Nikolay Leskov

Non-lethal Golovan

(From the stories of the three righteous men)

Perfect love casts out fear.

Chapter first

He himself is almost a myth, and his story is a legend. To talk about it, you have to be French, because some people of this nation manage to explain to others what they themselves do not understand. I say all this with the aim of asking my reader forbearance for the comprehensive imperfection of my story about a person, the reproduction of which would cost the work of a much better master than me. But Golovan may soon be completely forgotten, and that would be a loss. Golovan is worth attention, and although I do not know him enough to be able to draw a complete picture of him, I will, however, select and present some features of this low-ranking mortal man who managed to become known as "non-lethal".

The nickname “non-lethal” given to Golovan did not express ridicule and was by no means an empty, meaningless sound - he was nicknamed non-lethal due to the strong conviction that Golovan was a special person; a person who is not afraid of death. How could such an opinion be formed about him among people who walk under God and always remember their mortality? Was there a sufficient reason for this, developed in a consistent convention, or was this nickname given to him by simplicity, which is akin to stupidity?

It seemed to me that the latter was more likely, but how others judged it - I don’t know, because in my childhood I didn’t think about it, and when I grew up and could understand things, the “non-lethal” Golovan was no longer in the world. He died, and not in the most tidy way: he died during the so-called “big fire” in the city of Orel, drowning in a boiling pit, where he fell while saving someone’s life or someone’s property. However, “a large part of him, having escaped from decay, continued to live in grateful memory,” and I want to try to put on paper what I knew and heard about him, so that in this way his noteworthy memory would continue in the world.

Chapter two

Non-lethal Golovan was a simple man. His face, with extremely large features, has been etched in my memory since early days and remained in it forever. I met him at an age when they say that children cannot yet receive lasting impressions and make memories from them for the rest of their lives, but, however, it happened differently with me. This incident was noted by my grandmother as follows:

“Yesterday (May 26, 1835) I came from Gorokhov to see Mashenka (my mother), I did not find Semyon Dmitrich (my father) at home, on a business trip to Yelets for the investigation of a terrible murder. In the whole house there were only us, the women and the girl servants. The coachman left with him (my father), only the janitor Kondrat remained, and at night the watchman in the hall came to spend the night from the board (the provincial board, where my father was an adviser). Today, at twelve o'clock, Mashenka went into the garden to look at the flowers and water the canufer and took Nikolushka (me) with her in the arms of Anna (an old woman who is still alive). And when they were walking back to breakfast, as soon as Anna began to unlock the gate, the chained Ryabka fell on them, right with the chain, and rushed straight onto Anna’s chest, but at that very moment, as Ryabka, leaning on his paws, threw himself on Anna’s chest, Golovan grabbed him by the collar, squeezed him and threw him into the graveyard. There they shot him with a gun, but the child escaped.”

The child was me, and no matter how accurate the evidence is that a one and a half year old child cannot remember what happened to him, I, however, remember this incident.

I, of course, don’t remember where the enraged Ryabka came from and where Golovan took her after she wheezed, floundering with her paws and wriggling her whole body in his high-raised iron hand; but I remember the moment... just a moment. It was like the shine of lightning among dark night when for some reason you suddenly see an extraordinary number of objects at once: a bed curtain, a screen, a window, a canary trembling on a perch, and a glass with a silver spoon, on the handle of which magnesium has settled in specks. This is probably the property of fear, which has large eyes. In one such moment, I now see in front of me a huge dog’s muzzle with small speckles - dry fur, completely red eyes and an open mouth, full of muddy foam in a bluish, as if pomaded throat... a grin that was about to snap, but suddenly the upper lip was above it turned out, the cut stretched to the ears, and from below, the protruding neck moved convulsively, like a naked human elbow. Above all this stood a huge human figure with a huge head, and she took it and carried it mad dog. All this time the man's face smiled.

The figure described was Golovan. I am afraid that I will not be able to draw his portrait at all precisely because I see him very well and clearly.

