of the busy idleness of a homeless diplomatic career and morally - of his elegant, comfortable skepticism. This weariness, reflected on the face of the count and on his whole figure, slightly inclined forward, suited Alexander Antonovich very well. He knew that women liked her, and even somewhat emphasized his extreme weariness from life. In 1813 he again entered the military service. Actually, this should have been done a year earlier, at the time of the Patriotic War, but de Balmain was just prevented by another, rather entertaining, affair with an Englishwoman. He, however, wanted to see a real war properly, and when the Englishwoman got sick of it, he joined the headquarters, having done in the rank of lieutenant colonel

several campaigns in the armies of General Valmodena, the Swedish prince, Chernyshev; participated in the battles of Gross-Beren, Uterborn, Dennewitz, Waterloo and received a number of orders with swords up to Vladimir 4th degree. Then he got fed up and became a diplomat again. But there was nothing else to see in Europe. The Congress of Vienna was the last world show, apparently ending a big, long and extraordinarily noisy season. Simultaneously with the end of the Napoleonic Wars, another, still much more important event occurred in the life of the Comte de Balmain: the bald spot on his head suddenly became quite clearly visible, and at the same time he began to feel an urgent need to reduce the annual number of his novels as much as possible. This brought him to mournful thoughts. One day, returning from a ball, he could not sleep for a long time, almost all night; in bed, for the first time, thoughts of death and even of the afterlife came into his head, which in the morning alarmed him extremely. He began to seriously think about whether he should join the Masonic order, what good, since the Masons know all that well and ate a dog in the afterlife.

Even earlier, for other reasons, the Comte de Balmain was interested in Freemasons. The relative mystery surrounding them, the deep antiquity of the order - it was produced from Solomon, a strange but poetic ritual, unusual names and titles about which there were legends - all this intrigued the romantic imagination of Alexander Antonovich. True, experienced old people from the Moscow English club asserted that the freemason order would not lead to good and referred to the examples of the farmason Radishchev and Speransky who ended so badly; De Balmain knew, however, that in the lodges of all the countries of Europe there were a lot of high-ranking people, including kings. It was said that Napoleon himself was a Freemason. Thus, from a career point of view, joining the order was not unprofitable, although from this side it was of less interest to the count. Alexander Antonovich began to carefully

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give advice to people high society, whom the rumor called pharmasons, and very soon found out that there were several lodges in Russia. One of them, the so-called Loge des Amis Reunis, consisted of many people of his circle and even higher: Duke Alexander of Wirttemberg, Zherebtsov, Count Stanislav Pototsky had the Rose-Croix degree in this lodge, and Vorontsov, Naryshkin, Lopukhin and many other representatives, undoubtedly the highest and a better society. Nothing unlawful, or at least nothing very unlawful, could obviously be in this lodge, if only because the minister of police Balashov was a knight of the East in it. There was another lodge - the lodge of Palestine - but it was somehow less interesting. It was not entirely good that the main role in it was played by the Frenchman Charrière, who was called the great chosen knight of Kadosh, the prince of Lebanon and Jerusalem. This Frenchman served as a tutor for the Balashovs, and de Balmain could not understand why the tutor was made Prince of Lebanon and Jerusalem. And it was not at all good that the well-known St. Petersburg restaurateur Tardif was a member of this box, with whom de Balmain often dined, and when ordering dinner, he called the owner by name, and he standing up wrote down in a book, kindly and respectfully nodding at each name of the dish and wine. Alexander Antonovich was more or less free from aristocratic prejudices and would have nothing against a restaurateur. But it seemed to him - one of two things: either not to order dinner for Tardif, or not to honor him in the box according to the Masonic ritual. To do both, it seemed to him somewhat strange. There was also a united lodge of Alexander, Elizabeth and Peter. Then all these lodges merged into one Grand Directorial Lodge of Vladimir to Order. But just when de Balmain had already finally decided to join it, the Grand Directorial Lodge broke up into the Grand Provincial Lodge and the Grand Lodge of Astrea, and none of the Masons could really explain

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Alexander Antonovich, what is the reason for the constant disagreement among people whose only goal is to unite. In response, the names of some Schroeder, Fessler, Ellisen were called, which spoke very little to de Balmain. It was also strange to him that Emperor Paul and Count von der Pahlen simultaneously belonged to the Masonic order: again, it seemed to him - one of the two.

