16 KiB
+++ draft = true date = '2025-11-06T00:40:25-04:00' title = 'Man from the Restaurant: Chapter 1' +++
Preface
Ivan Shmelev (Иван Шмелёв) is one of my biggest literary discoveries. Even as a Russian myself I didn't even know about him up until recently. He wasn't part of our school program, he isn't often mentioned online, people don't add him to their reading lists as often as they do with Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. It took actual effort to at least find how do they translate titles of Shmelev's books! Even titles, let alone the texts themselves. From what I learned about him, he was actively published in the western world back then in XX century, and was widely recognized; even nominated to Nobel Prize or something (Thomas Mann really pushed for it), and now there is almost no trace of him. Quite interesting to say the least. Well, the best introduction to an artist is through their actual works, so here it is: a relatively short novel by Shmelev that I take opportunity to translate in a free and unprofessional way, so at least my friends can experience what I did. Should anyone find this useful or interesting, I am happy.
I
I am peaceful and reserved with my temperament. Thirty eight years, so to speak, in its prime. But after such words I felt like I was suddenly burned. Face to face, in private, I would overlook, from this kind of person... Fat chance! But he did it in presence of Kolyushka, and what words!
'You have no right to rummage around someone else's apartment! I was trusting you and never locked my room. But you were rummaging with outsiders!.. So used to pickpocket in your restaurants, you are; and now you dare to think I will let so regarding my hearth!..'
So he went... Not even drunk. As if there was actual gold somewhere... That's him taking revenge for us asking him to move out, to clear out the room. We have had enough. He once served as a clerk, but very proud and suspicious. And I asked him with respect that it was impossible for us, in one apartment, with such a proud character and always drunk state. I posted an announcement on the gate. And so he became annoyed that I was showing his room, lunged at me.
'You don't consider me a person' and so on!.. Quite the contrary, we were always careful and even catious with him, because he could be very malicious in his occupation, so Kolyushka warned. And Kolyushka and I often talked about my own occupation back then. As he grew up and became educated, it didn't sit with him that I was at the restaurant. Here Crooked, our tenant (Yezhov his surname, Crooked is how we refered him between ourselves); here he hit the sore spot. That I pickpocket! I almost beat him up for saying that, but as a very sly person he immediately locked the door. Later he wrote a note and sent it to me via Lusha, my wife. As if all was from sorrow and misfortunes, and offered to add fifty kopecks for the room. I couldn't care less for these empty promises, when he had always paid that way before. If only he would move out; for he could be even frightening in his actions... Although he was always afraid to show himself up - always trying to sneak past. But I had a very heated conversation with Kolyushka. Back then, I even slapped him for one remark... Often he would make all kinds of reprimands:
'See, dad... Any scoundrel can jab and point a finger!..'
And I remained silent and thought to myself that he was still young and didn't understand the depths of life. but once he would settle down and take a closer look at people, he would speak differently.
And yet it was hurtful to hear such things from my own son, very hurtful! Well, a lackey, a waiter.. So what if I am to be a lackey by destiny! Besides, I am not just any lackey, but from a first-class restaurant where the society is high and most distinguished. We don't let anyone in; the doormen have strict orders. The clientele is all thoughtful people: generals, capitalists, and most educated people, professors and so on, commercial people, aristocrats... Society most high and refined. With this type of guest, you need very artful service, and you also need to know how to behave properly so that there is no dissatisfaction. They don't hire on a whim either, as if put through fires and flames, as if in applying to a university; so that the figure is appropriate, and the face clean and unblemished, with gaze stern and dignified. It's not just "give-and-carry" - all's with a sense. And you have to stand there with understanding and stare as if you weren't there at all, and have to keep track of everything and be on guard. All the same like a head waiter from a second-rate restaurant.
'Your craft' he said 'is useless and low! Bowing down to every thug and boor... You lick their feet for tips!
Ah?! Telling me off for tips! But he himself grew up on those very tips that I received for service - for bows, for assistance to all kinds of genlemen, drunk and noble, and so on! And his pants were sewn for these tips, and jackets, and all the books for his studies were bought, and boots - everything! To not know a thing about life, that is! If only he could imagine how people bow down and lick all kinds of feet from so-called high considerations, let alone tips! I have seen it all.