It was, like Peter the Great’s, fifteen vershoks; his build was broad, lean and muscular; he was dark-skinned, round-faced, with blue eyes, a very large nose and thick lips. The hair on Golovan’s head and trimmed beard was very thick, the color of salt and pepper. The head was always cropped short, the beard and mustache were also trimmed. A calm and happy smile did not leave Golovan’s face for a minute: it shone in every feature, but mainly played on the lips and in the eyes, smart and kind, but as if a little mocking. Golovan seemed to have no other expression, at least I don’t remember anything else. In addition to this unskillful portrait of Golovan, it is necessary to mention one oddity or peculiarity, which was his gait. Golovan walked very quickly, always as if he was hurrying somewhere, but not smoothly, but with a jump. He did not limp, but, in the local expression, “shkandybal”, that is, he stepped on one, his right leg with a firm step, and jumped on his left. It seemed that his leg did not bend, but had a spring somewhere in a muscle or joint. This is how people walk on an artificial leg, but Golovan’s was not an artificial one; although, however, this feature also did not depend on nature, but he created it for himself, and this was a mystery that cannot be explained immediately.

Golovan dressed like a peasant - always, in summer and winter, in scorching heat and in forty-degree frosts, he wore a long, naked sheepskin sheepskin coat, all oiled and blackened. I never saw him in other clothes, and my father, I remember, often joked about this sheepskin coat, calling it “eternal.”

Golovan was belted around his sheepskin coat with a “checkman” strap with a white harness set, which had turned yellow in many places, and completely crumbled in others and left tatters and holes on the outside. But the sheepskin coat was kept neat from any small tenants - I knew this better than others, because I often sat in Golovan’s bosom, listening to his speeches, and always felt very calm here.

The work “The Non-Lethal Head”, summary described below is a story about a peasant, common man, who received an unusual nickname. The action took place in the 19th century, in the city of Orel.

“Non-Lethal Golovan”: chapter-by-chapter summary

The story is not just about a person, but about a righteous man who saved lives and helped dying people.

Chapter One: A Special Person
The story of Golovan can be considered a legend. The nickname "non-lethal" was not given to him as a mockery or simply a meaningless set of letters. That’s what people began to call him, singling him out, considering him special, a person who was not afraid of death. In the end, he still died, but again, saving someone’s life. The following chapters describe the fate of this amazing man.

Chapter Two: Description of the “Non-Lethal”
The author describes Golovan. First there is a description of one case when he saved a child from an angry chained dog that had broken loose in its leash. This is followed by a detailed description of Golovan. In short, he had large facial features, 15 inches tall, muscular, broad in the shoulders. Golovan’s face was round, with a large nose and trimmed beard.

It is noted that a smile often played on his lips, his eyes were kind, and his gaze was slightly mocking. Golovan walked quickly and as if with a jump; it seemed that he was jumping with his left leg. He always wore (regardless of the weather) a simple shirt and a long sheepskin coat. It was already blackened and oily from long use. It was belted with a simple strap. Golovan never buttoned the collar of his sheepskin coat; it was open to the waist.

Chapter three: Golovan’s entourage, occupation
The life of the main character, his work, family are described. In short, he lived in Orel, on 3rd Dvoryanskaya Street. The following is a detailed description of the area. Golovan had several cows and a bull of the Ermolov breed. The small herd brought income in the form of milk, cream, and butter. And all this is of the highest quality. Golovan worked tirelessly - from morning to night. He was excellent at telling sacred stories. Many people went to Golovan for advice.

He lived on the outskirts, in a large house, which could rather be called a barn. The following is a detailed description of the main character’s home. Five women lived with him - his mother, three sisters and Pavel. There is a detailed description of her appearance and character. In particular, her meekness, affection and kindness are noted.

Chapter Four: Golovan’s family and love
In Golovan’s family, he was the only one who was ransomed; the rest remained serfs, including his beloved Pavla. He wanted to free them, but this required money, and a lot of it. Therefore, Golovan established his own dairy farm. It quickly began to gain momentum. Over time, Golovan was able to start ransoming the family and freed the women in 6-7 years, but Pavel did not have time - she left with her husband. After some time, she returned to Oryol, and since she had nowhere to live, she came to Golovan.

His sisters were already old and therefore only did housework, spun and made unusual fabrics. This chapter describes in detail Golovan's relationship with his beloved Pavla.

Chapter Five: Epidemic
Tells how main character got his nickname. They started calling him that the first year he settled in the village. The cause was an epidemic of anthrax or plague. This difficult time for people is described in detail. The disease was highly contagious and was transmitted even to people who simply served food or drink to the sick.

It was at this terrible time that Golovan came to the rescue. He fearlessly entered infected homes, gave the sick water and fresh milk he brought. He marked a cross with chalk when there were no longer any survivors left in the shack.

At the same time, the disease did not take hold of Golovanov; he never became infected. That's why he received the nickname "non-lethal".
Golovan gained universal respect and became famous person not only in their district, but also in surrounding areas. In addition, he allegedly took a “healing stone” from a deceased pharmacist, with the help of which, as people said, he was able to cope with the epidemic.