Circumstances prevented Alexander Antonovich from taking part in the work of the Freemasons. Quite unexpectedly, after the battle of Waterloo, he was offered the position of commissar of the Russian emperor on the island of St. Helena, where Napoleon was sent into exile. De Balmain, after a brief hesitation, accepted this proposal, which to a certain extent justified and supported the reputation of Casanova established behind him. On St. To Elena, he expected not only to get acquainted, but also to get close to Napoleon, who, in a deaf, distant exile, should have appreciated his brilliant abilities as a homme d "esprit, storyteller and causeur" a. In the collection of the Comte de Balmain, who knew most famous people Europe, only one thing was missing - the most famous of all, the current prisoner of St. Helena. And Alexander Antonovich anticipated in advance the pleasure both of intimate conversations with this man of genius, and of those stories for which closeness to Napoleon could subsequently provide him with a rich topic. He expected to return to Europe in 2-3 years in the halo of a close friend of the debunked emperor and the keeper of all the most piquant secrets of European behind-the-scenes politics. In addition, Commissioner St. Helen was given an excellent salary - 30 thousand francs, and this position was almost equal in value to the ambassadorial one.

The rosy hopes of de Balmain did not come true. No closeness, not only with Napoleon, but also to Napoleon, did not come out of Alexander Antonovich's stay on the island. Bonaparte boycotted foreign commissars. In order to get an audience with the former emperor, you need to

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it was necessary to turn to his marshal, General Bertrand, and this was strictly forbidden by the instructions received by de Balmain, since such an appeal would be tantamount to recognizing imperial dignity for a prisoner. Alexander Antonovich could not understand for a long time why a man of such a great mind as Napoleon attaches importance to etiquette, which is completely meaningless in his position and with his past, especially when these formalities deprive him of communication with the most intelligent after him in St. Helena is the man that de Balmain, not without reason, considered himself. Subsequently, the French, close to the emperor, Gourgo and Montolon, explained to Alexander Antonovich that the dull struggle that Bonaparte waged on the island for his title was of dynastic significance: Napoleon considered it useful in the future for his little son. On the other hand, the governor of the island, Sir Goodson Low, from the first days categorically demanded that de Balmain exact basis instructions that in no case, either directly or indirectly, should he call the prisoner St. Helena except as General Bonaparte - and this alone ruled out any possibility of a meeting, for Alexander Antonovich felt that he would not turn his tongue to say mon general to Napoleon, like Vaska Davydov. For these reasons, however strange, stupid and annoying it may seem, de Balmain lived for several years some ten miles from Napoleon, never seeing him close. He had to limit himself to carefully collecting all sorts of rumors and anecdotes coming from Longwood, expounding them in refined French, equipping them with various mots d "esprit and sending them in the form of reports to Petersburg. But this was far from what to tell himself. He also learned from letters from friends and from Captain Golovnin, who had recently visited St. Helena on the frigate Kamchatka, that Emperor Alexander, instead of his reports, reads the Bible with Kryudenersha and Tatarinova. and appreciate it, he still won’t give him a raise.On the other hand, on St. Helena there is no

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it was an interesting society; the terrible climate upset the nervous system of de Balmain: he did not sleep well and began to feel that he was moving very quickly from one mood to another, the word neurasthenia had not yet been invented. In addition, life on the island turned out to be extremely expensive, and in the first year the count had to work through transparent hints for an increase in salary up to 50 thousand. Finally, it felt even more uncomfortable. In anticipation, Alexander Antonovich took him with him to St. Helena *) along with cases of champagne and cognac, the pretty, comfortable and not too annoying Lucy, with whom he spent a pleasant week before leaving; but he was given to understand that such an undesirable companion lowered his dignity as an imperial commissar, and Lucy had to be sent hastily from the island. All this bored de Balmain extremely. He went for a ride in Rio Janeiro, introduced himself there to the Brazilian emperor, who turned out to be an extremely stupid savage, he wanted to hunt jaguars, but somehow it didn’t work out, and jaguars clearly could not replace pretty women.

