Повести Белкина

The Tales of The laTe  
Ivan PeTrovIch BelkIn

Translated by T. Keane

Alexander Pushkin

УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
П91

ISBN 978-5-9925-1150-5

 
Пушкин, Александр Сергеевич.
П91 
Повести Белкина :  пер. с рус. Т. Кин. — 
Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 2016. — 128 с. — (Русская классическая литература на иностранных 
языках).

ISBN 978-5-9925-1150-5.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей «Повести Белкина» 
А. С. Пушкина, написанные знаменитой Болдинской осенью 
1830 года, в наиболее плодотворный период жизни великого 
русского поэта. Перевод Т. Кин дополнен комментарием.

УДК 372.8 
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2016

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MME. PROSTAKOVA: My dear sir, from his 
childhood on, he has been fond of stories.
SKOTININ: Mitrofan takes after me.
The Minor1

EdItor’S ForEword

Having undertaken to arrange the publication of 
the Tales of I.P. Belkin, which are herewith offered 
to the public, we wished to add to these a biography, 
however brief, of the late author, and thereby to satisfy, 
at least partly, the just curiosity of lovers of our native 
letters. To that end we addressed ourselves to Marya 
Alexeyevna Trafilina, the heiress of Ivan Petrovich 
Belkin and his nearest of kin; but unfortunately 
it was impossible for her to furnish any intelligence 
concerning him, inasmuch as she had never known 
the deceased. She advised us to confer on the matter 
with an esteemed person, who had been a friend 
of Ivan Petrovich. We followed this advice, and 
our letter elicited the following answer. We present 
it here without any changes or explanatory notes, as 
a precious testimony to a noble manner of thinking 
and a touching friendship, and at the same time as 
a sufficient biographical account.

1 The Minor — a comedy by D. Fonvizin, a Russian 
writer of the 18th century

—  —  — , Esq.
My dear sir!
On the twenty-third of this month I had the 
honor of receiving your most esteemed letter 
of the fifteenth, in which you express your desire 
to secure detailed information regarding the dates 
of birth and death, the career in the service, the 
domestic circumstances, as well as the occupations 
and the character of the late Ivan Petrovich Belkin, 
my late good friend and neighbor. I take great 
pleasure in complying with your request, and I am 
here setting forth, my dear sir, all that I can recall 
of our talks and my own observations.
Ivan Petrovich Belkin was born of honorable 
and noble parents in the year 1798 in the village 
of Goryukhino. His late father, second-major 
Piotr Ivanovich Belkin, was married to Pelageya Gavrilovna, née1 Trafilina. He was a man 
of moderate means, modest habits, very shrewd 
in business matters. Their son received his elementary education from a village beadle. To this 
esteemed man he owed, it would seem, his interest 
in reading and in Russian letters. In 1815 he entered 
the service in a Jaeger regiment of the infantry (I do 
not remember the number), in which he remained 
until the year 1823. The deaths of his parents, which 
occurred almost simultaneously, caused him to 
retire and settle at Goryukhino, his family estate.

1 née — (French) born with the name

Having undertaken the management of the 
estate, Ivan Petrovich, because of his inexperience 
and soft-heartedness, soon began to neglect his 
property, and relaxed the strict regime established 
by his late parent. Having dismissed the punctual 
and efficient steward1 with whom his peasants 
(as is their habit) were dissatisfied, he placed the 
management of the village in the hands of his old 
housekeeper, who had acquired his confidence 
through her ability to tell stories. This stupid old 
woman could not tell a twenty-five-ruble from a 
fifty-ruble note. She was godmother to the children 
of all the peasants, and so the latter were not in fear 
of her. The steward they had elected indulged them 
to such an extent, at the same time defrauding the 
master, that Ivan Petrovich was forced to abolish 
the corvée2 and introduce a very moderate quitrent. Even then, the peasants, taking advantage of 
his weakness, obtained a special privilege the first 
year, and during the next two years paid more than 
two-thirds of the quit-rent in nuts, huckleberries, 
and the like; and even so they were in arrears.
Having been a friend of Ivan Petrovich’s late 
parent, I deemed it my duty to offer my advice 
to the son, too, and repeatedly I volunteered 