Chapter six: how Golovan stopped the ulcer epidemic
The story is told about a villager - a guy named Panka, a shepherd. At that time, a miracle worker was expected in Orel. One day Panka saw a man walking on water, leaning only on a staff. When he disappeared from sight, he plucked up courage and went to the water, and there he saw Golovan. It turned out that the man did not walk on the water, but simply swam across the river, standing on a makeshift gate.

Panka swam to the other side and hid, afraid that Golovan would discover him. He still noticed him. Then, with his scythe, he cut off a large piece of meat from his leg and threw it into the river. When the people carried Golovan into the house, he ordered that they put a bucket of water and give him a ladle, but that no one else should enter the hut.

So he wanted to eradicate the ulcer by taking the disease upon himself and suffering for everyone at once. People believed that he would survive - and this actually happened. The epidemic has finally stopped. People made him a legendary magician who can cope with any disease.

Chapter Seven: Reasoning about Golovan’s Faith
Golovan believed in God, but this did not prevent him from simultaneously being interested in various sciences, including astronomy. In those days it was not called that yet. People saw witchcraft in many ways.

Therefore, many avoided the coppersmith Anton, but Golovan was friends with him, and they often looked at the sky through a special pipe. Because of this, people could not understand what faith he belonged to. Golovan himself always answered that he believes in one god - the creator-father.

Chapter Eight: The Great Sacred Procession to the Relics
Many people headed from Orel to the great celebration (sacred procession). Some - for the sake of trade, others - to kiss holy relics, etc. Among the people were a merchant with his wife and a melancholy daughter, who had been treated unsuccessfully for a long time different ways. They traveled in the hope that a new cure would be found. One merchant promised to put them at the very beginning of the procession, for which he asked for payment. The godly family had to agree.

Chapter Nine: Miracle Healing, Photeus
The place where the poor people stayed is described in detail. The merchant, his wife and daughter were forced to declare the “mute and sick” swindler Photeus their relative. Then he was taken to the holy relics for healing.
They carried him into the temple, and he came out of it on his own feet. After this, Fotei and his “relatives” left for Oryol. However, the merchant decided to “lose” his newly-made relatives along the way. However, Photey was brought to Oryol by other compassionate people.

Chapter Ten: Persecution of Golovan by Photei
There he meets Golovan. He immediately saw his true nature, but when he wanted to bring Photey out into the open, he did not allow him to say anything, slapping him in the face. Golovan tolerated this and did not respond in kind. For people, this behavior remains truly a mystery. They decided that Golovan was afraid of the miraculously healed man.
People were also surprised by the impudence with which Foteya later treated the milkman. He demanded money from him if he thought it was not enough - he could throw coins into the mud, throw stones at his acquaintance. Despite all this, Golovan endured it without complaint, paid Fotei on demand and remained silent. This aroused people’s curiosity and strengthened their confidence that there was something connecting the healed man and the magician milkman.

Chapter Eleven: The Death of Golovan
After some time, a big fire broke out in Orel. Golovan also died in it. According to people’s stories, while saving people, he fell into a deep hole in which he “cooked.” Even after many years, Golovan was not forgotten. Some began to call him a legend, others to claim that everything said about him was true.

Chapter Twelve: The Truth About “Non-Lethal”
During his lifetime, Golovan was friends with a woman of steadfast faith - Akilina (Alexandra Vasilyevna). She was very smart, although illiterate. Upon arrival in Orel, I often communicated with the cathedral’s father, Peter.

Akilina told one of her relatives that Golovan did not have any magic stone. People came up with this, but the milkman simply did not argue. When he cut off a piece of meat from his leg, he removed a plague pimple, but then he really miraculously recovered.

There were many rumors among people about the intimate relationship between Pavla and Golovan, but Aquilina dispelled them. It turns out that the milkman remained a virgin until his death. Golovan’s love with Pavla was platonic, “angelic”. It turns out that her husband was precisely the swindler Fotey, who escaped from military service.

Because of his love for Pavle, Golovan suffered all the insults and could not marry his beloved. Although legally the soldier Fraposhka, hiding under the name Photey, did not exist, marriage was not available to lovers according to the law of conscience. There is righteous and sinful happiness. In the first case, it will never step over people, in the second - vice versa. Pavla and Golovan chose the first, righteous option.

This is how the story ends about Golovan, a “non-lethal” man who always helped people even in the most difficult times. He was a righteous man and even his love became “angelic.”

