An Old Acquaintance (Tolstoy)
Short summary
Caucasus, December, during a military expedition. A young officer encountered a degraded officer at his battery camp.
The narrator recognized him as Guskof, whom he had met years earlier in Petersburg society.
Guskof had been a fashionable young man from a wealthy family, but after some scandal he was arrested and sent to serve in the Caucasus as a common soldier. He lived with the adjutant Pavel Dmitrievich and suffered from poverty and humiliation. The officers treated him with contempt because he had no money or status.
Guskof confided in the narrator about his miserable life, complained about the officers' society, and borrowed ten rubles from him. When enemy cannon fire began, Guskof fled in terror. Later that night, the narrator overheard Guskof in another tent, drunk, boasting to young soldiers.
I've known him a long time... he used to come to my house often... We were relatives... It's a mighty good thing... to have such an acquaintance... I just got a little money out of him
Guskof was lying about his relationship with the narrator to impress the soldiers.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Evening at the battery: skittles game and the strangers appearance
A Russian military division occupied a steep mountain crest overlooking a plain in the Caucasus, commanding the area with their fieldpieces. The December evening was clear and mild, with the setting sun casting rosy rays over the tents scattered on the slope and the soldiers moving about. The infantry picket stood silhouetted against the sunset, while smoke rose from campfires throughout the camp. The bluish smoke from tobacco pipes vanished into the transparent blue of the frosty sky.
Near the battery, officers gathered at what had become known as the club, where they played skittles on a cleared space. The evening's game was particularly amusing, as the losing players had to carry the winners on their backs from one end of the ground to the other. The huge fat Captain S. provided special entertainment as he rode piggyback on the feeble little Lieutenant O., his legs dragging on the ground.
After the game, servants brought three glasses of tea for six men, and the officers gathered near plaited settees. Standing nearby was a small bowlegged stranger in a sheepskin jacket and a Circassian cap with a long white crown. He seemed uncertain whether to approach, taking several irresolute steps and repeatedly putting on and taking off his cap before finally approaching Captain S.
Captain S. greeted him as Guskantini with his perpetually benevolent smile. The stranger immediately replaced his cap and made a motion to thrust his hands into his pockets, but there was no pocket on one side of his worn jacket, leaving his small red hand in an awkward position.
Guskofs introduction: awkward behavior and shabby appearance
The narrator felt a strong desire to determine who this man was—whether a yunker or a degraded officer. Not realizing his stare was disconcerting the stranger, he continued to examine his dress and appearance. The man appeared to be about thirty years old, with small, round, gray eyes that had a sleepy expression yet gazed calmly from under the dirty white lambskin of his cap.
His small, round, gray eyes had a sleepy expression... His restless lips... were constantly changing their shape as though they were trying to assume now one expression, now another. But all these expressions seemed endless
His thick, irregular nose stood out between sunken cheeks, giving evidence of emaciation from illness rather than nature. His restless lips, barely covered by a sparse, soft, whitish mustache, constantly changed shape as though trying different expressions, but his face retained one predominating expression of timidity and fright. His worn sheepskin jacket was short and bare, with dog-fur sewn on the collar and false pockets. He wore checkered ash-gray trousers and unblacked military boots.
When the stranger timidly glanced at the narrator and took off his cap for the second time, the narrator told him not to disturb himself. The man bowed gratefully, replaced his hat, and drew out a dirty chintz tobacco pouch to roll a cigarette. The narrator, himself an elderly yunker without means, well knew the moral difficulties of such a position for a proud man no longer young, and sympathized with those in similar situations.
Captain S. invited the group to play another game of skittles, with stakes consisting not only of the usual piggyback ride but also bottles of red wine, rum, sugar, cinnamon, and cloves for mulled wine, which had become popular that winter. Guskof was invited to participate, but before the game began, he drew Captain S. aside and whispered something. The good-natured captain punched him in the ribs and replied loudly that it was not a problem at all.
Moscow memories: recognizing the former society gentleman
When the game ended and Guskof's side won, it fell to him to ride on Ensign D. The ensign grew red in the face and offered Guskof a cigarette by way of compromise. While preparations were made for mulled wine in the steward's tent, seven men sat around taking turns drinking tea from three glasses and talking about the game. The stranger in the fur jacket took no part in the conversation, obstinately refused the tea offered several times, and sat on the ground in Tatar fashion, making and smoking cigarettes one after another.
