“I was placed in what was called a ‘company without specialty,’ reserved for those who had not yet decided whether they would serve in the infantry, the artillery, or the cavalry. When I presented myself before this company, there wasn’t a single bed available, and all the other companies’ dormitories were full as well. For this reason, I was put up in a big separate bedroom that was reserved for the Cherkess students, about twenty of them. The bed I was assigned was next to that of Shamil’s son. I had heard his story from my brother Dmitri, who had told me about the siege of Akulgo.

“Jamal Eddin Shamil had just arrived from the Alexandrovsky Cadet Corps where he had been for almost two years. He had been admitted here at the Czar’s expense, out of his own purse, with two other orphans (whose names I still remember: Pavel Kolosov and Alexi Kirdan), either due to their excellent academic results or their superiority at physical exercises. I suspect the latter was the case for Jamal Eddin, for his classmates took great pleasure in describing how he distinguished himself on his first day at the Alexandrovsky Corps by refusing to be undressed by any of the teachers or to be touched or even approached by a doctor. And that, despite his recurring problems with discipline, he had become the glory of the school, unbeatable in the long jump, leapfrog, mountain races, and rope climbing. To hear them tell it, his exploits surpassed all the records of all the cadets of every age since the creation of the orphanage. As for equitation, at the year-end review in the big ring at Tsarskoye Sielo, Czar Nicholas, who prided himself on being the best horseman of his generation, saw him in the saddle. A glance at Jamal Eddin was enough to make him understand that this was not a ten-year-old on a horse but a magnificent centaur, straight out of mythology—and in the future, an incomparable cavalry officer.

“The three new cadets from the Alexandrovsky Corps had arrived in Saint Petersburg a few weeks before me. Though I felt far inferior to the other cadets, by wealth and by birth, I felt close to these three.

“Our great preoccupation was the ‘uniform question.’ As long as we weren’t wearing a uniform, we weren’t considered cadets. My uncle had neglected this detail. As for my three friends, their uniforms had been sent back to their old school so that the Director could hand them down to other orphans. The administration gave Pavel Kolosov and Alexi Kirdan old jackets to wear during the time it took for the tailor to make them new ones. As for Jamal Eddin Shamil, the administration returned his Circassian costume to him. He was dressed as a Cherkess, placed in the Cherkess dormitory, and treated like a Cherkess. The very fact of being able to wear his cherkeska again made Jamal Eddin fervently grateful. It almost made him happy.

“He now spoke Russian without any accent and his years at Tsarskoye Sielo had inured him to the ‘rules of Corps life’: lie to one’s superiors, defend one’s friends, never denounce another cadet. He had mastered these rules to perfection and took me under his wing.

“Some of the hazing was really out of line, but the supervisors did nothing to stop it. As long as a new boy did not explicitly complain and reveal the names of his aggressors, they looked the other way. As first years, we couldn’t go out for the first six months anyway, as that was the period before our first examination. During those six months, we had time to get ourselves in shape. Those who didn’t, those who died from the harsh treatment and those who were crippled for life, weren’t made for the Russian army anyway.

“Jamal Eddin and I were the same age, but he was more mature, taller and slimmer and much more agile. It wasn’t just that he was as lithe as a cat; in addition to being supple, he was swifter than anyone I’d ever seen, even more so than his compatriots. He never let anyone hurt me and sent anyone who expressed any inclination to pick a quarrel with me to the devil. He knew how to fight, how to kick and fight with his fists, but when his adversaries ganged up on him—he was, after all, young in comparison to the twenty-year-old cadets—the other Cherkesses came to his rescue.

“The Cherkesses in our dorm room got along well among themselves, and all of them liked to wrestle. I often participated in their fights […].

“I admired Jamal Eddin so much, and I was so grateful to him that, one day, I decided I wanted to show him that I knew how to defend myself if anyone ever bothered me. So I intentionally elbowed a cadet who happened to be passing in the hall. The cadet turned around and called me a ‘Dutchman,’ an insult reserved for those of us who didn’t have uniforms yet. In response, I punched him in the nose. He started to bleed and went to the supervisor to tell on me. When the supervisor came to find me, I got scared. I didn’t know what to say. That was when Jamal Eddin intervened. He said it wasn’t my fault, that the older boy had pinched me and hit me and that I had only shoved him to defend myself. The older boy was unjustly given a caning. Jamal Eddin, judging him guilty of having complained to a superior, let the punishment take its course.