“Non-lethal Golovan” summary of the work


CHAPTER SIX

Panka, an odd-eyed man with faded hair, was a shepherd's assistant, and in addition to his general shepherd's job, he also drove in the mornings. on the dew re-baptized cows. It was during one of his early activities that he spied on the whole matter that elevated Golovan to the heights of national greatness.

It was in the spring, it must have been soon after young Yegor, the bright-brave, went out to the emerald Russian fields, his arms were in red gold up to his elbows, his legs were in pure silver up to his knees, the sun was in his forehead, the moon was in the rear, walking stars were at the ends, and God's the honest and righteous people drove out the small and large cattle that met him. The grass was still so small that the sheep and goat could barely get enough of it, and the thick-lipped cow could not grab much. But under the hedges in the shadows and along the ditches there were already wormwood and nettles growing, which they ate with the dew for the need.

Panka drove out the Crossing cows early, while it was still dark, and right along the bank near Orlik drove them out of the settlement into a clearing, just opposite the end of Third Dvoryanskaya Street, where on one side along the slope there was an old, so-called “Gorodetsky” garden, and on the left there was a fragment of Golovanov's nest.

It was still cold, especially before dawn, in the mornings, and those who want to sleep seem even colder. Panka’s clothes were, of course, bad, orphan clothes, some kind of rags with a hole in it. The guy turns to one side, turns to the other, prays for Saint Fedul to blow warmth on him, but instead everything is cold. As soon as he opens his eyes, the breeze howls, howls into the hole and wakes him up again. However, the young power took its toll: Panka pulled the scroll over himself completely over his head, like a hut, and dozed off. I didn’t hear what time it was, because the green Epiphany bell tower was far away. And there is no one around, not a single human soul anywhere, only fat merchant cows are panting, and no, no, in Orlik a frisky perch will splash up. The shepherd is dozing in a scroll with holes in it. But suddenly it was as if something had pushed him in the side, probably the marshmallow had found a new hole somewhere else. Panka jumped up, rolled his sleepy eyes, wanted to shout: “Where, komolaya,” and stopped. It seemed to him that someone on the other side was going down the steep slope. Maybe the thief wants to bury something stolen in the clay. Panka became interested: maybe he would lie in wait for the thief and cover him or shout at him “too crazy,” or even better, he would try to take a good look at the funeral, and then swim across Orlik during the day, dig it up and take it all for himself without sharing.

Panka stared and kept looking at Orlik. And it was still a little gray outside.

Here is someone coming down the steep slope, getting off, standing on the water and walking. Yes, he simply walks on water, as if on dry land, and does not splash with anything, but only props himself up with a crutch. Panka was dumbfounded. Then in Orel from monastery They were waiting for the miracle worker, and they already heard voices from the underground. It started immediately after the “Nicodemus funeral”. Bishop Nikodim was an evil man, who distinguished himself towards the end of his earthly career by the fact that, wanting to have another cavalry, out of servility, he handed over a lot of spiritual people as soldiers, among whom were the only sons of their fathers and even the family sextons and sextons themselves. They left the city in a whole party, bursting into tears. Those who saw them off also wept, and the people themselves, with all their dislike for the priest’s many-sheeped belly, wept and gave them alms. The party officer himself felt so sorry for them that, wanting to put an end to the tears, he ordered the new recruits to sing a song, and when they harmoniously and loudly sang the song they had composed in chorus:

Our Bishop Nicodemus
Arch-fierce crocodile,

It was as if the officer himself began to cry. All this was drowned in a sea of ​​​​tears and to sensitive souls it seemed to be evil, blatant; On sky. And indeed, as their cry reached the sky, “voices” went out in Orel. At first the “voices” were indistinct and it was unknown from whom they came, but when Nicodemus died soon after and was buried under the church, then there was a clear speech from the bishop who had previously been buried there (I think Apollos). The previously departed bishop was dissatisfied with the new neighborhood and, without any embarrassment, directly said: “Take this bastard out of here, it’s stuffy for me with him.” And he even threatened that if the “bastard” was not removed, then he himself would “leave and appear in another city.” Many people have heard this. As it used to be, they would go to the monastery for the all-night vigil and, having served the service, go back, and they heard the old bishop moaning: “Take the bastard.” Everyone really wanted the good dead man’s statement to be fulfilled, but the authorities, who were not always attentive to the needs of the people, did not throw Nicodemus out, and the clearly revealed saint could “leave the yard” at any moment.