When someone remarked that the summons to return was expected the next day with a possible engagement, Guskof lifted himself on his knees and, addressing only Captain S., said he had been at the adjutant's and had himself written the order for the return. Everyone fell silent while he spoke, and though he was bashful, they begged him to repeat this interesting news. Captain S. said if this was true, he would need to give orders to his company for the next day.
Guskof stammered that it might be so, but suddenly stopped, apparently feeling offended. He contracted his brows and muttered something between his teeth before beginning to roll another cigarette. His tobacco was running low, and he asked Captain S. to lend him a little. The conversation continued with the usual military chatter—complaints about the expedition's dullness and length, judgments on superiors, and discussions of who had won or lost at cards.
Borrowing money: Guskofs poverty and humiliation
Captain S. mentioned that the adjutant had been completely broken by gambling losses during the expedition. At headquarters, the adjutant had always won, but for two months he had been losing constantly. He had lost two thousand silver rubles and five hundred rubles' worth of articles, including a carpet won at Mukhin's, Nikitin's pistols, and a gold watch given by Vorontsof. Lieutenant O. suggested the adjutant used to cheat everyone, making it impossible to play with him.
Guskof tried to laugh—a melancholy, sickly laugh that completely changed his face's expression. It seemed to the narrator that he had seen and known this man before, and the name Guskof was familiar, but he could not remember when or where they had met. Guskof began speaking about Pavel Dmitriévitch in careful but pure French, saying the adjutant's luck had been against him in this expedition. He explained that he knew Pavel Dmitriévitch very well, that the adjutant had great confidence in him, and they were old friends—though he quickly clarified that the adjutant was fond of him, evidently fearing it might seem presumptuous to claim old friendship.
The narrator asked Guskof if they had met somewhere before. Guskof's mobile face suddenly lit up, and his eyes rested on the narrator with truly joyous expression for the first time. He replied in French that he had recognized the narrator immediately, and in 1848 they had met quite frequently in Moscow at his sister's house. The narrator had to apologize for not recognizing him at first in that costume. Guskof arose, came to the narrator, and irresolutely seized his hand with his own moist, weak hand before sitting beside him.
The confession: Guskofs past happiness and present despair
The narrator vividly remembered their first meeting. In 1848, he frequently visited the house of his childhood friend Ivashin in Moscow. Ivashin's wife was considered a charming woman and often spoke with pride of her brother, who had recently completed his education and promised to be one of the most fashionable young men in Petersburg society. One evening, the narrator met a short, thoroughly pleasant-looking young man in a black coat, white vest and necktie, dressed for a ball. This was Guskof, who was arguing politely about a common acquaintance who had distinguished himself in the Hungarian campaign.
The narrator recalled that Guskof had been extraordinarily neat, beautifully dressed, and fresh, with affectedly modest manners and a thoroughly youthful, almost childish appearance. It was said he had great success that winter with the high-born ladies of Moscow. Guskof spoke for the most part in French, always with a good accent, very fluently and ornately, with the skill of drawing others gently into conversation. He behaved toward everyone with a somewhat supercilious manner, which the narrator felt was perfectly justified.
Now, as Guskof sat with the narrator and gave him his hand, the narrator keenly recalled that same old haughtiness of expression. It seemed Guskof did not properly appreciate his position of official inferiority, as he asked in French what the narrator had been doing and how he happened to be there. About himself, Guskof said fluently that after his unhappy, wretched story, he had been three months under arrest and then sent to the Caucasus to the N. regiment, where he had been serving three years as a soldier.
I felt that I had strength and energy enough for it... I thought that here in the Caucasus... the simple, honest men... and war and danger, would all admirably agree with my mental state
Guskof complained bitterly about having to suffer from the society of officers in his regiment. He said the officers received him kindly at first, but when they saw he could not help despising them, they grew angry and began putting various humiliations on him. He described his forced relationship with the yunkers and his lack of means, having only what his sister sent him. Despite his pride, he had even written to his father begging for money.
When they saw that I could not help despising them... they saw that I was a man absolutely different, standing far above them, they got angry with me, and began to put various little humiliations on me
Guskof explained that his uncle had arranged his transfer to the current regiment, where Pavel Dmitriévitch, the son of his father's intendant, might be useful. After his previous regiment, this one seemed like a collection of chamberlains. But gradually, when the officers saw he was poor, their behavior showed more and more indifference until they came almost to despise him. He had imagined war and camp life differently, but found himself lying in ditches on ambuscades with degraded soldiers, feeling it was not bravery but something horrible and killing.
