{"id":5788,"date":"2026-03-12T02:00:53","date_gmt":"2026-03-12T02:00:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=5788"},"modified":"2026-03-12T02:00:53","modified_gmt":"2026-03-12T02:00:53","slug":"the-idiot-by-alexander-kuprin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=5788","title":{"rendered":"The Idiot by Alexander Kuprin"},"content":{"rendered":"<p class=\"has-text-align-left\">The Idiot by <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/a-slav-soul-by-alexander-kuprin\">Alexander Kuprin<\/a> is part of his short story collection A Slav Soul, and Other Stories which was published in English in 1916.<\/p>\n<p><em>This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you.<\/em><\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Idiot by Alexander Kuprin<\/h2>\n<div class=\"epyt-video-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"__youtube_prefs__ epyt-facade no-lazyload\"><button class=\"epyt-facade-play\"><\/button><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Idiot by Alexander Kuprin<\/h3>\n\n<p>We were seated in a little park, driven there by the unbearable heat of the noonday sun. It was much cooler there than in the streets, where the paving stones, steeped in the rays of the July sun, burnt the soles of one\u2019s feet, and the walls of the buildings seemed red-hot. The fine scorching dust of the roadway did not penetrate through the close border of leafy old limes and spreading chestnuts, the latter with their long upright pyramids of rosy flowers looking like gigantic imperial candelabra. The park was full of frolicsome well-dressed children, the older ones playing with hoops and skipping-ropes, chasing one another or going together in pairs, their arms entwined as they walked about with an air of importance, stepping quickly upon the sidewalk. The little ones played at choosing colours, \u201cMy lady sent me a hundred roubles,\u201d and \u201cKing of the castle.\u201d And then a group of all the smallest ones gathered together on a large heap of warm yellow sand, moulding it into buckwheat cakes and Easter loaves. The nurses stood round in groups, gossiping about their masters and mistresses; the governesses sat stiffly upright on the benches, deep in their reading or their needlework.<\/p>\n<p>Suddenly the children stopped their playing and began to gaze intently in the direction of the entrance gate. We also turned to look. A tall bearded peasant was wheeling in before him a bath-chair in which sat a pitiful helpless being, a boy of about eighteen or twenty years, with a flabby pale face, thick, wet, crimson hanging lips, and the appearance of an idiot. The bearded peasant pushed the chair past us and disappeared down a side path. I noticed as he passed that the enormous sharp-pointed head of the boy moved from side to side, and that at each movement of the chair it fell towards his shoulder or dropped helplessly in front of him.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPoor man!\u201d exclaimed my companion in a gentle voice.<\/p>\n<p>I heard such deep and sincere sympathy in his words that I involuntarily looked at him in astonishment. I had known Zimina for a long time\u2014he was a strong, good-natured, jolly, virile type of man serving in one of the regiments quartered in our town. To tell the truth, I shouldn\u2019t have expected from him such sincere compassion towards a stranger\u2019s misfortune.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPoor, of course he is, but I shouldn\u2019t call him a man,\u201d said I, wishing to get into conversation with Zimina.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t you?\u201d asked he in his turn.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, it\u2019s difficult to say. But surely it\u2019s clear to everybody\u2026. An idiot has none of the higher impulses and virtues which distinguish man from the animal \u2026 no reason or speech or will\u2026. A dog or a cat possesses these qualities in a much higher degree\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>But Zimina interrupted me.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPardon me, please,\u201d said he. \u201cI am deeply convinced, on the contrary, that idiots are not lacking in human instincts. These instincts are only clouded over \u2026 they exist deep below their animal feelings. \u2026 You see, I once had an experience which gives me, I think, the right to say this. The remembrance of it will never leave me, and every time I see such an afflicted person I feel touched almost to tears\u2026. If you\u2019ll allow me, I\u2019ll tell you why the sight of an idiot moves me to such compassion.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I hastened to beg him to tell his story, and he began.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIn the year 18\u2014, in the early autumn, I went to Petersburg to sit for an examination at the Academy of the General Staff. I stopped in the first hotel I came to, at the corner of Nevsky Prospect and the Fontanka. From my windows I could see the bronze horses on the parapet of the Anitchka Bridge\u2014they were always wet and gleaming as if they had been covered over with new oilcloth. I often drew them on the marble window-seats of my room.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPetersburg struck me as an unpleasant place, it seemed to be always enveloped in a melancholy grey veil of drizzling rain. But when I went into the Academy for the first time I was overwhelmed and overawed by its grandeur. I remember now its immense broad staircase with marble balustrades, its high-roofed amphilades, its severely proportioned lecture-hall, and its waxed parquet floor, gleaming like a mirror, upon which my provincial feet stepped warily. There were four hundred officers there that day. Against the modest background of green Armenian uniforms there flashed the clattering swords of the Cuirassiers, the scarlet breasts of the Lancers, the white jackets of the Cavalry Guards, waving plumes, the gold of eagles on helmets, the various colours of facings, the silver of swords. These officers were all my rivals, and as I watched them in pride and agitation I pulled at the place where I supposed my moustache would grow by and by. When a busy colonel of the General Staff, with his portfolio under his arm, hurried past us, we shy foot soldiers stepped on one side with reverent awe.