Up From Serfdom by Nikitenko A. Jacobson Helen Saltz

Up From Serfdom by Nikitenko A. Jacobson Helen Saltz

Author:Nikitenko, A.,Jacobson, Helen Saltz. [Nikitenko, A.,Jacobson, Helen Saltz.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780300130317
Publisher: YaleUP
Published: 2001-09-15T05:00:00+00:00


14

My Friends and Activities in Ostrogozhsk

Two years passed, during which I acquired a reputation as a good teacher. I had many pupils, and a whole school of children of both sexes that assembled at the home of burgomaster Pupykin, the merchant.

The chief, and probably only, merit of my instruction lay in my approach to learning. I did not force the children to mechanically learn lessons by heart but above all tried to instill in them a desire for knowledge, an interest in learning. Other than this I had no carefully thought-out system, nor did I employ any particular pedagogical approach in use at the time. Many of the pupils were the same age as I, but I succeeded in getting along very well with them, and so, at least, my work went smoothly.

Of course, my earnings could not fully support the family, but they at least saved us from extreme want. People looked upon me now as an adult, although I had just turned sixteen. I was not simply another ant in the anthill. People sought my acquaintance. I was warmly received by the intellectual crowd. Nor was I snubbed by such influential individuals as merchant Vasily Alekseyevich Dolzhikov, leader of the nobility Vasily Tikhonovich Lisanevich, nobleman Vladimir Ivanovich Astafeyev, merchant Dimitry Fyodorovich Panov, school inspector Fyodor Fyodorovich Ferronsky, Archpriest Stsepinsky, and Cathedral Priest Mikhail Podzorsky.

None of these people are still in this world, but the memory of them lives on in my heart. I am indebted to them for their warm interest in me, their humane disregard of my social standing as a nonentity, and the indulgence displayed for my youthful, often intemperate, aspirations. Finally, I am indebted to them for their generous support and sobering influence, which helped me stay the course in my struggle with fate and kept me from sinking into an abyss of fruitless introspection and from losing faith in goodness, in people, and in my own self.

I lived in their environment. Their society was mine. Now, in my declining years, mentally passing through the long journey I have completed, I recall with amazement and gratitude how much I owe them. They were the first to extend a hand and help me rise to that step on the social ladder where I could, with impunity, consider myself a man.

Few of these friends and benefactors could boast of positive changes in their own lives, either in their outside activities or inner worlds. Nature, having endowed them generously with intelligence and sensitivity, neglected to place them in an environment befitting their inclinations. Their honest characters could not accept bureaucratic wrongdoing and serfdom, two poisons of their society. While inwardly seething in protest, they were fully conscious of their utter helplessness in changing the existing order. Their inner conflicts fomented the development of certain quirks and peculiarities. These were completely at odds with their true character and often worthy of Dickens’s pen or Hogarth’s brush.

Take, for example, Astafeyev. He came from an old and noble family and belonged to the aristocrats of the county.



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