After returning from Brazil, a completely stupid incident happened to Alexander Antonovich: on the sultry island of St. Helena, the famous conqueror of hearts suddenly fell in love with a sixteen-year-old girl, the governor's stepdaughter, Miss Susanna Johnson. And no matter how much he told himself that it was madness to marry and tie himself up forever - to him, with his character and with his inconstancy - no matter how highly he valued the usual freedom of a single life, no matter how clearly he remembered that the most interesting women of the world and demi-world were made to him many nasty after 2 months, and most often - especially recently - the next morning after the night spent with them, Count Alexander Antono-

–– ––

*) Some details of the story, as perhaps experts will notice, are not available in literary sources. They were communicated to me by Count J. A. de Balmain, who kindly shared with me his family traditions in that part in which they relate to the Russian commissar on the island of St. Helena. Author.

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Vich de Balmain made an offer to a 16-year-old Englishwoman, having firmly decided not to make such an offer the day before.

CHAPTER V

Your Excellency, the mail has been brought, ”Tishka said joyfully, quickly entering the room with a package and interrupting the count’s sad thoughts.

The post office was small. But immediately de Balmain was struck by what he had been waiting for a long time: he hastily opened the official envelope with the seal. His face brightened. Nesselrode, through Count Lieven, informed the Russian commissar that his request for transfer to Russia had finally been granted and that the Sovereign Emperor was pleased to graciously congratulate the Count on his marriage. At the same time, de Balmain was assigned, in addition to lifting, an emergency cash allowance. Nothing better could have been expected.

Alexander Antonovich, will we go to Russia soon? - asked Tishka.

Some familiarity had long been established between the count and the servant: only with each other they could speak Russian and, in fact, Tishka was closer to Alexander Antonovich than Sir Goodson and Lady Lowe, members of his future family.

Soon. There is a vacation. Now soon. Let's play a wedding and go.

Well, thank you, Lord. And that is not living, right, not living on a damned island. There is simply no one to say the words to.

Why, you learned English.

Well, what a conversation! Baba is not. For vodka, it happens, perhaps, and there is nowhere to get vodka! Drink whiskey, and what money you pay for it. For this money you can buy a bucket from us.

Here's to your temple. Drink to the health of the young lady. Yes, they led to lay the stroller.

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Would you like to visit Their Excellency? Tishka said with a wink. - In Plantyshyn House?

Yes, yes, at the Plantation House. Live.

Negroes will lay down in a moment. And I'll go with you, Alexander Antonovich, I don't feel like sitting here.

Silence came out. The count began to parse the mail. There was a bag of books and newspapers and only two letters.

“Nothing from Lucy again,” thought Alexander Antonovich. - "What a mean girl! It was worth spending five thousand on it.

But, remembering what glorious things Lucy knew and how they spent their time, de Balmain grinned and decided that it was still worth it.

The first letter was from London from a colleague Krivtsov. He had just been to Russia and was reporting the latest news. Arakcheev's position is stronger than ever, and the state is still ruled by Nastasya Minkina. Kochubey was appointed Minister of the Interior, so people feel sorry for Kozodavlev - who would have thought! Luiza keeps traveling - just returned from Finland, galloped to Warsaw to reconcile Novosiltsev with Czartoryski; in dormez - reads the Bible. That he donated money to Krüdenersha is impossible to consider: Lucy cost you a lot less. (Under the name of Louise, Emperor Alexander was known among diplomats, who at one time was so called in the encrypted correspondence between Nesselrode and Speransky). Louise still lives with Naryshkina, or rather spreads such rumors; the physician-in-chief, Villiers, has a different opinion and claims that Louise, as always, imagines much more about herself than she can. With whom he is now deceiving Louise Naryshkina, it is not known exactly, but not with Gagarin. Prince Alexander Golitsyn is still in great power and everything is talking divine nonsense - you will not understand anything. They say that the aged Kondraty Selivanov, otherwise the skopsky god Pyotr Fedorovich, is exiled to the Suzdal monastery, claiming that he was born from immaculate conception empresses