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe examination was to last over a month. I knew no one in all Petersburg, and in the evening, returning to my lodging, I experienced the dulness and wearisomeness of solitude. It was no good talking to any of my companions; they were all immersed in sines and tangents, in the qualities determining good positions for a battle ground, in calculations about the declination of a projectile. Suddenly I remembered that my father had advised me to seek out in Petersburg our distant relative, Alexandra Ivanovna Gratcheva, and go and visit her. I got a directory, found her address, and set out for a place somewhere on the Gorokhavaya. After some little difficulty I found Alexandra Ivanovna\u2019s room; she was living in her sister\u2019s house.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI opened the door and stood there, hardly seeing anything at first. A stout woman was standing with her back to me, near the single small window of dull green glass. She was bending over a smoky paraffin stove. The room was filled with the odour of paraffin and burning fat. The woman turned round and saw me, and from a corner a barefooted boy, wearing a loose-belted blouse, jumped up and ran quickly towards me. I looked closely at him, and saw at once that he was an idiot, and, though I did not recoil before him, in reality there was a feeling in my heart like that of fear. The idiot looked unintelligently at me, uttering strange sounds, something like\u00a0<em>oorli, oorli, oorli\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018Don\u2019t be afraid, he won\u2019t touch it,\u2019 said the woman to the idiot, coming forward. And then to me\u2014\u2018What can I do for you?\u2019 she added.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI gave my name and reminded her of my father. She was glad to see me, her face brightened up, she exclaimed in surprise and began to apologise for not having the room in order. The idiot boy came closer to me, and cried out more loudly,\u00a0<em>oorli, oorli\u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018This is my boy, he\u2019s been like that from birth,\u2019 said Alexandra Ivanovna with a sad smile. \u2018What of it\u2026. It\u2019s the will of God. His name is Stepan.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHearing his name the idiot cried out in a shrill, bird-like voice:<\/p>\n<p>\u201c<em>\u2018Papan!\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u201cAlexandra Ivanovna patted him caressingly on the shoulder.<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018Yes, yes, Stepan, Stepan\u2026. You see, he guessed we were speaking about him and so he introduced himself.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201c<em>\u2018Papan!\u2019<\/em>\u00a0cried the idiot again, turning his eyes first on his mother and then on me.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIn order to show some interest in the boy I said to him, \u2018How do you do, Stepan,\u2019 and took him by the hand. It was cold, puffy, lifeless. I felt a certain aversion, and only out of politeness went on:<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018I suppose he\u2019s about sixteen.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018Oh, no,\u2019 answered the mother. \u2018Everybody thinks he\u2019s about sixteen, but he\u2019s over twenty-nine. \u2026 His beard and moustache have never grown.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe talked together. Alexandra Ivanovna was a quiet, timid woman, weighed down by need and misfortune. Her sharp struggle against poverty had entirely killed all boldness of thought in her and all interest in anything outside the narrow bounds of this struggle. She complained to me of the high price of meat, and about the impudence of the cab drivers; told me of some people who had won money in a lottery, and envied the happiness of rich people. All the time of our conversation Stepan kept his eyes fixed on me. He was apparently struck by and interested in my military overcoat. Three times he put out his hand stealthily to touch <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/10-genuinely-terrifying-books\">the shining<\/a> buttons, but drew it back each time as if he were afraid.<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018Is it possible your Stepan cannot say even one word?\u2019 I asked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAlexandra Ivanovna shook her head sadly.<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018No, he can\u2019t speak. He has a few words of his own, but they\u2019re not really words\u2014just mutterings. For example, he calls himself\u00a0<em>Papan<\/em>; when he wants something to eat he says\u00a0<em>mnya<\/em>; he calls money\u00a0<em>teki<\/em>. Stepan,\u2019 she continued, turning to her son, \u2018where is your\u00a0<em>teki<\/em>; show us your\u00a0<em>teki.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u201cStepan jumped up quickly from his chair, ran into a dark corner, and crouched down on his heels. I heard the jingling of some copper coins and the boy\u2019s voice saying\u00a0<em>oorli, oorli,<\/em>\u00a0but this time in a growling, threatening tone.<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018He\u2019s afraid,\u2019 explained the mother; \u2018though he doesn\u2019t understand what money is, he won\u2019t let anyone touch it \u2026 he won\u2019t even let me\u2026. Well, well, we won\u2019t touch your money, we won\u2019t touch it,\u2019 she went to her son and soothed him\u2026.