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Updated: June 24, 2025
He was liked by women and did not avoid them. Ere six months had passed after the death of his wife, he courted the daughter of an Ural Cossack. The father of the bride, notwithstanding that Ignat was known even in Ural as a "pranky" man, gave him his daughter in marriage, and toward autumn Ignat Gordyeeff came home with a young Cossack-wife. Her name was Natalya.
And suddenly it usually happened in spring, when everything on earth became so bewitchingly beautiful and something reproachfully wild was breathed down into the soul from the clear sky Ignat Gordyeeff would feel that he was not the master of his business, but its low slave.
Wholly absorbed by the steamship affairs of the young Gordyeeff, he even neglected his own little shop, and allowed Foma considerable leisure time.
It lives and breathes from page to page with a swing and dash and go that they rarely attain. Their mantle has fallen on his young shoulders, and he promises to wear it royally. Even so, but so helpless, hopeless, terrible is this life of Foma Gordyeeff that we would be filled with profound sorrow for Gorky did we not know that he has come up out of the Valley of Shadow.
Maxim Gorky's wholly hopeless study of degeneracy in the life of "Foma Gordyeeff" accuses conditions which we can only imagine with difficulty.
That he hopes, we know, else would he not now be festering in a Russian prison because he is brave enough to live the hope he feels. He knows life, why and how it should be lived. And in conclusion, this one thing is manifest: Foma Gordyeeff is no mere statement of an intellectual problem. For as he lived and interrogated living, so in sweat and blood and travail has Gorky lived.
You are murderers! Do you understand that you exist today only through the patience of mankind?" "What does this mean?" exclaimed Reznikov, clasping his hands in rage and indignation. "Ilya Yefimov, what's this? I can't bear to hear such words." "Gordyeeff!" cried Bobrov. "Look out, you speak improper words." "For such words you'll get oi, oi, oi!" said Zubov, insinuatingly.
"We'll be friends," he announced to Foma. "Why did you complain to the teacher about me?" Gordyeeff reminded Yozhov, looking at him suspiciously. "There! What's the difference to you? You are a new scholar and rich. The teacher is not exacting with the rich. And I am a poor hanger-on; he doesn't like me, because I am impudent and because I never bring him any presents.
Mayakin stopped suddenly as though nailed to the spot, and he slowly lifted his head. "The tree that grew crooked in its youth and could not hold out will certainly break when it's old. But nevertheless, even Taras is a straw to me now. Though I doubt whether he is better than Foma. Gordyeeff has a character, he has his father's daring. He can take a great deal on himself.
And so, wondering, pondering, perplexed, amazed, whirling through the mad whirlpool of life, dancing the dance of death, groping for the nameless, indefinite something, the magic formula, the essence, the intrinsic fact, the flash of light through the murk and dark the rational sanction for existence, in short Foma Gordyeeff goes down to madness and death.
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