The cannonade: Guskofs cowardice and final betrayal
The narrator's servant Nikíta brought lunch—only curd dumplings, as the roast beef was gone. He was clearly vexed at Guskof's presence and muttered discontentedly as he arranged the meal. Guskof wore a melancholy, almost guilty smile as he drank liquor and ate ravenously, emptying the saucepan. He spoke of his acquaintance with the adjutant and tried to justify himself, showing he had not run away from an ambuscade and was not a coward as Captain S. tried to make him out.
Guskof continued that recently, while receiving nothing from his sister, he had been conscious of how the officers changed toward him. His worn sheepskin jacket aroused not sympathy but scorn. Whatever his necessities, even when he had nothing to eat except soldiers' gruel, the adjutant did not offer to lend him money though he knew Guskof would repay it. Instead, the adjutant waited until Guskof was obliged to ask. Looking straight into the narrator's eyes with an expression of desperation, Guskof asked to borrow ten rubles, saying his sister ought to send money by the next mail.
The narrator agreed, though it was trying and unpleasant, especially since he had only about five rubles left after losing at cards the evening before. He went to his tent where the captain was sleeping and asked to borrow ten rubles. The captain, half asleep, warned that if the narrator knew Guskof, he would not lend him money, calling him a dirty, low-lived fellow. Nevertheless, the captain gave the money. The narrator handed Guskof the bank-bill, which he crumpled and thrust into his trousers pocket.
Guskof began speaking about his past life in Petersburg, describing his apartments on Morskaia Street and the woman he loved. He spoke of evenings at the theater and suppers together, lamenting that such happiness would never return. He showed genuine, deep despair, sitting motionless as he spoke of being ruined forever, with no energy, no pride, nothing—not even rank. He said he was a lost man, degraded morally, fallen into the mire.
I am not what I was; I am ruined; I am no longer worthy of her... Yes, I am ruined for ever. Je suis cassé. There's no energy in me, no pride, nothing—nor even any rank... Yes, I am ruined
The narrator tried to comfort him, saying he should not take everything so to heart and should look at things more simply. Guskof said if he had heard even once a single word of sympathy or friendship when he was in hell, perhaps he might have struggled and been a soldier. But now he longed for death when thinking soberly, yet at the least danger he suddenly began to pray for his miserable life and could not control himself. He asked to spend the night with the narrator, saying they would play cards all night at his tent anyway.
If I had heard even once... one single word of sympathy, of advice, of friendship—one humane word... perhaps I might have calmly endured all... But now this is horrible... When I think soberly, I long for death
While Nikíta was making the bed, they got up and began walking on the battery. Suddenly a cannon-ball whistled over them and buried itself nearby. The sentinel Andreief remarked that the enemy had crept up and aimed at their fire. They needed to rouse the captain. The narrator glanced at Guskof, who stood cowering close to the ground, stammering and unable to speak. Then he disappeared instantaneously.
He stood cowering close to the ground, and stammered... Further he could not say a word, and I did not see how and where he disappeared so instantaneously... When he heard how that shot dashed by... he cowered down like some wild beast
The captain appeared, asking what this meant and whether they should answer the fire. The narrator was sent to ask the artillery commander. He rode through the darkness between tents, twice stumbling over tent-stakes and twice being detained by sentinels. The artillery commander ordered not to reply to the firing, as the enemy did not remain in the same place. On his way back on foot, the narrator passed by a tent where he heard Guskof's rough voice speaking hilariously and rapidly to young gentlemen.
Guskof was boasting about knowing the narrator, saying they were relatives and old friends who moved in the best society. He claimed the narrator was fearfully rich and that a hundred silver rubles was a mere bagatelle to him. Guskof said he had just gotten a little money from the narrator to last until his sister sent more. He gave ten rubles to someone named Savelitch to buy two bottles of wine from the sutler. Then Guskof, with unsteady gait and disheveled hair, came to the tent door with his jacket thrown open. Though he was in the light and the narrator in darkness, the narrator trembled with fear lest Guskof should see him, and went on silently trying to make no noise. Guskof shouted after him in a thoroughly drunken voice, asking who was going off with that horse, but the narrator made no reply and silently went on his way.