Now nothing more than this is happening: the saint leaves, and only one poor shepherd sees him, who was so confused by this that he not only did not stop him, but did not even notice how the saint was already out of his sight. disappeared. It was just beginning to get light outside. With light comes courage to a person, and with courage curiosity increases. Panka wanted to approach the very water through which the mysterious creature had just passed; but as soon as he approached, he saw that the wet gate was stuck to the bank with a pole. The matter became clear: it means that it was not the saint who followed, but the non-lethal Golovan who simply swam by: it’s true that he went to greet some deformed children from the depths with milk. Panka was amazed: when is this Golovan sleeping!.. And how can he, such a peasant, sail on such a vessel - on half of the gate? It is true that the Orlik River is not a great river and its waters, captured by a lower dam, are quiet, like in a puddle, but still, what is it like to swim on the gate?

Panka wanted to try it himself. He stood at the gate, took a six and, shaggy, and moved to the other side, and there he went ashore to Golovanov’s house to look, because it was already dawning well, and meanwhile Golovanov at that moment shouted from the other side: “Hey! who stole my gate! come on back!”

Panka was a little guy with no great courage and was not accustomed to counting on anyone’s generosity, and therefore he got scared and did something stupid. Instead of giving Golovan his raft back, Panka took it and buried himself in one of the clay pits, of which there were many. Panka lay down in the hole and, no matter how much Golovan called him from the other side, he did not show up. Then Golovan, seeing that he could not reach his ship, threw off his sheepskin coat, stripped naked, tied his entire wardrobe with a belt, put it on his head and sailed through Orlik. And the water was still very cold.

Panka was concerned about one thing, so that Golovan would not see him and beat him, but soon his attention was drawn to something else. Golovan swam across the river and started to get dressed, but suddenly he sat down, looked under his left knee and stopped.

It was so close to the hole in which Panka was hiding that he could see everything because of the lump with which he could cover himself. And at this time it was already quite light, the dawn was already blushing, and although most of the townspeople were still sleeping, a young guy with a scythe appeared under the Gorodets Garden, who began to mow down and put nettles into a basket.

Golovan noticed the mower and, standing on his feet, wearing only his shirt, shouted loudly to him:

Kid, give me the braid quickly!

The boy brought the scythe, and Golovan told him:

Go and pick me a big burdock,” and as the guy turned away from him, he took the braid off the braid, squatted down again, pulled the calf off his leg with one hand, and in one fell swoop cut it all off. He threw a cut piece of meat the size of a village flatbread at Orlik, and he pressed the wound with both hands and fell down.

Seeing this, Panka forgot about everything, jumped out and began to call the mower.

The guys took Golovan and dragged him into the hut, and here he came to his senses, ordered to take two towels out of the box and wrap his cut as tightly as possible. They pulled it with all their might until the bleeding stopped.

Then Golovan ordered them to place a bucket of water and a ladle near him, and to go about their business themselves, and not to tell anyone about what had happened. They went and, shaking with horror, told everyone. And those who heard about this immediately guessed that Golovan did it for a reason, and that in this way, out of concern for the people, he threw the weight of his body to the ulcer at the other end, so that it would pass as a sacrifice along all Russian rivers from the small Orlik to the Oka, from the Oka to the Volga , throughout Great Rus' to the wide Caspian Sea, and thus Golovan suffered for everyone, and he himself will not die from this, because he has a living stone in his hands as a pharmacist and he is a “non-lethal” person.

This tale came to everyone's mind, and the prediction came true. Golovan did not die from his terrible wound. After this sacrifice, the wild illness really stopped, and the days of calm came: the fields and meadows were covered with thick greenery, and young Yegor the bright-brave began to ride freely through them, arms up to the elbows in red gold, legs up to the knees in pure silver, the sun in his forehead, there is a month at the rear, and at the ends the stars are passing. The canvases were bleached with the fresh dew of St. George, instead of the knight Yegori, the prophet Jeremiah rode out into the field with a heavy yoke, dragging plows and harrows, the nightingales whistled on Boris's day, comforting the martyr, through the efforts of Saint Mavra strong seedlings turned blue, Saint Zosima passed by with a long crutch, a queen bee in the knob carried; The day of Ivan the Theologian, “Father Nikolin,” passed, and Nikola himself was celebrated, and Simon the Zealot stood in the courtyard when the earth had its birthday. On the earth's name day, Golovan climbed out onto the rubble and from then on, little by little, he began to walk and began his work again. His health, apparently, did not suffer in the least, but he just began to “scandy” - he jumped on his left leg.

