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diff --git a/old/38025-8.txt b/old/38025-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee28dff --- /dev/null +++ b/old/38025-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16764 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Fables for Children, Stories for Children, +Natural Science Stories, Popular Education, Decembrists, Moral Tales, by +Leo Tolstoy, Edited by Leo Wiener, Translated by Leo Wiener + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Fables for Children, Stories for Children, Natural Science Stories, Popular Education, Decembrists, Moral Tales + + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Editor: Leo Wiener + +Release Date: November 15, 2011 [eBook #38025] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FABLES FOR CHILDREN, STORIES FOR +CHILDREN, NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES, POPULAR EDUCATION, DECEMBRISTS, MORAL +TALES*** + + +E-text prepared by Anna Hall, Albert László, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made +available by Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 38025-h.htm or 38025-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38025/38025-h/38025-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/38025/38025-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + http://www.archive.org/details/completeworksofc12tols + + +Tanscriber's note: + + Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). + + A letter with a breve is indicated by [)<letter>]. + + + + + +The Complete Works of Count Tolstóy +Volume XII. + + +[Illustration: "The clerk beat Sidor's face until the blood came" + +_Photogravure from Painting by A. Kivshénko_] + + +FABLES FOR CHILDREN +STORIES FOR CHILDREN +NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES +POPULAR EDUCATION +DECEMBRISTS +MORAL TALES + +by + +COUNT LEV N. TOLSTÓY + +Translated from the Original Russian and Edited by + +LEO WIENER + +Assistant Professor of Slavic Languages at Harvard University + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +Boston +Dana Estes & Company +Publishers + +Edition De Luxe +Limited to One Thousand Copies, +of which this is +No. 411 + +_Copyright, 1904_ +By Dana Estes & Company + +_Entered at Stationers' Hall_ + +Colonial Press: Electrotyped and Printed by +C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, Mass., U. S. A. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + FABLES FOR CHILDREN + Æsop's Fables 3 + Adaptations and Imitations of Hindoo Fables 19 + + STORIES FOR CHILDREN + The Foundling 39 + The Peasant and the Cucumbers 40 + The Fire 41 + The Old Horse 43 + How I Learned to Ride 46 + The Willow 49 + Búlka 51 + Búlka and the Wild Boar 53 + Pheasants 56 + Milton and Búlka 58 + The Turtle 60 + Búlka and the Wolf 62 + What Happened to Búlka in Pyatigórsk 65 + Búlka's and Milton's End 68 + The Gray Hare 70 + God Sees the Truth, but Does Not Tell at Once 72 + Hunting Worse than Slavery 82 + A Prisoner of the Caucasus 92 + Ermák 124 + + NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES + Stories From Physics: + The Magnet 137 + Moisture 140 + The Different Connection of Particles 142 + Crystals 143 + Injurious Air 146 + How Balloons Are Made 150 + Galvanism 152 + The Sun's Heat 156 + Stories From Zoology: + The Owl and the Hare 159 + How the Wolves Teach Their Whelps 160 + Hares and Wolves 161 + The Scent 162 + Touch and Sight 164 + The Silkworm 165 + Stories From Botany: + The Apple-Tree 170 + The Old Poplar 172 + The Bird-Cherry 174 + How Trees Walk 176 + + The Decembrists 181 + On Popular Education 251 + What Men Live By 327 + The Three Hermits 363 + Neglect the Fire 375 + The Candle 395 + The Two Old Men 409 + Where Love Is, There God Is Also 445 + + TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK ILLUSTRATIONS + The Fiend Persists, but God Resists 463 + Little Girls Wiser than Old People 466 + The Two Brothers and the Gold 469 + Ilyás 472 + + A Fairy-Tale about Iván the Fool 481 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + "The clerk beat Sídor's face until the blood + came" (_The Candle, see page 397_) _Frontispiece_ + "'Whose knife is this?'" 73 + "'God will forgive you'" 81 + "They rode off to the mountains" 96 + "'Whither are you bound?'" 332 + "But the candle was still burning" 403 + + + + +FABLES FOR CHILDREN + +1869-1872 + + + + +FABLES FOR CHILDREN + + + + +I. ÆSOP'S FABLES + + +THE ANT AND THE DOVE + +An Ant came down to the brook: he wanted to drink. A wave washed him +down and almost drowned him. A Dove was carrying a branch; she saw the +Ant was drowning, so she cast the branch down to him in the brook. The +Ant got up on the branch and was saved. Then a hunter placed a snare for +the Dove, and was on the point of drawing it in. The Ant crawled up to +the hunter and bit him on the leg; the hunter groaned and dropped the +snare. The Dove fluttered upwards and flew away. + + +THE TURTLE AND THE EAGLE + +A Turtle asked an Eagle to teach her how to fly. The Eagle advised her +not to try, as she was not fit for it; but she insisted. The Eagle took +her in his claws, raised her up, and dropped her: she fell on stones and +broke to pieces. + + +THE POLECAT + +A Polecat entered a smithy and began to lick the filings. Blood began to +flow from the Polecat's mouth, but he was glad and continued to lick; he +thought that the blood was coming from the iron, and lost his whole +tongue. + + +THE LION AND THE MOUSE + +A Lion was sleeping. A Mouse ran over his body. He awoke and caught her. +The Mouse besought him; she said: + +"Let me go, and I will do you a favour!" + +The Lion laughed at the Mouse for promising him a favour, and let her +go. + +Then the hunters caught the Lion and tied him with a rope to a tree. The +Mouse heard the Lion's roar, ran up, gnawed the rope through, and said: + +"Do you remember? You laughed, not thinking that I could repay, but now +you see that a favour may come also from a Mouse." + + +THE LIAR + +A Boy was watching the sheep and, pretending that he saw a wolf, he +began to cry: + +"Help! A wolf! A wolf!" + +The peasants came running up and saw that it was not so. After doing +this for a second and a third time, it happened that a wolf came indeed. +The Boy began to cry: + +"Come, come, quickly, a wolf!" + +The peasants thought that he was deceiving them as usual, and paid no +attention to him. The wolf saw there was no reason to be afraid: he +leisurely killed the whole flock. + + +THE ASS AND THE HORSE + +A man had an Ass and a Horse. They were walking on the road; the Ass +said to the Horse: + +"It is heavy for me.--I shall not be able to carry it all; take at least +a part of my load." + +The Horse paid no attention to him. The Ass fell down from overstraining +himself, and died. When the master transferred the Ass's load on the +Horse, and added the Ass's hide, the Horse began to complain: + +"Oh, woe to me, poor one, woe to me, unfortunate Horse! I did not want +to help him even a little, and now I have to carry everything, and his +hide, too." + + +THE JACKDAW AND THE DOVES + +A Jackdaw saw that the Doves were well fed,--so she painted herself +white and flew into the dove-cot. The Doves thought at first that she +was a dove like them, and let her in. But the Jackdaw forgot herself and +croaked in jackdaw fashion. Then the Doves began to pick at her and +drove her away. The Jackdaw flew back to her friends, but the jackdaws +were frightened at her, seeing her white, and themselves drove her away. + + +THE WOMAN AND THE HEN + +A Hen laid an egg each day. The Mistress thought that if she gave her +more to eat, she would lay twice as much. So she did. The Hen grew fat +and stopped laying. + + +THE LION, THE BEAR, AND THE FOX + +A Lion and a Bear procured some meat and began to fight for it. The Bear +did not want to give in, nor did the Lion yield. They fought for so long +a time that they both grew feeble and lay down. A Fox saw the meat +between them; she grabbed it and ran away with it. + + +THE DOG, THE COCK, AND THE FOX + +A Dog and a Cock went to travel together. At night the Cock fell asleep +in a tree, and the Dog fixed a place for himself between the roots of +that tree. When the time came, the Cock began to crow. A Fox heard the +Cock, ran up to the tree, and began to beg the Cock to come down, as she +wanted to give him her respects for such a fine voice. + +The Cock said: + +"You must first wake up the janitor,--he is sleeping between the roots. +Let him open up, and I will come down." + +The Fox began to look for the janitor, and started yelping. The Dog +sprang out at once and killed the Fox. + + +THE HORSE AND THE GROOM + +A Groom stole the Horse's oats, and sold them, but he cleaned the Horse +each day. Said the Horse: + +"If you really wish me to be in good condition, do not sell my oats." + + +THE FROG AND THE LION + +A Lion heard a Frog croaking, and thought it was a large beast that was +calling so loud. He walked up, and saw a Frog coming out of the swamp. +The Lion crushed her with his paw and said: + +"There is nothing to look at, and yet I was frightened." + + +THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANTS + +In the fall the wheat of the Ants got wet; they were drying it. A hungry +Grasshopper asked them for something to eat. The Ants said: + +"Why did you not gather food during the summer?" + +She said: + +"I had no time: I sang songs." + +They laughed, and said: + +"If you sang in the summer, dance in the winter!" + + +THE HEN AND THE GOLDEN EGGS + +A master had a Hen which laid golden eggs. He wanted more gold at once, +and so killed the Hen (he thought that inside of her there was a large +lump of gold), but she was just like any other hen. + + +THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN + +An Ass put on a lion's skin, and all thought it was a lion. Men and +animals ran away from him. A wind sprang up, and the skin was blown +aside, and the Ass could be seen. People ran up and beat the Ass. + + +THE HEN AND THE SWALLOW + +A Hen found some snake's eggs and began to sit on them. A Swallow saw it +and said: + +"Stupid one! You will hatch them out, and, when they grow up, you will +be the first one to suffer from them." + + +THE STAG AND THE FAWN + +A Fawn once said to a Stag: + +"Father, you are larger and fleeter than the dogs, and, besides, you +have huge antlers for defence; why, then, are you so afraid of the +dogs?" + +The Stag laughed, and said: + +"You speak the truth, my child. The trouble is,--the moment I hear the +dogs bark, I run before I have time to think." + + +THE FOX AND THE GRAPES + +A Fox saw some ripe bunches of grapes hanging high, and tried to get at +them, in order to eat them. + +She tried hard, but could not get them. To drown her annoyance she said: + +"They are still sour." + + +THE MAIDS AND THE COCK + +A mistress used to wake the Maids at night and, as soon as the cocks +crowed, put them to work. The Maids found that hard, and decided to kill +the Cock, so that the mistress should not be wakened. They killed him, +but now they suffered more than ever: the mistress was afraid that she +would sleep past the time and so began to wake the Maids earlier. + + +THE FISHERMAN AND THE FISH + +A Fisherman caught a Fish. Said the Fish: + +"Fisherman, let me go into the water; you see I am small: you will have +little profit of me. If you let me go, I shall grow up, and then you +will catch me when it will be worth while." + +But the Fisherman said: + +"A fool would be he who should wait for greater profit, and let the +lesser slip out of his hands." + + +THE FOX AND THE GOAT + +A Goat wanted to drink. He went down the incline to the well, drank his +fill, and gained in weight. He started to get out, but could not do so. +He began to bleat. A Fox saw him and said: + +"That's it, stupid one! If you had as much sense in your head as there +are hairs in your beard, you would have thought of how to get out before +you climbed down." + + +THE DOG AND HER SHADOW + +A Dog was crossing the river over a plank, carrying a piece of meat in +her teeth. She saw herself in the water and thought that another dog +was carrying a piece of meat. She dropped her piece and dashed forward +to take away what the other dog had: the other meat was gone, and her +own was carried away by the stream. + +And thus the Dog was left without anything. + + +THE CRANE AND THE STORK + +A peasant put out his nets to catch the Cranes for tramping down his +field. In the nets were caught the Cranes, and with them one Stork. + +The Stork said to the peasant: + +"Let me go! I am not a Crane, but a Stork; we are most honoured birds; I +live on your father's house. You can see by my feathers that I am not a +Crane." + +The peasant said: + +"With the Cranes I have caught you, and with them will I kill you." + + +THE GARDENER AND HIS SONS + +A Gardener wanted his Sons to get used to gardening. As he was dying, he +called them up and said to them: + +"Children, when I am dead, look for what is hidden in the vineyard." + +The Sons thought that it was a treasure, and when their father died, +they began to dig there, and dug up the whole ground. They did not find +the treasure, but they ploughed the vineyard up so well that it brought +forth more fruit than ever. + + +THE WOLF AND THE CRANE + +A Wolf had a bone stuck in his throat, and could not cough it up. He +called the Crane, and said to him: + +"Crane, you have a long neck. Thrust your head into my throat and draw +out the bone! I will reward you." + +The Crane stuck his head in, pulled out the bone, and said: + +"Give me my reward!" + +The Wolf gnashed his teeth and said: + +"Is it not enough reward for you that I did not bite off your head when +it was between my teeth?" + + +THE HARES AND THE FROGS + +The Hares once got together, and began to complain about their life: + +"We perish from men, and from dogs, and from eagles, and from all the +other beasts. It would be better to die at once than to live in fright +and suffer. Come, let us drown ourselves!" + +And the Hares raced away to drown themselves in a lake. The Frogs heard +the Hares and plumped into the water. So one of the Hares said: + +"Wait, boys! Let us put off the drowning! Evidently the Frogs are having +a harder life than we: they are afraid even of us." + + +THE FATHER AND HIS SONS + +A Father told his Sons to live in peace: they paid no attention to him. +So he told them to bring the bath broom, and said: + +"Break it!" + +No matter how much they tried, they could not break it. Then the Father +unclosed the broom, and told them to break the rods singly. They broke +it. + +The Father said: + +"So it is with you: if you live in peace, no one will overcome you; but +if you quarrel, and are divided, any one will easily ruin you." + + +THE FOX + +A Fox got caught in a trap. She tore off her tail, and got away. She +began to contrive how to cover up her shame. She called together the +Foxes, and begged them to cut off their tails. + +"A tail," she said, "is a useless thing. In vain do we drag along a dead +weight." + +One of the Foxes said: + +"You would not be speaking thus, if you were not tailless!" + +The tailless Fox grew silent and went away. + + +THE WILD ASS AND THE TAME ASS + +A Wild Ass saw a Tame Ass. The Wild Ass went up to him and began to +praise his life, saying how smooth his body was, and what sweet feed he +received. Later, when the Tame Ass was loaded down, and a driver began +to goad him with a stick, the Wild Ass said: + +"No, brother, I do not envy you: I see that your life is going hard with +you." + + +THE STAG + +A Stag went to the brook to quench his thirst. He saw himself in the +water, and began to admire his horns, seeing how large and branching +they were; and he looked at his feet, and said: "But my feet are +unseemly and thin." + +Suddenly a Lion sprang out and made for the Stag. The Stag started to +run over the open plain. He was getting away, but there came a forest, +and his horns caught in the branches, and the lion caught him. As the +Stag was dying, he said: + +"How foolish I am! That which I thought to be unseemly and thin was +saving me, and what I gloried in has been my ruin." + + +THE DOG AND THE WOLF + +A Dog fell asleep back of the yard. A Wolf ran up and wanted to eat him. + +Said the Dog: + +"Wolf, don't eat me yet: now I am lean and bony. Wait a little,--my +master is going to celebrate a wedding; then I shall have plenty to eat; +I shall grow fat. It will be better to eat me then." + +The Wolf believed her, and went away. Then he came a second time, and +saw the Dog lying on the roof. The Wolf said to her: + +"Well, have they had the wedding?" + +The Dog replied: + +"Listen, Wolf! If you catch me again asleep in front of the yard, do not +wait for the wedding." + + +THE GNAT AND THE LION + +A Gnat came to a Lion, and said: + +"Do you think that you have more strength than I? You are mistaken! What +does your strength consist in? Is it that you scratch with your claws, +and gnaw with your teeth? That is the way the women quarrel with their +husbands. I am stronger than you: if you wish let us fight!" + +And the Gnat sounded his horn, and began to bite the Lion on his bare +cheeks and his nose. The Lion struck his face with his paws and +scratched it with his claws. He tore his face until the blood came, and +gave up. + +The Gnat trumpeted for joy, and flew away. Then he became entangled in a +spider's web, and the spider began to suck him up. The Gnat said: + +"I have vanquished the strong beast, the Lion, and now I perish from +this nasty spider." + + +THE HORSE AND HIS MASTERS + +A gardener had a Horse. She had much to do, but little to eat; so she +began to pray to God to get another master. And so it happened. The +gardener sold the Horse to a potter. The Horse was glad, but the potter +had even more work for her to do. And again the Horse complained of her +lot, and began to pray that she might get a better master. And this +prayer, too, was fulfilled. The potter sold the Horse to a tanner. When +the Horse saw the skins of horses in the tanner's yard, she began to +cry: + +"Woe to me, wretched one! It would be better if I could stay with my old +masters. It is evident they have sold me now not for work, but for my +skin's sake." + + +THE OLD MAN AND DEATH + +An Old Man cut some wood, which he carried away. He had to carry it far. +He grew tired, so he put down his bundle, and said: + +"Oh, if Death would only come!" + +Death came, and said: + +"Here I am, what do you want?" + +The Old Man was frightened, and said: + +"Lift up my bundle!" + + +THE LION AND THE FOX + +A Lion, growing old, was unable to catch the animals, and so intended to +live by cunning. He went into a den, lay down there, and pretended that +he was sick. The animals came to see him, and he ate up those that went +into his den. The Fox guessed the trick. She stood at the entrance of +the den, and said: + +"Well, Lion, how are you feeling?" + +The Lion answered: + +"Poorly. Why don't you come in?" + +The Fox replied: + +"I do not come in because I see by the tracks that many have entered, +but none have come out." + + +THE STAG AND THE VINEYARD + +A Stag hid himself from the hunters in a vineyard. When the hunters +missed him, the Stag began to nibble at the grape-vine leaves. + +The hunters noticed that the leaves were moving, and so they thought, +"There must be an animal under those leaves," and fired their guns, and +wounded the Stag. + +The Stag said, dying: + +"It serves me right for wanting to eat the leaves that saved me." + + +THE CAT AND THE MICE + +A house was overrun with Mice. A Cat found his way into the house, and +began to catch them. The Mice saw that matters were bad, and said: + +"Mice, let us not come down from the ceiling! The Cat cannot get up +there." + +When the Mice stopped coming down, the Cat decided that he must catch +them by a trick. He grasped the ceiling with one leg, hung down from it, +and made believe that he was dead. + +A Mouse looked out at him, but said: + +"No, my friend! Even if you should turn into a bag, I would not go up to +you." + + +THE WOLF AND THE GOAT + +A Wolf saw a Goat browsing on a rocky mountain, and he could not get at +her; so he said to her: + +"Come down lower! The place is more even, and the grass is much sweeter +to feed on." + +But the Goat answered: + +"You are not calling me down for that, Wolf: you are troubling yourself +not about my food, but about yours." + + +THE REEDS AND THE OLIVE-TREE + +The Olive-tree and the Reeds quarrelled about who was stronger and +sounder. The Olive-tree laughed at the Reeds because they bent in every +wind. The Reeds kept silence. A storm came: the Reeds swayed, tossed, +bowed to the ground,--and remained unharmed. The Olive-tree strained her +branches against the wind,--and broke. + + +THE TWO COMPANIONS + +Two Companions were walking through the forest when a Bear jumped out on +them. One started to run, climbed a tree, and hid himself, but the other +remained in the road. He had nothing to do, so he fell down on the +ground and pretended that he was dead. + +The Bear went up to him, and sniffed at him; but he had stopped +breathing. + +The Bear sniffed at his face; he thought that he was dead, and so went +away. + +When the Bear was gone, the Companion climbed down from the tree and +laughing, said: "What did the Bear whisper in your ear?" + +"He told me that those who in danger run away from their companions are +bad people." + + +THE WOLF AND THE LAMB + +A Wolf saw a Lamb drinking at a river. The Wolf wanted to eat the Lamb, +and so he began to annoy him. He said: + +"You are muddling my water and do not let me drink." + +The Lamb said: + +"How can I muddle your water? I am standing downstream from you; +besides, I drink with the tips of my lips." + +And the Wolf said: + +"Well, why did you call my father names last summer?" + +The Lamb said: + +"But, Wolf, I was not yet born last summer." + +The Wolf got angry, and said: + +"It is hard to get the best of you. Besides, my stomach is empty, so I +will devour you." + + +THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX + +An old, sick Lion was lying in his den. All the animals came to see the +king, but the Fox kept away. So the Wolf was glad of the chance, and +began to slander the Fox before the Lion. + +"She does not esteem you in the least," he said, "she has not come once +to see the king." + +The Fox happened to run by as he was saying these words. She heard what +the Wolf had said, and thought: + +"Wait, Wolf, I will get my revenge on you." + +So the Lion began to roar at the Fox, but she said: + +"Do not have me killed, but let me say a word! I did not come to see you +because I had no time. And I had no time because I ran over the whole +world to ask the doctors for a remedy for you. I have just got it, and +so I have come to see you." + +The Lion said: + +"What is the remedy?" + +"It is this: if you flay a live Wolf, and put his warm hide on you--" + +When the Lion stretched out the Wolf, the Fox laughed, and said: + +"That's it, my friend: masters ought to be led to do good, not evil." + + +THE LION, THE ASS, AND THE FOX + +The Lion, the Ass, and the Fox went out to hunt. They caught a large +number of animals, and the Lion told the Ass to divide them up. The Ass +divided them into three equal parts and said: "Now, take them!" + +The Lion grew angry, ate up the Ass, and told the Fox to divide them up +anew. The Fox collected them all into one heap, and left a small bit for +herself. The Lion looked at it and said: + +"Clever Fox! Who taught you to divide so well?" + +She said: + +"What about that Ass?" + + +THE PEASANT AND THE WATER-SPRITE + +A Peasant lost his axe in the river; he sat down on the bank in grief, +and began to weep. + +The Water-sprite heard the Peasant and took pity on him. He brought a +gold axe out of the river, and said: "Is this your axe?" + +The Peasant said: "No, it is not mine." + +The Water-sprite brought another, a silver axe. + +Again the Peasant said: "It is not my axe." + +Then the Water-sprite brought out the real axe. + +The Peasant said: "Now this is my axe." + +The Water-sprite made the Peasant a present of all three axes, for +having told the truth. + +At home the Peasant showed his axes to his friends, and told them what +had happened to him. + +One of the peasants made up his mind to do the same: he went to the +river, purposely threw his axe into the water, sat down on the bank, and +began to weep. + +The Water-sprite brought out a gold axe, and asked: "Is this your axe?" + +The Peasant was glad, and called out: "It is mine, mine!" + +The Water-sprite did not give him the gold axe, and did not bring him +back his own either, because he had told an untruth. + + +THE RAVEN AND THE FOX + +A Raven got himself a piece of meat, and sat down on a tree. The Fox +wanted to get it from him. She went up to him, and said: + +"Oh, Raven, as I look at you,--from your size and beauty,--you ought to +be a king! And you would certainly be a king, if you had a good voice." + +The Raven opened his mouth wide, and began to croak with all his might +and main. The meat fell down. The Fox caught it and said: + +"Oh, Raven! If you had also sense, you would certainly be a king." + + + + +II. ADAPTATIONS AND IMITATIONS OF HINDOO FABLES + + +THE SNAKE'S HEAD AND TAIL + +The Snake's Tail had a quarrel with the Snake's Head about who was to +walk in front. The Head said: + +"You cannot walk in front, because you have no eyes and no ears." + +The Tail said: + +"Yes, but I have strength, I move you; if I want to, I can wind myself +around a tree, and you cannot get off the spot." + +The Head said: + +"Let us separate!" + +And the Tail tore himself loose from the Head, and crept on; but the +moment he got away from the Head, he fell into a hole and was lost. + + +FINE THREAD + +A Man ordered some fine thread from a Spinner. The Spinner spun it for +him, but the Man said that the thread was not good, and that he wanted +the finest thread he could get. The Spinner said: + +"If this is not fine enough, take this!" and she pointed to an empty +space. + +He said that he did not see any. The Spinner said: + +"You do not see it, because it is so fine. I do not see it myself." + +The Fool was glad, and ordered some more thread of this kind, and paid +her for what he got. + + +THE PARTITION OF THE INHERITANCE + +A Father had two Sons. He said to them: "When I die, divide everything +into two equal parts." + +When the Father died, the Sons could not divide without quarrelling. +They