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Elizabeth Petrovna, - une dr ô le d'histoire... At Tatarinova in the Mikhailovsky Castle, as before, zeal in white clothes, with a circle, dance and transpirations. Lieutenant Colonel Dubovitsky, a Transfiguration, wears chains of 30 pounds and, to save his soul, daily flogs not only himself, that would be nothing, but also his children, whom I feel sorry for. Speransky, too, is heard to have lost his mind: for hours on end he looks into his navel and repeats: “Lord, have mercy!” - according to some, in order to see some kind of Tabor light, and according to others, in order to make friends with Louise again. The Goncharovs in Moscow have their own large orchestra of 40 people, with each musician playing only one note. Minister of Finance Dmitry Alexandrovich Guryev invented an unusual porridge, with fruit and sweet sauce - it is now called Guryev porridge; our finances are bad, but the porridge is delicious, and for it you can forgive the exchange rate of our ruble; wits even claim that this is the only thing that will save the name of Guryev from oblivion. Walks around St. Petersburg - an old one, however, - a sheet of the following content: “right - burned; kindness - slain from the world; sincerity - hid; justice is on the run; virtue - asks for alms; charity - arrested; responsiveness - in a madhouse; credit - went bankrupt; conscience - gone crazy; faith - remained in Jerusalem; hope - lies at the bottom of the sea along with its anchor; honesty - retired; meekness - locked up for a quarrel on the exit; and patience - will soon burst "...

De Balmain read and reread Krivtsov's letter with pleasure, quickly realizing how important each of these pieces of information could have been for him upon his return to Russia. But he did not find anything particularly important. The other letter was philosophical and political. He was sent - also with an opportunity from Europe - by Rzhevsky, an old comrade of de Balmain in the cadet corps, a liberal, an enthusiast and a freemason. It was difficult to find less similar and better coexisting people than Rzhevsky and de Balmain. Rzhevsky loved

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humanity in general, and de Balmain loved it in particular - he believed in it, sincerely wished to lead it out of worldly darkness and save its immortal soul. De Balmain got along well with a wide variety of people, easily entering and unconsciously imitating the tone of each of them, and he especially got along with Rzhevsky, because with him, with his kindness, it was hard not to get along. Rzhevsky wrote in Russian - and the writing style slightly cut Alexander Antonovich.

“Why do they write differently than they say? Why this Slavism? C "est ridicule. I would write better in French" ...

But Rzhevsky's letter just testified that French Petersburg in this circle is not in vogue. Sending books to the Count and telling old Masonic news - they had not seen each other for a long time - he wrote among other things that the famous Pavel Ivanovich Pestel had moved from the United Friends Lodge to the Three Virtues Lodge, because Russian is used in it, and in the first - French.

"En voil a une raison,” thought de Balmain.

In the Lodge of the Three Virtues, Pestel received the title of third degree, but he worked little, as if he had become disillusioned with Freemasonry. “Friend, can you appreciate,” Rzhevsky wrote, “how sensitive this loss is for us? Black souls just can't love or at least respect him."

But de Balmain did not appreciate this, because he did not like the arrogant Pestel and saw in him a man ready for very dangerous things. The other two Freemasons that Rzhevsky wrote about did not inspire him too much confidence: Chaadaev and Griboyedov, although de Balmain did not consider them at all dangerous.

“And, perhaps, the old men of the English club are right. These gentlemen will finish their game to Siberia.”

Rzhevsky wrote about the treachery of the powerful of the world, about the obscurantism of people made of dirt, powder and galloons, about the appointment of Magnitsky as a trustee of Kazan University, about the fact that soldiers are deducted from the salary for

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rods, about the fact that the emperor told Count Ozharovsky that every Russian is either a rogue or a fool; He also reported on the general murmuring of the military settlers, who can easily encroach on extremes.

“Who can, he robs, who does not dare, he steals! What is left for honest people? he exclaimed. - “Every day we are offended by humanity, justice is the simplest, enlightenment. They lose, give, tyrannize people like themselves! Where did this law come from? Where is the prosperity of Russia? Where is the glorious Veche of our ancestors?”

