Mothers & Daughters: The Gray Monk

THE GRAY MONK

Summer 1841

One day, not long after their arrival, Vera went to bed very early with a headache. She woke suddenly in the middle of the night, that is, she thought it was the middle of the night, it may have been evening because the cheerful voices of Helena Andreevna and Antonia were heard from the next room, which, for some reason, scared Vera tremendously. It seemed to her as though something terrible had occurred, and she quickly jumped up. Feeling that she was burning all over, she threw off her blanket. Her ears were ringing, her whole body itched, and she was ravenously thirsty.

Monk.[1]

“Antonia!” she shouted in a ferociously frightened voice. “Venez donc ici! Où êtes vous?!”[2]

Helena Andreevna and Antonia ran in together, scared by her scream.

Vera, sitting on the bars of her bed, reached for her mother with a trembling hand.

“Who is that there?” Vera asked. “Who is that in the corner?!”

“Where? Who?” asked Helena Andreevna. “Who do you see?” Vera waved her hand in the direction of a corner in the room. “That tall gray man there! The monk with his hand raised!”

“What are you talking about, baby?” said Helena Andreevna, concerned but comforting.
Christ is with you, Verochka. There’s no monk here.” She touched Vera’s head and added worriedly, “You have a fever!”

“It’s so hot in here, but I’m so cold, and the ants are biting me!” said Vera feverishly.
And why is this gray monk standing here?! Drive him away! Look! What a long shadow he casts across the entire floor! Why does he raise his hand so high and hold it straight?”

Helena Andreevna sat down next to Vera, trying to calm her down. Antonia ran to send for the doctor. Vera, who did not want to lie still, threw herself around and looked at the translucent gray monk with horror. He was still there, motionless, raising his hand upward with a straight open palm, as if pointing at the ceiling or the sky, but looking to the side. The night light, burning behind Vera’s bed, cast a rather bright light, allowing his long, black shadow to creep across the floor. It was as though he was woven from smoke, a shadow casting a shadow.[3]

“Drive him away!” Vera shouted. “I don’t want to stay with him! Take me away from here! These ants will eat me!”

Helena Andreevna eventually calmed Vera down, and she soon fell asleep in her arms

When Vera came to her senses in the middle of the night, she found they had taken her to her mother’s room. Several blankets and a fur coat were piled on her, which she hastened to throw onto the floor.

“Water!” she croaked.

Helena Andreevna sat up in bed, and Antonia got up from the sofa, and both began hastily covering Vera with blankets up to her throat. Instead of water, Helena Andreevna gave Vera something warm.

“What kind of disgusting drink is this?” screamed Vera. “I want cold water!”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” her mother said, “you can’t have anything cold, because you drank raspberries and now you have to close yourself as warmly as possible! Hurry, hurry, hide your hands under the blanket.”

Antonia pulled Vera’s fur coat over her nose. That night she suffered from heat and thirst, but she did not see the monk again. By morning all her nettle rash was gone. After two days she got up, and after six days she was allowed to go out into the garden. That was joy! She missed her birds, which she loved to feed so much in the clean yard of the Little Khokhlushka. She found them all very changed. The yellow goslings and the chickens, which she left as fluff balls, looked terribly ugly! They became so clumsy, too, with sparse feathers sticking out on their wings and tails. The pigeons and quails, however, were still just as pretty. The cherry bushes changed so much! In just one week the cherries became so ripe that the thick greenery was now all covered with deep red, juicy berries that looked very appetizing.

“What a delight!” said Vera, admiringly.

“Really?! A ‘delight’?” Lelya responded contemptuously. “These cherries are trash! Remember the cherries in the dirt barn at our dacha in Saratov? Now those were delightful cherries!”

Vera remembered and took a deep breath. No matter how nice their garden was, it, of course, could not compare with the Saratov grove. She very often missed her family, especially Baba Lena, and Lelya’s words made her sad.