People probably had a high opinion of the touchingness and courage of his bloody deed, but they judged him as I said: they did not look for natural reasons for him, but, shrouding everything in their imagination, composed a fabulous legend from a natural event, and from a simple , the magnanimous Golovan was made into a mythical person, something like a sorcerer, a magician who possessed an irresistible talisman and could dare anything and not die anywhere.

Whether Golovan knew or didn’t know that people’s rumors attributed such matters to him, I don’t know. However, I think that he knew, because he was very often approached with such requests and questions that can only be addressed to a good wizard. And he gave “helpful advice” to many such questions, and in general was not angry at any demand. He visited the settlements as a cow doctor, as a human doctor, as an engineer, as an astrologer, and as a pharmacist. He knew how to remove husks and scabs, again with some kind of “Yermolov ointment,” which cost one copper penny for three people; took out pickled cucumber heat from the head; he knew that herbs needed to be collected from Ivan to half-Peter, and he was great at “showing water,” that is, where to dig a well. But he could do this, however, not at any time, but only from the beginning of June to St. Fyodor Kolodeznik, while “the water in the ground can be heard moving through the joints.” Golovan could do everything else that a person needs, but for the rest he made a vow to God so that the pimp would stop. Then he confirmed it with his blood and held it tightly. But God loved and had mercy on him, and the people, delicate in their feelings, never asked Golovan for anything they didn’t need. According to folk etiquette, this is how we accept it.

Golovan, however, was not so burdened by the mystical cloud that surrounded his folk fama that he did not, it seems, make any efforts to destroy everything that had developed about him. He knew it was in vain. When I greedily ran through the pages of Victor Hugo’s novel “Toilers of the Sea” and met Gilliatt there, with his brilliantly outlined severity towards himself and condescension towards others, reaching the height of perfect selflessness, I was struck not only by the greatness of this appearance and the power of his image, but also and the identity of the Guernsey hero with a living face, whom I knew under the name of Golovan. One spirit lived in them and similar hearts beat in selfless battle. They did not differ much in their fate: throughout their lives some kind of mystery thickened around them, precisely because they were too pure and clear, and both one and the other did not experience a single drop of personal happiness.

1 Rumor, rumor (lat.).

Nikolay Semyonovich Leskov

NON-LETHAL GOLOVAN

From the stories of the three righteous men

Perfect love casts out fear.

He himself is almost a myth, and his story is a legend. To talk about it, you have to be French, because some people of this nation manage to explain to others what they themselves do not understand. I say all this with the aim of asking my reader forbearance for the comprehensive imperfection of my story about a person, the reproduction of which would cost the work of a much better master than me. But Golovan may soon be completely forgotten, and that would be a loss. Golovan is worth attention, and although I do not know him enough to be able to draw a complete picture of him, I will, however, select and present some features of this low-ranking mortal man who managed to become known as "non-lethal".

The nickname “non-lethal” given to Golovan did not express ridicule and was by no means an empty, meaningless sound - he was nicknamed non-lethal due to the strong conviction that Golovan was a special person; a person who is not afraid of death. How could such an opinion be formed about him among people who walk under God and always remember their mortality? Was there a sufficient reason for this, developed in a consistent convention, or was this nickname given to him by simplicity, which is akin to stupidity?

It seemed to me that the latter was more likely, but how others judged it - I don’t know, because in my childhood I didn’t think about it, and when I grew up and could understand things, the “non-lethal” Golovan was no longer in the world. He died, and not in the most tidy way: he died during the so-called “big fire” in Oryol, drowning in a boiling pit, where he fell while saving someone’s life or someone’s property. However, “a large part of him, having escaped from decay, continued to live in grateful memory,” and I want to try to put on paper what I knew and heard about him, so that in this way his noteworthy memory would continue in the world.

Non-lethal Golovan was a simple man. His face, with extremely large features, was engraved in my memory from early days and remained in it forever. I met him at an age when they say that children cannot yet receive lasting impressions and make memories from them for the rest of their lives, but, however, it happened differently with me. This incident was noted by my grandmother as follows:

“Yesterday (May 26, 1835) I came from Gorokhov to see Mashenka (my mother), I did not find Semyon Dmitrich (my father) at home, on a business trip to Yelets for the investigation of a terrible murder. In the whole house there were only us, the women and the girl servants. The coachman left with him (my father), only the janitor Kondrat remained, and at night the watchman in the hall came to spend the night from the board (the provincial board, where my father was an adviser). Today, at twelve o'clock, Mashenka went into the garden to look at the flowers and water the canufer, and took Nikolushka (me) with her in the arms of Anna (an old woman who is still alive). And when they were walking back to breakfast, as soon as Anna began to unlock the gate, the chained Ryabka fell on them, right with the chain, and rushed straight onto Anna’s chest, but at that very moment, as Ryabka, leaning on his paws, threw himself on Anna’s chest, Golovan grabbed him by the collar, squeezed him and threw him into the graveyard. There they shot him with a gun, but the child escaped.”

