A Donkey's Memoirs

Author: (Russia) Segur
Translator: Liu Jiaqing
Country: Russia
Publisher:
Publish Date: 1998-03-01
Features: The letters of Madame Segur hold a significant place in her works. She began writing novels in her fifties (Memoirs of a Donkey was published in 1860), and her writing talent largely owed to the communication habits she had developed in her early years, which continued until the very end of her life. Her letters cover a wide range of topics, filled with passion, from descriptions of daily life to sharp satire on social issues. Her correspondents included her husband, children, grandchildren, close friends, and even publishers. Thus, when writing, her identity shifted from a kind grandmother to a loyal friend to a serious author.
I can no longer recall the scenes of my childhood. Perhaps, like all beautiful, graceful, and gentle little donkeys, I too had misfortunes. However, it is certain that I was very clever then. Even now, despite my age, I am still smarter than my kind. I have fooled my former masters many times. They merely called themselves humans, but they lacked the intelligence of a donkey. People know almost nothing about what donkeys think, so I am sure that you, the little masters reading this book, know nothing about the affairs of my donkey brothers and sisters.
Tuesday was the day people went to Legge City for the market. On that day, merchants gathered, and the market was filled with vegetables, butter, eggs, cheese, fruits, and other goods. However, for my poor dear grandmothers, it was different. But you know what? Before she bought me, I suffered just like other donkeys.
A donkey, like a human or other animals, has a heart that loves its master. It feels pain when mistreated and may even develop a sense of revenge. It also has ways of expressing friendship. If its master makes it happy, it becomes a friend; if not, it becomes an enemy, and what a misfortune for the donkey in that case!
I am living happily now, and everyone loves me. My little master Jacques takes care of me as if I were a friend. I am entering old age, but the life of a donkey is long. As long as I can walk and stand up, I will do my best to serve my kind and benevolent masters with my wisdom.
The police were eager to reach the scene before nightfall and quickly finished their meal before preparing to leave. They also asked Grandma to guide them. "Madam, Kadison plays a crucial role in our operation," the police officer said. "She is not an ordinary donkey. She can do things that humans cannot, and she has already done so."
"Alright, gentlemen, if you value her so much, take her with you. But I ask you not to tire her too much," Grandma said. "Kadison has run a lot today since morning and is carrying four children back."
"Madam, please rest assured, we will do our utmost to take good care of her. Please trust us," the police officer comforted her.
They immediately brought me dinner—oats, lettuce, carrots, and other vegetables. I ate and drank my fill, ready for duty. The police led me to the front of the line. These kind people did not think it was shameful to let a donkey lead the way. In the eyes of many, the police were severe, unfeeling, even cruel. In reality, I found them kind, good-hearted, and patient. They took good care of me throughout the journey. Whenever they thought I might be tired, they slowed down their horses. Every time they crossed a stream, they let me drink some water.
By the time they reached the monastery, it was already dark. The police officer ordered everyone to follow Kadison and pay attention to her every move. To prevent the horses from interfering with the investigation, they quickly led them to a village near the forest. I bravely took the lead, guiding them to the shrubs under the arched structure. This was the entrance to the basement, where thirteen thieves used to hide. Seeing the police standing there, unaware of the danger, I grew anxious, fearing they might get into trouble. To get them away, I took a few steps back, and they followed suit. When they had all backed up to the wall, I returned to the shrubs. They saw me and wanted to follow, but I immediately signaled them to stop. They seemed to understand, and hid against the wall.
After approaching the entrance to the tunnel, I gave a loud roar. Ah, my purpose was immediately achieved! My companions trapped in the basement responded eagerly. I took a step toward the police, watching their every move and the surroundings closely. I returned to the entrance and roared again, but this time there was no response. I thought the thieves must have taken precautions due to fear of exposure. Everyone knows that when a donkey brays, it raises its tail. If the tail is caught by a stone, it cannot bray. My companions must have had their tails caught by stones. I stood alert, two steps away from the entrance. I saw a head peering out from the shrubs, the thief glancing around. Seeing that only I was there, he sighed in relief and said to the others below, "It’s the bad egg we didn’t catch this morning." He then sneered at me, "Hey, why don’t you go meet your buddies? A noisy braying fellow!"
As he carelessly emerged to catch me, I deliberately took two steps back. He, forgetting himself, walked toward me. I continued to back away, leading him to the wall. My police friends were right behind me. Before the thief could call out, the police swiftly rushed forward, gagged him, and tied him up. I returned to the entrance and roared again. I thought the thief’s accomplices would surely come out to see what was happening. Sure enough, soon after, I heard the sound of bushes being moved, and another head emerged, cautiously peeking around. Naturally, this person did not escape the same fate. Using this method, I helped the police capture six thieves in total. The thieves had not yet realized what was happening.
Later, the situation changed. No matter how loudly I brayed, no one came out. I guessed the thieves must have seen that six of them had not returned and were now hesitant to act.