“To our surprise, the older boy didn’t hold it against us; thanks to us, he was promoted to ‘corporal.’ You see, the cadets did not consider those who had never been whipped to be real cadets. Only the first caning conferred the title of cadet. The second enabled one to move on to corporal, and the third to noncommissioned officer. And so on.

“Six months after arriving, Jamal Eddin was already a Field Marshal, which signified that he had been beaten eighteen times. I remember a certain Count Buxhöwden, a long-time Field Marshal, who was beaten every week. This was a problem, because there was no higher rank of the army to promote him to. So we invented children for him, entire generations that could continue to rise through the ranks in his place. Every time Buxhöwden was caned, we imagined for example that it was his son who was promoted to first cadet, then NCO, and so on. When Buxhöwden’s son had made Field Marshal, it was his grandson’s turn to take over. After fifty-four beatings, Buxhöwden gave birth to a great-grandson who began a new career with us.

“Buxhöwden was two or three years older than we were and belonged to an illustrious family from the Baltics. He became Jamal Eddin’s friend and remained so throughout our studies. I don’t know what became of him, but if he is still alive today, he would surely have memories to share with our readers about daily life at the Cadet Corps.

“After a while—readers will forgive an old head like mine if I mix up the years a bit—when I finally had my uniform jacket, to my great dismay, they placed another bed in between Jamal Eddin’s and mine. This bed was assigned to a boy named Youssouf, who was the son of a wealthy khan who had allied himself with the Czar. His father had presented Youssouf at the Russian Court with great pomp, in hopes that the Czar would take him under his protection. Youssouf and Jamal Eddin despised each other immediately.

“Several months after Youssouf had settled in—probably a year or so after our arrival, in 1842 or 1843—Czar Nicholas made one of his surprise lightning visits to the school. These unexpected visits terrified the director, who always had a guard posted at the Isakievsky Bridge to warn him. The problem was that the Emperor came into town every day, alone or with a few aides-de-camp, to ‘breathe the air of his capital.’ He drove in in his summer carriage or his little sleigh in the winter, and generally made a quick loop. When the sentinel arrived, breathless, with the terrible news that the Czar was headed in this direction, we had only a few minutes to prepare ourselves.

“The Czar’s arrival filled everyone with dread. Even the cadets who had done nothing wrong felt guilty. The smallest transgression could incur the severest of sanctions. There was no such thing as a venial sin. He visited each class, interrupting the courses with irrelevant questions that we answered, terrified, with nonsense.

“‘Don’t disturb the order of the day,’ he’d say. ‘Just go on as if I weren’t here.’

“I remember his rage at the conduct of Cadet Buxhöwden—our Field Marshal with the long line of descendants—who forgot himself in His August Presence and leaned his elbow on the desk during a lesson. As a result, the Czar immediately demanded that his teacher be sacked. As for Count Buxhöwden, he earned another great-great-great-grandson.

“This time, after having visited the house, His Majesty came to our room, the dormitory of the Cherkesses. He walked up to Youssouf and asked him amiably how he was, and had he received any letters from home?

“‘No,’ replied Youssouf.

“The Czar turned to the director, furious, and barked, ‘Teach him how to speak correctly!’

“Then he turned to Jamal Eddin and put his hand on his shoulder.

“‘If you would like to write to your father, you may do so, my boy. I grant you authorization and will personally see to it that your letters reach him.’

“‘I am happy to thank Your Imperial Majesty,’ Jamal Eddin replied, politely and spontaneously.

“‘You have learned how to express yourself suitably. Bravo, my boy. And your arm, is it better? Show me.’

“Jamal Eddin quickly pushed up the sleeve of his cherkeska and revealed his scar, between the wrist and elbow of his left arm, which had healed well.

“‘That’s perfect. Continue on this path. I’ll be back soon to have a look at your progress and collect your letters.’

“Then His Majesty left, leaving us all breathless.

“Jamal Eddin did not revel in the Czar’s favor, but acted instead as though he found it perfectly natural. He refused to take part in any of our games from then until the next imperial visit. Instead, he holed up in a corner and wrote frenetically, covering sheet after sheet of stationery. He was probably afraid that the Czar would return before he had finished his letter to his father.