“Well, my ancestors were not found in the glorious Veche,” thought de Balmain. - “My paternal ancestors are Scots, and according to my grandmother, Countess Devier, they are hardly not Jews ... And there was nothing good in these unwashed Novgorodians who pushed each other off the bridge into the water” ...

“In the affairs of Europe, the dominance of the Viennese court over ours is obvious. How many people have been deceived! They took pity on the past and bless the memory of the conqueror Napoleon, whom you guard - why, friend? The despotism of kings is worse than the autocracy of Bonaparte, for where do they have his genius? No, it is impossible to make agreements with kings. The peoples desire the dominion of laws, and in common sense the law is the will of the people. And without slavery, kingdoms can flourish. We, Russians, boast, calling ourselves the saviors of Europe. Foreigners don't see us that way. They see that our strength is a reserve for the despotism of the Holy Alliance. It is not the Russians who are disliked, but their government, which oppresses the peoples for the benefit of the monarchs. What? In Gispania the Insurgents gather, in Italy the Carbonaras, in Greece the heteria filicers. Are we already worse than the Greeks and Gishpians?”

“Look, where the oppression is,” the count thought with pleasure. Further, Rzhevsky referred to the article of the "Spirit of the Journals" about the Turkish constitution, which limited the power of the Sultan to the power of the highest Mohammedan clergy, and sympathetically quoted the opinion of this press organ: "What does this imaginary constitution mean in comparison with the one under which the Great

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Britain is prospering." In conclusion, he vaguely reported on a certain Union of Welfare, which in value would not be inferior to the glorious German Tugendbund "y (Rzhevsky immediately drew the seal of the union between the lines: a beehive with bees), and other unions. In them, de Balmain will be a welcome person.

"Well, I'll think about it," Alexander Antonovich said to himself.

The letter ended with the young poet's rhymes about Alexander I circulating around Russia. Rzhevsky quoted the first stanzas of this poem " Noel":

"Hooray! Rides to Russia

wandering despot,

The Savior weeps bitterly

And with him all the people ...

"Learn, Russian people,

What the whole world knows

Both Prussian and Austrian

I sewed myself a uniform ... "

The name of the author of the poems was Pushkin; de Balmain recalled with relief that this was precisely the second, after Illichevsky, of the young poets of Tsarskoye Selo. The rhymes, to be sure, are lively, but Alexander Antonovich shook his head doubtfully. It is pardonable for a twenty-year-old boy to oppose governments to no purpose. De Balmain himself wanted to take the matter more seriously.

Like most people of that time, the count did not like and did not respect Alexander the First. He quite willingly assumed that a new conspiracy would be created in Russia, as in 1801 and 1762, and that the tsar, who had bothered everyone, would be strangled, as his father and grandfather had been strangled. Such an enterprise did not even seem particularly difficult to de Balmain, for, apparently, Alexander's popularity now slightly exceeded that of his father. The earl himself would not have taken part in such an affair, not only out of fear, but also out of disgust.

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arrogance: he recalled with disgust the scenes in the Mikhailovsky Castle that he had seen in the distant days of his youth. However, de Balmain would not mind taking advantage of the fruits of someone else's conspiracy. But the people who, apparently, were part of this Union of Welfare, and the Union itself, and even its name, did not inspire much confidence in the count. De Balmain personally knew most of these people, knew them type, which in his eyes was well represented by Rzhevsky, and thought that such dreamers were completely unsuitable for the business they had conceived. There was no fire between them. Old man Palen had been living for twenty years without a break on his Courland estates, as they said, he was afraid of the dark and got drunk every year on the night of March 12th. It is hard to think that he could become the head of a new conspiracy. And all these Rzhevskys, Volkonskys, Chaadaevs, Muravyovs are wonderful, honest people ... They are in place in their offices with a book or a pen in their hands, or over a bottle of champagne with each other, in a dispute about the welfare of peoples. But at the door of the sleeping emperor's bedroom, with Skaryatinsky's scarf or Nikolai Zubov's snuffbox, they are quelle plaisanterie! .. Only in one cold and bold Pestel with his soft speech there seems to be something from Count Palen. However, Pestel clearly sets himself the goal not of a palace coup, but of something completely different.