Once a formal dinner was served in the round living room to mark the arrival of the minister, and I was appointed to the service with the others. I then had seen with my own eyes how an important gentleman, with medals all over his chest, quickly ducked under the table and picked up the handkerchief that the minister had dropped. Faster than me, he picked up, and even pushed my hand away. All under the table. They have nothing to do with it - crawling around for handkerchiefs... If only Kolyushka could see, with all his "lackey this and that!" I do my job, naturally, and even if I hand over a match, I do so in accordance to the statute of my service, not beyond.
As I had started in this specialty, when I was still but a boy, I stayed with it, unlike other, and even very distinguished, gentlemen. Today you look - his gaze is of an eagle, at the head of the table, drinking Schlossganisberg or some champagne, and sticking out his little finger with a ring on it, signaling with it in a conversation; and he grumbles into his glass in such a way you can't make anything out. And another time you see him in so different a company, that his voice is sugary and thin, and he sits on the edge, holding his head like a heron, on the alert, as his whole figure presses in one direction. I have seen it all...
And my appearance is not any worse than of others'. I even have resemblance to the lawyer Glotanov, Anton Stepanovic - so all ours laughed. We both are wearing tailcoats, except, of course, theirs is tailored more neatly and made with a better bit of material. Well, their stomach is, although, more prominent, and a thick golden chain is present. And also a bald little spot. Although all generally is in the same vein. Only I have sideburns; they don't shave theirs. Though if make them do so and attach a number to their side, they would easily pass for me. And I do have a wallet too, but all the difference is internal. Their wallet is bulging, of course, with stacks of different cash and bills. While mine is flat and with scarcity, and instead of bills - two business cards lying there for three weeks now: one from judicial candidate Perekrylov, that is twelve rubles for an occasion of money forgotten at home; and one from Mr. Zatsepsky, a theater singer - a crowned paper - costs nine rubles for the same reason. They haven't been here for three weeks and are thinking of not paying, but - you wait and see, madam! We have many such gentlemen, and to imagine to pay for every forgetful one, even the state bank would not be enough, I do suppose so. There are those who have no funds, but like to show off and pretend to posh at a first-class restaurant, especially when they are with specimens of high society. Very flattering, it is, to ascend walking on our carpets and dine in the white halls with mirrors, particularly when it comes to the demands of spoiled female individuals... And, so to speak, they end up acting rashly. At all it's not quite pleasant to watch them get embarrassed and nervously check their bill, and then call the staff out into the hallway, all as if to verify the expenses; with tremor in his voice. They are ashamed in front of all the individuals. Well, you do accept the business cards at your own risk. And it may be beneficial when they add a couple of rubles as a thank you. This is not harmful to anyone, even useful and helps in turnover of life. And there is nothing wrong with that. Even Anton Stepanovich himself, when having breakfast with business people, speaks very well of capital turnover, and they now have two houses in a good location; recently they were congratulated with a third one - auction occasion. Also, Vasily Vasilyevich Kasherotov, a "responder of first aid", as called by us, is friends with them. They always carry blank promissory notes with them so that they can give them to young people from good families. All on the spot; then they reap the benefits. And right before my eyes, they came out into society and became acquainted with such people that... Something like a trustee at a convent, and a lover - particularly they adore the nuns; they win over, all by their influence and sacrifices. In their line of work with the promissory notes, they say, some elegant ladies from wealthy families had become acquantied. Indeed!.. What money can do! And as for themselves, they're all shriveled up, and due to their rotten teeth, you can tell their breath from a mile away. Of course, life has taken its toll on me, and I have lost some of my luster, but I am no slouch, and in my face you can read some presentable appearance. I am even allowed to keep my sideburns, out of our order. The restaurant is French-style, and therefore every one is shaved. But when the director, Mr. Stross, deigned to observe me during my duty, - they have excellent racehorses and two mistresses, - demanded the head waiter and ordered: 'Keep the sideburns.'
Ignatius Eliseich hid his stomach - out of respect - and bent himself bowing: 'Yes, sir! Some approve of such a way, representativeness...'
'Now, Let it be an example,' So they made special arrangements for me. And Ignatius Eliseich even expressly forbid: 'Don't you dare shaving now! Truly, that is pure happiness for you.'
So much for happiness! Of course, that's more of my look, and some are embarrassed to tip, it gets in the way in our line of work.