went to a Neighbour to have him settle the matter. The Neighbour +asked them how their Father had told them to divide. They said: + +"He ordered us to divide everything into two equal parts." + +The Neighbour said: + +"If so, tear all your garments into two halves, break your dishes into +two halves, and cut all your cattle into two halves!" + +The Brothers obeyed their Neighbour, and lost everything. + + +THE MONKEY + +A Man went into the woods, cut down a tree, and began to saw it. He +raised the end of the tree on a stump, sat astride over it, and began to +saw. Then he drove a wedge into the split that he had sawed, and went on +sawing; then he took out the wedge and drove it in farther down. + +A Monkey was sitting on a tree and watching him. When the Man lay down +to sleep, the Monkey seated herself astride the tree, and wanted to do +the same; but when she took out the wedge, the tree sprang back and +caught her tail. She began to tug and to cry. The Man woke up, beat the +Monkey, and tied a rope to her. + + +THE MONKEY AND THE PEASE + +A Monkey was carrying both her hands full of pease. A pea dropped on the +ground; the Monkey wanted to pick it up, and dropped twenty peas. She +rushed to pick them up and lost all the rest. Then she flew into a +rage, swept away all the pease and ran off. + + +THE MILCH COW + +A Man had a Cow; she gave each day a pot full of milk. The Man invited a +number of guests. To have as much milk as possible, he did not milk the +Cow for ten days. He thought that on the tenth day the Cow would give +him ten pitchers of milk. + +But the Cow's milk went back, and she gave less milk than before. + + +THE DUCK AND THE MOON + +A Duck was swimming in the pond, trying to find some fish, but she did +not find one in a whole day. When night came, she saw the Moon in the +water; she thought that it was a fish, and plunged in to catch the Moon. +The other ducks saw her do it and laughed at her. + +That made the Duck feel so ashamed and bashful that when she saw a fish +under the Water, she did not try to catch it, and so died of hunger. + + +THE WOLF IN THE DUST + +A Wolf wanted to pick a sheep out of a flock, and stepped into the wind, +so that the dust of the flock might blow on him. + +The Sheep Dog saw him, and said: + +"There is no sense, Wolf, in your walking in the dust: it will make your +eyes ache." + +But the Wolf said: + +"The trouble is, Doggy, that my eyes have been aching for quite awhile, +and I have been told that the dust from a flock of sheep will cure the +eyes." + + +THE MOUSE UNDER THE GRANARY + +A Mouse was living under the granary. In the floor of the granary there +was a little hole, and the grain fell down through it. The Mouse had an +easy life of it, but she wanted to brag of her ease: she gnawed a larger +hole in the floor, and invited other mice. + +"Come to a feast with me," said she; "there will be plenty to eat for +everybody." + +When she brought the mice, she saw there was no hole. The peasant had +noticed the big hole in the floor, and had stopped it up. + + +THE BEST PEARS + +A master sent his Servant to buy the best-tasting pears. The Servant +came to the shop and asked for pears. The dealer gave him some; but the +Servant said: + +"No, give me the best!" + +The dealer said: + +"Try one; you will see that they taste good." + +"How shall I know," said the Servant, "that they all taste good, if I +try one only?" + +He bit off a piece from each pear, and brought them to his master. Then +his master sent him away. + + +THE FALCON AND THE COCK + +The Falcon was used to the master, and came to his hand when he was +called; the Cock ran away from his master and cried when people went up +to him. So the Falcon said to the Cock: + +"In you Cocks there is no gratitude; one can see that you are of a +common breed. You go to your masters only when you are hungry. It is +different with us wild birds. We have much strength, and we can fly +faster than anybody; still we do not fly away from people, but of our +own accord go to their hands when we are called. We remember that they +feed us." + +Then the Cock said: + +"You do not run away from people because you have never seen a roast +Falcon, but we, you know, see roast Cocks." + + +THE JACKALS AND THE ELEPHANT + +The Jackals had eaten up all the carrion in the woods, and had nothing +to eat. So an old Jackal was thinking how to find something to feed on. +He went to an Elephant, and said: + +"We had a king, but he became overweening: he told us to do things that +nobody could do; we want to choose another king, and my people have sent +me to ask you to be our king. You will have an easy life with us. +Whatever you will order us to do, we will do, and we will honour you in +everything. Come to our kingdom!" + +The Elephant consented, and followed the Jackal. The Jackal brought him +to a swamp. When the Elephant stuck fast in it, the Jackal said: + +"Now command! Whatever you command, we will do." + +The Elephant said: + +"I command you to pull me out from here." + +The Jackal began to laugh, and said: + +"Take hold of my tail with your trunk, and I will pull you out at once." + +The Elephant said: + +"Can I be pulled out by a tail?" + +But the Jackal said to him: + +"Why, then, do you command us to do what is impossible? Did we not drive +away our first king for telling us to do what could not be done?" + +When the Elephant died in the swamp the Jackals came and ate him up. + + +THE HERON, THE FISHES, AND THE CRAB + +A Heron was living near a pond. She grew old, and had no strength left +with which to catch the fish. She began to contrive how to live by +cunning. So she said to the Fishes: + +"You Fishes do not know that a calamity is in store for you: I have +heard the people say that they are going to let off the pond, and catch +every one of you. I know of a nice little pond back of the mountain. I +should like to help you, but I am old, and it is hard for me to fly." + +The Fishes begged the Heron to help them. So the Heron said: + +"All right, I will do what I can for you, and will carry you over: only +I cannot do it at once,--I will take you there one after another." + +And the Fishes were happy; they kept begging her: "Carry me over! Carry +me over!" + +And the Heron started carrying them. She would take one up, would carry +her into the field, and would eat her up. And thus she ate a large +number of Fishes. + +In the pond there lived an old Crab. When the Heron began to take out +the Fishes, he saw what was up, and said: + +"Now, Heron, take me to the new abode!" + +The Heron took the Crab and carried him off. When she flew out on the +field, she wanted to throw the Crab down. But the Crab saw the +fish-bones on the ground, and so squeezed the Heron's neck with his +claws, and choked her to death. Then he crawled back to the pond, and +told the Fishes. + + +THE WATER-SPRITE AND THE PEARL + +A Man was rowing in a boat, and dropped a costly pearl into the sea. The +Man returned to the shore, took a pail, and began to draw up the water +and to pour it out on the land. He drew the water and poured it out for +three days without stopping. + +On the fourth day the Water-sprite came out of the sea, and asked: + +"Why are you drawing the water?" + +The Man said: + +"I am drawing it because I have dropped a pearl into it." + +The Water-sprite asked him: + +"Will you stop soon?" + +The Man said: + +"I will stop when I dry up the sea." + +Then the Water-sprite returned to the sea, brought back that pearl, and +gave it to the Man. + + +THE BLIND MAN AND THE MILK + +A Man born blind asked a Seeing Man: + +"Of what colour is milk?" + +The Seeing Man said: "The colour of milk is the same as that of white +paper." + +The Blind Man asked: "Well, does that colour rustle in your hands like +paper?" + +The Seeing Man said: "No, it is as white as white flour." + +The Blind Man asked: "Well, is it as soft and as powdery as flour?" + +The Seeing Man said: "No, it is simply as white as a white hare." + +The Blind Man asked: "Well, is it as fluffy and soft as a hare?" + +The Seeing Man said: "No, it is as white as snow." + +The Blind Man asked: "Well, is it as cold as snow?" + +And no matter how many examples the Seeing Man gave, the Blind Man was +unable to understand what the white colour of milk was like. + + +THE WOLF AND THE BOW + +A hunter went out to hunt with bow and arrows. He killed a goat. He +threw her on his shoulders and carried her along. On his way he saw a +boar. He threw down the goat, and shot at the boar and wounded him. The +boar rushed against the hunter and butted him to death, and himself died +on the spot. A Wolf scented the blood, and came to the place where lay +the goat, the boar, the man, and his bow. The Wolf was glad, and said: + +"Now I shall have enough to eat for a long time; only I will not eat +everything at once, but little by little, so that nothing may be lost: +first I will eat the tougher things, and then I will lunch on what is +soft and sweet." + +The Wolf sniffed at the goat, the boar, and the man, and said: + +"This is all soft food, so I will eat it later; let me first start on +these sinews of the bow." + +And he began to gnaw the sinews of the bow. When he bit through the +string, the bow sprang back and hit him on his belly. He died on the +spot, and other wolves ate up the man, the goat, the boar, and the Wolf. + + +THE BIRDS IN THE NET + +A Hunter set out a net near a lake and caught a number of birds. The +birds were large, and they raised the net and flew away with it. The +Hunter ran after them. A Peasant saw the Hunter running, and said: + +"Where are you running? How can you catch up with the birds, while you +are on foot?" + +The Hunter said: + +"If it were one bird, I should not catch it, but now I shall." + +And so it happened. When evening came, the birds began to pull for the +night each in a different direction: one to the woods, another to the +swamp, a third to the field; and all fell with the net to the ground, +and the Hunter caught them. + + +THE KING AND THE FALCON + +A certain King let his favourite Falcon loose on a hare, and galloped +after him. + +The Falcon caught the hare. The King took him away, and began to look +for some water to drink. The King found it on a knoll, but it came only +drop by drop. The King fetched his cup from the saddle, and placed it +under the water. The Water flowed in drops, and when the cup was filled, +the King raised it to his mouth and wanted to drink it. Suddenly the +Falcon fluttered on the King's arm and spilled the water. The King +placed the cup once more under the drops. He waited for a long time for +the cup to be filled even with the brim, and again, as he carried it to +his mouth, the Falcon flapped his wings and spilled the water. + +When the King filled his cup for the third time and began to carry it to +his mouth, the Falcon again spilled it. The King flew into a rage and +killed him by flinging him against a stone with all his force. Just then +the King's servants rode up, and one of them ran up-hill to the spring, +to find as much water as possible, and to fill the cup. But the servant +did not bring the water; he returned with the empty cup, and said: + +"You cannot drink that water; there is a snake in the spring, and she +has let her venom into the water. It is fortunate that the Falcon has +spilled the water. If you had drunk it, you would have died." + +The King said: + +"How badly I have repaid the Falcon! He has saved my life, and I killed +him." + + +THE KING AND THE ELEPHANTS + +An Indian King ordered all the Blind People to be assembled, and when +they came, he ordered that all the Elephants be shown to them. The Blind +Men went to the stable and began to feel the Elephants. One felt a leg, +another a tail, a third the stump of a tail, a fourth a belly, a fifth a +back, a sixth the ears, a seventh the tusks, and an eighth a trunk. + +Then the King called the Blind Men, and asked them: "What are my +Elephants like?" + +One Blind Man said: "Your Elephants are like posts." He had felt the +legs. + +Another Blind Man said: "They are like bath brooms." He had felt the end +of the tail. + +A third said: "They are like branches." He had felt the tail stump. + +The one who had touched a belly said: "The Elephants are like a clod of +earth." + +The one who had touched the sides said: "They are like a wall." + +The one who had touched a back said: "They are like a mound." + +The one who had touched the ears said: "They are like a mortar." + +The one who had touched the tusks said: "They are like horns." + +The one who had touched the trunk said that they were like a stout rope. + +And all the Blind Men began to dispute and to quarrel. + + +WHY THERE IS EVIL IN THE WORLD + +A Hermit was living in the forest, and the animals were not afraid of +him. He and the animals talked together and understood each other. + +Once the Hermit lay down under a tree, and a Raven a Dove, a Stag, and +a Snake gathered in the same place, to pass the night. The animals began +to discuss why there was evil in the world. + +The Raven said: + +"All the evil in the world comes from hunger. When I eat my fill, I sit +down on a branch and croak a little, and it is all jolly and good, and +everything gives me pleasure; but let me just go without eating a day or +two, and everything palls on me so that I do not feel like looking at +God's world. And something draws me on, and I fly from place to place, +and have no rest. When I catch a glimpse of some meat, it makes me only +feel sicker than ever, and I make for it without much thinking. At times +they throw sticks and stones at me, and the wolves and dogs grab me, but +I do not give in. Oh, how many of my brothers are perishing through +hunger! All evil comes from hunger." + +The Dove said: + +"According to my opinion, the evil does not come from hunger, but from +love. If we lived singly, the trouble would not be so bad. One head is +not poor, and if it is, it is only one. But here we live in pairs. And +you come to like your mate so much that you have no rest: you keep +thinking of her all the time, wondering whether she has had enough to +eat, and whether she is warm. And when your mate flies away from you, +you feel entirely lost, and you keep thinking that a hawk may have +carried her off, or men may have caught her; and you start out to find +her, and fly to your ruin,--either into the hawk's claws, or into a +snare. And when your mate is lost, nothing gives you any joy. You do not +eat or drink, and all the time search and weep. Oh, so many of us perish +in this way! All the evil is not from hunger, but from love." + +The Snake said: + +"No, the evil is not from hunger, nor from love, but from rage. If we +lived peacefully, without getting into a rage, everything would be nice +for us. But, as it is, whenever a thing does not go exactly right, we +get angry, and then nothing pleases us. All we think about is how to +revenge ourselves on some one. Then we forget ourselves, and only hiss, +and creep, and try to find some one to bite. And we do not spare a +soul,--we even bite our own father and mother. We feel as though we +could eat ourselves up. And we rage until we perish. All the evil in the +World comes from rage." + +The Stag said: + +"No, not from rage, or from love, or from hunger does all the evil in +the world come, but from terror. If it were possible not to be afraid, +everything would be well. We have swift feet and much strength: against +a small animal we defend ourselves with our horns, and from a large one +we flee. But how can I help becoming frightened? Let a branch crackle in +the forest, or a leaf rustle, and I am all atremble with fear, and my +heart flutters as though it wanted to jump out, and I fly as fast as I +can. Again, let a hare run by, or a bird flap its wings, or a dry twig +break off, and you think that it is a beast, and you run straight up +against him. Or you run away from a dog and run into the hands of a man. +Frequently you get frightened and run, not knowing whither, and at full +speed rush down a steep hill, and get killed. We have no rest. All the +evil comes from terror." + +Then the Hermit said: + +"Not from hunger, not from love, not from rage, not from terror are all +our sufferings, but from our bodies comes all the evil in the world. +From them come hunger, and love, and rage, and terror." + + +THE WOLF AND THE HUNTERS + +A Wolf devoured a sheep. The Hunters caught the Wolf and began to beat +him. The Wolf said: + +"In vain do you beat me: it is not my fault that I am gray,--God has +made me so." + +But the Hunters said: + +"We do not beat the Wolf for being gray, but for eating the sheep." + + +THE TWO PEASANTS + +Once upon a time two Peasants drove toward each other and caught in each +other's sleighs. One cried: + +"Get out of my way,--I am hurrying to town." + +But the other said: + +"Get out of my way, I am hurrying home." + +They quarrelled for some time. A third Peasant saw them and said: + +"If you are in a hurry, back up!" + + +THE PEASANT AND THE HORSE + +A Peasant went to town to fetch some oats for his Horse. He had barely +left the village, when the Horse began to turn around, toward the house. +The Peasant struck the Horse with his whip. She went on, and kept +thinking about the Peasant: + +"Whither is that fool driving me? He had better go home." + +Before reaching town, the Peasant saw that the Horse trudged along +through the mud with difficulty, so he turned her on the pavement; but +the Horse began to turn back from the street. The Peasant gave the Horse +the whip, and jerked at the reins; she went on the pavement, and +thought: + +"Why has he turned me on the pavement? It will only break my hoofs. It +is rough underfoot." + +The Peasant went to the shop, bought the oats, and drove home. When he +came home, he gave the Horse some oats. The Horse ate them and thought: + +"How stupid men are! They are fond of exercising their wits on us, but +they have less sense than we. What did he trouble himself about? He +drove me somewhere. No matter how far we went, we came home in the end. +So it would have been better if we had remained at home from the start: +he could have been sitting on the oven, and I eating oats." + + +THE TWO HORSES + +Two Horses were drawing their carts. The Front Horse pulled well, but +the Hind Horse kept stopping all the time. The load of the Hind Horse +was transferred to the front cart; when all was transferred, the Hind +Horse went along with ease, and said to the Front Horse: + +"Work hard and sweat! The more you try, the harder they will make you +work." + +When they arrived at the tavern, their master said: + +"Why should I feed two Horses, and haul with one only? I shall do better +to give one plenty to eat, and to kill the other: I shall at least have +her hide." + +So he did. + + +THE AXE AND THE SAW + +Two Peasants went to the forest to cut wood. One of them had an axe, and +the other a saw. They picked out a tree, and began to dispute. One said +that the tree had to be chopped, while the other said that it had to be +sawed down. + +A third Peasant said: + +"I will easily make peace between you: if the axe is sharp, you had +better chop it; but if the saw is sharp you had better saw it." + +He took the axe, and began to chop it; but the axe was so dull that it +was not possible to cut with it. Then he took the saw; the saw was +worthless, and did not saw. So he said: + +"Stop quarrelling awhile; the axe does not chop, and the saw does not +saw. First grind your axe and file your saw, and then quarrel." + +But the Peasants grew angrier still at one another, because one had a +dull axe, and the other a dull saw. And they came to blows. + + +THE DOGS AND THE COOK + +A Cook was preparing a dinner. The Dogs were lying at the kitchen door. +The Cook killed a calf and threw the guts out into the yard. The Dogs +picked them up and ate them, and said: + +"He is a good Cook: he cooks well." + +After awhile the Cook began to clean pease, turnips, and onions, and +threw out the refuse. The Dogs made for it; but they turned their noses +up, and said: + +"Our Cook has grown worse: he used to cook well, but now he is no longer +any good." + +But the Cook paid no attention to the Dogs, and continued to fix the +dinner in his own way. The family, and not the Dogs, ate the dinner, and +praised it. + + +THE HARE AND THE HARRIER + +A Hare once said to a Harrier: + +"Why do you bark when you run after us? You would catch us easier, if +you ran after us in silence. With your bark you only drive us against +the hunter: he hears where we are running; and he rushes out with his +gun and kills us, and does not give you anything." + +The Harrier said: + +"That is not the reason why I bark. I bark because, when I scent your +odour, I am angry, and happy because I am about to catch you; I do not +know why, but I cannot keep from barking." + + +THE OAK AND THE HAZELBUSH + +An old Oak dropped an acorn under a Hazelbush. The Hazelbush said to the +Oak: + +"Have you not enough space under your own branches? Drop your acorns in +an open space. Here I am myself crowded by my shoots, and I do not drop +my nuts to the ground, but give them to men." + +"I have lived for two hundred years," said the Oak, "and the Oakling +which will sprout from that acorn will live just as long." + +Then the Hazelbush flew into a rage, and said: + +"If so, I will choke your Oakling, and he will not live for three days." + +The Oak made no reply, but told his son to sprout out of that acorn. The +acorn got wet and burst, and clung to the ground with his crooked +rootlet, and sent up a sprout. + +The Hazelbush tried to choke him, and gave him no sun. But the Oakling +spread upwards and grew stronger in the shade of the Hazelbush. A +hundred years passed. The Hazelbush had long ago dried up, but the Oak +from that acorn towered to the sky and spread his tent in all +directions. + + +THE HEN AND THE CHICKS + +A Hen hatched some Chicks, but did not know how to take care of them. So +she said to them: + +"Creep back into your shells! When you are inside your shells, I will +sit on you as before, and will take care of you." + +The Chicks did as they were ordered and tried to creep into their +shells, but were unable to do so, and only crushed their wings. Then one +of the Chicks said to his mother: + +"If we are to stay all the time in our shells, you ought never to have +hatched us." + + +THE CORN-CRAKE AND HIS MATE + +A Corn-crake had made a nest in the meadow late in the year, and at +mowing time his Mate was still sitting on her eggs. Early in the morning +the peasants came to the meadow, took off the coats, whetted their +scythes, and started one after another to mow down the grass and to put +it down in rows. The Corn-crake flew up to see what the mowers were +doing. When he saw a peasant swing his scythe and cut a snake in two, he +rejoiced and flew back to his Mate and said: + +"Don't fear the peasants! They have come to cut the snakes to pieces; +they have given us no rest for quite awhile." + +But his Mate said: + +"The peasants are cutting the grass, and with the grass they are cutting +everything which is in their way,--the snakes, and the Corn-crake's +nest, and the Corn-crake's head. My heart forebodes nothing good: but I +cannot carry away the eggs, nor fly from the nest, for fear of chilling +them." + +When the mowers came to the nest of the Corn-crake, one of the peasants +swung his scythe and cut off the head of the Corn-crake's Mate, and put +the eggs in his bosom and gave them to his children to play with. + + +THE COW AND THE BILLY GOAT + +An old woman had a Cow and a Billy Goat. The two pastured together. At +milking the Cow was restless. The old woman brought out some bread and +salt, and gave it to the Cow, and said: + +"Stand still, motherkin; take it, take it! I will bring you some more, +only stand still." + +On the next evening the Goat came home from the field before the Cow, +and spread his legs, and stood in front of the old woman. The old woman +wanted to strike him with the towel, but he stood still, and did not +stir. He remembered that the woman had promised the Cow some bread if +she would stand still. When the woman saw that he would not budge, she +picked up a stick, and beat him with it. + +When the Goat went away, the woman began once more to feed the Cow with +bread, and to talk to her. + +"There is no honesty in men," thought the Goat. "I stood still better +than the Cow, and was beaten for it." + +He stepped aside, took a run, hit against the milk-pail, spilled the +milk, and hurt the old woman. + + +THE FOX'S TAIL + +A Man caught a Fox, and asked her: + +"Who has taught you Foxes to cheat the dogs with your tails?" + +The Fox asked: "How do you mean, to cheat? We do not cheat the dogs, but +simply run from them as fast as we can." + +The Man said: + +"Yes, you do cheat them with your tails. When the dogs catch up with you +and are about to clutch you, you turn your tails to one side; the dogs +turn sharply after the tail, and then you run in the opposite +direction." + +The Fox laughed, and said: + +"We do not do so in order to cheat the dogs, but in order to turn +around; when a dog is after us, and we see that we cannot get away +straight ahead, we turn to one side, and in order to do that suddenly, +we have to swing the tail to the other side, just as you do with your +arms, when you have to turn around. That is not our invention; God +himself invented it when He created us, so that the dogs might not be +able to catch all the Foxes." + + + + +STORIES FOR CHILDREN + +1869-1872 + + + + +STORIES FOR CHILDREN + + + + +THE FOUNDLING + + +A poor woman had a daughter by the name of Másha. Másha went in the +morning to fetch water, and saw at the door something wrapped in rags. +When she touched the rags, there came from it the sound of "Ooah, ooah, +ooah!" Másha bent down and saw that it was a tiny, red-skinned baby. It +was crying aloud: "Ooah, ooah!" + +Másha took it into her arms and carried it into the house, and gave it +milk with a spoon. Her mother said: + +"What have you brought?" + +"A baby. I found it at our door." + +The mother said: + +"We are poor as it is; we have nothing to feed the baby with; I will go +to the chief and tell him to take the baby." + +Másha began to cry, and said: + +"Mother, the child will not eat much; leave it here! See what red, +wrinkled little hands and fingers it has!" + +Her mother looked at them, and she felt pity for the child. She did not +take the baby away. Másha fed and swathed