The night had fallen, and everything was dark. The police officer sent one of the men back to request reinforcements and prepare to attack the basement, while also asking for a carriage to transport the six captured thieves. The police officer and the remaining five men split into two groups to monitor the entrance to the basement. They affectionately stroked me, praised my bravery and cleverness, and allowed me to move freely.
I had known Mauder for a long time. Back then, I was still young, and he was even younger. When a farmer bought me from a donkey dealer, Mauder was already living in the farmer’s house. The farmer and his family mistreated me, never letting me eat enough, leaving me emaciated and often hungry. Mauder, however, the farmer’s guard dog, was also treated as a superior hunting dog, so he lived much better than I did. He often played with the children and was given the leftover bread and dairy products to eat. He told me that he could sneak into the dairy workshop and spend time with the mistress and maids, which allowed him to find some milk or cream. Sometimes, he could also find small pieces of cheese near the cheese mixer. Mauder was very kind to me and sympathized with my weakness. One day, he gave me a piece of bread as if it were a prize.
"Eat it, my poor friend," he said in his language. "People give me a lot of bread. But you can only get a little bit of thorny plants or weeds, barely enough to keep you alive."
"Good Mauder," I replied. "You saved some of your own food for me. I appreciate your kindness. I am not as suffering as you imagine. Besides, I have long been accustomed to eating little, sleeping little, working hard, and being beaten often."
"I am not hungry, my friend," Mauder said. "I promise I am not hungry. If you really are my friend, please accept this small gift. It may not be much, but it represents my thoughts! If you refuse, I will be very hurt."
"Alright, good Mauder, I am happy to accept your bread and kindness. Because I like you, and I am indeed hungry."
Mauder watched me devour the bread with great joy.
I thanked Mauder, "Friend, you brought this unusual food to help me regain my strength."
Mauder was even happier after hearing this.
After that, he took a large piece of bread from his portion for me every time he ate. At night, he would sleep with me under the tree or by the bushes. We would talk, and no one could hear us.
Animals and humans are different. We do not communicate with words but with actions. A flick of the eye, a nod, a movement of the ears, or a wag of the tail can convey our feelings to each other.
One day, I saw Mauder looking depressed, as if he had just been beaten. I quickly approached him to ask what was wrong. He told me sadly, "Friend, from now on, I may not be able to bring you food anymore. The master says I have grown up and will be tied up during the day and let out at night to roam freely. Additionally, the mistress has criticized the children for giving me too much bread. She has forbidden the children from feeding me bread and will feed me herself. She also said she would give me less food to train me to be a good hunting dog."
I comforted him, "Good Mauder, if the only thing that troubles you is that you can no longer bring me bread, then there is no need to worry. I found a hole in the hayloft wall this morning and can now dig grass to eat every day. I will no longer go hungry."
"Really?" Mauder exclaimed in delight. "That news makes me so happy. Of course, I am willing to share my bread with you. But now that I will be tied up during the day and cannot visit you, that will be too sad."
We talked for a long time, and he left reluctantly late at night. As he left, he murmured, "From now on, I will have time to sleep during the day. It’s also a busy season, so you won’t have much to do either."
The entire day the next, I did not see my friend’s shadow. I waited anxiously all day. In the evening, I finally heard his call. I quickly ran to the fence and saw the hateful mistress pulling his neck skin and young master Jacques whipping him with a driving whip.
Furious, I jumped over the fence and rushed toward the bad child, biting his raised arm and forcing him to drop the whip. The mistress released her hand, and Mauder immediately escaped. I also released Jacques and ran back to my stable.
Suddenly, I felt my ear being pulled. It was the mistress. She yelled at Jacques, "Give me the big whip. I will teach this beast a lesson. I’ve never seen such a bad donkey in my life. Give me the whip, or you can take it and beat it yourself."
"My arm is numb, I can’t move," Jacques cried. The mistress, furious, picked up the whip that had fallen to the ground and rushed toward me, looking fierce as if she wanted to avenge her son.
I was not foolish enough to wait for her to whip me. Just as she was about to reach me, I jumped back a short distance. She could not let it go. When she was almost on my tail again, I leaped away. I kept a distance from her, so the whip would not hit me. I found it amusing to tease her, but the mistress was enraged. She panted heavily, sweating profusely. Occasionally, the whip tip grazed me a few times.
I ran for a while and then slipped away, because I had avenged my friend and vented my anger. I glanced around to find my poor friend. I had seen Mauder run from the wall earlier, so he might be waiting for the mistress to leave before coming out.
"Bastard! Scoundrel! Watch out, I’ll make you carry heavy things to the point of death!" The furious mistress, unable to catch me, cursed helplessly and left sullenly.
When I saw the mistress was far away, I called Mauder. He timidly poked his head out from where he was hiding and ran toward me.
"Come here. She’s gone. What did you do? She made Jacques whip you like that?"