“Why are you pouting?” laughed Lelya. “What can we do? The dacha is far away.”

Vera still looked sad.

“It’s not bad here either!” said Lelya. “Let’s play hide and seek!”

Lelya jumped up and ran to the very depths of the garden to hide.

As per usual, she went to hide first. She ran, climbing over trees and fences into the neighboring gardens (although both of these were strictly forbidden to them.)

But pranks, like everything else in the world, very soon bored her. She constantly changed her mood. Having safely descended to the ground from the old pear tree, on which she had just crowed loudly, throwing unripe fruits at Vera, Lelya threw herself into the tall, uncut grass and began to make Vera laugh with various nonsense and inventions (at which she was a great master.)

“You know, Verochka, our odd-eyed, cross-eyed Miss Jeffers is smitten with one of Papochka’s officers!”

“Who?”

“That small, fat captain who eats a lot!”

“Really?”

“Yes,” said Lelya. “He said: ‘Miss Jeffers, I would marry you here and now if only you would look straight at me just once!”

Vera began laughing.

“He’s bald, you know!” said Lelya. “He wears an overlay. I promised Miss Jeffers that if she marries him, then she can count on me being at their wedding. I will climb into the church, and using the fishing rod that Papochka just gave me, I will hook and pull the wig off his little bald head!”

“You told her this?!”

“Definitely!” said Lelya. “Let me tell you if only you could see how horrified Miss Jeffers looked when I told her! I think she would never dare marry him, now!”

Vera knew very well that Lelya was making it all up; but she told it so funny that it was impossible not to laugh. It was really remarkable how her sister could chat such trifles while keeping a straight face.[4]

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SOURCES:

[1] Sears, Robert. An Illustrated Description Of The Russian Empire. Robert Sears. New York, New York. (1955): 533.

[2] [Fr. “Come here! Where are you?” ]

[3] In “Inexplicable And Unexplained,” Vera writes: “Having started this story straight from my youth, from the events that most struck my imagination, I now remember that strange things had happened to me before, which were probably also destined to remain unexplained. So, for example, from childhood, from the very first illness that remained in my memory, I remember a vision that subsequently constantly warned me about my illnesses. Did I see him in reality or in a dream? Probably in a dream. But it is always the same and so vivid that its impression remained vividly in me, although since the age of eighteen it has not been repeated. One smart person—my teacher, to whom I owe a lot—taught me, from the age of ten, to constantly keep my diary. Thanks to this habit, I remember everything well and can confirm the validity of my memories over many years. So, I find in the memories of my childhood that I was only five years old when I first saw in the middle of my nursery, where I had been sleeping for several hours, a tall gray man, judging by his hood, a monk. He stood motionless, all light gray, as if translucent, as if woven from smoke, and, raising his hand upward with a straight open palm, as if pointing at the ceiling or the sky, but looking to the side. The night light, burning behind the bed, cast a rather bright light, and from it a long, black shadow across the floor.” [Zhelihovskaya, Vera Petrovna. “Inexplicable And Unexplained. Pt. I” Rebus. No. 43–48 (October 28, 1884–December 2, 1884); Zhelihovskaya, Vera Petrovna. “Inexplicable And Unexplained. Pt. II.” Rebus. No. 4–7 (January 27, 1885–February 17, 1885); Zhelihovskaya, Vera Petrovna. “Inexplicable And Unexplained. Pt. III.” Rebus. No. 9–11 (March 3, 1885–March 17, 1885); Zhelihovskaya, Vera Petrovna. “Inexplicable And Unexplained. Pt. IV.” Rebus. No. 13–14 (April 7, 1885–April 14, 1885.)] [Preparation of the text and comments by A.D. Tyurikov. Bakhmut Roerich Society.]

[4] Zhelihovskaya, Vera Petrovna. How I Was Little. A. F. Devrien. St. Petersburg, Russia. (1898): 192-197.