the child, and sang songs to +it, when it went to sleep. + + + + +THE PEASANT AND THE CUCUMBERS + + +A peasant once went to the gardener's, to steal cucumbers. He crept up +to the cucumbers, and thought: + +"I will carry off a bag of cucumbers, which I will sell; with the money +I will buy a hen. The hen will lay eggs, hatch them, and raise a lot of +chicks. I will feed the chicks and sell them; then I will buy me a young +sow, and she will bear a lot of pigs. I will sell the pigs, and buy me a +mare; the mare will foal me some colts. I will raise the colts, and sell +them. I will buy me a house, and start a garden. In the garden I will +sow cucumbers, and will not let them be stolen, but will keep a sharp +watch on them. I will hire watchmen, and put them in the cucumber patch, +while I myself will come on them, unawares, and shout: 'Oh, there, keep +a sharp lookout!'" + +And this he shouted as loud as he could. The watchmen heard it, and they +rushed out and beat the peasant. + + + + +THE FIRE + + +During harvest-time the men and women went out to work. In the village +were left only the old and the very young. In one hut there remained a +grandmother with her three grandchildren. + +The grandmother made a fire in the oven, and lay down to rest herself. +Flies kept alighting on her and biting her. She covered her head with a +towel and fell asleep. One of the grandchildren, Másha (she was three +years old), opened the oven, scraped some coals into a potsherd, and +went into the vestibule. In the vestibule lay sheaves: the women were +getting them bound. + +Másha brought the coals, put them under the sheaves, and began to blow. +When the straw caught fire, she was glad; she went into the hut and took +her brother Kiryúsha by the arm (he was a year and a half old, and had +just learned to walk), and brought him out, and said to him: + +"See, Kiryúsha, what a fire I have kindled." + +The sheaves were already burning and crackling. When the vestibule was +filled with smoke, Másha became frightened and ran back into the house. +Kiryúsha fell over the threshold, hurt his nose, and began to cry; Másha +pulled him into the house, and both hid under a bench. + +The grandmother heard nothing, and did not wake. The elder boy, Ványa +(he was eight years old), was in the street. When he saw the smoke +rolling out of the vestibule, he ran to the door, made his way through +the smoke into the house, and began to waken his grandmother; but she +was dazed from her sleep, and, forgetting the children, rushed out and +ran to the farmyards to call the people. + +In the meantime Másha was sitting under the bench and keeping quiet; but +the little boy cried, because he had hurt his nose badly. Ványa heard +his cry, looked under the bench, and called out to Másha: + +"Run, you will burn!" + +Másha ran to the vestibule, but could not pass for the smoke and fire. +She turned back. Then Ványa raised a window and told her to climb +through it. When she got through, Ványa picked up his brother and +dragged him along. But the child was heavy and did not let his brother +take him. He cried and pushed Ványa. Ványa fell down twice, and when he +dragged him up to the window, the door of the hut was already burning. +Ványa thrust the child's head through the window and wanted to push him +through; but the child took hold of him with both his hands (he was very +much frightened) and would not let them take him out. Then Ványa cried +to Másha: + +"Pull him by the head!" while he himself pushed him behind. + +And thus they pulled him through the window and into the street. + + + + +THE OLD HORSE + + +In our village there was an old, old man, Pímen Timoféich. He was ninety +years old. He was living at the house of his grandson, doing no work. +His back was bent: he walked with a cane and moved his feet slowly. + +He had no teeth at all, and his face was wrinkled. His nether lip +trembled; when he walked and when he talked, his lips smacked, and one +could not understand what he was saying. + +We were four brothers, and we were fond of riding. But we had no gentle +riding-horses. We were allowed to ride only on one horse,--the name of +that horse was Raven. + +One day mamma allowed us to ride, and all of us went with the valet to +the stable. The coachman saddled Raven for us, and my eldest brother was +the first to take a ride. He rode for a long time; he rode to the +threshing-floor and around the garden, and when he came back, we +shouted: + +"Now gallop past us!" + +My elder brother began to strike Raven with his feet and with the whip, +and Raven galloped past us. + +After him, my second brother mounted the horse. He, too, rode for quite +awhile, and he, too, urged Raven on with the whip and galloped up the +hill. He wanted to ride longer, but my third brother begged him to let +him ride at once. + +My third brother rode to the threshing-floor, and around the garden, and +down the village, and raced up-hill to the stable. When he rode up to +us Raven was panting, and his neck and shoulders were dark from sweat. + +When my turn came, I wanted to surprise my brothers and to show them how +well I could ride, so I began to drive Raven with all my might, but he +did not want to get away from the stable. And no matter how much I beat +him, he would not run, but only shied and turned back. I grew angry at +the horse, and struck him as hard as I could with my feet and with the +whip. I tried to strike him in places where it would hurt most; I broke +the whip and began to strike his head with what was left of the whip. +But Raven would not run. Then I turned back, rode up to the valet, and +asked him for a stout switch. But the valet said to me: + +"Don't ride any more, sir! Get down! What use is there in torturing the +horse?" + +I felt offended, and said: + +"But I have not had a ride yet. Just watch me gallop! Please, give me a +good-sized switch! I will heat him up." + +Then the valet shook his head, and said: + +"Oh, sir, you have no pity; why should you heat him up? He is twenty +years old. The horse is worn out; he can barely breathe, and is old. He +is so very old! Just like Pímen Timoféich. You might just as well sit +down on Timoféich's back and urge him on with a switch. Well, would you +not pity him?" + +I thought of Pímen, and listened to the valet's words. I climbed down +from the horse and, when I saw how his sweaty sides hung down, how he +breathed heavily through his nostrils, and how he switched his bald +tail, I understood that it was hard for the horse. Before that I used to +think that it was as much fun for him as for me. I felt so sorry for +Raven that I began to kiss his sweaty neck and to beg his forgiveness +for having beaten him. + +Since then I have grown to be a big man, and I always am careful with +the horses, and always think of Raven and of Pímen Timoféitch whenever I +see anybody torture a horse. + + + + +HOW I LEARNED TO RIDE + + +When I was a little fellow, we used to study every day, and only on +Sundays and holidays went out and played with our brothers. Once my +father said: + +"The children must learn to ride. Send them to the riding-school!" + +I was the youngest of the brothers, and I asked: + +"May I, too, learn to ride?" + +My father said: + +"You will fall down." + +I began to beg him to let me learn, and almost cried. My father said: + +"All right, you may go, too. Only look out! Don't cry when you fall off. +He who does not once fall down from a horse will not learn to ride." + +When Wednesday came, all three of us were taken to the riding-school. We +entered by a large porch, and from the large porch went to a smaller +one. Beyond the porch was a very large room: instead of a floor it had +sand. And in this room were gentlemen and ladies and just such boys as +we. That was the riding-school. The riding-school was not very light, +and there was a smell of horses, and you could hear them snap whips and +call to the horses, and the horses strike their hoofs against the wooden +walls. At first I was frightened and could not see things well. Then our +valet called the riding-master, and said: + +"Give these boys some horses: they are going to learn how to ride." + +The master said: + +"All right!" + +Then he looked at me, and said: + +"He is very small, yet." + +But the valet said: + +"He promised not to cry when he falls down." + +The master laughed and went away. + +Then they brought three saddled horses, and we took off our cloaks and +walked down a staircase to the riding-school. The master was holding a +horse by a cord, and my brothers rode around him. At first they rode at +a slow pace, and later at a trot. Then they brought a pony. It was a red +horse, and his tail was cut off. He was called Ruddy. The master +laughed, and said to me: + +"Well, young gentleman, get on your horse!" + +I was both happy and afraid, and tried to act in such a manner as not to +be noticed by anybody. For a long time I tried to get my foot into the +stirrup, but could not do it because I was too small. Then the master +raised me up in his hands and put me on the saddle. He said: + +"The young master is not heavy,--about two pounds in weight, that is +all." + +At first he held me by my hand, but I saw that my brothers were not +held, and so I begged him to let go of me. He said: + +"Are you not afraid?" + +I was very much afraid, but I said that I was not. I was so much afraid +because Ruddy kept dropping his ears. I thought he was angry at me. The +master said: + +"Look out, don't fall down!" and let go of me. At first Ruddy went at a +slow pace, and I sat up straight. But the saddle was sleek, and I was +afraid I would slip off. The master asked me: + +"Well, are you fast in the saddle?" + +I said: + +"Yes, I am." + +"If so, go at a slow trot!" and the master clicked his tongue. + +Ruddy started at a slow trot, and began to jog me. But I kept silent, +and tried not to slip to one side. The master praised me: + +"Oh, a fine young gentleman, indeed!" + +I was very glad to hear it. + +Just then the master's friend went up to him and began to talk with him, +and the master stopped looking at me. + +Suddenly I felt that I had slipped a little to one side on my saddle. I +wanted to straighten myself up, but was unable to do so. I wanted to +call out to the master to stop the horse, but I thought it would be a +disgrace if I did it, and so kept silence. The master was not looking at +me and Ruddy ran at a trot, and I slipped still more to one side. I +looked at the master and thought that he would help me, but he was still +talking with his friend, and without looking at me kept repeating: + +"Well done, young gentleman!" + +I was now altogether to one side, and was very much frightened. I +thought that I was lost; but I felt ashamed to cry. Ruddy shook me up +once more, and I slipped off entirely and fell to the ground. Then Ruddy +stopped, and the master looked at the horse and saw that I was not on +him. He said: + +"I declare, my young gentleman has dropped off!" and walked over to me. + +When I told him that I was not hurt, he laughed and said: + +"A child's body is soft." + +I felt like crying. I asked him to put me again on the horse, and I was +lifted on the horse. After that I did not fall down again. + +Thus we rode twice a week in the riding-school, and I soon learned to +ride well, and was not afraid of anything. + + + + +THE WILLOW + + +During Easter week a peasant went out to see whether the ground was all +thawed out. + +He went into the garden and touched the soil with a stick. The earth was +soft. The peasant went into the woods; here the catkins were already +swelling on the willows. The peasant thought: + +"I will fence my garden with willows; they will grow up and will make a +good hedge!" + +He took his axe, cut down a dozen willows, sharpened them at the end, +and stuck them in the ground. + +All the willows sent up sprouts with leaves, and underground let out +just such sprouts for roots; and some of them took hold of the ground +and grew, and others did not hold well to the ground with their roots, +and died and fell down. + +In the fall the peasant was glad at the sight of his willows: six of +them had taken root. The following spring the sheep killed two willows +by gnawing at them, and only two were left. Next spring the sheep +nibbled at these also. One of them was completely ruined, and the other +came to, took root, and grew to be a tree. In the spring the bees just +buzzed in the willow. In swarming time the swarms were often put out on +the willow, and the peasants brushed them in. The men and women +frequently ate and slept under the willow, and the children climbed on +it and broke off rods from it. + +The peasant that had set out the willow was long dead, and still it +grew. His eldest son twice cut down its branches and used them for +fire-wood. The willow kept growing. They trimmed it all around, and cut +it down to a stump, but in the spring it again sent out twigs, thinner +ones than before, but twice as many as ever, as is the case with a +colt's forelock. + +And the eldest son quit farming, and the village was given up, but the +willow grew in the open field. Other peasants came there, and chopped +the willow, but still it grew. The lightning struck it; but it sent +forth side branches, and it grew and blossomed. A peasant wanted to cut +it down for a block, but he gave it up, it was too rotten. It leaned +sidewise, and held on with one side only; and still it grew, and every +year the bees came there to gather the pollen. + +One day, early in the spring, the boys gathered under the willow, to +watch the horses. They felt cold, so they started a fire. They gathered +stubbles, wormwood, and sticks. One of them climbed on the willow and +broke off a lot of twigs. They put it all in the hollow of the willow +and set fire to it. The tree began to hiss and its sap to boil, and the +smoke rose and the tree burned; its whole inside was smudged. The young +shoots dried up, the blossoms withered. + +The children drove the horses home. The scorched willow was left all +alone in the field. A black raven flew by, and he sat down on it, and +cried: + +"So you are dead, old smudge! You ought to have died long ago!" + + + + +BÚLKA + + +I had a small bulldog. He was called Búlka. He was black; only the tips +of his front feet were white. All bulldogs have their lower jaws longer +than the upper, and the upper teeth come down behind the nether teeth, +but Búlka's lower jaw protruded so much that I could put my finger +between the two rows of teeth. His face was broad, his eyes large, +black, and sparkling; and his teeth and incisors stood out prominently. +He was as black as a negro. He was gentle and did not bite, but he was +strong and stubborn. If he took hold of a thing, he clenched his teeth +and clung to it like a rag, and it was not possible to tear him off, any +more than as though he were a lobster. + +Once he was let loose on a bear, and he got hold of the bear's ear and +stuck to him like a leech. The bear struck him with his paws and +squeezed him, and shook him from side to side, but could not tear +himself loose from him, and so he fell down on his head, in order to +crush Búlka; but Búlka held on to him until they poured cold water over +him. + +I got him as a puppy, and raised him myself. When I went to the +Caucasus, I did not want to take him along, and so went away from him +quietly, ordering him to be shut up. At the first station I was about to +change the relay, when suddenly I saw something black and shining coming +down the road. It was Búlka in his brass collar. He was flying at full +speed toward the station. He rushed up to me, licked my hand, and +stretched himself out in the shade under the cart. His tongue stuck out +a whole hand's length. He now drew it in to swallow the spittle, and +now stuck it out again a whole hand's length. He tried to breathe fast, +but could not do so, and his sides just shook. He turned from one side +to the other, and struck his tail against the ground. + +I learned later that after I had left he had broken a pane, jumped out +of the window, and followed my track along the road, and thus raced +twenty versts through the greatest heat. + + + + +BÚLKA AND THE WILD BOAR + + +Once we went into the Caucasus to hunt the wild boar, and Búlka went +with me. The moment the hounds started, Búlka rushed after them, +following their sound, and disappeared in the forest. That was in the +month of November; the boars and sows are then very fat. + +In the Caucasus there are many edible fruits in the forests where the +boars live: wild grapes, cones, apples, pears, blackberries, acorns, +wild plums. And when all these fruits get ripe and are touched by the +frost, the boars eat them and grow fat. + +At that time a boar gets so fat that he cannot run from the dogs. When +they chase him for about two hours, he makes for the thicket and there +stops. Then the hunters run up to the place where he stands, and shoot +him. They can tell by the bark of the hounds whether the boar has +stopped, or is running. If he is running, the hounds yelp, as though +they were beaten; but when he stops, they bark as though at a man, with +a howling sound. + +During that chase I ran for a long time through the forest, but not once +did I cross a boar track. Finally I heard the long-drawn bark and howl +of the hounds, and ran up to that place. I was already near the boar. I +could hear the crashing in the thicket. The boar was turning around on +the dogs, but I could not tell by the bark that they were not catching +him, but only circling around him. Suddenly I heard something rustle +behind me, and I saw that it was Búlka. He had evidently strayed from +the hounds in the forest and had lost his way, and now was hearing their +barking and making for them, like me, as fast as he could. He ran +across a clearing through the high grass, and all I could see of him was +his black head and his tongue clinched between his white teeth. I called +him back, but he did not look around, and ran past me and disappeared in +the thicket. I ran after him, but the farther I went, the more and more +dense did the forest grow. The branches kept knocking off my cap and +struck me in the face, and the thorns caught in my garments. I was near +to the barking, but could not see anything. + +Suddenly I heard the dogs bark louder, and something crashed loudly, and +the boar began to puff and snort. I immediately made up my mind that +Búlka had got up to him and was busy with him. I ran with all my might +through the thicket to that place. In the densest part of the thicket I +saw a dappled hound. She was barking and howling in one spot, and within +three steps from her something black could be seen moving around. + +When I came nearer, I could make out the boar, and I heard Búlka whining +shrilly. The boar grunted and made for the hound; the hound took her +tail between her legs and leaped away. I could see the boar's side and +head. I aimed at his side and fired. I saw that I had hit him. The boar +grunted and crashed through the thicket away from me. The dogs whimpered +and barked in his track; I tried to follow them through the undergrowth. +Suddenly I saw and heard something almost under my feet. It was Búlka. +He was lying on his side and whining. Under him there was a puddle of +blood. I thought the dog was lost; but I had no time to look after him, +I continued to make my way through the thicket. Soon I saw the boar. The +dogs were trying to catch him from behind, and he kept turning, now to +one side, and now to another. When the boar saw me, he moved toward me. +I fired a second time, almost resting the barrel against him, so that +his bristles caught fire, and the boar groaned and tottered, and with +his whole cadaver dropped heavily on the ground. + +When I came up, the boar was dead, and only here and there did his body +jerk and twitch. Some of the dogs, with bristling hair, were tearing his +belly and legs, while the others were lapping the blood from his wound. + +Then I thought of Búlka, and went back to find him. He was crawling +toward me and groaning. I went up to him and looked at his wound. His +belly was ripped open, and a whole piece of his guts was sticking out of +his body and dragging on the dry leaves. When my companions came up to +me, we put the guts back and sewed up his belly. While we were sewing +him up and sticking the needle through his skin, he kept licking my +hand. + +The boar was tied up to the horse's tail, to pull him out of the forest, +and Búlka was put on the horse, and thus taken home. Búlka was sick for +about six weeks, and got well again. + + + + +PHEASANTS + + +Wild fowls are called pheasants in the Caucasus. There are so many of +them that they are cheaper there than tame chickens. Pheasants are +hunted with the "hobby," by scaring up, and from under dogs. This is the +way they are hunted with the "hobby." They take a piece of canvas and +stretch it over a frame, and in the middle of the frame they make a +cross piece. They cut a hole in the canvas. This frame with the canvas +is called a hobby. With this hobby and with the gun they start out at +dawn to the forest. The hobby is carried in front, and through the hole +they look out for the pheasants. The pheasants feed at daybreak in the +clearings. At times it is a whole brood,--a hen with all her chicks, and +at others a cock with his hen, or several cocks together. + +The pheasants do not see the man, and they are not afraid of the canvas +and let the hunter come close to them. Then the hunter puts down the +hobby, sticks his gun through the rent, and shoots at whichever bird he +pleases. + +This is the way they hunt by scaring up. They let a watch-dog into the +forest and follow him. When the dog finds a pheasant, he rushes for it. +The pheasant flies on a tree, and then the dog begins to bark at it. The +hunter follows up the barking and shoots the pheasant in the tree. This +chase would be easy, if the pheasant alighted on a tree in an open +place, or if it sat still, so that it might be seen. But they always +alight on dense trees, in the thicket, and when they see the hunter they +hide themselves in the branches. And it is hard to make one's way +through the thicket to the tree on which a pheasant is sitting, and hard +to see it. So long as the dog alone barks at it, it is not afraid: it +sits on a branch and preens and flaps its wings at the dog. But the +moment it sees a man, it immediately stretches itself out along a bough, +so that only an experienced hunter can tell it, while an inexperienced +one will stand near by and see nothing. + +When the Cossacks steal up to the pheasants, they pull their caps over +their faces and do not look up, because a pheasant is afraid of a man +with his gun, but more still of his eyes. + +This is the way they hunt from under dogs. They take a setter and follow +him to the forest. The dog scents the place where the pheasants have +been feeding at daybreak, and begins to make out their tracks. No matter +how the pheasants may have mixed them up, a good dog will always find +the last track, that takes them out from the spot where they have been +feeding. The farther the dog follows the track, the stronger will the +scent be, and thus he will reach the place where the pheasant sits or +walks about in the grass in the daytime. When he comes near to where the +bird is, he thinks that it is right before him, and starts walking more +cautiously so as not to frighten it, and will stop now and then, ready +to jump and catch it. When the dog comes up very near to the pheasant, +it flies up, and the hunter shoots it. + + + + +MILTON AND BÚLKA + + +I bought me a setter to hunt pheasants with. The name of the dog was +Milton. He was a big, thin, gray, spotted dog, with long lips and ears, +and he was very strong and intelligent. He did not fight with Búlka. No +dog ever tried to get into a fight with Búlka. He needed only to show +his teeth, and the dogs would take their tails between their legs and +slink away. + +Once I went with Milton to hunt pheasants. Suddenly Búlka ran after me +to the forest. I wanted to drive him back, but could not do so; and it +was too far for me to take him home. I thought he would not be in my +way, and so walked on; but the moment Milton scented a pheasant in the +grass and began to search for it, Búlka rushed forward and tossed from +side to side. He tried to scare up the pheasant before Milton. He heard +something in the grass, and jumped and whirled around; but he had a poor +scent and could not find the track himself, but watched Milton, to see +where he was running. The moment Milton started on the trail, Búlka ran +ahead of him. I called Búlka back and beat him, but could not do a thing +with him. The moment Milton began to search, he darted forward and +interfered with him. + +I was already on the point of going home, because I thought that the +chase was spoiled; but Milton found a better way of cheating Búlka. This +is what he did: the moment Búlka rushed ahead of him, he gave up the +trail and turned in another direction, pretending that he was searching +there. Búlka rushed there where Milton was, and Milton looked at me and +wagged his tail and went back to the right trail. Búlka again ran up to +Milton and rushed past him, and again Milton took some ten steps to one +side and cheated Búlka, and again led me straight; and so he cheated +Búlka all the way and did not let him spoil the chase. + + + + +THE TURTLE + + +Once I went with Milton to the chase. Near the forest he began to +search. He straightened out his tail, pricked his ears, and began to +sniff. I fixed the gun and followed him. I thought that he was looking +for a partridge, hare, or pheasant. But Milton did not make for the +forest, but for the field. I followed him and looked ahead of me. +Suddenly I saw what he was searching for. In front of him was running a +small turtle, of the size of a cap. Its bare, dark gray head on a long +neck was stretched out like a pestle; the turtle in walking stretched +its bare legs far out, and its back was all covered with bark. + +When it saw the dog, it hid its legs and head and let itself down on the +grass so that only its shell could be seen. Milton grabbed it and began +to bite at it, but could not bite through it, because the turtle has +just such a shell on its belly as it has on its back, and has only +openings in front, at the back, and at the sides, where it puts forth +its head, its legs, and its tail. + +I took the turtle away from