In general, my appearance is very respectable and even diplomatic, as Kirill Saveryanich used to joke. Kirill Saveryanich!.. Ah, how I used to admire him, and how he was gone to seed before my eyes! What a man he was!.. If it weren't for his humble origins, with his intelligence and good connections, he would have been involved in government affairs. And what a mess he would have made there! Even now, still, he has a barbershop, also he sells perfume. A highly intellectual person, he even wrote about life in a notebook. Many times he comforted me in my sorrows and argued with Kolyushka with all sorts of fancy words and proved his point.
'You, Yakov Savronych, facilitate the intake of nutrition; I tidy up appearances. And this is not something we invented, but something that comes from life itself...'
Pure gold he was! And when you stand there in all your uniform in front of the mirrored walls, it truly is hard to believe that this is really me, and that, so happened, I may get yelled at in the office when I am in a drunken appearance. Once - ... But I am, after all, not a nobody, not some houseless person, I have a location and I earn not some kopeks, but sometimes seventy, sometimes even eighty rubles; and I understand the subtleties of propriety and how to address even the most distinguished individuals. Additionally, my son had attended a real school, and my daugther, Natasha, received her education at a gymnasium... And with all this setting, at times most noble gentlement, who should understand... Such subtle in their behavior and actions, and how they speak different languages!.. They eat so delicately and handle with care even a little-tiny bone, and when they knock over a chair, they apologize, but sometimes...
And there was such a polite gentleman in a uniform, on their chest - a round badge, sitting next to a lady with a huge feathered hat, - I even knew the lady and her background, - when I touched, with the edge of the fish dish, due to their such closeness to one another, an edge of a feather, they called me a dimwit. And, of course, I said 'I am sorry,' for what else could I say? But it was very hurtful. Of course, I received a kopeck as a tip, but not as an apology, but to make an appearance, to show off their nobility to the mistess, but not as a compensation. Of course, Kirill Saveryanich, with his quick wit and sharp mind, turned all this into bewilderment, which befalls even the most illustrious people, and yet it is not good. He even mentioned a book in which one scientist wrote that all labor is honest and noble and cannot be tarnished by words, but I know this without the book, and yet it is not good. It's all easy talk when you never experienced it yourself. He is doing well, he has his own business, and if anyone calls him a dimwit, he will take them to court at that very moment. But I would be fired next day for causing a scandal, and no getting into a first-class restaurant for me, because they would ring all the bells everywhere. A scientist can write anything in his book, for no one will call him a dimwit. If only this scientist had been in our shoes, when everyone is playing a superior before you for every one their - sometimes even other's - kopek, he would have said something different. By the books everything is slick, but let Agafya Markovna talk about the engineers, that's how things turn... All these scientists had dinner at our place once. They congratulated one short bald one for his book, and so they broke ten rubles worth of dishes, not understanding who the head waiter is deducting that from, all orders of the administartion. The people cannot be bothered with such trifles, or they might take offense! They, by an irritation of their hand, knock glasses together in a heated conversation, and snatch a coin from your own pocket. There is no such science to explain this.
When you see Anton Stepanich selecting various delicacies and washing them down with the finest brand, you wonder what such great feat he accomplished to get all this sent down - houses, capitals, all that. And there is no way to understand. Besides, even his friends call him a crook. I swear. As there was an annual dinner for the board of factory gentlemen, with whom Anton Stepanich conducts business in all the courts and litigates with all the people; they were capitalists, even the world-famous millionaire Gushchin. And during the cheerful dinner - I heard it myself - this very same Mr. Gushchin pulled Anton Stepanich and 'Such a cro-o-o-ok you are, what brilliant mind!'
And everyone laughed a lot, and Anton Stepanich all winked and bragged. And when the French women arrived for dessert, one of them even tried to also flatter Mr. Gushchin in this manner, but all she managed to spell was 'gru-u-uk' - you just take a look! Mr. Glotanov came out looking not terribly sober, of course, and shouted: 'Ah you... Such... As well!..'
They used very harsh words and applied a gesture. Such a scandal it caused that only by our restaurant's good reputation we prevented it from consequences. And the girls splattered with grainy caviar all their dresses... They knocked over a whole jug! All kinds of things had happened.
And you look at all this... Ah... Unhappy creations of God and the Creator! How many of them I have seen! And they were pure and innocent, but so were seduced and handed over to the street. And there is no attention... You would, at times, come home, pray to God, go to bed... And behind the wall is Natasha. She breathes quietly... And you start to wonder... What does life have in store for her? She will not be left with any coupons or tickets, winning or otherwise, or multi-story houses, as inherited by the Pupayev sisters, in whose house I was living at the time.