The child was me, and no matter how accurate the evidence is that a one and a half year old child cannot remember what happened to him, I, however, remember this incident.

I, of course, don’t remember where the enraged Ryabka came from and where Golovan took her after she wheezed, floundering with her paws and wriggling her whole body in his high-raised iron hand; but I remember the moment... just a moment. It was like the shine of lightning in the middle of a dark night, when for some reason you suddenly see an extraordinary number of objects at once: a bed curtain, a screen, a window, a canary trembling on a perch, and a glass with a silver spoon, on the handle of which magnesium had settled in specks. This is probably the property of fear, which has large eyes. In one such moment, I now see in front of me a huge dog’s muzzle with small speckles - dry fur, completely red eyes and an open mouth, full of muddy foam in a bluish, as if pomaded throat... a grin that was about to snap, but suddenly the upper lip was above it turned out, the cut stretched to the ears, and from below, the protruding neck moved convulsively, like a naked human elbow. Above all this stood a huge human figure with a huge head, and she took and carried the mad dog. All this time the man's face smiled.

The figure described was Golovan. I am afraid that I will not be able to draw his portrait at all precisely because I see him very well and clearly.

It was, like Peter the Great’s, fifteen vershoks; his build was broad, lean and muscular; he was dark-skinned, round-faced, with blue eyes, a very large nose and thick lips. The hair on Golovan’s head and trimmed beard was very thick, the color of salt and pepper. The head was always cropped short, the beard and mustache were also trimmed. A calm and happy smile did not leave Golovan’s face for a minute: it shone in every feature, but mainly played on the lips and in the eyes, smart and kind, but as if a little mocking. Golovan seemed to have no other expression, at least I don’t remember anything else. In addition to this unsophisticated portrait of Golovan, it is necessary to mention one oddity or peculiarity, which was his gait. Golovan walked very quickly, always as if he was hurrying somewhere, but not smoothly, but with a jump. He did not limp, but, in the local expression, “shkandybal”, that is, he stepped on one, the right, leg with a firm step, and jumped on the left. It seemed that his leg did not bend, but had a spring somewhere in a muscle or joint. This is how people walk on an artificial leg, but Golovan’s was not an artificial one; although, however, this feature also did not depend on nature, but he created it for himself, and this was a mystery that cannot be explained immediately.

Golovan dressed like a peasant - always, in summer and winter, in scorching heat and in forty-degree frosts, he wore a long, naked sheepskin sheepskin coat, all oiled and blackened. I never saw him in other clothes, and my father, I remember, often joked about this sheepskin coat, calling it “eternal.”

Golovan was belted around his sheepskin coat with a “checkman” strap with a white harness set, which had turned yellow in many places, and completely crumbled in others and left tatters and holes on the outside. But the sheepskin coat was kept neat from any small tenants - I knew this better than others, because I often sat in Golovan’s bosom, listening to his speeches, and always felt very calm here.

The wide collar of the sheepskin coat was never fastened, but, on the contrary, was wide open all the way to the waist. There was a “subsoil” here, which was a very spacious room for bottles of cream, which Golovan supplied to the kitchen of the Oryol noble assembly. This has been his trade ever since he “got free” and got a “Yermolov cow” for living.

The powerful chest of the “non-lethal” was covered by one canvas shirt of Little Russian cut, that is, with a straight collar, always clean as boiling water and certainly with a long colored tie. This tie was sometimes a ribbon, sometimes just a piece of woolen material or even chintz, but it gave Golovan’s appearance something fresh and gentlemanly, which suited him very well, because he really was a gentleman.