Milton, and tried to see how its back was +painted, and what kind of a shell it had, and how it hid itself. When +you hold it in your hands and look between the shell, you can see +something black and alive inside, as though in a cellar. I threw away +the turtle, and walked on, but Milton would not leave it, and carried it +in his teeth behind me. Suddenly Milton whimpered and dropped it. The +turtle had put forth its foot inside of his mouth, and had scratched it. +That made him so angry that he began to bark; he grasped it once more +and carried it behind me. I ordered Milton to throw it away, but he +paid no attention to me. Then I took the turtle from him and threw it +away. But he did not leave it. He hurriedly dug a hole near it; when the +hole was dug, he threw the turtle into it and covered it up with dirt. + +The turtles live on land and in the water, like snakes and frogs. They +breed their young from eggs. These eggs they lay on the ground, and they +do not hatch them, but the eggs burst themselves, like fish spawn, and +the turtles crawl out of them. There are small turtles, not larger than +a saucer, and large ones, seven feet in length and weighing seven +hundredweights. The large turtles live in the sea. + +One turtle lays in the spring hundreds of eggs. The turtle's shells are +its ribs. Men and other animals have each rib separate, while the +turtle's ribs are all grown together into a shell. But the main thing is +that with all the animals the ribs are inside the flesh, while the +turtle has the ribs on the outside, and the flesh beneath them. + + + + +BÚLKA AND THE WOLF + + +When I left the Caucasus, they were still fighting there, and in the +night it was dangerous to travel without a guard. + +I wanted to leave as early as possible, and so did not lie down to +sleep. + +My friend came to see me off, and we sat the whole evening and night in +the village street, in front of my cabin. + +It was a moonlit night with a mist, and so bright that one could read, +though the moon was not to be seen. + +In the middle of the night we suddenly heard a pig squealing in the yard +across the street. One of us cried: "A wolf is choking the pig!" + +I ran into the house, grasped a loaded gun, and ran into the street. +They were all standing at the gate of the yard where the pig was +squealing, and cried to me: "Here!" Milton rushed after me,--no doubt he +thought that I was going out to hunt with the gun; but Búlka pricked his +short ears, and tossed from side to side, as though to ask me whom he +was to clutch. When I ran up to the wicker fence, I saw a beast running +straight toward me from the other side of the yard. That was the wolf. +He ran up to the fence and jumped on it. I stepped aside and fixed my +gun. The moment the wolf jumped down from the fence to my side, I aimed, +almost touching him with the gun, and pulled the trigger; but my gun +made "Click" and did not go off. The Wolf did not stop, but ran across +the street. + +Milton and Búlka made for him. Milton was near to the wolf, but was +afraid to take hold of him; and no matter how fast Búlka ran on his +short legs, he could not keep up with him. We ran as fast as we could +after the wolf, but both the wolf and the dogs disappeared from sight. +Only at the ditch, at the end of the village, did we hear a low barking +and whimpering, and saw the dust rise in the mist of the moon and the +dogs busy with the wolf. When we ran up to the ditch, the wolf was no +longer there, and both dogs returned to us with raised tails and angry +faces. Búlka snarled and pushed me with his head: evidently he wanted to +tell me something, but did not know how. + +We examined the dogs, and found a small wound on Búlka's head. He had +evidently caught up with the wolf before he got to the ditch, but had +not had a chance to get hold of him, while the wolf snapped at him and +ran away. It was a small wound, so there was no danger. + +We returned to the cabin, and sat down and talked about what had +happened. I was angry because the gun had missed fire, and thought of +how the wolf would have remained on the spot, if the gun had shot. My +friend wondered how the wolf could have crept into the yard. An old +Cossack said that there was nothing remarkable about it, because that +was not a wolf, but a witch who had charmed my gun. Thus we sat and kept +talking. Suddenly the dogs darted off, and we saw the same wolf in the +middle of the street; but this time he ran so fast when he heard our +shout that the dogs could not catch up with him. + +After that the old Cossack was fully convinced that it was not a wolf, +but a witch; but I thought that it was a mad wolf, because I had never +seen or heard of such a thing as a wolf's coming back toward the people, +after it had been driven away. + +In any case I poured some powder on Búlka's wound, and set it on fire. +The powder flashed up and burned out the sore spot. + +I burned out the sore with powder, in order to burn away the poisonous +saliva, if it had not yet entered the blood. But if the saliva had +already entered the blood, I knew that the blood would carry it through +the whole body, and then it would not be possible to cure him. + + + + +WHAT HAPPENED TO BÚLKA IN PYATIGÓRSK + + +From the Cossack village I did not travel directly to Russia, but first +to Pyatigórsk, where I stayed two months. Milton I gave away to a +Cossack hunter, and Búlka I took along with me to Pyatigórsk. + +Pyatigórsk [in English, Five-Mountains] is called so because it is +situated on Mount Besh-tau. And besh means in Tartar "five," and tau +"mountain." From this mountain flows a hot sulphur stream. It is as hot +as boiling water, and over the spot where the water flows from the +mountain there is always a steam as from a samovár. + +The whole place, on which the city stands, is very cheerful. From the +mountain flow the hot springs, and at the foot of the mountain is the +river Podkúmok. On the slopes of the mountain are forests; all around +the city are fields, and in the distance are seen the mountains of the +Caucasus. On these the snow never melts, and they are always as white as +sugar. One large mountain, Elbrus, is like a white loaf of sugar; it can +be seen from everywhere when the weather is clear. People come to the +hot springs to be cured, and over them there are arbours and awnings, +and all around them are gardens with walks. In the morning the music +plays, and people drink the water, or bathe, or stroll about. + +The city itself is on the mountain, but at the foot of it there is a +suburb. I lived in that suburb in a small house. The house stood in a +yard, and before the windows was a small garden, and in the garden stood +the landlord's beehives, not in hollow stems, as in Russia, but in +round, plaited baskets. The bees are there so gentle that in the morning +I used to sit with Búlka in that garden, amongst the beehives. + +Búlka walked about between the hives, and sniffed, and listened to the +bees' buzzing; he walked so softly among them that he did not interfere +with them, and they did not bother him. + +One morning I returned home from the waters, and sat down in the garden +to drink coffee. Búlka began to scratch himself behind his ears, and +made a grating noise with his collar. The noise worried the bees, and so +I took the collar off. A little while later I heard a strange and +terrible noise coming from the city. The dogs barked, howled, and +whimpered, people shouted, and the noise descended lower from the +mountain and came nearer and nearer to our suburb. + +Búlka stopped scratching himself, put his broad head with its white +teeth between his fore legs, stuck out his tongue as he wished, and lay +quietly by my side. When he heard the noise he seemed to understand what +it was. He pricked his ears, showed his teeth, jumped up, and began to +snarl. The noise came nearer. It sounded as though all the dogs of the +city were howling, whimpering, and barking. I went to the gate to see +what it was, and my landlady came out, too. I asked her: + +"What is this?" + +She said: + +"The prisoners of the jail are coming down to kill the dogs. The dogs +have been breeding so much that the city authorities have ordered all +the dogs in the city to be killed." + +"So they would kill Búlka, too, if they caught him?" + +"No, they are not allowed to kill dogs with collars." + +Just as I was speaking, the prisoners were coming up to our house. In +front walked the soldiers, and behind them four prisoners in chains. Two +of the prisoners had in their hands long iron hooks, and two had clubs. +In front of our house, one of the prisoners caught a watch-dog with his +hook and pulled it up to the middle of the street, and another began to +strike it with the club. + +The little dog whined dreadfully, but the prisoners shouted and laughed. +The prisoner with the hook turned over the dog, and when he saw that it +was dead, he pulled out the hook and looked around for other dogs. + +Just then Búlka rushed headlong at that prisoner, as though he were a +bear. I happened to think that he was without his collar, so I shouted: +"Búlka, back!" and told the prisoners not to strike the dog. But the +prisoner laughed when he saw Búlka, and with his hook nimbly struck him +and caught him by his thigh. Búlka tried to get away; but the prisoner +pulled him up toward him and told the other prisoner to strike him. The +other raised his club, and Búlka would have been killed, but he jerked, +and broke the skin at the thigh and, taking his tail between his legs, +flew, with the red sore on his body, through the gate and into the +house, and hid himself under my bed. + +He was saved because the skin had broken in the spot where the hook +was. + + + + +BÚLKA'S AND MILTON'S END + + +Búlka and Milton died at the same time. The old Cossack did not know how +to get along with Milton. Instead of taking him out only for birds, he +went with him to hunt wild boars. And that same fall a tusky boar ripped +him open. Nobody knew how to sew him up, and so he died. + +Búlka, too, did not live long after the prisoners had caught him. Soon +after his salvation from the prisoners he began to feel unhappy, and +started to lick everything that he saw. He licked my hands, but not as +formerly when he fawned. He licked for a long time, and pressed his +tongue against me, and then began to snap. Evidently he felt like biting +my hand, but did not want to do so. I did not give him my hand. Then he +licked my boot and the foot of a table, and then he began to snap at +these things. That lasted about two days, and on the third he +disappeared, and no one saw him or heard of him. + +He could not have been stolen or run away from me. This happened six +weeks after the wolf had bitten him. Evidently the wolf had been mad. +Búlka had gone mad, and so went away. He had what hunters call the +rabies. They say that this madness consists in this, that the mad animal +gets cramps in its throat. It wants to drink and cannot, because the +water makes the cramps worse. And so it gets beside itself from pain and +thirst, and begins to bite. Evidently Búlka was beginning to have these +cramps when he started to lick and then to bite my hand and the foot of +the table. + +I went everywhere in the neighbourhood and asked about Búlka, but could +not find out what had become of him, or how he had died. If he had been +running about and biting, as mad dogs do, I should have heard of him. No +doubt he ran somewhere into a thicket and there died by himself. + +The hunters say that when an intelligent dog gets the rabies, he runs to +the fields and forests, and there tries to find the herb which he needs, +and rolls in the dew, and gets cured. Evidently Búlka never got cured. +He never came back. + + + + +THE GRAY HARE + + +A gray hare was living in the winter near the village. When night came, +he pricked one ear and listened; then he pricked his second ear, moved +his whiskers, sniffed, and sat down on his hind legs. Then he took a +leap or two over the deep snow, and again sat down on his hind legs, and +looked around him. Nothing could be seen but snow. The snow lay in waves +and glistened like sugar. Over the hare's head hovered a frost vapour, +and through this vapour could be seen the large, bright stars. + +The hare had to cross the highway, in order to come to a threshing-floor +he knew of. On the highway the runners could be heard squeaking, and the +horses snorting, and seats creaking in the sleighs. + +The hare again stopped near the road. Peasants were walking beside the +sleighs, and the collars of their caftans were raised. Their faces were +scarcely visible. Their beards, moustaches, and eyelashes were white. +Steam rose from their mouths and noses. Their horses were sweaty, and +the hoarfrost clung to the sweat. The horses jostled under their arches, +and dived in and out of snow-drifts. The peasants ran behind the horses +and in front of them, and beat them with their whips. Two peasants +walked beside each other, and one of them told the other how a horse of +his had once been stolen. + +When the carts passed by, the hare leaped across the road and softly +made for the threshing-floor. A dog saw the hare from a cart. He began +to bark and darted after the hare. The hare leaped toward the +threshing-floor over the snow-drifts, which held him back; but the dog +stuck fast in the snow after the tenth leap, and stopped. Then the hare, +too, stopped and sat up on his hind legs, and then softly went on to the +threshing-floor. + +On his way he met two other hares on the sowed winter field. They were +feeding and playing. The hare played awhile with his companions, dug +away the frosty snow with them, ate the wintergreen, and went on. + +In the village everything was quiet; the fires were out. All one could +hear was a baby's cry in a hut and the crackling of the frost in the +logs of the cabins. The hare went to the threshing-floor, and there +found some companions. He played awhile with them on the cleared floor, +ate some oats from the open granary, climbed on the kiln over the +snow-covered roof, and across the wicker fence started back to his +ravine. + +The dawn was glimmering in the east; the stars grew less, and the frost +vapours rose more densely from the earth. In the near-by village the +women got up, and went to fetch water; the peasants brought the feed +from the barn; the children shouted and cried. There were still more +carts going down the road, and the peasants talked aloud to each other. + +The hare leaped across the road, went up to his old lair, picked out a +high place, dug away the snow, lay with his back in his new lair, +dropped his ears on his back, and fell asleep with open eyes. + + + + +GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT DOES NOT TELL AT ONCE + + +In the city of Vladímir there lived a young merchant, Aksénov by name. +He had two shops and a house. + +Aksénov was a light-complexioned, curly-headed, fine-looking man and a +very jolly fellow and good singer. In his youth Aksénov had drunk much, +and when he was drunk he used to become riotous, but when he married he +gave up drinking, and that now happened very rarely with him. + +One day in the summer Aksénov went to the Nízhni-Nóvgorod fair. As he +bade his family good-bye, his wife said to him: + +"Iván Dmítrievich, do not start to-day! I have had a bad dream about +you." + +Aksénov laughed, and said: + +"Are you afraid that I might go on a spree at the fair?" + +His wife said: + +"I do not know what I am afraid of, but I had a bad dream: I dreamed +that you came to town, and when you took off your cap I saw that your +head was all gray." + +Aksénov laughed. + +"That means that I shall make some profit. If I strike a good bargain, +you will see me bring you some costly presents." + +And he bade his family farewell, and started. + +In the middle of his journey he met a merchant whom he knew, and they +stopped together in a hostelry for the night. They drank their tea +together, and lay down to sleep in two adjoining rooms. Aksénov did not +like to sleep long; he awoke in the middle of the night and, as it was +easier to travel when it was cool, wakened his driver and told him to +hitch the horses. Then he went to the "black" hut, paid his bill, and +went away. + +[Illustration: "'Whose knife is this?'" + +_Photogravure from Painting by A. Kivshénko_] + +When he had gone about forty versts, he again stopped to feed the horses +and to rest in the vestibule of a hostelry. At dinner-time he came out +on the porch, and ordered the samovár to be prepared for him. He took +out his guitar and began to play. Suddenly a tróyka with bells drove up +to the hostelry, and from the cart leaped an officer with two soldiers, +and he went up to Aksénov, and asked him who he was and where he came +from. + +Aksénov told him everything as it was, and said: + +"Would you not like to drink tea with me?" + +But the officer kept asking him questions: + +"Where did you stay last night? Were you alone, or with a merchant? Did +you see the merchant in the morning? Why did you leave so early in the +morning?" + +Aksénov wondered why they asked him about all that; he told them +everything as it was, and said: + +"Why do you ask me this? I am not a thief, nor a robber. I am travelling +on business of my own, and you have nothing to ask me about." + +Then the officer called the soldiers, and said: + +"I am the chief of the rural police, and I ask you this, because the +merchant with whom you passed last night has been found with his throat +cut. Show me your things, and you look through them!" + +They entered the house, took his valise and bag, and opened them and +began to look through them. Suddenly the chief took a knife out of the +bag, and cried out: + +"Whose knife is this?" + +Aksénov looked, and saw that they had taken out a blood-stained knife +from his bag, and he was frightened "How did the blood get on the +knife?" + +Aksénov wanted to answer, but could not pronounce a word. + +"I--I do not know--I--the knife--is not mine!" + +Then the chief said: + +"In the morning the merchant was found in his bed with his throat cut. +No one but you could have done it. The house was locked from within, and +there was no one in the house but you. Here is the bloody knife in your +bag, and your face shows your guilt. Tell me, how did you kill him, and +how much money did you rob him of?" + +Aksénov swore that he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant +after drinking tea with him; that he had with him his own eight +thousand; that the knife was not his. But his voice faltered, his face +was pale, and he trembled from fear, as though he were guilty. + +The chief called in the soldiers, told them to bind him and to take him +to the cart. When he was rolled into the cart with his legs tied, he +made the sign of the cross and began to cry. They took away his money +and things, and sent him to jail to the nearest town. They sent to +Vladímir to find out what kind of a man Aksénov was, and all the +merchants and inhabitants of Vladímir testified to the fact that Aksénov +had drunk and caroused when he was young, but that he was a good man. +Then they began to try him. He was tried for having killed the Ryazán +merchant and having robbed him of twenty thousand roubles. + +The wife was grieving for her husband and did not know what to think. +Her children were still young, and one was still at the breast. She took +them all and went with them to the town where her husband was kept in +prison. At first she was not admitted, but later she implored the +authorities, and she was taken to her husband. When she saw him in +prison garb and in chains, together with murderers, she fell to the +ground and could not come to for a long time. Then she placed her +children about her, sat down beside him, and began to tell him about +house matters, and to ask him about everything which had happened. He +told her everything. She said: + +"What shall I do?" + +He said: + +"We must petition the Tsar. An innocent man cannot be allowed to +perish." + +His wife said that she had already petitioned the Tsar, but that the +petition had not reached him. Aksénov said nothing, and only lowered his +head. Then his wife said: + +"You remember the dream I had about your getting gray. Indeed, you have +grown gray from sorrow. If you had only not started then!" + +And she looked over his hair, and said: + +"Iván, my darling, tell your wife the truth: did you not do it?" + +Aksénov said, "And you, too, suspect me!" and covered his face with his +hands, and began to weep. + +Then a soldier came, and told his wife that she must leave with her +children. And Aksénov for the last time bade his family farewell. + +When his wife had left, Aksénov thought about what they had been talking +of. When he recalled that his wife had also suspected him and had asked +him whether he had killed the merchant, he said to himself: "Evidently +none but God can know the truth, and He alone must be asked, and from +Him alone can I expect mercy." And from that time on Aksénov no longer +handed in petitions and stopped hoping, but only prayed to God. + +Aksénov was sentenced to be beaten with the knout, and to be sent to +hard labour. And it was done. + +He was beaten with the knout, and later, when the knout sores healed +over, he was driven with other convicts to Siberia. + +In Siberia, Aksénov passed twenty-six years at hard labour. His hair +turned white like snow, and his beard grew long, narrow, and gray. All +his mirth went away. He stooped, began to walk softly, spoke little, +never laughed, and frequently prayed to God. + +In the prison Aksénov learned to make boots, and with the money which he +earned he bought himself the "Legends of the Holy Martyrs," and read +them while it was light in the prison; on holidays he went to the prison +church and read the Epistles, and sang in the choir,--his voice was +still good. The authorities were fond of Aksénov for his gentleness, and +his prison comrades respected him and called him "grandfather" and +"God's man." When there were any requests to be made of the authorities, +his comrades always sent him to speak for them, and when the convicts +had any disputes between themselves, they came to Aksénov to settle +them. + +No one wrote Aksénov letters from his home, and he did not know whether +his wife and children were alive, or not. + +Once they brought some new prisoners to the prison. In the evening the +old prisoners gathered around the new men, and asked them from what town +they came, or from what village, and for what acts they had been sent +up. Aksénov, too, sat down on the bed-boards near the new prisoners and, +lowering his head, listened to what they were saying. One of the new +prisoners was a tall, sound-looking old man of about sixty years of age, +with a gray, clipped beard. He was telling them what he had been sent up +for: + +"Yes, brothers, I have come here for no crime at all. I had unhitched a +driver's horse from the sleigh. I was caught. They said, 'You stole it.' +And I said, 'I only wanted to get home quickly, for I let the horse go. +Besides, the driver is a friend of mine. I am telling you the +truth.'--'No,' they said, 'you have stolen it.' But they did not know +what I had been stealing, or where I had been stealing. There were +crimes for which I ought to have been sent up long ago, but they could +not convict me, and now I am here contrary to the law. 