1 steward — (old use) a man who is employed to look 
after a house and lands
2 corvée — (French) an obligation imposed on 
inhabitants of a district to perform services as repair of 
reads, bridges, etc. for little or no remuneration

to restore the order he had allowed to fall into 
decay. To that end, having come to see him one 
day, I demanded the account books, summoned 
the rascally steward, and, in the presence of 
Ivan Petrovich, started examining them. At 
first the young master followed me with all 
possible attention and diligence, but after we had 
ascertained from the accounts that in the last two 
years the number of peasants had increased, while 
the quantity of fowls and cattle had considerably 
diminished, Ivan Petrovich was satisfied with this 
bit of information, and no longer listened to me, 
and at the very moment when my investigation 
and strict questioning had reduced the thievish 
steward to extreme embarrassment, and indeed 
forced him to complete silence, to my extreme 
mortification I heard Ivan Petrovich snoring loudly 
in his chair. Thenceforward I ceased to intervene 
in his business affairs and entrusted them (as he 
did himself) to the care of the Almighty.
This, however, did not injure our friendly 
relations to any degree; for, commiserating as 
I did his weakness and the ruinous negligence 
common to all our young noblemen, I sincerely 
loved Ivan Petrovich. It was indeed impossible 
not to like a young man so gentle and honorable. 
On his part, Ivan Petrovich showed respect to my 
years and was cordially attached to me. Until his 
very end he saw me nearly every day, prizing my 
simple conversation, although we did not resemble 

each other in habits, or manner of thinking, 
or character.
Ivan Petrovich lived in the most moderate 
fashion, and avoided excesses of any sort. I never 
chanced to see him tipsy (which in our parts may 
be accounted an unheard-of miracle); he had 
a strong leaning toward the female sex, but he was 
truly as bashful as a girl.1

Besides the tales which you are pleased to 
mention in your letter, Ivan Petrovich left many 
manuscripts, some of which are in my hands, the 
rest having been put by his housekeeper to various 
domestic uses. Thus, last winter all the windows in 
her own wing were pasted over with the first part 
of the novel which he did not complete. The abovementioned tales were, it seems, his first effort. As Ivan 
Petrovich said, they are for the most part true stories, 
which he had heard from various persons.2

1 Follows an anecdote, which we do not give, 
deeming it superfluous; we assure the reader, however, 
that it contains nothing prejudicial to the memory of 
Ivan Petrovich Belkin
2 Indeed, in Mr. Belkin’s manuscript, there is an 
inscription, in the author’s hand, over each tale: “Heard 
by me from such-and-such a person” (follow rank or 
title and initials of name and surname). We quote for 
the curious student: The Postmaster was told to him by 
Titular Counsellor A.G.N.; The Shot by Lieutenant I.L.P.; 
The Undertaker by B.V., shop-assistant; The Snowstorm 
and Mistress into Maid by Miss K.I.T.

But the names in them were almost all his own 
invention, while the names of the villages and hamlets 
were taken from our neighborhood, for which reason 
my village too is mentioned somewhere. This 
happened not because of any malicious design, but 
solely through lack of imagination.
In the autumn of 1828, Ivan Petrovich came 
down with a catarrhal fever, which took a bad turn, 
so that he died, in spite of the tireless efforts of our 
district doctor, a man very skillful, particularly 
in the treatment of inveterate diseases, such as 
bunions and the like. He died in my arms in the 
thirtieth year of his life, and was buried near his 
deceased parents in the churchyard of the village 
of Goryukhino.
Ivan Petrovich was of middle height, had gray 
eyes, blonde hair, a straight nose; his complexion 
was fair and his face lean.
Here, my dear sir, is all I can recall regarding 
the manner of life, the occupations, the character 
and the appearance of my late neighbor and friend. 
In case you should think fit to make some use of 
my letter, I respectfully beg you not to mention my 
name; for much as I esteem and admire authors, 
I deem it superfluous, and indeed at my age 
unseemly, to enter their ranks.
With every expression of sincere esteem, 
believe me, etc.

November 16, 1830
The village of Nenaradovo

Considering it our duty to respect the wish of our 
author’s esteemed friend, we signalize our deepest 
gratitude to him for the intelligence furnished by 
him, and trust that the public will appreciate his 
candor and good nature.
A.P.

thE Shot

We fought a duel.
Baratynsky1

I swore to shoot him, as the code of 
dueling allows (it was my turn to fire)
Evening at Camp

I

We were stationed in the town of N —  —. The life 
of an officer in the army is well known. In the 
morning, drill and the riding school; dinner with 
the Colonel or at a Jewish restaurant; in the evening, 
punch and cards. In N —  — there was not one open 
house, or a single marriageable girl. We used to meet 
in each other’s rooms, where all we saw were men 
in uniform.
One civilian only was admitted into our society. 
He was about thirty-five years of age, and therefore 
we looked upon him as an old fellow. His experience 
gave him great advantage over us, and his habitual 
sullenness, stern disposition, and caustic tongue 
produced a deep impression upon our young minds. 

1 Baratynsky — a Russian poet of the 19th century