"Union of Welfare?" They think that my Tishka needs a Turkish or English constitution! He needs vodka, that's true, he also needs a woman - like me, however - and then who knows? It is not for nothing that Count Kapnist asserts that the liberal Russian noblemen are preparing liberal clean revolutions to their own misfortune, for any clean revolution will inevitably be followed by a popular revolt and a new troubled time. Maybe Kapnist is right.

But least of all, Alexander Antonovich understood the relationship that existed between the conspiracy and Freemasonry, to which Rzhevsky and his associates belonged. De Balmain had seen enough of political cuisine in different countries and knew perfectly well that any

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politics, reactionary and revolutionary, is a crude, earthly, cruel and dirty thing. Freemasonry, on the other hand, clearly belonged to a completely different category - the immortality of the soul, the afterlife, but not conspiracies, not upheavals and not revolutions. Meanwhile, Rzhevsky and all of them obviously somehow connected their Masonic work with the Union of Welfare. “Nothing will come of this, except for Siberia ... But, who knows? ..”

Nothing could be certain. A whole swarm of disturbing thoughts flooded into Alexander Antonovich's head. He felt that all this was extremely important and could be of great importance for his future life. But it was obviously impossible to solve such questions here. He reassured himself that he would think them over on the spot, in Russia, when he would know for sure everything about the Union of Welfare and the new system of thought of the Masons - partly, of course, depending on how he would be treated upon his return to his homeland. Nesselrode, Kapodistrias and Emperor Alexander himself. So far, it must be said, Louise was rather nice to him: a lump sum was most welcome. De Balmain immediately decided that on his way to Paris he would buy earrings for his wife and a collection of weapons for himself, and in a somewhat more cheerful mood went out onto the porch, to which the carriage was already being served.

CHAPTER VI.

The walk of the young spouses was extremely successful.

The Comte and Comtesse de Balmain left in the morning in the Governor's carriage. The day of their departure to Russia was approaching. Leaving St. Helena forever, they wished for the last time to ride around the island, on which the evil fate of Emperor Napoleon so strangely brought them together. They wanted to finally look at those corners where they had never been before, either together or apart, and where they would never be again.

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have to. This word never sounded ominous to de Balmain, as to any middle-aged man.

There were quite a lot of such unprecedented corners on St. Helena. The whole life of foreign commissioners and the governor's family took place in a small northwestern part of the island, between the town of Gemstone and the residence of Sir Goodson Low. Further east, three miles from Plantation House "a, was the zone of Longwood Villa, where Napoleon lived. Of course, it was impossible to go there. But the southern and southeastern part of St. Helena de Balmains remained unknown. English officers who knew the island well , recommended to the young spouses - with that slightly mocking and envious affection with which everyone treated them - to see Diana-Peak, Fisher "s Valley - in its eastern part, where it goes beyond Napoleon's territory - and, if possible, admire the view of the ocean from the height of the King and Queen. True, the road was difficult, mountainous and even dangerous because of the cliffs. But the officers advised to leave the carriage and walk part of the way.

On this spring day, everything seemed beautiful to de Balmain: the warm, sunny weather, and the breeze blowing the invigorating salt of the ocean into his chest, and the silly song of Tishka, who led the horses, and the silly chirping of a young wife, and the thoughts that randomly but joyfully rushed to a fresh head and vague hopes for the future. Glancing at the beautiful girl who sat next to him, feeling the soft cold touch of her tiny hand, he searched and, to his surprise, did not find in himself the familiar feeling of a love hangover. Yes, of course, it was no longer what before. But the present was not bad either.

His doubts dissipated. Life is not over. At thirty-nine, he unexpectedly opened a new, rather entertaining chapter in a rather boring book. Ahead of him, too, all new chapters were waiting: the Russian village, the hospitable landowner life, over which for some reason he considered it necessary to laugh, the hospitable, stupid Russian nobility, which he despised as a European

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and which, in essence, he loved with blood love, as every person loves the environment of his childhood, no matter how much he renounces it, no matter how far he goes from it.

“Now to live an animal life in the village for a while (it’s very nice, la vie animale), and then settle down in beautiful, stylish and manor Petersburg (yes, of course, in Petersburg - it’s much better than Moscow), give up the homeless life of a diplomat, leave your reputation Casanovas (what kind of Casanova after marriage) and go out as soon as possible into people, into big people. And first of all - to forget the heavy delirium of sleepless nights, with Freemasonry, the afterlife and the immortality of the soul.

