Meeting a Moscow Acquaintance in the Detachment (Tolstoy)
Short summary
Caucasus military camp, December evening. The narrator, stationed with an artillery battery, spent an evening playing games with fellow officers.
A shabby stranger approached them - Guskov, whom the narrator recognized as a former acquaintance from Moscow society.
Once wealthy and promising in Petersburg, Guskov had been imprisoned for a scandal, then sent to serve as a private in the Caucasus. He lived with the Adjutant, who treated him contemptuously. Alone with the narrator, Guskov poured out his misery - he'd lost everything, felt degraded, and admitted his cowardice. He borrowed ten rubles, claiming his sister would send money. When enemy fire suddenly struck the camp, Guskov fled in terror.
He cut his sticks soon enough when he heard 'em; went past our tent like a ball, doubled up like some animal... This … this … is unple … this is … most … absurd.
Later, the narrator found Guskov drunk in a soldiers' tent, boasting about his connections and pretending the narrator was his rich relative who'd lent him money.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
The military camp and evening games
A Russian military detachment was stationed in the Caucasus mountains, positioned on a steep slope overlooking the rapid mountain river Mechik. The work of cutting through the forest was nearly complete, and the soldiers expected orders to retire to the fort any day. The battery guns commanded the plain below, where groups of peaceful mountaineers on horseback occasionally appeared in the evenings, curious about the Russian camp.
On a clear December evening, the setting sun cast rosy beams across the scattered tents, moving groups of soldiers, and the heavy guns positioned on the earthwork battery. The infantry picket stood sharply outlined against the sunset on a nearby knoll, while white tents gleamed on the trodden black earth. Beyond the tents, the bare trunks of the plane forest loomed, where axes rang constantly and trees crashed down. Pale bluish smoke rose in columns toward the frosty sky.
Near the guns, the officers had established a recreational area they called "The Club." They had cleared a space for playing Gorodki, erected rustic seats, and placed a small table. The elevated spot provided an extensive view of the surrounding landscape. That evening, the best players had gathered for games, and the atmosphere was jovial despite the military setting.
The narrator, Ensign O——, and Lieutenant O—— lost two games running and had to carry the winners piggyback from one end of the ground to the other, much to the amusement of the watching officers and soldiers.
Particularly amusing was the sight of the enormous Lieutenant-Captain S—— riding on the back of the small Lieutenant O——, his feet trailing on the ground as he smiled good-humoredly.
The mysterious stranger in the sheepskin coat
As the games concluded and orderlies brought three tumblers of tea for the six officers, they gathered around the rustic seats. Near them stood a short, bandy-legged man whom the narrator did not recognize. He wore a worn sheepskin coat and a large white sheepskin cap. The stranger hesitantly removed and replaced his cap several times, seeming to want to approach but then stopping again.
Finally deciding he could no longer remain unnoticed, the stranger approached Lieutenant-Captain S——, who greeted him familiarly as "Guskantini." The man appeared to be about thirty years old, with small round grey eyes that looked sleepily yet anxiously from under the dirty white wool of his shaggy cap. His thick irregular nose between sunken cheeks accentuated his sickly, unnatural emaciation.
His lips, barely covered with thin light-colored mustaches, were continually in motion as if trying different expressions, but all seemed unfinished. His face maintained one predominant expression of mingled fear and hurry. His thin scraggy neck was wrapped in a green woolen scarf, and his sheepskin coat was worn bare and short, trimmed with dog's fur. He wore checked greyish trousers and soldier's boots with short unblacked tops.
The narrator, having recently been a cadet himself, understood the wretchedness of such a position for a proud man no longer young.
Understanding, therefore, all the wretchedness of such a position for a proud man no longer young, I felt for all who were in that state, and tried to discern their characters.
Recognition of a Moscow acquaintance
Lieutenant-Captain S—— proposed another game of Gorodki, with the losers to provide bottles of claret with rum, sugar, cinnamon, and cloves for mulled wine. The stranger was invited to join, but before beginning, he whispered something to S——, who responded aloud that he would give him credit. When the game ended and the stranger's side won, he should have ridden on one of the officers, but the ensign offered cigarettes as ransom instead.
As the mulled wine was prepared and the seven men sat drinking tea from three tumblers, the stranger sat on the ground making cigarettes from tobacco dust. When someone mentioned that a retreat was expected the next day with possible fighting, he rose and addressed only Lieutenant-Captain S——, saying he had been with the Adjutant when the order arrived and had written it out himself.
The conversation turned to their Adjutant, who had been losing heavily at cards after previously being a successful player. Lieutenant-Captain S—— mentioned that the Adjutant had lost about 2,000 rubles in money and another 500 in possessions, including a carpet, pistols, and a gold watch. When S—— jokingly suggested that the stranger, Guskov, prepared cards for the Adjutant, the man became visibly distressed.
Guskov defended the Adjutant, speaking in carefully pronounced French about his bad luck and their acquaintance. However, when he uttered his second French phrase, the other officers involuntarily turned away from him. The narrator began to feel he had seen this man before, especially when Guskov laughed—a pitifully sickly laugh that completely changed his face.
When the narrator mentioned they might have met before, Guskov's face suddenly brightened with the first sincerely pleased expression he had shown. He confirmed in French that they had met often in Moscow in 1848 at his sister's house—the Ivashins. The narrator apologized for not recognizing him in his present costume, and Guskov approached with his moist hand to shake hands irresolutely.