Golovan and I were neighbors. Our house in Orel was on Third Dvoryanskaya Street and stood third from the bank cliff above the Orlik River. The place here is quite beautiful. Then, before the fires, this was the edge of a real city. To the right, behind Orlik, there were small huts of the settlement, which adjoined the root part, ending with the Church of St. Basil the Great. On the side there was a very steep and inconvenient descent along a cliff, and behind, behind the gardens, there was a deep ravine and behind it a steppe pasture, on which some kind of store stuck out. Here in the morning there was soldier drill and stick fighting - the most early paintings, which I saw and observed most often. On the same pasture, or, better to say, on the narrow strip that separated our gardens with fences from the ravine, six or seven Golovan’s cows and a red bull of the “Ermolov” breed that belonged to him grazed. Golovan kept the bull for his small but beautiful herd, and also bred it for “holding” in houses where there was an economic need for it. It brought him income.

Golovan's means of livelihood lay in his milk-producing cows and their healthy spouse. Golovan, as I said above, supplied the noble club with cream and milk, which were famous for their high merits, which depended, of course, on the good breed of his cattle and on good care for them. The oil supplied by Golovan was fresh, yellow as a yolk, and aromatic, and the cream “did not flow,” that is, if you turned the bottle upside down, the cream did not flow out of it, but fell like a thick, heavy mass. Golovan did not sell low-grade products, and therefore he had no rivals, and the nobles then not only knew how to eat well, but also had something to pay for. In addition, Golovan also supplied the club with excellently large eggs from especially large Dutch chickens, of which he had plenty, and, finally, “prepared the calves,” watering them skillfully and always in time, for example, for the largest congress of nobles or for other special occasions in noble circle.

The main character of N. Leskov's story “Non-Lethal Golovan” is an ordinary person, but with an unusual nickname.

The origin of this nickname is explained quite simply. During the anthrax plague that engulfed the Oryol province, only Golovan fearlessly entered the huts of the infected, gave them something to drink, and with his presence brightened up their last minutes. He drew white crosses on the houses of the dead.

People deeply respected Golovan and called him “non-lethal.” But Golovan was unable to avoid infection; an ulcer appeared on his left leg. Then he took radical action: he asked the young mower for a scythe and cut off the affected area from his leg.

Such fortitude was inherent in the former serf, who managed to buy himself out of captivity and start his own farm. Golovan was distinguished by a powerful physique, two meters tall, a huge head, and his face was always lit up with a smile.

Golovan had a uniform that he wore both in the bitter cold and in the scorching rays of the sun: a long sheepskin sheepskin coat, which was all oily and blackened from constant wear. At the same time, the canvas shirt underneath was always clean as a boil.

He was fantastically hardworking: starting with one cow and a calf, he brought his magnificent herd to 8 heads, including the red Tyrolean bull “Vaska”.

The products he sold were very High Quality: heavy cream, fresh and aromatic butter, extra large eggs from Dutch chickens. Assistance in the household was provided by Golovan’s three sisters and mother, whom he in turn bought from serfdom and settled in his house.

In one half of the dwelling lived women, who were later joined by Pavel’s young girl, and in the other there were cattle. There was also a sleeping place for Golovan himself.

Pavla was ex-love Golovan, but the master married her to the rider Ferapont, who committed a number of offenses and went on the run. The abandoned Pavla found shelter with Golovan, but the relationship between them was platonic, since these highly moral people could not step over Pavla’s married status. People believed that she was Golovanov’s cohabitant and called her “Golovanov’s sin.”

Soon, one Oryol merchant took his family to another city to view the holy relics. But there was such a crowd of people there that it was not possible to get through to the relics in the front rows, as they wanted. Only sick people on stretchers were allowed into the church without hindrance. There were many thieves and various kinds of swindlers operating in the huge crowd of people. One of these cunning people offered the merchant a win-win option for entering the temple.

A lying mute man of a completely yellow color named Photeus was taken out of some convoy, and six people, including a merchant, carried him to the temple on a stretcher.

There the patient was unexpectedly healed and left the temple on his own feet. True, at the same time, one of the golden cords disappeared from the velvet coverlet near the saint’s coffin.

This falsely ill Photey never left the gullible merchant all the way to Orel. In addition, he turned out to be Pavla’s runaway husband. Golovan and Pavla recognized him, but did not give him away. He, all dirty and in rags, constantly demanded money from Golovan, and instead of gratitude he spat, fought and threw everything that came to hand.

The neighbors were at a loss as to why Golovan was suffering such abuse from some rogue.

Pavla did not live long; she died of consumption. Golovan died during a terrible fire that engulfed the city of Orel. While helping people during a terrible disaster, he did not notice a burning pit under a layer of ash and fell into it.

People kept the memory of this generous and righteous man for a long time, who tried to bring as much as possible more benefit to your neighbors. The priest Peter said that his conscience was whiter than snow.