'You are +lying,--you have been in Siberia, but you did not make a long visit +there--'" + +"Where do you come from?" asked one of the prisoners. + +"I am from the city of Vladímir, a burgher of that place. My name is +Makár, and by my father Seménovich." + +Aksénov raised his head, and asked: + +"Seménovich, have you not heard in Vladímir about the family of Merchant +Aksénov? Are they alive?" + +"Yes, I have heard about them! They are rich merchants, even though +their father is in Siberia. He is as much a sinner as I, I think. And +you, grandfather, what are you here for?" + +Aksénov did not like to talk of his misfortune. He sighed, and said: + +"For my sins have I passed twenty-six years at hard labour." + +Makár Seménovich said: + +"For what sins?" + +Aksénov said, "No doubt, I deserved it," and did not wish to tell him +any more; but the other prison people told the new man how Aksénov had +come to be in Siberia. They told him how on the road some one had killed +a merchant and had put the knife into his bag, and he thus was sentenced +though he was innocent. + +When Makár Seménovich heard that, he looked at Aksénov, clapped his +knees with his hands, and said: + +"What a marvel! What a marvel! But you have grown old, grandfather!" + +He was asked what he was marvelling at, and where he had seen Aksénov, +but Makár Seménovich made no reply, and only said: + +"It is wonderful, boys, where we were fated to meet!" + +And these words made Aksénov think that this man might know something +about who had killed the merchant. He said: + +"Seménovich, have you heard before this about that matter, or have we +met before?" + +"Of course I have heard. The earth is full of rumours. That happened a +long time ago: I have forgotten what I heard," said Makár Seménovich. + +"Maybe you have heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksénov. + +Makár Seménovich laughed and said: + +"I suppose he was killed by the man in whose bag the knife was found. +Even if somebody stuck that knife into that bag, he was not caught, so +he is no thief. And how could the knife have been put in? Was not the +bag under your head? You would have heard him." + +The moment Aksénov heard these words, he thought that that was the man +who had killed the merchant. He got up and walked away. All that night +Aksénov could not fall asleep. He felt sad, and had visions: now he saw +his wife such as she had been when she bade him farewell for the last +time, as he went to the fair. He saw her, as though she was alive, and +he saw her face and eyes, and heard her speak to him and laugh. Then he +saw his children such as they had been then,--just as little,--one of +them in a fur coat, the other at the breast. And he thought of himself, +such as he had been then,--gay and young; he recalled how he had been +sitting on the porch of the hostelry, where he was arrested, and had +been playing the guitar, and how light his heart had been then. And he +recalled the pillory, where he had been whipped, and the executioner, +and the people all around, and the chains, and the prisoners, and his +prison life of the last twenty-six years, and his old age. And such +gloom came over him that he felt like laying hands on himself. + +"And all that on account of that evil-doer!" thought Aksénov. + +And such a rage fell upon him against Makár Seménovich, that he wanted +to have his revenge upon him, even if he himself were to be ruined by +it. He said his prayers all night long, but could not calm himself. In +the daytime he did not walk over to Makár Seménovich, and did not look +at him. + +Thus two weeks passed. At night Aksénov could not sleep, and he felt so +sad that he did not know what to do with himself. + +Once, in the night, he walked all over the prison, and saw dirt falling +from underneath one bedplace. He stopped to see what it was. Suddenly +Makár Seménovich jumped up from under the bed and looked at Aksénov with +a frightened face. Aksénov wanted to pass on, so as not to see him; but +Makár took him by his arm, and told him that he had dug a passage way +under the wall, and that he each day carried the dirt away in his +boot-legs and poured it out in the open, whenever they took the convicts +out to work. He said: + +"Keep quiet, old man,--I will take you out, too. And if you tell, they +will whip me, and I will not forgive you,--I will kill you." + +When Aksénov saw the one who had done him evil, he trembled in his rage, +and pulled away his arm, and said: + +"I have no reason to get away from here, and there is no sense in +killing me,--you killed me long ago. And whether I will tell on you or +not depends on what God will put into my soul." + +On the following day, when the convicts were taken out to work, the +soldiers noticed that Makár Seménovich was pouring out the dirt, and so +they began to search in the prison, and found the hole. The chief came +to the prison and began to ask all who had dug the hole. Everybody +denied it. Those who knew had not seen Makár Seménovich, because they +knew that for this act he would be whipped half-dead. Then the chief +turned to Aksénov. He knew that Aksénov was a just man, and said: + +"Old man, you are a truthful man, tell me before God who has done that." + +Makár Seménovich stood as though nothing had happened and looked at the +chief, and did not glance at Aksénov. Aksénov's arms and lips trembled, +and he could not utter a word for long time. He thought: "If I protect +him, why should I forgive him, since he has ruined me? Let him suffer +for my torments! And if I tell on him, they will indeed whip him to +death. And suppose that I have a wrong suspicion against him. Will that +make it easier for me?" + +The chief said once more: + +"Well, old man, speak, tell the truth! Who has been digging it?" + +Aksénov looked at Makár Seménovich, and said: + +"I cannot tell, your Honour. God orders me not to tell. And I will not +tell. Do with me as you please,--you have the power." + +No matter how much the chief tried, Aksénov would not say anything more. +And so they did not find out who had done the digging. + +On the following night, as Aksénov lay down on the bed-boards and was +just falling asleep, he heard somebody come up to him and sit down at +his feet. He looked in the darkness and recognized Makár. Aksénov said: + +"What more do you want of me? What are you doing here?" + +Makár Seménovich was silent. Aksénov raised himself, and said: + +"What do you want? Go away, or I will call the soldier." + +Makár bent down close to Aksénov, and said to him in a whisper: + +[Illustration: "'God will forgive you'" + +_Photogravure from Painting by A. Kivshénko_] + +"Iván Dmítrievich, forgive me!" + +Aksénov said: + +"For what shall I forgive you?" + +"It was I who killed the merchant and put the knife into your bag. I +wanted to kill you, too, but they made a noise in the yard, so I put the +knife into your bag and climbed through the window." + +Aksénov was silent and did not know what to say. Makár Seménovich +slipped down from the bed, made a low obeisance, and said: + +"Iván Dmítrievich, forgive me, forgive me for God's sake! I will declare +that it was I who killed the merchant,--you will be forgiven. You will +return home." + +Aksénov said: + +"It is easy for you to speak so, but see how I have suffered! Where +shall I go now? My wife has died, my children have forgotten me. I have +no place to go to--" + +Makár Seménovich did not get up from the floor. He struck his head +against the earth, and said: + +"Iván Dmítrievich, forgive me! When they whipped me with the knout I +felt better than now that I am looking at you. You pitied me, and did +not tell on me. Forgive me, for Christ's sake! Forgive me, the accursed +evil-doer!" And he burst out into tears. + +When Aksénov heard Makár Seménovich crying, he began to weep himself, +and said: + +"God will forgive you. Maybe I am a hundred times worse than you!" + +And suddenly a load fell off from his soul. And he no longer pined for +his home, and did not wish to leave the prison, but only thought of his +last hour. + +Makár Seménovich did not listen to Aksénov, but declared his guilt. When +the decision came for Aksénov to leave,--he was dead. + + + + +HUNTING WORSE THAN SLAVERY + + +We were hunting bears. My companion had a chance to shoot at a bear: he +wounded him, but only in a soft spot. A little blood was left on the +snow, but the bear got away. + +We met in the forest and began to discuss what to do: whether to go and +find that bear, or to wait two or three days until the bear should lie +down again. + +We asked the peasant bear drivers whether we could now surround the +bear. An old bear driver said: + +"No, we must give the bear a chance to calm himself. In about five days +it will be possible to surround him, but if we go after him now he will +only be frightened and will not lie down." + +But a young bear driver disputed with the old man, and said that he +could surround him now. + +"Over this snow," he said, "the bear cannot get away far,--he is fat. He +will lie down to-day again. And if he does not, I will overtake him on +snow-shoes." + +My companion, too, did not want to surround the bear now, and advised +waiting. + +But I said: + +"What is the use of discussing the matter? Do as you please, but I will +go with Demyán along the track. If we overtake him, so much is gained; +if not,--I have nothing else to do to-day anyway, and it is not yet +late." + +And so we did. + +My companions went to the sleigh, and back to the village, but Demyán +and I took bread with us, and remained in the woods. + +When all had left us, Demyán and I examined our guns, tucked our fur +coats over our belts, and followed the track. + +It was fine weather, chilly and calm. But walking on snow-shoes was a +hard matter: the snow was deep and powdery. + +The snow had not settled in the forest, and, besides, fresh snow had +fallen on the day before, so that the snow-shoes sunk half a foot in the +snow, and in places even deeper. + +The bear track could be seen a distance away. We could see the way the +bear had walked, for in spots he had fallen in the snow to his belly and +had swept the snow aside. At first we walked in plain sight of the +track, through a forest of large trees; then, when the track went into a +small pine wood, Demyán stopped. + +"We must now give up the track," he said. "He will, no doubt, lie down +here. He has been sitting on his haunches,--you can see it by the snow. +Let us go away from the track, and make a circle around him. But we must +walk softly and make no noise, not even cough, or we shall scare him." + +We went away from the track, to the left. We walked about five hundred +steps and there we again saw the track before us. We again followed the +track, and this took us to the road. We stopped on the road and began to +look around, to see in what direction the bear had gone. Here and there +on the road we could see the bear's paws with all the toes printed on +the snow, while in others we could see the tracks of a peasant's bast +shoes. He had, evidently, gone to the village. + +We walked along the road. Demyán said to me: + +"We need not watch the road; somewhere he will turn off the road, to the +right or to the left,--we shall see in the snow. Somewhere he will turn +off,--he will not go to the village." + +We walked thus about a mile along the road; suddenly we saw the track +turn off from the road. We looked at it, and see the wonder! It was a +bear's track, but leading not from the road to the woods, but from the +woods to the road: the toes were turned to the road. I said: + +"That is another bear." + +Demyán looked at it, and thought awhile. + +"No," he said, "that is the same bear, only he has begun to cheat. He +left the road backwards." + +We followed the track, and so it was. The bear had evidently walked +about ten steps backwards from the road, until he got beyond a fir-tree, +and then he had turned and gone on straight ahead. Demyán stopped, and +said: + +"Now we shall certainly fall in with him. He has no place but this swamp +to lie down in. Let us surround him." + +We started to surround him, going through the dense pine forest. I was +getting tired, and it was now much harder to travel. Now I would strike +against a juniper-bush, and get caught in it; or a small pine-tree would +get under my feet; or the snow-shoes would twist, as I was not used to +them; or I would strike a stump or a block under the snow. I was +beginning to be worn out. I took off my fur coat, and the sweat was just +pouring down from me. But Demyán sailed along as in a boat. It looked as +though the snow-shoes walked under him of their own accord. He neither +caught in anything, nor did his shoes turn on him. + +And he even threw my fur coat over his shoulders, and kept urging me on. + +We made about three versts in a circle, and walked past the swamp. +Demyán suddenly stopped in front of me, and waved his hand. I walked +over to him. Demyán bent down, and pointed with his hand, and whispered +to me: + +"Do you see, a magpie is chattering on a windfall: the bird is scenting +the bear from a distance. It is he." + +We walked to one side, made another verst, and again hit the old trail. +Thus we had made a circle around the bear, and he was inside of it. We +stopped. I took off my hat and loosened my wraps: I felt as hot as in a +bath, and was as wet as a mouse. Demyán, too, was all red, and he wiped +his face with his sleeve. + +"Well," he said, "we have done our work, sir, so we may take a rest." + +The evening glow could be seen through the forest. We sat down on the +snow-shoes to rest ourselves. We took the bread and salt out of the +bags; first I ate a little snow, and then the bread. The bread tasted to +me better than any I had eaten in all my life. We sat awhile; it began +to grow dark. I asked Demyán how far it was to the village. + +"About twelve versts. We shall reach it in the night; but now we must +rest. Put on your fur coat, sir, or you will catch a cold." + +Demyán broke off some pine branches, knocked down the snow, made a bed, +and we lay down beside each other, with our arms under our heads. I do +not remember how I fell asleep. I awoke about two hours later. Something +crashed. + +I had been sleeping so soundly that I forgot where I was. I looked +around me: what marvel was that? Where was I? Above me were some white +chambers, and white posts, and on everything glistened white tinsel. I +looked up: there was a white, checkered cloth, and between the checks +was a black vault in which burned fires of all colours. I looked around, +and I recalled that we were in the forest, and that the snow-covered +trees had appeared to me as chambers, and that the fires were nothing +but the stars that flickered between the branches. + +In the night a hoarfrost had fallen, and there was hoarfrost on the +branches, and on my fur coat, and Demyán was all covered with hoarfrost, +and hoarfrost fell from above. I awoke Demyán. We got up on our +snow-shoes and started. The forest was quiet. All that could be heard +was the sound we made as we slid on our snow-shoes over the soft snow, +or when a tree would crackle from the frost, and a hollow sound would +pass through the whole woods. Only once did something living stir close +to us and run away again. I thought it was the bear. We walked over to +the place from where the noise had come, and we saw hare tracks. The +young aspens were nibbled down. The hares had been feeding on them. + +We came out to the road, tied the snow-shoes behind us, and walked down +the road. It was easy to walk. The snow-shoes rattled and rumbled over +the beaten road; the snow creaked under our boots; the cold hoarfrost +stuck to our faces like down. And the stars seemed to run toward us +along the branches: they would flash, and go out again,--just as though +the sky were walking round and round. + +My companion was asleep,--I awoke him. We told him how we had made a +circle around the bear, and told the landlord to collect the drivers for +the morning. We ate our supper and lay down to sleep. + +I was so tired that I could have slept until dinner, but my companion +woke me. I jumped up and saw that my companion was all dressed and busy +with his gun. + +"Where is Demyán?" + +"He has been in the forest for quite awhile. He has investigated the +circle, and has been back to take the drivers out." + +I washed myself, put on my clothes, and loaded my guns. We seated +ourselves in the sleigh, and started. + +There was a severe frost, the air was calm, and the sun could not be +seen: there was a mist above, and the hoarfrost was settling. + +We travelled about three versts by the road, and reached the forest. We +saw a blue smoke in a hollow, and peasants, men and women, were there +with clubs. + +We climbed out of the sleigh and went up to the people. The peasants +were sitting and baking potatoes, and joking with the women. + +Demyán was with them. The people got up, and Demyán took them away to +place them in our last night's circuit. The men and women stretched +themselves out in single file,--there were thirty of them and they could +be seen only from the belt up,--and went into the woods; then my +companion and I followed their tracks. + +Though they had made a path, it was hard to walk; still, we could not +fall, for it was like walking between two walls. + +Thus we walked for half a verst. I looked up, and there was Demyán +running to us from the other side on snow-shoes, and waving his hand for +us to come to him. + +We went up to him, and he showed us where to stand. I took up my +position and looked around. + +To the left of me was a tall pine forest. I could see far through it, +and beyond the trees I saw the black spot of a peasant driver. Opposite +me was a young pine growth, as tall as a man's stature. In this pine +growth the branches were hanging down and stuck together from the snow. +The path through the middle of the pine grove was covered with snow. +This path was leading toward me. To the right of me was a dense pine +forest, and beyond the pine grove there was a clearing. And on this +clearing I saw Demyán place my companion. + +I examined my two guns and cocked them, and began to think where to take +up a stand. Behind me, about three steps from me, there was a pine-tree. +"I will stand by that pine, and will lean the other gun against it." I +made my way to that pine, walking knee-deep in snow. I tramped down a +space of about four feet each way, and there took my stand. One gun I +took into my hands, and the other, with hammers raised, I placed against +the tree. I unsheathed my dagger and put it back in the scabbard, to be +sure that in case of need it would come out easily. + +I had hardly fixed myself, when Demyán shouted from the woods: + +"Start it now, start it!" + +And as Demyán shouted this, the peasants in the circuit cried, each with +a different tone of voice: "Come now! OO-oo-oo!" and the women cried, in +their thin voices: "Ai! Eekh!" + +The bear was in the circle. Demyán was driving him. In the circuit the +people shouted, and only my companion and I stood still, did not speak +or move, and waited for the bear. I stood, and looked, and listened, and +my heart went pitapat. I was clutching my gun and trembling. Now, now he +will jump out, I thought, and I will aim and shoot, and he will fall-- +Suddenly I heard to the left something tumbling through the snow, only +it was far away. I looked into the tall pine forest: about fifty steps +from me, behind the trees, stood something large and black. I aimed and +waited. I thought it might come nearer. I saw it move its ears and turn +around. Now I could see the whole of him from the side. It was a huge +beast. I aimed hastily. Bang! I heard the bullet strike the tree. +Through the smoke I saw the bear make back for the cover and disappear +in the forest. "Well," I thought, "my business is spoiled: he will not +run up to me again; either my companion will have a chance to shoot at +him, or he will go through between the peasants, but never again toward +me." I reloaded the gun, and stood and listened. The peasants were +shouting on all sides, but on the right, not far from my companion, I +heard a woman yell, "Here he is! Here he is! Here he is! This way! This +way! Oi, oi, oi! Ai, ai, ai!" + +There was the bear, in full sight. I was no longer expecting the bear +to come toward me, and so looked to the right toward my companion. I saw +Demyán running without the snow-shoes along the path, with a stick in +his hand, and going up to my companion, sitting down near him, and +pointing with the stick at something, as though he were aiming. I saw my +companion raise his gun and aim at where Demyán was pointing. Bang! he +fired it off. + +"Well," I thought, "he has killed him." But I saw that my companion was +not running toward the bear. "Evidently he missed him, or did not strike +him right. He will get away," I thought, "but he will not come toward +me." + +What was that? Suddenly I heard something in front of me: somebody was +flying like a whirlwind, and scattering the snow near by, and panting. I +looked ahead of me, but he was making headlong toward me along the path +through the dense pine growth. I could see that he was beside himself +with fear. When he was within five steps of me I could see the whole of +him: his chest was black and his head was enormous, and of a reddish +colour. He was flying straight toward me, and scattering the snow in all +directions. I could see by the bear's eyes that he did not see me and in +his fright was rushing headlong. He was making straight for the pine +where I was standing. I raised my gun, and shot, but he came still +nearer. I saw that I had not hit him: the bullet was carried past him. +He heard nothing, plunged onward, and did not see me. I bent down the +gun, almost rested it against his head. Bang! This time I hit him, but +did not kill him. + +He raised his head, dropped his ears, showed his teeth,--and straight +toward me. I grasped the other gun; but before I had it in my hand, he +was already on me, knocked me down, and flew over me. "Well," I thought, +"that is good, he will not touch me." I was just getting up, when I +felt something pressing against me and holding me down. In his onrush he +ran past me, but he turned around and rushed against me with his whole +breast. I felt something heavy upon me, something warm over my face, and +I felt him taking my face into his jaws. My nose was already in his +mouth, and I felt hot, and smelled his blood. He pressed my shoulders +with his paws, and I could not stir. All I could do was to pull my head +out of his jaws and press it against my breast, and I turned my nose and +eyes away. But he was trying to get at my eyes and nose. I felt him +strike the teeth of his upper jaw into my forehead, right below the +hair, and the lower jaw into the cheek-bones below the eyes, and he +began to crush me. It was as though my head were cut with knives. I +jerked and pulled out my head, but he chawed and chawed and snapped at +me like a dog. I would turn my head away, and he would catch it again. +"Well," I thought, "my end has come." Suddenly I felt lighter. I looked +up, and he was gone: he had jumped away from me, and was running now. + +When my companion and Demyán saw that the bear had knocked me into the +snow, they dashed for me. My companion wanted to get there as fast as +possible, but lost his way; instead of running on the trodden path, he +ran straight ahead, and fell down. While he was trying to get out of the +snow, the bear was gnawing at me. Demyán ran up to me along the path, +without a gun, just with the stick which he had in his hands, and he +shouted, "He is eating up the gentleman! He is eating up the gentleman!" +And he kept running and shouting, "Oh, you wretched beast! What are you +doing? Stop! Stop!" + +The bear listened to him, stopped, and ran away. When I got up, there +was much blood on the snow, just as though a sheep had been killed, and +over my eyes the flesh hung in rags. While the wound was fresh I felt no +pain. + +My companion ran up to me, and the peasants gathered around me. They +looked at my wounds, and washed them with snow. I had entirely forgotten +about the wounds, and only asked, "Where is the bear? Where has he +gone?" + +Suddenly we heard, "Here he is! Here he is!" We saw the bear running +once more against us. We grasped our guns, but before we fired he ran +past us. The bear was mad: he wanted to bite me again, but when he saw +so many people he became frightened. We saw by the track that the bear +was bleeding from the head. We wanted to follow him up, but my head hurt +me, and so we drove to town to see a doctor. + +The doctor sewed up my wounds with silk, and they began to heal. + +A month later we went out again to hunt that bear; but I did not get the +chance to kill him. The bear would not leave the cover, and kept walking +around and around and roaring terribly. Demyán killed him. My shot had +crushed his lower jaw and knocked out a tooth. + +This bear was very large, and he had beautiful black fur. I had the skin +stuffed, and it is lying now in my room. The wounds on my head have +healed, so that one can scarcely see where they were. + + + + +A PRISONER OF THE CAUCASUS + + +I. + +A certain gentleman was serving as an officer in the Caucasus. His name +was Zhilín. + +One day he received a letter from home. His old mother wrote to him: + +"I have grown old, and I should like to see my darling son before my +death. Come to bid me farewell and bury me, and then, with God's aid, +return to the service. I have also found a bride for you: she is bright +and pretty and has property. If you take a liking to her, you can marry +her, and stay here for good." + +Zhilín reflected: "Indeed, my old mother has grown feeble; perhaps I +shall never see her again. I must go; and if the bride is a good girl, I +may marry her." + +He went to the colonel, got a furlough, bade his companions good-bye, +treated his soldiers to four buckets of vódka, and got himself ready to +go. + +At that time there was a war in the Caucasus. Neither in the daytime, +nor at night, was it safe to travel on the roads. The moment a Russian +walked or drove away from a fortress, the Tartars either killed him or +took him as a prisoner to the mountains. It was a rule that a guard of +soldiers should go twice a week from fortress to fortress. In front and +in the rear walked soldiers, and between them were other people. + +It was in the summer. The carts gathered at daybreak outside the +fortress, and the soldiers of the convoy came out, and all started. +Zhilín rode on horseback, and his cart with his things went with the +caravan. + +They had to travel twenty-five versts. The caravan proceeded slowly; now +the soldiers stopped, and now a wheel came off a cart, or a horse +stopped, and all had to stand still and wait. + +The sun had already passed midday, but the caravan had made only half +the distance. It was dusty and hot; the sun just roasted them, and there +was no shelter: it was a barren plain, with neither tree nor bush along +the road. + +Zhilín rode out ahead. He stopped and waited for the caravan to catch up +with him. He heard them blow the signal-horn behind: they had stopped +again. + +Zhilín thought: "Why can't I ride on, without the soldiers? I have a +good horse under me, and if I run against Tartars, I will gallop away. +Or had I better not go?" + +He stopped to think it over. There rode up to him another officer, +Kostylín, with a gun, and said: + +"Let us ride by ourselves, Zhilín! I cannot stand it any longer: I am +hungry, and it is so hot. My shirt is dripping wet." + +Kostylín was a heavy, stout man, with a red face, and the perspiration +was just rolling down his face. Zhilín thought awhile and said: + +"Is your gun loaded?" + +"It is." + +"Well, then, we will go, but on one condition, that we do not separate." + +And so they rode ahead on the highway. They rode through the steppe, and +talked, and looked about them. They could see a long way off. + +When the steppe came to an end, the road entered a cleft between two +mountains. So Zhilín said: + +"We ought to ride up the mountain to take a look; for here they may +leap out on us from the mountain without our seeing them." + +But Kostylín said: + +"What is the use of looking? Let us ride on!" + +Zhilín paid no attention to him. + +"No," he said, "you wait here below, and I will take a look up there." + +And he turned his horse to the left, up-hill. The horse under Zhilín was +a thoroughbred (he had paid a hundred roubles for it when it was a colt, +and had himself trained it), and it carried him up the slope as though +on wings. The moment he reached the summit, he saw before him a number +of Tartars on horseback, about eighty fathoms away. There were about +thirty of them. When he saw them, he began to turn back; and the Tartars +saw him, and galloped toward him, and on the ride took their guns out of +the covers. Zhilín urged his horse down-hill as fast as its legs would +carry him, and he shouted to Kostylín: + +"Take out the gun!" and he himself thought about his horse: "Darling, +take me away from here! Don't stumble! If you do, I am lost. If I get to +the gun, they shall not catch me." + +But Kostylín, instead of waiting, galloped at full speed toward the +fortress, the moment he saw the Tartars. He urged the horse on with the +whip, now on one side, and now on the other. One could see through the +dust only the horse switching her tail. + +Zhilín saw that things were bad. The gun had disappeared, and he could +do