Guskovs confession and tale of downfall
The narrator vividly recalled their first meeting in Moscow, where Guskov had been an elegant, well-dressed young man preparing for a ball. He had been intelligent and pleasant, with great success among Moscow ladies, though somewhat condescending in manner. Now, seeing him in his degraded state, the narrator felt an unsympathetic, painful kind of pity rather than sympathy.
When the Adjutant approached, Guskov whispered to the narrator that it was such a consolation to meet a man like him, expressing his desire to talk. The Adjutant, Paul Dmitrich, seemed different from his former calm, deliberate self—he appeared hurried and restless, even proposing to start a card game despite his recent losses.
When Guskov tried to serve mulled wine to the Adjutant, he stumbled over a tent cord and fell, spilling the drink. The Adjutant made cutting remarks about Guskov's clumsiness, mentioning that he served him this way every day and threatening to send him to the ambuscades again. The other officers joined in mocking Guskov, who bore the humiliation with downcast eyes.
After the others left for cards, the narrator found himself alone with Guskov, feeling uncomfortable as he had anticipated. They walked together in the darkness, with Guskov expressing relief at being able to talk to someone like the narrator. When asked about his misfortune, Guskov began to tell his story—not a duel as rumored, but "that stupid and terrible affair" with Metenin.
Guskov explained that he had once held a position in Petersburg society, receiving 10,000 rubles annually from his father and promised a place in the Turin embassy. He had been received in the best Petersburg society and could have made a good match. However, after his disgrace, he spent two months under arrest, completely alone.
When it was all over, when it seemed as if every link with the past was severed, it became easier for me. Mon père... il m'a déshérité, and ceased all intercourse with me.
His father, a man with an iron will, had disinherited him according to his convictions. Guskov had expected that life in the Caucasus, with its simple honest men, war, and dangers, would suit his frame of mind and allow him to begin anew. He hoped to prove himself in battle, receive a cross, become a noncommissioned officer, and eventually be pardoned.
However, he found the officer society in his regiment far worse than expected. When they saw he couldn't help despising them and that he was a different sort of man standing on a higher level, they retaliated with petty indignities.
I noticed how, little by little, when they saw that I was poor, their behaviour to me became more and more careless, and at last almost contemptuous. It is dreadful, but it is perfectly true.
Guskov described the horror of his situation—dressed in a sheepskin and soldier's boots, sent to outposts to lie in ditches with common soldiers, facing death at any moment. He had been in action and fought, but wondered when it would end. His strength and energy were beginning to fail, and the reality of war was nothing like what he had expected.
When the narrator suggested he might be made a noncommissioned officer, Guskov despaired at the thought of two more years of such life. He complained about living with Paul Dmitrich amid gambling, rough jokes, and dissipation, feeling unable to communicate meaningfully with anyone.
Had I but once, since I came into this hell, heard a single word of advice, sympathy, or friendship—a single human word such as I hear from you—I might have borne everything calmly.
In his desperation, Guskov asked the narrator for a loan of ten rubles, explaining his terrible financial difficulties. The narrator agreed, though it was painful since he had little money himself after losing at cards.
The captain reluctantly lent the narrator the money, warning that if he had known it was for "that fellow in the ranks," he wouldn't have given it, calling Guskov "the dirtiest young scamp." When the narrator returned with the money, Guskov crumpled it and put it in his pocket, then continued talking about the Adjutant's gambling losses.
As they continued drinking, Guskov became increasingly emotional, reminiscing about his former life in Petersburg—his elegant apartment, his relationship with a charming woman, the theatre, and suppers together. He spoke of how he had not valued his happiness then and had caused her suffering.
I am a lost man! I can never rise again, because I have sunk morally... sunk into the mire... sunk... And a real, deep despair sounded in his voice at that moment.
Enemy cannonball attack and cowardly flight
As they prepared to retire for the night, a cannonball suddenly whistled over them and struck the ground nearby. The quiet, sleeping camp was disrupted by this unexpected enemy fire. Guskov immediately crouched to the earth and stammered incoherently, trying to say something about the situation being "unpleasant" and "absurd" before suddenly vanishing.
The soldier Andreyev, who was on guard duty, calmly observed that the enemy had sneaked within range and pointed out the firing position. The captain emerged from his tent, asking whether they should reply to the enemy fire. More shots followed, and the captain decided to send the narrator to headquarters for orders.
Nikita, the narrator's orderly, mentioned that the guest who had been drinking their wine had fled quickly when he heard the "nightingales" (shells), running past their tent doubled up like an animal. The narrator rode to the Chief of Artillery, who ordered them not to return fire since the enemy had ceased firing.
Discovery of Guskovs boastful lies
On his way back through the infantry tents, the narrator heard Guskov's loud, merry voice coming from what was evidently a cadet's tent. Guskov was boasting about his relationship with "the prince," claiming they were related and old friends, and that he had borrowed money from this wealthy acquaintance. He was using the ten rubles to buy wine for his new companions, spinning tales about his connections and completely contradicting his earlier desperate confessions to the narrator.
When Guskov noticed someone with a horse in the darkness and called out asking who was there, the narrator silently found his way back to the road without responding, having witnessed the man's complete transformation from desperate supplicant to boastful liar.