e Caucas,--which he deeply loved ever after. In 1827 he was
placed in the Adelige Pension at Moscow, having been previously much
influenced by a German nurse who inspired him with a love of German
legend and poetry, and also by his tutor, an officer in the Napoleonic
guard, who had taught him French. Up to 1831 he was under the German
unfluence [Transcriber's note: sic] in literature, but then he came
under the influence of Byron, and from this time he was never free of
the impression of the poet so congenial to his own spirit and nature. In
1830 he was matriculated by the Moscow University as a student of moral
and political science. In 1832 he went to what is now the Nicolai
Military school in Petersburg, where he wrote his censurable and erotic
poems that were passed about by thousands and won an immense popularity
with the jeunesse dore of the time, but which were regarded as
discreditable by the more serious and thoughtful society. In November,
1832, he was appointed Second Lieutenant in the Life Guard Hussar
regiment, and the young poet now plunged into the vortex of society life
as Pushkin had before him. In 1836 appeared his "Song of the Tsar Ivan
Wassiljewitsch,"--a truly classical achievement in the record of
literature. In 1837 came the poem on the death of Pushkin, that stirred
the aristocratic world and caused his banishment to the Caucas by the
Emperor Nicholas I. In April of the year 1840 he was again banished to
the Caucas for his duel with the son of the historian de Barante, where
he distinguished himself by his valor in conflict with the Tscherkes. In
February of 1841 we find the poet again at Petersburg, where the second
edition of his masterpiece, "A Hero of Our Own Time," was just
appearing. Yet toward the end of April again he was obliged to leave,--
this time through the influence and hatred of the Countess Benkendorff.
For the third time he went to the Caucas in exile. Here in Petigorsk he
was forced into close relation with one Major Nikolai Solomonowitsch
Martynow,--whom he did not spare from his well deserved scorn. Aroused
by the local society that pursued the poet with hatred and envy,
Martynow challenged him at a ball. The seconds, as also the entire city,
expected a harmless outcome only, especially as Lermontoff, as was known
to his adversary, had declared he should shoot in the air. He held his
hand high with the pistol stretched aloft; Martynow approached, aimed,
fired, and silently the