nothing with a sword. He turned his horse back to the soldiers, +thinking that he might get away. He saw six men crossing his path. He +had a good horse under him, but theirs were better still, and they +crossed his path. He began to check his horse: he wanted to turn around; +but the horse was running at full speed and could not be stopped, and he +flew straight toward them. He saw a red-bearded Tartar on a gray horse, +who was coming near to him. He howled and showed his teeth, and his gun +was against his shoulder. + +"Well," thought Zhilín, "I know you devils. When you take one alive, you +put him in a hole and beat him with a whip. I will not fall into your +hands alive----" + +Though Zhilín was not tall, he was brave. He drew his sword, turned his +horse straight against the Tartar, and thought: + +"Either I will knock his horse off its feet, or I will strike the Tartar +with my sword." + +Zhilín got within a horse's length from him, when they shot at him from +behind and hit the horse. The horse dropped on the ground while going at +full speed, and fell on Zhilín's leg. + +He wanted to get up, but two stinking Tartars were already astride of +him. He tugged and knocked down the two Tartars, but three more jumped +down from their horses and began to strike him with the butts of their +guns. Things grew dim before his eyes, and he tottered. The Tartars took +hold of him, took from their saddles some reserve straps, twisted his +arms behind his back, tied them with a Tartar knot, and fastened him to +the saddle. They knocked down his hat, pulled off his boots, rummaged +all over him, and took away his money and his watch, and tore all his +clothes. + +Zhilín looked back at his horse. The dear animal was lying just as it +had fallen down, and only twitched its legs and did not reach the ground +with them; in its head there was a hole, and from it the black blood +gushed and wet the dust for an ell around. + +A Tartar went up to the horse, to pull off the saddle. The horse was +struggling still, and so he took out his dagger and cut its throat. A +whistling sound came from the throat, and the horse twitched, and was +dead. + +The Tartars took off the saddle and the trappings. The red-bearded +Tartar mounted his horse, and the others seated Zhilín behind him. To +prevent his falling off, they attached him by a strap to the Tartar's +belt, and they rode off to the mountains. + +Zhilín was sitting back of the Tartar, and shaking and striking with his +face against the stinking Tartar's back. All he saw before him was the +mighty back, and the muscular neck, and the livid, shaved nape of his +head underneath his cap. Zhilín's head was bruised, and the blood was +clotted under his eyes. And he could not straighten himself on the +saddle, nor wipe off his blood. His arms were twisted so badly that his +shoulder bones pained him. + +They rode for a long time from one mountain to another, and forded a +river, and came out on a path, where they rode through a ravine. + +Zhilín wanted to take note of the road on which they were travelling, +but his eyes were smeared with blood, and he could not turn around. + +It was getting dark. They crossed another stream and rode up a rocky +mountain. There was an odour of smoke, and the dogs began to bark. They +had come to a native village. The Tartars got down from their horses; +the Tartar children gathered around Zhilín, and screamed, and rejoiced, +and aimed stones at him. + +The Tartar drove the boys away, took Zhilín down from his horse, and +called a labourer. There came a Nogay, with large cheek-bones; he wore +nothing but a shirt. The shirt was torn and left his breast bare. The +Tartar gave him a command. The labourer brought the stocks,--two oak +planks drawn through iron rings, and one of these rings with a clasp and +lock. + +They untied Zhilín's hands, put the stocks on him, and led him into a +shed: they pushed him in and locked the door. Zhilín fell on the manure +pile. He felt around in the darkness for a soft spot, and lay down +there. + +[Illustration: "They rode off to the mountains" + +_Photogravure from Painting by A. Kivshénko_] + + +II. + +Zhilín lay awake nearly the whole night. The nights were short. He saw +through a chink that it was getting light. He got up, made the chink +larger, and looked out. + +Through the chink Zhilín saw the road: it went down-hill; on the right +was a Tartar cabin, and near it two trees. A black dog lay on the +threshold, and a goat strutted about with her kids, which were jerking +their little tails. He saw a young Tartar woman coming up the hill; she +wore a loose coloured shirt and pantaloons and boots, and her head was +covered with a caftan, and on her head there was a large tin pitcher +with water. She walked along, jerking her back, and bending over, and by +the hand she led a young shaven Tartar boy in nothing but his shirt. The +Tartar woman went into the cabin with the water, and out came the Tartar +of the day before, with the red beard, wearing a silk half-coat, a +silver dagger on a strap, and shoes on his bare feet. On his head there +was a tall, black sheepskin hat, tilted backwards. He came out, and he +stretched himself and smoothed his red beard. He stood awhile, gave the +labourer an order, and went away. + +Then two boys rode by, taking the horses to water. The muzzles of the +horses were wet. Then there ran out some other shaven boys, in nothing +but their shirts, with no trousers; they gathered in a crowd, walked +over to the shed, picked up a stick, and began to poke it through the +chink. When Zhilín shouted at the children, they screamed and started to +run back, so that their bare knees glistened in the sun. + +Zhilín wanted to drink,--his throat was all dried up. He thought: "If +they would only come to see me!" He heard them open the shed. The red +Tartar came in, and with him another, black-looking fellow, of smaller +stature. His eyes were black and bright, his cheeks ruddy, his small +beard clipped; his face looked jolly, and he kept laughing all the time. +This swarthy fellow was dressed even better: he had on a silk half-coat, +of a blue colour, embroidered with galloons. In his belt there was a +large silver dagger; his slippers were of red morocco and also +embroidered with silver. Over his thin slippers he wore heavier shoes. +His cap was tall, of white astrakhan. + +The red Tartar came in. He said something, as though scolding, and +stopped. He leaned against the door-post, dangled his dagger, and like a +wolf looked furtively at Zhilín. But the swarthy fellow--swift, lively, +walking around as though on springs--went up straight to Zhilín, +squatted down, showed his teeth, slapped him on the shoulder, began to +rattle off something in his language, winked with his eyes, clicked his +tongue, and kept repeating: "Goot Uruss! Goot Uruss!" + +Zhilín did not understand a thing and said: + +"Give me to drink, give me water to drink!" + +The swarthy fellow laughed. "Goot Uruss!" he kept rattling off. + +Zhilín showed with his lips and hands that he wanted something to drink. + +The swarthy fellow understood what he wanted, laughed out, looked +through the door, and called some one: "Dina!" + +In came a thin, slender little girl, of about thirteen years of age, who +resembled the swarthy man very much. Evidently she was his daughter. Her +eyes, too, were black and bright, and her face was pretty. She wore a +long blue shirt, with broad sleeves and without a belt. The skirt, the +breast, and the sleeves were trimmed with red. On her legs were +pantaloons, and on her feet slippers, with high-heeled shoes over them; +on her neck she wore a necklace of Russian half-roubles. Her head was +uncovered; her braid was black, with a ribbon through it, and from the +ribbon hung small plates and a Russian rouble. + +Her father gave her a command. She ran away, and came back and brought a +small tin pitcher. She gave him the water, and herself squatted down, +bending up in such a way that her shoulders were below her knees. She +sat there, and opened her eyes, and looked at Zhilín drinking, as though +he were some animal. + +Zhilín handed her back the pitcher. She jumped away like a wild goat. +Even her father laughed. He sent her somewhere else. She took the +pitcher and ran away; she brought some fresh bread on a round board, and +again sat down, bent over, riveted her eyes on him, and kept looking. + +The Tartars went away and locked the door. + +After awhile the Nogay came to Zhilín, and said: + +"Ai-da, master, ai-da!" + +He did not know any Russian, either. All Zhilín could make out was that +he should follow him. + +Zhilín started with the stocks, and he limped and could not walk, so +much did the stocks pull his legs aside. Zhilín went out with the Nogay. +He saw a Tartar village of about ten houses, and a church of theirs, +with a small tower. Near one house stood three horses, all saddled. Boys +were holding the reins. From the house sprang the swarthy Tartar, and he +waved his hand for Zhilín to come up. He laughed all the while, and +talked in his language, and disappeared through the door. + +Zhilín entered the house. It was a good living-room,--the walls were +plastered smooth with clay. Along the front wall lay coloured cushions, +and at the sides hung costly rugs; on the rugs were guns, pistols, +swords,--all in silver. By one wall there was a small stove, on a level +with the floor. The floor was of dirt and as clean as a threshing-floor, +and the whole front corner was carpeted with felt; and over the felt lay +rugs, and on the rugs cushions. On these rugs sat the Tartars, in their +slippers without their outer shoes: there were the swarthy fellow, the +red Tartar, and three guests. At their backs were feather cushions, and +before them, on a round board, were millet cakes and melted butter in a +bowl, and Tartar beer, "buza," in a small pitcher. They were eating with +their hands, and their hands were all greasy from the butter. + +The swarthy man jumped up and ordered Zhilín to be placed to one side, +not on a rug, but on the bare floor; he went back to his rug, and +treated his guests to millet cakes and buza. The labourer placed Zhilín +where he had been ordered, himself took off his outer shoes, put them at +the door, where stood the other shoes, and sat down on the felt next to +the masters. He looked at them as they ate, and wiped off his spittle. + +The Tartars ate the cakes. Then there came a Tartar woman, in a shirt +like the one the girl had on, and in pantaloons, and with a kerchief +over her head. She carried away the butter and the cakes, and brought a +small wash-basin of a pretty shape, and a pitcher with a narrow neck. +The Tartars washed their hands, then folded them, knelt down, blew in +every direction, and said their prayers. Then one of the Tartar guests +turned to Zhilín, and began to speak in Russian: + +"You," he said, "were taken by Kazi-Muhammed," and he pointed to the red +Tartar, "and he gave you to Abdul-Murat." He pointed to the swarthy man. +"Abdul-Murat is now your master." + +Zhilín kept silence. Then Abdul-Murat began to speak. He pointed to +Zhilín, and laughed, and kept repeating: + +"Soldier Uruss! Goot Uruss!" + +The interpreter said: + +"He wants you to write a letter home that they may send a ransom for +you. When they send it, you will be set free." + +Zhilín thought awhile and said: + +"How much ransom does he want?" + +The Tartars talked together; then the interpreter said: + +"Three thousand in silver." + +"No," said Zhilín, "I cannot pay that." + +Abdul jumped up, began to wave his hands and to talk to Zhilín, thinking +that he would understand him. The interpreter translated. He said: + +"How much will you give?" + +Zhilín thought awhile, and said: + +"Five hundred roubles." + +Then the Tartars began to talk a great deal, all at the same time. Abdul +shouted at the red Tartar. He was so excited that the spittle just +spirted from his mouth. + +But the red Tartar only scowled and clicked his tongue. + +They grew silent, and the interpreter said: + +"The master is not satisfied with five hundred roubles. He has himself +paid two hundred for you. Kazi-Muhammed owed him a debt. He took you for +that debt. Three thousand roubles, nothing less will do. And if you do +not write, you will be put in a hole and beaten with a whip." + +"Oh," thought Zhilín, "it will not do to show that I am frightened; that +will only be worse." He leaped to his feet, and said: + +"Tell that dog that if he is going to frighten me, I will not give him a +penny, and I will refuse to write. I have never been afraid of you dogs, +and I never will be." + +The interpreter translated, and all began to speak at the same time. + +They babbled for a long time; then the swarthy Tartar jumped up and +walked over to Zhilín: + +"Uruss," he said, "dzhigit, dzhigit Uruss!" + +Dzhigit in their language means a "brave." And he laughed; he said +something to the interpreter, and the interpreter said: + +"Give one thousand roubles!" + +Zhilín stuck to what he had said: + +"I will not give more than five hundred. And if you kill me, you will +get nothing." + +The Tartars talked awhile and sent the labourer somewhere, and +themselves kept looking now at Zhilín and now at the door. The labourer +came, and behind him walked a fat man; he was barefoot and tattered; he, +too, had on the stocks. + +Zhilín just shouted, for he recognized Kostylín. He, too, had been +caught. They were placed beside each other. They began to talk to each +other, and the Tartars kept silence and looked at them. Zhilín told what +had happened to him; and Kostylín told him that his horse had stopped +and his gun had missed fire, and that the same Abdul had overtaken and +captured him. + +Abdul jumped up, and pointed to Kostylín, and said something. The +interpreter translated it, and said that both of them belonged to the +same master, and that the one who would first furnish the money would be +the first to be released. + +"Now you," he said, "are a cross fellow, but your friend is meek; he has +written a letter home, and they will send five thousand roubles. He will +be fed well, and will not be insulted." + +So Zhilín said: + +"My friend may do as he pleases; maybe he is rich, but I am not. As I +have said, so will it be. If you want to, kill me,--you will not gain by +it,--but more than five hundred will I not give." + +They were silent for awhile. Suddenly Abdul jumped up, fetched a small +box, took out a pen, a piece of paper, and some ink, put it all before +Zhilín, slapped him on the shoulder, and motioned for him to write. He +agreed to the five hundred. + +"Wait awhile," Zhilín said to the interpreter. "Tell him that he has to +feed us well, and give us the proper clothes and shoes, and keep us +together,--it will be jollier for us,--and take off the stocks." He +looked at the master and laughed. The master himself laughed. He +listened to the interpreter, and said: + +"I will give you the best of clothes,--a Circassian mantle and +boots,--you will be fit to marry. We will feed you like princes. And if +you want to stay together, you may live in the shed. But the stocks +cannot be taken off, for you will run away. For the night we will take +them off." + +He ran up to Zhilín, and tapped him on the shoulder: + +"You goot, me goot!" + +Zhilín wrote the letter, but he did not address it right. He thought he +would run away. + +Zhilín and Kostylín were taken back to the shed. They brought for them +maize straw, water in a pitcher, bread, two old mantles, and worn +soldier boots. They had evidently been pulled off dead soldiers. For the +night the stocks were taken off, and they were locked in the barn. + + +III. + +Zhilín and his companion lived thus for a whole month. Their master kept +laughing. + +"You, Iván, goot, me, Abdul, goot!" + +But he did not feed them well. All he gave them to eat was unsalted +millet bread, baked like pones, or entirely unbaked dough. + +Kostylín wrote home a second letter. He was waiting for the money to +come, and felt lonesome. He sat for days at a time in the shed counting +the days before the letter would come, or he slept. But Zhilín knew +that his letter would not reach any one, and so he did not write +another. + +"Where," he thought, "is my mother to get so much money? As it is, she +lived mainly by what I sent her. If she should collect five hundred +roubles, she would be ruined in the end. If God grants it, I will manage +to get away from here." + +And he watched and thought of how to get away. + +He walked through the village and whistled, or he sat down somewhere to +work with his hands, either making a doll from clay, or weaving a fence +from twigs. Zhilín was a great hand at all kinds of such work. + +One day he made a doll, with a nose, and hands, and legs, in a Tartar +shirt, and put the doll on the roof. The Tartar maidens were going for +water. His master's daughter, Dina, saw the doll, and she called up the +Tartar girls. They put down their pitchers, and looked, and laughed. +Zhilín took down the doll and gave it to them. They laughed, and did not +dare take it. He left the doll, and went back to the shed to see what +they would do. + +Dina ran up, looked around, grasped the doll, and ran away with it. + +In the morning, at daybreak, he saw Dina coming out with the doll in +front of the house. The doll was all dressed up in red rags, and she was +rocking the doll and singing to it in her fashion. The old woman came +out. She scolded her, took the doll away from her and broke it, and sent +Dina to work. + +Zhilín made another doll, a better one than before, and he gave it to +Dina. One day Dina brought him a small pitcher. She put it down, herself +sat down and looked at him, and laughed, as she pointed to the pitcher. + +"What is she so happy about?" thought Zhilín. + +He took the pitcher and began to drink. He thought it was water, but, +behold, it was milk. He drank the milk, and said: + +"It is good!" + +Dina was very happy. + +"Good, Iván, good!" and she jumped up, clapped her hands, took away the +pitcher, and ran off. + +From that time she brought him milk every day on the sly. The Tartars +make cheese-cakes from goat milk, and dry them on the roofs,--and so she +brought him those cakes also. One day the master killed a sheep, so she +brought him a piece of mutton in her sleeve. She would throw it down and +run away. + +One day there was a severe storm, and for an hour the rain fell as +though from a pail. All the streams became turbid. Where there was a +ford, the water was now eight feet deep, and stones were borne down. +Torrents were running everywhere, and there was a roar in the mountains. +When the storm was over, streams were coming down the village in every +direction. Zhilín asked his master to let him have a penknife, and with +it he cut out a small axle and little boards, and made a wheel, and to +each end of the wheel he attached a doll. + +The girls brought him pieces of material, and he dressed the dolls: one +a man, the other a woman. He fixed them firmly, and placed the wheel +over a brook. The wheel began to turn, and the dolls to jump. + +The whole village gathered around it; boys, girls, women, and men came, +and they clicked with their tongues: + +"Ai, Uruss! Ai, Iván!" + +Abdul had a Russian watch, but it was broken. He called Zhilín, showed +it to him, and clicked his tongue. Zhilín said: + +"Let me have it! I will fix it!" + +He took it to pieces with a penknife; then he put it together, and gave +it back to him. The watch was running now. + +The master was delighted. He brought his old half-coat,--it was all in +rags,--and made him a present of it. What could he do but take it? He +thought it would be good enough to cover himself with in the night. + +After that the rumour went abroad that Zhilín was a great master. They +began to come to him from distant villages: one, to have him fix a +gun-lock or a pistol, another, to set a clock a-going. His master +brought him tools,--pinchers, gimlets, and files. + +One day a Tartar became sick: they sent to Zhilín, and said, "Go and +cure him!" Zhilín did not know anything about medicine. He went, took a +look at him, and thought, "Maybe he will get well by himself." He went +to the barn, took some water and sand, and mixed it. In the presence of +the Tartars he said a charm over the water, and gave it to him to drink. +Luckily for him, the Tartar got well. + +Zhilín began to understand their language. Some of the Tartars got used +to him. When they needed him, they called, "Iván, Iván!" but others +looked at him awry, as at an animal. + +The red Tartar did not like Zhilín. Whenever he saw him, he frowned and +turned away, or called him names. There was also an old man; he did not +live in the village, but came from farther down the mountain. Zhilín saw +him only when he came to the mosque, to pray to God. He was a small man; +his cap was wrapped with a white towel. His beard and moustache were +clipped, and they were as white as down; his face was wrinkled and as +red as a brick. His nose was hooked, like a hawk's beak, and his eyes +were gray and mean-looking; of teeth he had only two tusks. He used to +walk in his turban, leaning on a crutch, and looking around him like a +wolf. Whenever he saw Zhilín, he grunted and turned away. + +One day Zhilín went down-hill, to see where the old man was living. He +walked down the road, and saw a little garden, with a stone fence, and +inside the fence were cherry and apricot trees, and stood a hut with a +flat roof. He came closer to it, and he saw beehives woven from straw, +and bees were swarming around and buzzing. The old man was kneeling, and +doing something to a hive. Zhilín got up higher, to get a good look, and +made a noise with his stocks. The old man looked around and shrieked; he +pulled the pistol out from his belt and fired at Zhilín. He had just +time to hide behind a rock. + +The old man went to the master to complain about Zhilín. The master +called up Zhilín, and laughed, and asked: + +"Why did you go to the old man?" + +"I have not done him any harm," he said. "I just wanted to see how he +lives." + +The master told the old man that. But the old man was angry, and hissed, +and rattled something off; he showed his teeth and waved his hand +threateningly at Zhilín. + +Zhilín did not understand it all; but he understood that the old man was +telling his master to kill all the Russians, and not to keep them in the +village. The old man went away. + +Zhilín asked his master what kind of a man that old Tartar was. The +master said: + +"He is a big man! He used to be the first dzhigit: he killed a lot of +Russians, and he was rich. He had three wives and eight sons. All of +them lived in the same village. The Russians came, destroyed the +village, and killed seven of his sons. One son was left alive, and he +surrendered himself to the Russians. The old man went and surrendered +himself, too, to the Russians. He stayed with them three months, found +his son there, and killed him, and then he ran away. Since then he has +stopped fighting. He has been to Mecca, to pray to God, and that is why +he wears the turban. He who has been to Mecca is called a Hadji and puts +on a turban. He has no use for you fellows. He tells me to kill you; +but I cannot kill you,--I have paid for you; and then, Iván, I like you. +I not only have no intention of killing you, but I would not let you go +back, if I had not given my word to you." He laughed as he said that, +and added in Russian: "You, Iván, good, me, Abdul, good!" + + +IV. + +Zhilín lived thus for a month. In the daytime he walked around the +village and made things with his hands, and when night came, and all was +quiet in the village, he began to dig in the shed. It was difficult to +dig on account of the rocks, but he sawed the stones with the file, and +made a hole through which he meant to crawl later. "First I must find +out what direction to go in," he thought; "but the Tartars will not tell +me anything." + +So he chose a time when his master was away; he went after dinner back +of the village, up-hill, where he could see the place. But when his +master went away, he told his little boy to keep an eye on Zhilín and to +follow him everywhere. So the boy ran after Zhilín, and said: + +"Don't go! Father said that you should not go there. I will call the +people!" + +Zhilín began to persuade him. + +"I do not want to go far," he said; "I just want to walk up the +mountain: I want to find an herb with which to cure you people. Come +with me; I cannot run away with the stocks. To-morrow I will make you a +bow and arrows." + +He persuaded the boy, and they went together. As he looked up the +mountain, it looked near, but with the stocks it was hard to walk; he +walked and walked, and climbed the mountain with difficulty. Zhilín sat +down and began to look at the place. To the south of the shed there was +a ravine, and there a herd of horses was grazing, and in a hollow could +be seen another village. At that village began a steeper mountain, and +beyond that mountain there was another mountain. Between the mountains +could be seen a forest, and beyond it again the mountains, rising higher +and higher. Highest of all, there were white mountains, capped with +snow, just like sugar loaves. And one snow mountain stood with its cap +above all the rest. To the east and the west there were just such +mountains; here and there smoke rose from villages in the clefts. + +"Well," he thought, "that is all their side." + +He began to look to the Russian side. At his feet was a brook and his +village, and all around were little gardens. At the brook women were +sitting,--they looked as small as dolls,--and washing the linen. Beyond +the village and below it there was a mountain, and beyond that, two +other mountains, covered with forests; between the two mountains could +be seen an even spot, and on that plain, far, far away, it looked as +though smoke were settling. Zhilín recalled where the sun used to rise +and set when he was at home in the fortress. He looked down there,--sure +enough, that was the valley where the Russian fortress ought to be. +There, then, between those two mountains, he had to run. + +The sun was beginning to go down. The snow-capped mountains changed from +white to violet; it grew dark in the black mountains; vapour arose from +the clefts, and the valley, where our fortress no doubt was, gleamed in +the sunset as though on fire. Zhilín began to look sharply,--something +was quivering in the valley, like