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI began to visit them frequently. Stepan interested me, and an idea came to me to try and cure him according to the system of a certain Swiss doctor, who tried to cure his feeble-minded patients by the slow road of logical development. \u2018He has a few weak impressions of the outer world and of the connection between phenomena,\u2019 I thought. \u2018Can one not combine two or three of these ideas, and so give a fourth, a fifth, and so on? Is it not possible by persistent exercise to strengthen and broaden this poor mind a little?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI brought him a doll dressed as a coachman. He was much pleased with it, and laughed and exclaimed, showing the doll and saying\u00a0<em>Papan!<\/em>\u00a0The doll, however, seemed to awaken some doubt in his mind, and that same evening Stepan, who was usually well-disposed to all that was small and weak, tried to break the doll\u2019s head on the floor. Then I brought him pictures, tried to interest him in boxes of bricks, and talked to him, naming the different objects and pointing them out to him. But either the Swiss doctor\u2019s system was not a good one or I didn\u2019t know how to put it into practice\u2014Stepan\u2019s development seemed to make no progress at all.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe was very fond of me in those days. When I came to visit them he ran to meet me, uttering rapturous cries. He never took his eyes off me, and when I ceased to pay him special attention he came up and licked my hands, my shoes, my uniform, just like a dog. When I went away he stood at the window for a long time, and cried so pitifully that the other lodgers in the house complained of him to the landlady.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut my personal affairs were in a bad way. I failed at the examination, failed unusually badly in the last but one examination in fortifications. Nothing remained but to collect my belongings and go back to my regiment. I don\u2019t think that in all my life I shall ever forget that dreadful moment when, coming out of the lecture-hall, I walked across the great vestibule of the Academy. Good Lord! I felt so small, so pitiful and so humbled, walking down those broad steps covered with grey felt carpet, having a crimson stripe at the side and a white linen tread down the middle.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt was necessary to get away as quickly as possible. I was urged to this by financial considerations\u2014in my purse I had only ten copecks and one ticket for a dinner at a student\u2019s restaurant.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI thought to myself: \u2018I must get my \u201cdismissal\u201d quickly and set out at once. Oh, the irony of that word \u201cdismissal.\u201d\u2019 But it seemed the most difficult thing in the world. From the Chancellor of the Academy I was sent to the General Staff, thence to the Commandant\u2019s office, then to the local intendant, then back to the Academy, and at last to the Treasury. All these places were open only at special times: some from nine to twelve, some from three to five. I was late at all of them, and my position began to appear critical.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhen I used my dinner ticket I had thoughtlessly squandered my ten copecks also. Next day, when I felt the pangs of hunger, I resolved to sell my text-books. Thick \u2018Baron Bego,\u2019 adapted by Bremiker, bound, I sold for twenty-five copecks; \u2018Professor Lobko\u2019 for twenty; solid \u2018General Durop\u2019 no one would buy.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFor two days I was half starved. On the third day there only remained to me three copecks. I screwed up my courage and went to ask a loan from some of my companions, but they all excused themselves by saying there was a Torricellian vacuum in their pockets, and only one acknowledged having a few roubles, but he never lent money. As he explained, with a gentle smile, \u2018\u201cLoan oft loses both itself and friend,\u201d as Shakspeare says in one of his immortal works.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThree copecks! I indulged in tragic reflections. Should I spend them all at once on a box of ten cigarettes, or should I wait until my hunger became unbearable, and then buy bread?<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow wise I was to decide on the latter! Towards evening I was as hungry as Robinson Crusoe on his island, and I went out on to the Nevsky Prospect. Ten times I passed and repassed Philipof\u2019s the baker\u2019s, devouring with my eyes the immense loaves of bread in the windows. Some had yellow crust, some red, and some were strewn with poppy-seed. At last I resolved to go in. Some schoolboys stood there eating hot pies, holding them in scraps of grey greasy paper. I felt a hatred against them for their good fortune.<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018What would you like?\u2019 asked the shopman.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI put on an indifferent air, and answered superciliously:<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018Cut me off a pound of black bread\u2026.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI was far from being at my ease while the man skilfully cut the bread with his broad knife. And suddenly I thought to myself: \u2018Suppose it\u2019s more than two and a half copecks a pound, what shall I do if the man cuts it overweight? I know it\u2019s possible to owe five or ten roubles in a restaurant, and say to the waiter, \u201cPut it down to my account, please,\u201d but what can one do if one hasn\u2019t enough by\u00a0<em>one<\/em>\u00a0copeck?