12 An enemy of man and a friend of the devil and women. [Translator]
A CHILDREN’S PRIMER
INTRODUCTION
Dear little ones,
Only the just and the honest can be truly happy in this world. Bastards and scoundrels can never be happy, and therefore you have to be honest and just. You must not cheat at cards—not because you might get bashed over the head with a candlestick, but because it is dishonest. You must honor your elders—not because you will be given a good hiding, but because it is what fairness demands. For your edification, I have gathered some stories and tales.
Miserliness Does Not Pay
Once upon a time three friends—Ivanov, Petrov, and Smirnov—went to a tavern to have lunch. Ivanov and Petrov were not misers, and ordered a sixty-kopeck lunch. Smirnov, on the other hand, being a miser, refused to order any food. They asked him why.
“I don’t like the cabbage soup they serve in these taverns,” he told them. “And furthermore, all I have left is sixty kopecks. A man has to keep some money for cigarettes. I think I’ll just have an apple!”
Smirnov ordered an apple and began eating it, looking enviously at his friends eating cabbage soup and tasty dishes of poultry. But the thought that he had managed to save some money comforted him. One can imagine his astonishment when the bill came: Two full meals—one ruble and twenty kopecks. One apple—seventy-five kopecks. From that day on he ceased being a miser, and never again bought fruit at taverns.
Taunt Not Thy Neighbor
A five-ruble coin struck up a conversation with a one-ruble plate of food, and began to taunt it.
“My friend!” he said to the one-ruble plate of food. “Take a look at me! I am a lot smaller than you, but worth quite a bit more, not to mention the shine I give off! Though my actual value is set at five rubles and fifteen kopecks, people are already paying a good eight rubles for me!”
The coin continued taunting the one-ruble plate of food for quite a long time. The plate of food listened and listened, but said nothing. A little later the plate of food came across a one-ruble banknote and said to it: “I feel so sorry for you, you poor piece of paper, you! How ridiculous you look! Though my actual value is set at one ruble, people are already paying a ruble and a quarter for me in taverns, while you are now worth even less than your official value! Shame on you!”
“My dear friend,” the one-ruble banknote replied, “you and your friend the five-ruble coin have reached your grandeur on account of my fall. But nevertheless I’m glad to have been of some service to you.”
The one-ruble plate of food blushed with shame.
Blatant Ingratitude
Once upon a time a pious man gathered together in his courtyard on his name day all the lame, blind, crippled, and purulent of the town and gave them food. He offered them watery cabbage soup, peas, and raisin pies.
“Eat and rejoice in the Lord, my brothers and sisters!” he told the beggars. They ate without a hint of gratitude. After the meal, the crippled, lame, blind, and purulent said a hasty prayer and left.
“Well? How was the pious man’s food?” a constable standing near the pious man’s gate said to one of the lame beggars.
The lame man waved dismissively and limped on. The constable asked one of the purulent beggars the same question.
“All he did was spoil our appetite!” the purulent beggar replied indignantly. “They’re burying Yarlikov the merchant today, and we’re all going to his funeral feast.”
A Fitting Retribution
There once was a naughty boy who was in the habit of scribbling indecent words on walls. He scribbled them convinced he would not be punished. But, dear children, all bad deeds are punished. One day the naughty boy walked along a wall, took out a piece of chalk, and wrote for all to see: “Fool! Fool! Fool!” People walked past and read it. A clever man walked by, read the words, and went on his way. A fool walked by, read the words, and took the naughty boy to court for defamation.
“I am not taking him to court because his words have insulted me,” the fool maintained, “but out of principle!”
Excessive Diligence
There once was a newspaper plagued with maggots. The editor in chief called in the marsh birds and told them: “Gobble up all those maggots!” The birds began pecking away, and pecked up not only all the maggots but the whole editorial office, along with the editor in chief.
Truth Will Out
As he lay dying, King Darius of Persia called his son Ataxerxes to his side. “My son, I am dying,” he said to him. “After my death you must call together all the wise men of the world and have them solve the riddle I will tell you. Appoint the men who solve the riddle as your ministers.”
Leaning forward, Darius whispered the riddle into his son’s ear.
After his father’s death, Ataxerxes called together all the wise men of the world.
“Wise men!” he proclaimed. “My father ordered me to ask you the following riddle. Whoever solves it will become my minister.
Ataxeres told them the riddle. The wise men were five in number.
“But who will check our answers, Your Majesty?” one of the wise men asked the young king.
“No one will,” Ataxerxes answered. “I trust your word. If you assure me that you have solved the riddle, I will believe you without putting you to the test.”
The wise men sat around a table, and began trying to work out the riddle. That very day, toward evening, one of the wise men appeared before Ataxerxes and said: “I have solved the riddle.”
“Excellent. I herewith appoint you as my minister.”
The following day three more wise men solved the riddle. Only one wise man, Artazostra, remained seated at the table. He could not solve the riddle. A week passed, a month passed, and Artazostra still sat at the table struggling to solve the riddle. A year passed. Two years passed. Pale, thin, and haggard, he sat there filling hundreds of sheets of paper with scribbles, and yet he was nowhere near finding the solution.
“Put him to death, Your Majesty!” the other wise men who had solved the riddle said to the king. “He has tricked you by passing himself off as a wise man!”
Yet Ataxerxes did not put Artazostra to death, but waited patiently. Five years later, Artazostra appeared before the king, fell to his knees, and said: “Your Majesty! This riddle is unsolvable!”
The king helped the wise man to his feet, kissed him, and said: “You are right, wise man! This riddle is in fact unsolvable. With your words you have answered the one question that weighed heavily on my heart: You have proved to me that there are still honest men in the world. And as for you,” he said, turning to his four ministers, “you are nothing but swindlers!”
Perturbed, one of the four ministers asked: “I suppose you want us to leave?”
“No! Stay!” Ataxerxes said to them. “Swindlers though you are, I need you.”
And thank God, they did stay.
For Evil Too Let Us Be Thankful
“O almighty Zeus! Powerful hurler of thunderbolts!” a poet once prayed to Zeus. “Send me a muse to inspire me!”
Ancient history was not one of Zeus’s strong points. So it should come as no surprise that he made a mistake, and instead of sending Melpomene he sent Terpsichore to the poet. Terpsichore appeared before the poet, and the poet, instead of composing ditties that he could sell to magazines, went and enrolled in dance classes. He danced for a hundred days and a hundred nights, and then suddenly thought: “Zeus did not listen to me. He is making fun of me. I prayed for inspiration and he has taught me how to do a jig!”
And the poet impudently wrote a scathing ditty about Zeus. The Olympian god hurled down a thunderbolt at him. The poet died.
Conclusion