smoke rising from chimneys. He was +sure now that it must be the Russian fortress. + +It grew late; he could hear the mullah call; the flock was being driven, +and the cows lowed. The boy said to him, "Come!" but Zhilín did not feel +like leaving. + +They returned home. "Well," thought Zhilín, "now I know the place, and I +must run." He wanted to run that same night. The nights were dark,--the +moon was on the wane. Unfortunately the Tartars returned toward evening. +At other times they returned driving cattle before them, and then they +were jolly. But this time they did not drive home anything, but brought +back a dead Tartar, a red-haired companion of theirs. They came back +angry, and all gathered to bury him. Zhilín, too, went out to see. They +wrapped the dead man in linen, without putting him in a coffin, and +carried him under the plane-trees beyond the village, and placed him on +the grass. The mullah came, and the old men gathered around him, their +caps wrapped with towels, and took off their shoes and seated themselves +in a row on their heels, in front of the dead man. + +At their head was the mullah, and then three old men in turbans, sitting +in a row, and behind them other Tartars. They sat, and bent their heads, +and kept silence. They were silent for quite awhile. Then the mullah +raised his head, and said: + +"Allah!" (That means "God.") He said that one word, and again they +lowered their heads and kept silence for a long time; they sat without +stirring. Again the mullah raised his head: + +"Allah!" and all repeated, "Allah!" and again they were silent. The dead +man lay on the grass, and did not stir, and they sat about him like the +dead. Not one of them stirred. One could hear only the leaves on the +plane-tree rustling in the breeze. Then the mullah said a prayer, and +all got up, lifted the dead body, and carried it away. They took it to a +grave,--not a simple grave, but dug under like a cave. They took the +dead man under his arms and by his legs, bent him over, let him down +softly, pushed him under in a sitting posture, and fixed his arms on his +body. + +A Nogay dragged up a lot of green reeds; they bedded the grave with it, +then quickly filled it with dirt, levelled it up, and put a stone up +straight at the head of it. They tramped down the earth, and again sat +down in a row near the grave. They were silent for a long time. + +"Allah, Allah, Allah!" They sighed and got up. + +A red-haired Tartar distributed money to the old men; then he got up, +took a whip, struck himself three times on his forehead, and went home. + +Next morning Zhilín saw the red Tartar take a mare out of the village, +and three Tartars followed him. They went outside the village; then the +red-haired Tartar took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves,--he had +immense arms,--and took out his dagger and whetted it on a steel. The +Tartars jerked up the mare's head, and the red-haired man walked over to +her, cut her throat, threw her down, and began to flay her,--to rip the +skin open with his fists. Then came women and girls, and they began to +wash the inside and the entrails. Then they chopped up the mare and +dragged the flesh to the house. And the whole village gathered at the +house of the red-haired Tartar to celebrate the dead man's wake. + +For three days did they eat the horse-flesh, drink buza, and remember +the dead man. On the fourth day Zhilín saw them get ready to go +somewhere for a dinner. They brought horses, dressed themselves up, and +went away,--about ten men, and the red Tartar with them; Abdul was the +only one who was left at home. The moon was just beginning to increase, +and the nights were still dark. + +"Well," thought Zhilín, "to-night I must run," and he told Kostylín so. +But Kostylín was timid. + +"How can we run? We do not know the road." + +"I know it." + +"But we cannot reach it in the night." + +"If we do not, we shall stay for the night in the woods. I have a lot of +cakes with me. You certainly do not mean to stay. It would be all right +if they sent the money; but suppose they cannot get together so much. +The Tartars are mean now, because the Russians have killed one of +theirs. I understand they want to kill us now." + +Kostylín thought awhile: + +"Well, let us go!" + + +V. + +Zhilín crept into the hole and dug it wider, so that Kostylín could get +through; and then they sat still and waited for everything to quiet down +in the village. + +When all grew quiet, Zhilín crawled through the hole and got out. He +whispered to Kostylín to crawl out. Kostylín started to come out, but he +caught a stone with his foot, and it made a noise. Now their master had +a dappled watch-dog, and he was dreadfully mean; his name was Ulyashin. +Zhilín had been feeding him before. When Ulyashin heard the voice, he +began to bark and rushed forward, and with him other dogs. Zhilín gave a +low whistle and threw a piece of cake to the dog, and the dog recognized +him and wagged his tail and stopped barking. + +The master heard it, and he called out from the hut, "Hait, hait, +Ulyashin!" + +But Zhilín was scratching Ulyashin behind his ears; so the dog was +silent and rubbed against his legs and wagged his tail. + +They sat awhile around the corner. All was silent; nothing could be +heard but the sheep coughing in the hut corner, and the water rippling +down the pebbles. It was dark; the stars stood high in the heaven; the +young moon shone red above the mountain, and its horns were turned +upward. In the clefts the mist looked as white as milk. + +Zhilín got up and said to his companion: + +"Now, my friend, let us start!" + +They started. They had made but a few steps, when they heard the mullah +sing out on the roof: "Allah besmillah! Ilrakhman!" That meant that the +people were going to the mosque. They sat down again, hiding behind a +wall. They sat for a long time, waiting for the people to pass by. Again +everything was quiet. + +"Well, with God's aid!" They made the sign of the cross, and started. +They crossed the yard and went down-hill to the brook; they crossed the +brook and walked down the ravine. The mist was dense and low on the +ground, and overhead the stars were, oh, so visible. Zhilín saw by the +stars in what direction they had to go. In the mist it felt fresh, and +it was easy to walk, only the boots were awkward, they had worn down so +much. Zhilín took off his boots and threw them away, and marched on +barefoot. He leaped from stone to stone, and kept watching the stars. +Kostylín began to fall behind. + +"Walk slower," he said. "The accursed boots,--they have chafed my feet." + +"Take them off! You will find it easier without them." + +Kostylín walked barefoot after that; but it was only worse: he cut his +feet on the rocks, and kept falling behind. Zhilín said to him: + +"If you bruise your feet, they will heal up; but if they catch you; they +will kill you,--so it will be worse." + +Kostylín said nothing, but he groaned as he walked. They walked for a +long time through a ravine. Suddenly they heard dogs barking. Zhilín +stopped and looked around; he groped with his hands and climbed a hill. + +"Oh," he said, "we have made a mistake,--we have borne too much to the +right. Here is a village,--I saw it from the mountain; we must go back +and to the left, and up the mountain. There must be a forest here." + +But Kostylín said: + +"Wait at least awhile! Let me rest: my feet are all blood-stained." + +"Never mind, friend, they will heal up! Jump more lightly,--like this!" + +And Zhilín ran back, and to the left, up the mountain into the forest. +Kostylín kept falling behind and groaning. Zhilín hushed him, and walked +on. + +They got up the mountain, and there, indeed, was a forest. They went +into the forest, and tore all the clothes they had against the thorns. +They struck a path in the forest, and followed it. + +"Stop!" Hoofs were heard tramping on the path. They stopped to listen. +It was the sound of a horse's hoofs. They started, and again it began to +thud. They stopped, and it, too, stopped. Zhilín crawled up to it, and +saw something standing in the light on the road. It was not exactly a +horse, and again it was like a horse with something strange above it, +and certainly not a man. He heard it snort. "What in the world is it?" +Zhilín gave a light whistle, and it bolted away from the path, so that +he could hear it crash through the woods: the branches broke off, as +though a storm went through them. + +Kostylín fell down in fright. But Zhilín laughed and said: + +"That is a stag. Do you hear him break the branches with his horns? We +are afraid of him, and he is afraid of us." + +They walked on. The Pleiades were beginning to settle,--it was not far +from morning. They did not know whether they were going right, or not. +Zhilín thought that that was the path over which they had taken him, and +that he was about ten versts from his own people; still there were no +certain signs, and, besides, in the night nothing could be made out. +They came out on a clearing. Kostylín sat down, and said: + +"Do as you please, but I will not go any farther! My feet refuse to +move." + +Zhilín begged him to go on. + +"No," he said, "I cannot walk on." + +Zhilín got angry, spit out in disgust, and scolded him. + +"Then I will go by myself,--good-bye!" + +Kostylín got up and walked on. They walked about four versts. The mist +grew denser in the forest, and nothing could be seen in front of them, +and the stars were quite dim. + +Suddenly they heard a horse tramping in front of them. They could hear +the horse catch with its hoofs in the stones. Zhilín lay down on his +belly, and put his ear to the ground to listen. + +"So it is, a rider is coming this way!" + +They ran off the road, sat down in the bushes, and waited. Zhilín crept +up to the road, and saw a Tartar on horseback, driving a cow before him, +and mumbling something to himself. The Tartar passed by them. Zhilín +went back to Kostylín. + +"Well, with God's help, he is gone. Get up, and let us go!" + +Kostylín tried to get up, but fell down. + +"I cannot, upon my word, I cannot. I have no strength." + +The heavy, puffed-up man was in a perspiration, and as the cold mist in +the forest went through him and his feet were all torn, he went all to +pieces. Zhilín tried to get him up, but Kostylín cried: + +"Oh, it hurts!" + +Zhilín was frightened. + +"Don't shout so! You know that the Tartar is not far off,--he will hear +you." But he thought: "He is, indeed, weak, so what shall I do with him? +It will not do to abandon my companion." + +"Well," he said, "get up, get on my back, and I will carry you, if you +cannot walk." + +He took Kostylín on his back, put his hands on Kostylín's legs, walked +out on the road, and walked on. + +"Only be sure," he said, "and do not choke me with your hands, for +Christ's sake. Hold on to my shoulders!" + +It was hard for Zhilín: his feet, too, were blood-stained, and he was +worn out. He kept bending down, straightening up Kostylín, and throwing +him up, so that he might sit higher, and dragged him along the road. + +Evidently the Tartar had heard Kostylín's shout. Zhilín heard some one +riding from behind and calling in his language. Zhilín made for the +brush. The Tartar pulled out his gun and fired; he screeched in his +fashion, and rode back along the road. + +"Well," said Zhilín, "we are lost, my friend! That dog will collect the +Tartars and they will start after us. If we cannot make another three +versts, we are lost." But he thought about Kostylín: "The devil has +tempted me to take this log along. If I had been alone, I should have +escaped long ago." + +Kostylín said: + +"Go yourself! Why should you perish for my sake?" + +"No, I will not go,--it will not do to leave a comrade." + +He took him once more on his shoulders, and held on to him. Thus they +walked another verst. The woods extended everywhere, and no end was to +be seen. The mist was beginning to lift, and rose in the air like little +clouds, and the stars could not be seen. Zhilín was worn out. + +They came to a little spring by the road; it was lined with stones. +Zhilín stopped and put down Kostylín. + +"Let me rest," he said, "and get a drink! We will eat our cakes. It +cannot be far now." + +He had just got down to drink, when he heard the tramping of horses +behind them. Again they rushed to the right, into the bushes, down an +incline, and lay down. + +They could hear Tartar voices. The Tartars stopped at the very spot +where they had left the road. They talked awhile, then they made a +sound, as though sicking dogs. Something crashed through the bushes, and +a strange dog made straight for them. It stopped and began to bark. + +Then the Tartars came down,--they, too, were strangers. They took them, +bound them, put them on their horses, and carried them off. + +They travelled about three versts, when they were met by Abdul, the +prisoners' master, and two more Tartars. They talked with each other, +and the prisoners were put on the other horses and taken back to the +village. + +Abdul no longer laughed, and did not speak one word with them. + +They were brought to the village at daybreak, and were placed in the +street. The children ran up and beat them with stones and sticks, and +screamed. + +The Tartars gathered in a circle, and the old man from down-hill came, +too. They talked together. Zhilín saw that they were sitting in judgment +on them, discussing what to do with them. Some said that they ought to +be sent farther into the mountains, but the old man said that they +should be killed. Abdul disputed with them and said: + +"I have paid money for them, and I will get a ransom for them." + +But the old man said: + +"They will not pay us anything; they will only give us trouble. It is a +sin to feed Russians. Kill them, and that will be the end of it." + +They all went their way. The master walked over to Zhilín and said: + +"If the ransom does not come in two weeks, I will beat you to death. And +if you try to run again I will kill you like a dog. Write a letter, and +write it well!" + +Paper was brought to them, and they wrote the letters. The stocks were +put on them, and they were taken back of the mosque. There was a ditch +there, about twelve feet in depth,--and into this ditch they were let +down. + + +VI. + +They now led a very hard life. The stocks were not taken off, and they +were not let out into the wide world. Unbaked dough was thrown down to +them, as to dogs, and water was let down to them in a pitcher. There was +a stench in the ditch, and it was close and damp. Kostylín grew very +ill, and swelled, and had a breaking out on his whole body; and he kept +groaning all the time, or he slept. Zhilín was discouraged: he saw that +the situation was desperate. He did not know how to get out of it. + +He began to dig, but there was no place to throw the dirt in; the master +saw it, and threatened to kill him. + +One day he was squatting in the ditch, and thinking of the free world, +and he felt pretty bad. Suddenly a cake fell down on his knees, and a +second, and some cherries. He looked up,--it was Dina. She looked at +him, laughed, and ran away. Zhilín thought: "Maybe Dina will help me." + +He cleaned up a place in the ditch, scraped up some clay, and began to +make dolls. He made men, horses, and dogs. He thought: "When Dina comes +I will throw them to her." + +But on the next day Dina did not come. Zhilín heard the tramping of +horses; somebody rode by, and the Tartars gathered at the mosque; they +quarrelled and shouted, and talked about the Russians. And he heard the +old man's voice. He could not make out exactly what it was, but he +guessed that the Russians had come close to the village, and that the +Tartars were afraid that they might come to the village, and they did +not know what to do with the prisoners. + +They talked awhile and went away. Suddenly he heard something rustle +above him. He looked up; Dina was squatting down, and her knees towered +above her head; she leaned over, and her necklace hung down and dangled +over the ditch. Her little eyes glistened like stars. She took two +cheese-cakes out of her sleeve and threw them down to him. Zhilín said +to her: + +"Why have you not been here for so long? I have made you some toys. Here +they are!" + +He began to throw one after the other to her, but she shook her head, +and did not look at them. + +"I do not want them," she said. She sat awhile in silence, and said; +"Iván, they want to kill you!" She pointed with her hand to her neck. + +"Who wants to kill me?" + +"My father,--the old men tell him to. I am sorry for you." + +So Zhilín said: + +"If you pity me, bring me a long stick!" + +She shook her head, to say that she could not. He folded his hands, and +began to beg her: + +"Dina, if you please! Dear Dina, bring it to me!" + +"I cannot," she said. "The people are at home, and they would see me." + +And she went away. + +Zhilín was sitting there in the evening, and thinking what would happen. +He kept looking up. The stars could be seen, and the moon was not yet +up. The mullah called, and all grew quiet. Zhilín was beginning to fall +asleep; he thought the girl would be afraid. + +Suddenly some clay fell on his head. He looked up and saw a long pole +coming down at the end of the ditch. It tumbled, and descended, and came +down into the ditch. Zhilín was happy; he took hold of it and let it +down,--it was a stout pole. He had seen it before on his master's roof. + +He looked up: the stars were shining high in the heavens, and over the +very ditch Dina's eyes glistened in the darkness. She bent her face over +the edge of the ditch, and whispered: "Iván, Iván!" and waved her hands +in front of her face, as much as to say: "Speak softly!" + +"What is it?" asked Zhilín. + +"They are all gone. There are two only at the house." + +So Zhilín said: + +"Kostylín, come, let us try for the last time; I will give you a lift." + +Kostylín would not even listen. + +"No," he said, "I shall never get away from here. Where should I go, +since I have no strength to turn around?" + +"If so, good-bye! Do not think ill of me!" + +He kissed Kostylín. + +He took hold of the pole, told Dina to hold on to it, and climbed up. +Two or three times he slipped down: the stocks were in his way. Kostylín +held him up, and he managed to get on. Dina pulled him by the shirt with +all her might, and laughed. + +Zhilín took the pole, and said: + +"Take it to where you found it, for if they see it, they will beat you." + +She dragged the pole away, and Zhilín went down-hill. He crawled down an +incline, took a sharp stone, and tried to break the lock of the stocks. +But the lock was a strong one, and he could not break it. He heard some +one running down the hill, leaping lightly. He thought it was Dina. Dina +ran up, took a stone, and said: + +"Let me do it!" + +She knelt down and tried to break it; but her arms were as thin as +rods,--there was no strength in them. She threw away the stone, and +began to weep. Zhilín again worked on the lock, and Dina squatted near +him, and held on to his shoulder. Zhilín looked around; on the left, +beyond the mountain, he saw a red glow,--the moon was rising. + +"Well," he thought, "before the moon is up I must cross the ravine and +get to the forest." + +He got up, threw away the stone, and, though in the stocks, started to +go. + +"Good-bye, Dina dear! I will remember you all my life." + +Dina took hold of him; she groped all over him, trying to find a place +to put the cakes. He took them from her. + +"Thank you," he said, "you are a clever girl. Who will make dolls for +you without me?" And he patted her on the head. + +Dina began to cry. She covered her eyes with her hands, and ran up-hill +like a kid. In the darkness he could hear the ornaments in the braid +striking against her shoulders. + +Zhilín made the sign of the cross, took the lock of his fetters in his +hand, that it might not clank, and started down the road, dragging his +feet along, and looking at the glow, where the moon was rising. He +recognized the road. By the straight road it would be about eight +versts. If he only could get to the woods before the moon was entirely +out! He crossed a brook,--and it was getting light beyond the mountain. +He walked through the ravine; he walked and looked, but the moon was not +yet to be seen. It was getting brighter, and on one side of the ravine +everything could be seen more and more clearly. The shadow was creeping +down the mountain, up toward him. + +Zhilín walked and kept in the shade. He hurried on, but the moon was +coming out faster still; the tops of the trees on the right side were +now in the light. As he came up to the woods, the moon came out entirely +from behind the mountains, and it grew bright and white as in the +daytime. All the leaves could be seen on the trees. The mountains were +calm and bright; it was as though everything were dead. All that could +be heard was the rippling of a brook below. + +He reached the forest,--he came across no men. Zhilín found a dark spot +in the woods and sat down to rest himself. + +He rested, and ate a cake. He found a stone, and began once more to +break down the lock. He bruised his hands, but did not break the lock. +He got up, and walked on. He marched about a verst, but his strength +gave out,--his feet hurt him so. He would make ten steps and then stop. +"What is to be done?" he thought. "I will drag myself along until my +strength gives out entirely. If I sit down, I shall not be able to get +up. I cannot reach the fortress, so, when day breaks, I will lie down in +the forest for the day, and at night I will move on." + +He walked the whole night. He came across two Tartars only, but he heard +them from afar, and so hid behind a tree. + +The moon was beginning to pale, and Zhilín had not yet reached the edge +of the forest. + +"Well," he thought, "I will take another thirty steps, after which I +will turn into the forest, where I will sit down." + +He took the thirty steps, and there he saw that the forest came to an +end. He went to the edge of it, and there it was quite light. Before him +lay the steppe and the fortress, as in the palm of the hand, and to the +left, close by at the foot of the mountain, fires were burning and going +out, and the smoke was spreading, and men were near the camp-fires. + +He took a sharp look at them: the guns were glistening,--those were +Cossacks and soldiers. + +Zhilín was happy. He collected his last strength and walked down-hill. +And he thought: "God forfend that a Tartar rider should see me in the +open! Though it is not far off, I should not get away." + +No sooner had he thought so, when, behold, on a mound stood three +Tartars, not more than 150 fathoms away. They saw him, and darted toward +him. His heart just sank in him. He waved his arms and shouted as loud +as he could: + +"Brothers! Help, brothers!" + +Our men heard him, and away flew the mounted Cossacks. They started +toward him, to cut off the Tartars. + +The Cossacks had far to go, but the Tartars were near. And Zhilín +collected his last strength, took the stocks in his hand, and ran toward +the Cossacks. He was beside himself, and he made the sign of the cross, +and shouted: + +"Brothers! Brothers! Brothers!" + +There were about fifteen Cossacks. + +The Tartars were frightened, and they stopped before they reached him. +And Zhilín ran up to the Cossacks. + +The Cossacks surrounded him, and asked: + +"Who are you? Where do you come from?" + +But Zhilín was beside himself, and he wept, and muttered: + +"Brothers! Brothers!" + +The soldiers ran out, and surrounded Zhilín: one gave him bread, another +gruel, a third vódka; one covered him with a cloak, another broke off +the lock. + +The officers heard of it, and took him to the fortress. The soldiers +were happy, and his companions came to see him. + +Zhilín told them what had happened, and said: + +"So I have been home, and got married! No, evidently that is not my +fate." + +And he remained in the service in the Caucasus. Not till a month later +was Kostylín ransomed for five thousand. He was brought back more dead +than alive. + + + + +ERMÁK + + +In the reign of Iván Vasílevich the Terrible there were the rich +merchants, the Stroganóvs, and they lived in Perm, on the river Káma. +They heard that along the river Káma, in a circle of 140 versts, there +was good land: the soil had not been ploughed for centuries, the forests +had not been cut down for centuries. In the forests were many wild +animals, and along the river fish lakes, and no one was living on that +land, but only Tartars passed through it. + +The Stroganóvs wrote a letter to the Tsar: + +"Give us this land, and we will ourselves build towns there and gather +people and settle them there, and will not allow the Tartars to pass +through it." + +The Tsar agreed to it, and gave them the land. The Stroganóvs sent out +clerks to gather people. And there came to them a large number of roving +people. Whoever came received from the Stroganóvs land, forest, and +cattle, and no tenant pay was collected. All they had to do was to live +and, in case of need, to go out in mass to fight the Tartars. Thus the +land was settled by the Russian people. + +About twenty years passed. The Stroganóvs grew richer yet, and that +land, 140 versts around, was not enough for them. They wanted to have +more land still. About one hundred versts from them were high mountains, +the Ural Mountains, and beyond them, they had heard, there was good +land, and to that land there was no end. This land was ruled by a small +Siberian prince, Kuchum by name. In former days Kuchum had sworn +allegiance to the Russian Tsar, but later he began to rebel, and he +threatened to destroy Stroganóv's towns. + +So the Stroganóvs wrote to the Tsar: + +"You have given us land, and we have conquered it and turned it over to +you; now the thievish Tsarling Kuchum is rebelling against you, and +wants to take that land away and ruin us. Command us to take possession +of the land beyond the Ural Mountains; we will conquer Kuchum, and will +bring all his land under your rule." + +The Tsar assented, and wrote back: + +"If you have sufficient force, take the land away from Kuchum. Only do +not entice many people away from Russia." + +When the Stroganóvs got that letter from the Tsar, they sent out clerks +to collect more people. And they ordered them to persuade mostly the +Cossacks from the Vólga and the Don to come. At that time many Cossacks +were roving along the Vólga and