De Balmain looked around, smiled at Susie, took a deep breath of the current of sea air and thought that now he was extremely little interested in the immortality of the soul and the afterlife.

“It may very well be that the near future still belongs to the conspirators from this Union. After looking around, weighing the chances, perhaps we should join them - of course, not to their Masonic nonsense, but to the serious political cause they are preparing. First of all, through Rzhevsky, you should get close to Pestel, who, apparently, is their main one. They need people, especially people like me, who know the length and breadth of Europe, its politicians, their explicit and behind-the-scenes relationships. Who in the new free Russia will be a better foreign minister than me?”

Alexander Antonovich imagined with great clarity how he would come to Nesselrode to demand that all affairs be handed over to him in the name of the new government. At the same time, the displeasure and embarrassment of Nesselrode, whom he did not like, brought real pleasure to de Balmain.

Darling, how do you say summer in Russian?

How do you say in Russian? - mechanically asked Alexander Antonovich. - Summer? Summer, darling.

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How do you spell it, darling?*) The Count replied.

Oh, this is awful yat...**)

The young Countess de Balmain was now studying Russian with extraordinary zeal, heroically overcoming her purely English linguistic mediocrity. She constantly carried a pink notebook with her, in which she wrote down Russian words, and sometimes repeated them at the most unexpected moments for de Balmain. Susie was preparing for life in Russia and was already an extreme Russian patriot: she had almost quarreled with Sir Goodson, claiming that the Russians had done almost as much to overthrow Napoleon as the British; and already loved Emperor Alexander almost as much as her new King George "a. Portraits of both monarchs hung in her room, much to the displeasure of de Balmain, who could not stand the self-satisfied alcoholic physiognomy of the half-witted George IV. The portrait of Emperor Alexander hung even on the most honorary place, because now he was their monarch (in the depths of her soul, Susie still loved King George "a more). De Balmain thought with a laugh that if he joined the conspiracy against the Tsar, it would be rather difficult to explain to Susie what was the matter; and when she understands, she may not like it very much.

What does he say, darling?interested Susie. De Balmain translated.

Oh Teeshka! How do you spell Teeshka, darling?****)“And this is somewhat boring, these how do you spell,” thought Alexander Antonovich and wanted to explain,

–– ––

*) How do you spell it, honey?

**) Oh, this is a nasty yat.

***) What does he say, honey?

****) Oh, Tishka!.. How do you spell Tishka, dear?

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How do you spell Tishka? however, Susie was already interested in something else. A sentry walking at some distance called out to them, but, recognizing the governor's carriage, he saluted and walked on. On the island of St. Helena there were guard posts, sentries and observation posts everywhere. Susie demanded from her husband that he explained to her the whole security system of Boni. De Balmain, who on duty knew this by heart, willingly satisfied her curiosity: from time to time it was necessary to talk with his wife, and he clung to grateful, light topics. Susie learned with great satisfaction that, in addition to her stepfather and husband, Boni was guarded by three regiments of infantry, a great many batteries, detachments of dragoons, three frigates, two corvettes, and six small ships. A sophisticated signaling system made it possible, at the first alarm, to raise the garrison and squadron, which were here exclusively to protect the famous captive, to their feet.

All this for one person ... What a scary person he is! said Susie, wrinkling her brow. Once in her life she saw Napoleon, who, having met her in the garden, sent her sweets and a rose.

Here de Balmain considered it appropriate to kiss his wife on the wrinkle that had formed. Susie blushed profusely and pointed to Tishka with her eyes. Both spouses simultaneously recalled that the officers had recommended that they leave the carriage and walk part of the road. Alexander Antonovich immediately ordered Tishka to stop and wait for them: the horses were tired.

Let's find. If we don't find it, we'll ask the fishermen. From the sea and from the river that flows into it near the King and Queen, in fact, fishermen often passed.

Alexander Antonovich took Susie by the arm and led her into the grove, trying to walk as solidly as possible. Tishka looked after them, grinned and began to light his pipe.