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHurrah! The bread cost exactly three copecks. I shifted about from one foot to another while it was being wrapped up in paper. As soon as I got out of the shop and felt in my pocket the soft warmth of the bread, I wanted to cry out for joy and begin to munch it, as children do those crusts which they steal from the table after a long day\u2019s romping, to eat as they lie in their beds. And I couldn\u2019t restrain myself. Even in the street I thrust into my mouth two large tasty morsels.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes. I tell you all this in almost a cheerful tone. But I was far from cheerful then. Add to my torture of hunger the stinging shame of failure; the near prospect of being the laughing-stock of my regimental companions; the charming amiability of the official on whom depended my cursed \u2018dismissal\u2019\u2026. I tell you frankly, in those days I was face to face all the time with the thought of suicide.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNext day my hunger again seemed unbearable. I went along to Alexandra Ivanovna. As soon as Stepan saw me he went into an ecstasy. He cried out, jumped about me, and licked my coat-sleeve. When at length I sat down he placed himself near me on the floor and pressed up against my legs. Alexandra Ivanovna was obliged to send him away by force.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt was very unpleasant to have to ask a loan from this poor woman, who herself found life so difficult, but I resolved I must do so.<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018Alexandra Ivanovna,\u2019 said I. \u2018I\u2019ve nothing to eat. Lend me what money you can, please.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cShe wrung her hands.<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018My dear boy, I haven\u2019t a copeck. Yesterday I pawned my brooch\u2026. To-day I was able to buy something in the market, but to-morrow I don\u2019t know what I shall do.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018Can\u2019t you borrow a little from your sister?\u2019 I suggested.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAlexandra Ivanovna looked round with a frightened air, and whispered, almost in terror:<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2018What are you saying? What! Don\u2019t you know I live here on her charity? No, we\u2019d better think of some other way of getting it.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut the more we thought the more difficult it appeared. After a while we became silent. Evening came on, and the room was filled with a heavy wearisome gloom. Despair and hate and hunger tortured me. I felt as if I were abandoned on the edge of the world, alone and humiliated.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSuddenly something touched my side. I turned. It was Stepan. He held out to me on his palm a little pile of copper money, and said: \u2018<em>Teki, teki, teki\u2026.<\/em>\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI did not understand. Then he threw his money on to my knee, called out once more\u2014<em>teki<\/em>\u2014and ran off into his corner.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, why should I hide it? I wept like a child; sobbed out, long and loudly. Alexandra Ivanovna wept also, out of pity and tenderness, and from his far corner Stepan uttered his pitiful, unmeaning cry of\u00a0<em>oorli, oorli, oorli.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhen I became quieter I felt better. The unexpected sympathy of the idiot boy had suddenly warmed and soothed my heart, and shown me that it is possible to live, and that one ought to live, as long as there is love and compassion in the world.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThat is why,\u201d concluded Zimina, finishing his story, \u201cthat is why I pity all these unfortunates, and why I can\u2019t deny that they are human beings.\u201d Yes, and by the way, his sympathy brought me happiness. Now I\u2019m very glad I didn\u2019t become a \u201cmoment\u201d\u2014that\u2019s our nickname for the officers of the General Staff. Since that time I have had a full and broad life, and promises to be as full in the future. I\u2019m superstitious about it.<\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Best Alexander Kuprin Books to Read<\/h2>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/4eD9Q4N\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3XyETYx\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3BhdKSt\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3BgpF2S\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><br \/>\nClick on the image to buy a copy<\/p>\n<p>If you enjoyed The Idiot by Alexander Kuprin check out <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/a-slav-soul-by-alexander-kuprin\">A Slav Soul by Alexander Kuprin.<\/a><\/p>\n<p>Narrated by Lee Smalley, courtesy of Librivox<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Idiot by Alexander Kuprin is part of his short story collection A Slav Soul, and Other Stories which was published in English in 1916. This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you. The Idiot by Alexander Kuprin The Idiot by Alexander Kuprin We were seated [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":5789,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5788","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-bookreviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5788"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5788"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5788\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5789"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5788"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5788"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5788"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}