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Half an hour later, de Balmain and Susie were sitting on the grass, on the banks of a winding narrow river flowing through a grove. Susie, embarrassed and happy, leaned her head on the shoulder of her husband, who lazily held her by the waist. They decided not to go to the King and Queen: after all, there was nothing really interesting in staring at the sea, which would soon have to continuously admire from the ship for two months. Susie looked at her husband and thought that the best person- such a splendid man - could not be in the world: King George himself could not be better. De Balmain lazily tried to return to his former pleasant thoughts and recalled what was most pleasant in them. Resuming the course of his reflections, he found out that the most pleasant thing was the embarrassed, confused look of tiny Nesselrode at the transfer of office; de Balmain suddenly felt that he extremely wanted to be the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Empire and to host the diplomatic corps at his party.

Look here, Susie said, pointing at the water. - What cute little fish!

The water in the shallow river was completely transparent and one could see in it fast moving small fish.

It's time to go, darling, de Balmain said tenderly, hiding a yawn and lifting his wife by the waist.

Susie reluctantly got up from the grass, shook herself, and gently removed the petals from her husband that had stuck to his clothes. They walked arm in arm along the river, which made a rather steep turn in the grove, covered with trees. De Balmain, leaning lazily towards Susie, kissed her now on the back of the neck, now on the cheek. At the turn he stopped.

Someone is sitting here.

Behind the corner of the river on the bank, leaning on a wide, low and smoothly felled stump, a man actually sat.

It's a fisherman, said Susie. - Nothing, darling.

She wanted to continue the fun game.

But the man around the corner of the river was not a fisherman. He is semi-

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lying on the grass, carefully looking into the water. The stump covered almost his entire figure, with the exception of his left hand, on the hand of which he leaned his shielded head. This man was busy with an empty and strange business. At his elbow, on a stump, lay a neatly stacked heap of dark gray pebbles. Without changing the position of the body, he took them one by one with his right hand and, carefully aiming, threw them into the water. The fish, frightened by the fall of the cobblestone, scattered in different directions - and it was evident from the trembling elbow and shoulders of the observer that his whole body was shaking with laughter.

Oh, what a silly man *), - said Susie. Alexander Antonovich, with a slight start, stared in the direction of the stump at a small white hand throwing pebbles into the water. Suddenly, a half-lying man, taking a new cobblestone out of a pile, lowered his elbow - and the cry died away on the lips of the Comte de Balmain. He recognized Napoleon...

In ney ? Susie whispered excitedly, leaning back in horror and clinging to her husband's arm, ready to sacrifice herself, but at all costs to save him from death.

Alexander Antonovich stood for a minute in a daze and then rushed back on tiptoe. He almost ran without saying a word. A thousand thoughts went like a heavy millstone in his head; It was as if the light had gone out, which a minute before brightly illuminated everything.

“What nonsense... What pathetic nonsense these dreams were: a career, a conspiracy, Pestel, Nesselrode... That man throwing stones into the water was the ruler of the world... Everything is empty, everything is a lie, everything is a deceit... There is no life ... There's nothing... There's nothing left... Susie? The most beautiful of women belonged to him ... Life is over ... Old age ... And he is connected, forever connected with this stupid girl who for some reason hangs on my arm ”...

–– ––

*) What a stupid person "! ..

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Darling, what is the matter?*)Quelle est la matiere? He can't do anything to us. He didn't see us. There are three regiments of infantry here,” Susie said in confusion, barely keeping up with her husband.

De Balmain did not answer.

Tishka gallantly went out to meet them.

Sitting in the carriage, Susie looked with pity, almost with tears, at the contorted face of her master. The Comte de Balmain, without looking at his wife, nervously tore at his glove and, twitching his cheek, abruptly uttered incomprehensible, obviously Russian words. Of these, the countess made out only one, the word mother - mother, well known to her. There were no other Russian words in her pink notebook, and Susie had never heard them before. But, apparently, the groom Tishka heard and loved these Russian words. He turned to the gentleman with the goat and cackled merrily at the top of his lungs.

M. A. Aldanov.

(End to follow).

–– ––

*) Honey, what's the matter?