the Don. They used to gather in bands of +two, three, or six hundred men, and to select an atamán, and to row down +in barges, to capture ships and rob them, and for the winter they stayed +in little towns on the shore. + +The clerks arrived at the Vólga, and there they asked who the famous +Cossacks of that region were. They were told: + +"There are many Cossacks. It is impossible to live for them. There is +Míshka Cherkáshenin, and Sarý-Azmán; but there is no fiercer one than +Ermák Timoféich, the atamán. He has a thousand men, and not only the +merchants and the people are afraid of him, but even the Tsarian army +does not dare to cope with him." + +And the clerks went to Ermák the atamán, and began to persuade him to go +to the Stroganóvs. Ermák received the clerks, listened to their +speeches, and promised to come with his people about the time of the +Assumption of the Blessed Virgin. + +Near the holiday of the Assumption there came to the Stroganóvs six +hundred Cossacks, with their atamán, Ermák Timoféich. At first Stroganóv +sent them against the neighbouring Tartars. The Cossacks annihilated +them. Then, when nothing was doing, the Cossacks roved in the +neighbourhood and robbed. + +So Stroganóv sent for Ermák, and said: + +"I will not keep you any longer, if you are going to be so wanton." + +But Ermák said: + +"I do not like it myself, but I cannot control my people, they are +spoiled. Give us work to do!" + +So Stroganóv said: + +"Go beyond the Ural and fight Kuchum, and take possession of his land. +The Tsar will reward you for it." + +And he showed the Tsar's letter to Ermák. Ermák rejoiced, and collected +his men, and said: + +"You are shaming me before my master,--you are robbing without reason. +If you do not stop, he will drive you away, and where will you go then? +At the Vólga there is a large Tsarian army; we shall be caught, and then +we shall suffer for our old misdeeds. But if you feel lonesome, here is +work for you." + +And he showed them the Tsar's letter, in which it said that Stroganóv +had been permitted to conquer land beyond the Ural. The Cossacks had a +consultation, and agreed to go. Ermák went to Stroganóv, and they began +to deliberate how they had best go. + +They discussed how many barges they needed, how much grain, cattle, +guns, powder, lead, how many captive Tartar interpreters, and how many +foreigners as masters of gunnery. + +Stroganóv thought: + +"Though it may cost me much, I must give them everything or else they +will stay here and will ruin me." + +Stroganóv agreed to everything, gathered what was needed, and fitted out +Ermák and the Cossacks. + +On the 1st of September the Cossacks rowed with Ermák up the river +Chúsovaya on thirty-two barges, with twelve men in each. For four days +they rowed up the river, and then they turned into Serébryanaya River. +Beyond that point it was impossible to navigate. They asked the guides, +and learned that from there they had to cross the mountains and walk +overland about two hundred versts, and then the rivers would begin +again. The Cossacks stopped, built a town, and unloaded all their +equipment; they abandoned the boats, made carts, put everything upon +them, and started overland, across the mountains. All those places were +covered with forest, and nobody was living there. They marched for about +ten days, and struck the river Zharóvnya. Here they stopped again, and +made themselves boats. They loaded them, and rowed down the river. They +rowed five days, and then came more cheerful places,--meadows, forests, +lakes. There was a plenty of fish and of animals, and animals that had +not been scared by hunters. They rowed another day, and sailed into the +river Túra. Along the Túra they came on Tartar people and towns. + +Ermák sent some Cossacks to take a look at a town, to see what it was +like, and whether there was any considerable force in it. Twenty +Cossacks went there, and they frightened all the Tartars, and seized the +whole town, and captured all the cattle. Some of the Tartars they +killed, and others they brought back alive. + +Ermák asked the Tartars through his interpreters what kind of people +they were, and under whose rule they were living. The Tartars said that +they were in the Siberian kingdom, and that their king was Kuchum. + +Ermák let the Tartars go, but three of the more intelligent he took with +him, to show him the road. + +They rowed on. The farther they rowed, the larger did the river grow; +and the farther they went, the better did the places become. + +They met more and more people; only they were not strong men. And all +the towns that were near the river the Cossacks conquered. + +In one town they captured a large number of Tartars and one old man who +was held in respect. They asked him what kind of a man he was. He said: + +"I am Tauzik, a servant of my king, Kuchum, who has made me a commander +in this town." + +Ermák asked Tauzik about his king; how far his city of Sibír was; +whether Kuchum had a large force; whether he had much wealth. Tauzik +told him everything. He said: + +"Kuchum is the first king in the world. His city of Sibír is the largest +city in the world. In that city," he said, "there are as many people and +as many cattle as there are stars in the heaven. There is no counting +his force, and not all the kings of the world can conquer him." + +But Ermák said: + +"We Russians have come here to conquer your king and to take his city, +and to put it into the hands of the Russian Tsar. We have a large force. +Those who have come with me are only the advance-guard; those that are +rowing down behind us in barges are numberless, and all of them have +guns. Our guns pierce trees, not like your bows and arrows. Just look!" + +And Ermák fired at a tree, and pierced it, and the Cossacks began to +shoot on all sides. Tauzik in fright fell on his knees. Ermák said to +him: + +"Go to your King Kuchum and tell him what you have seen! Let him +surrender, and if he does not, we will destroy him." + +And he dismissed Tauzik. + +The Cossacks rowed on. They sailed into the river Toból, and were +getting nearer to the city of Sibír. They sailed up to the small river +Babasán, and there they saw a small town on its bank, and around the +town a large number of Tartars. + +They sent an interpreter to the Tartars, to find out what kind of people +they were. The interpreter returned, and said: + +"That is Kuchum's army that has gathered there. The leader of that army +is Kuchum's own son-in-law, Mametkul. He has commanded me to tell you +that you must return, or else he will destroy you." + +Ermák gathered his Cossacks, landed on the bank, and began to shoot at +the Tartars. The moment the Tartars heard the shooting, they began to +run. The Cossacks ran after them, and killed some, and captured others. +Mametkul barely escaped. + +The Cossacks sailed on. They sailed into a broad, rapid river, the +Irtýsh. Down Irtýsh River they sailed for a day, and came to a fair +town, and there they stopped. The Cossacks went to the town. As they +were coming near, the Tartars began to shoot their arrows, and they +wounded three Cossacks. Then Ermák sent an interpreter to tell the +Tartars that they must surrender the town, or else they would all be +killed. The interpreter went, and he returned, and said: + +"Here lives Kuchum's servant, Atik Murza Kachara. He has a large force, +and he says that he will not surrender the town." + +Ermák gathered the Cossacks, and said: + +"Boys, if we do not take this town, the Tartars will rejoice, and will +not let us pass on. The more we strike them with terror, the easier will +it be. Land all, and attack them all at once!" + +So they did. There were many Tartars there, and they were brave. + +When the Cossacks rushed at them, the Tartars began to shoot their +arrows. They covered the Cossacks with them. Some were killed, and some +wounded. + +The Cossacks became enraged, and when they got to the Tartars, they +killed all they could lay their hands on. + +In this town the Cossacks found much property,--cattle, rugs, furs, and +honey. They buried the dead, rested themselves, took away much property, +and sailed on. They did not sail far, when they saw on the shore, like a +city, an endless number of troops, and the whole army surrounded by a +ditch and the ditch protected by timber. The Cossacks stopped. They +deliberated. Ermák gathered a circle about him. + +"Well, boys, what shall we do?" + +The Cossacks were frightened. Some said that they ought to sail past, +while others said that they ought to go back. + +And they looked gloomy and began to scold Ermák. They said: + +"Why did you bring us here? Already a few of ours have been killed, and +many have been wounded; and all of us will perish here." + +They began to weep. + +But Ermák said to his sub-atamán, Iván Koltsó: + +"Well, Ványa, what do you think?" + +And Koltsó said: + +"What do I think? If they do not kill us to-day, they will to-morrow; +and if not to-morrow, we shall die anyway on the oven. In my opinion, we +ought to go out on the shore and rush in a body against the Tartars. +Maybe God will give us victory." + +Ermák said: + +"You are a brave man, Ványa! That is what must be done. Oh, you boys! +You are not Cossacks, but old women. All you are good for is to catch +sturgeon and frighten Tartar women. Can't you see for yourselves? If we +turn back we shall be destroyed; and if we stay here, they will destroy +us. How can we go back? After a little work, it will come easier. +Listen, boys! My father had a strong mare. Down-hill she would pull and +on an even place she would pull. But when it came to going up-hill, she +became stubborn and turned back, thinking that it would be easier. But +my father took a club and belaboured her with it. She twisted and tugged +and broke the whole cart. My father unhitched her from the cart and gave +her a terrible whacking. If she had pulled the cart, she would have +suffered no torment. So it is with us, boys. There is only one thing +left for us to do, and that is to make straight for the Tartars." + +The Cossacks laughed, and said: + +"Timoféich, you are evidently more clever than we are. You have no +business to ask us fools. Take us where you please. A man does not die +twice, and one death cannot be escaped." + +And Ermák said: + +"Listen, boys! This is what we shall do. They have not yet seen us all. +Let us divide into three parts. Those in the middle will march straight +against them, and the other two divisions will surround them on the +right and on the left. When the middle detachment begins to walk toward +them, they will think that we are all there, and so they will leap +forward. Then we will strike them from the sides. That's the way, boys! +If we beat these, we shall not have to be afraid of anybody. We shall +ourselves be kings." + +And so they did. When the middle detachment with Ermák advanced, the +Tartars screamed and leaped forward; then they were attacked by Iván +Koltsó on the right, and by Meshcheryákov the atamán on the left. The +Tartars were frightened, and ran. The Cossacks killed a great many of +them. After that nobody dared to oppose Ermák. And thus he entered the +very city of Sibír. And there Ermák settled down as though he were a +king. + +Then kinglets came to see Ermák, to bow to him. Tartars began to settle +down in Sibír, and Kuchum and his son-in-law Mametkul were afraid to go +straight at him, but kept going around in a circle, wondering how they +might destroy him. + +In the spring, during high water, the Tartars came running to Ermák, and +said: + +"Mametkul is again going against you: he has gathered a large army, and +is making a stand near the river Vagáy." + +Ermák made his way over rivers, swamps, brooks, and forests, stole up +with his Cossacks, rushed against Mametkul, killed a large number of +Tartars, and took Mametkul alive and brought him to Sibír. After that +there were only a few unruly Tartars left, and Ermák went that summer +against those that had not yet surrendered; and along the Irtýsh and the +Ob Ermák conquered so much land that one could not march around it in +two months. + +When Ermák had conquered all that land, he sent a messenger to the +Stroganóvs, and a letter: + +"I have taken Kuchum's city," he said, "and have captured Mametkul, and +have brought all the people here under my rule. Only I have lost many +Cossacks. Send people to us that we may feel more cheerful. There is no +end to the wealth in this country." + +He sent to them many costly furs,--fox, marten, and sable furs. + +Two years passed after that. Ermák was still holding Sibír, but no aid +came from Russia, and few Russians were left with Ermák. + +One day the Tartar Karacha sent a messenger to Ermák, saying: + +"We have surrendered to you, but now the Nogays are oppressing us. Send +your brave men to aid us! We shall together conquer the Nogays. And we +swear to you that we shall not insult your brave men." + +Ermák believed their oath, and sent forty men under Iván Koltsó. When +these forty men came there, the Tartars rushed against them and killed +them, so there were still fewer Cossacks left. + +Another time some Bukhara merchants sent word to Ermák that they were on +their way to the city of Sibír with goods, but that Kuchum had taken his +stand with an army and would not let them pass through. + +Ermák took with him fifty men and went out to clear the road for the +Bukhara merchants. He came to the Irtýsh River, but did not find the +Bukharans. He remained there over night. It was a dark night, and it +rained. The Cossacks had just lain down to sleep, when suddenly the +Tartars rushed out and threw themselves on the sleepy men and began to +strike them down. Ermák jumped up and began to fight. He was wounded in +the hand. He ran toward the river. The Tartars after him. He threw +himself into the river. That was the last time he was seen. His body was +not recovered, and no one found out how he died. + +The following year came the Tsar's army, and the Tartars were pacified. + + + + + +NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES + +1869-1872 + + + + +NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES + + + + +STORIES FROM PHYSICS + + + + +THE MAGNET + + +I. + +In olden days there was a shepherd whose name was Magnes. Magnes lost a +sheep. He went to the mountains to find it. He came to a place where +there were barren rocks. He walked over these rocks, and felt that his +boots were sticking to them. He touched them with his hand, but they +were dry and did not stick to his hand. He started to walk again, and +again his boots stuck to the rocks. He sat down, took off one of his +boots, took it into his hand, and touched the rocks with it. + +Whenever he touched them with his skin, or with the sole of his boot, +they did not stick; but when he touched them with the nails, they did +stick. + +Magnes had a cane with an iron point. + +He touched a rock with the wood; it did not stick; he touched it with +the iron end, and it stuck so that he could not pull it off. + +Magnes looked at the stone, and he saw that it looked like iron, and he +took pieces of that stone home with him. Since then that rock has been +known, and has been called Magnet. + + +II. + +Magnet is found in the earth with iron ore. Where there is magnet in the +ore, the iron is of the best quality. The magnet resembles iron. + +If you put a piece of iron on a magnet, the iron itself begins to +attract other iron. And if you put a steel needle on a magnet, and hold +it thus for awhile, the needle will become a magnet, and will attract +iron. If two magnets are brought together at their ends, one side will +turn away from the other, while the other sides will be attracted. + +If a magnetic rod is broken in two, each half will attract at one end, +and will turn away at the other end. Cut it again, and the same will +happen; cut it again, as often as you please, and still the same will +happen: equal ends will turn away from each other, while opposite ends +will be attracted, as though the magnet were pushing away at one end, +and pulling in at the other. No matter how you may break it, it will be +as though there were a bump at one end, and a saucer at the other. +Whichever way you put them together,--a bump and a saucer will meet, but +a bump and a bump, or a saucer and a saucer will not. + + +III. + +If you magnetize a needle (holding it for awhile over a magnet), and +attach it in the middle to a pivot in such a way that it can move freely +around, and let it loose, it will turn with one end toward midday +(south), and with the other toward midnight (north). + +When the magnet was not known, people did not sail far out to sea. When +they went out far into the sea, so that land was not to be seen, they +could tell only by the stars and the sun where they had to sail. But +when it was dark, and the sun or stars could not be seen, they did not +know which way to sail. And a ship was borne by the winds and carried on +rocks and wrecked. + +So long as the magnet was not known, they did not sail far from the +shore; but when the magnet was discovered, they made a magnetic needle +on a pivot, so that it should move around freely. By this needle they +could tell in which direction to sail. With the magnetic needle they +began to sail farther away from the shores, and since then they have +discovered many new seas. + +On ships there is always a magnetic needle (compass), and there is a +measuring-rope with knots at the stern of a ship. This rope is fixed in +such a way that when it unrolls, they can tell how far the ship has +travelled. And thus, in sailing in a boat, they always know in what spot +it is, whether far from the shore, and in what direction it is sailing. + + + + +MOISTURE + + +I. + +Why does a spider sometimes make a close cobweb, and sit in the very +middle of its nest, and at other times leave its nest and start a new +spider-web? + +The spider makes its cobweb according to the weather, both the present +and the future weather. Looking at a spider, you can tell what kind of +weather it is going to be: if it sits tightly in the middle of the +cobweb and does not come out, it means that it is going to rain. If it +leaves the nest and makes new cobwebs, it is going to clear off. + +How can the spider know in advance what weather it is going to be? + +The spider's senses are so fine that as soon as the moisture begins to +gather in the air,--though we do not yet feel it, and for us the weather +is clear,--for the spider it is already raining. + +Just as a naked man will feel the moisture, when a man in his clothes +does not, so it is already raining for a spider, while for us it is only +getting ready to rain. + + +II. + +Why do the doors swell in the winter and close badly, while in the +summer they shrink and close well? + +Because in the fall and winter the wood is saturated with water, like a +sponge, and spreads out, while in the summer the water comes out as a +vapour, and the wood shrinks. + +Why does soft wood, like aspen, swell more, and oak less? + +Because in the hard wood, in the oak, the empty places are smaller, and +the water cannot gather there, while in the soft wood in the aspen, +there are larger empty places, and the water can gather there. In rotten +wood these empty places are still larger, and so rotten wood swells most +and shrinks most. + +Beehives are made out of the softest and rottenest wood; the very best +are made from rotten willow wood. Why? Because the air passes through +the rotten wood, and in such a hive the bees feel better. + +Why do boards warp? + +Because they dry unevenly. If you place a damp board with one side +toward the stove, the water will leave it, and the board will contract +on that side and will pull the other side along; but the damp side +cannot contract, because it is full of water, and so the whole board +will be bent. + +To keep the floors from warping, the dry boards are cut into small +pieces, and these pieces are boiled in water. When all the water is +boiled out of them, they are glued together, and then they never warp +(parquetry). + + + + +THE DIFFERENT CONNECTION OF PARTICLES + + +Why are cart bolsters cut and wheel naves turned not from oak, but from +birch? Bolsters and naves have to be strong, and oak is not more +expensive than birch. + +Because oak splits lengthwise, and birch does not split, but ravels out. + +Because, though oak is more firmly connected than birch, it is connected +in such a way that it splits lengthwise, while birch does not. + +Why are wheels and runners bent from oak and elm, and not from birch and +linden? + +Because, when oak and elm are steamed in a bath, they bend and do not +break, while birch and linden ravel in every direction. + +This is again for the same reason, that is, that the particles of the +wood in the oak and in the birch are differently connected. + + + + +CRYSTALS + + +If you pour salt into water and stir it, the salt will begin to melt and +will entirely disappear; but if you pour more and still more salt into +it, the salt will in the end not dissolve, and no matter how much you +may stir after that, the salt will remain as a white powder. The water +is saturated with the salt and cannot receive any more. But heat the +water and it will receive more; and the salt which did not dissolve in +the cold water, will melt in hot water. But pour in more salt, even the +hot water will not receive it. And if you heat the water still more, the +water will pass away in steam, and more of the salt will be left. + +Thus, for everything which dissolves in the water there is a measure +after which the water will not dissolve any more. Of anything, more will +be dissolved in hot than in cold water, and in each case, when it is +saturated, it will not receive any more. The thing will be left, but the +water will go away in steam. + +If the water is saturated with saltpetre powder, and then more saltpetre +is added, and all is heated and is allowed to cool off without being +stirred, the superfluous saltpetre will not settle as a powder at the +bottom of the water, but will all gather in little six-edged columns, +and will settle at the bottom and at the sides, one column near another. +If the water is saturated with saltpetre powder and is put in a warm +place, the water will go away in vapours, and the superfluous saltpetre +will again gather in six-edged columns. + +If water is saturated with simple salt and heated, and is allowed to +pass away in vapour, the superfluous salt will not settle as powder, but +as little cubes. If the water is saturated both with salt and saltpetre, +the superfluous salt and saltpetre will not mix, but will settle each in +its own way: the saltpetre in columns, and the salt in cubes. + +If water is saturated with lime, or with some other salt, and anything +else, each thing will settle in its own way, when the water passes away +in vapour: one in three-edged columns, another in eight-edged columns, a +third in bricks, a fourth in little stars,--each in its own way. These +figures are different in each solid thing. At times these forms are as +large as a hand,--such stones are found in the ground. At times these +forms are so small that they cannot be made out with the naked eye; but +in each thing there is its own form. + +If, when the water is saturated with saltpetre, and little figures are +forming in it, a corner be broken off one of these little figures with a +needle, new pieces of saltpetre will come up and will fix the broken end +as it ought to be,--into a six-edged column. The same will happen to +salt and to any other thing. All the tiny particles turn around and +attach themselves with the right side to each other. + +When ice freezes, the same takes place. + +A snowflake flies, and no figure is seen in it; but the moment it +settles on anything dark and cold, on cloth, on fur,--you can make out +its figure; you will see a little star, or a six-cornered little board. +On the windows the steam does not freeze in any form whatever, but +always as a star. + +What is ice? It is cold, solid water. When liquid water becomes solid, +it forms itself into figures and the heat leaves it. The same takes +place with saltpetre: when it changes from a liquid into solid figures, +the heat leaves it. The same is true of salt, of melted cast-iron, when +it changes from a liquid into a solid. Whenever a thing changes from a +liquid into a solid, heat leaves it, and it forms figures. And when it +changes from a solid to a liquid it takes up heat, and the cold leaves +it, and its figures are dissolved. + +Bring in melted iron and let it cool off; bring in hot dough and let it +cool off; bring in slacked lime and let it cool off,--and it will be +warm. Bring in ice and let it melt,--and it will grow cold. Bring in +saltpetre, salt, or any other thing that dissolves in the water, and +melt it in the water, and it will grow cold. In order to freeze +ice-cream, they put salt in the water. + + + + +INJURIOUS AIR + + +In the village of Nikólskoe, the people went on a holiday to mass. In +the manor yard were left the cow-tender, the elder, and the groom. The +cow-tender went to the well for water. The well was in the yard itself. +She pulled out the bucket, but could not hold it. The bucket pulled away +from her, struck the side of the well, and tore the rope. The cow-tender +returned to the hut and said to the elder: + +"Aleksándr! Climb down into the well,--I have dropped the bucket into +it." + +Aleksándr said: + +"You have dropped it, so climb down yourself." + +The cow-tender said that she did not mind fetching it herself, if he +would let her down. + +The elder laughed at her, and said: + +"Well, let us go! You have an empty stomach now, so I shall be able to +hold you up, for after dinner I could not do it." + +The elder tied a stick to a rope, and the woman sat astride it, took +hold of the rope, and began to climb down into the well, while the elder +turned the well-wheel. The well was about twenty feet deep, and there +was less than three feet of water in it. The elder let her down slowly, +and kept asking: + +"A little more?" + +And the cow-tender cried from below: + +"Just a little more!" + +Suddenly the elder felt the rope give way: he called the cow-tender, but +she did not answer. The elder looked into the well, and saw the +cow-tender lying with her head in the water, and with her feet in the +air. The elder called for help, but there was nobody near by; only the +groom came. The elder told him to hold the wheel, and he himself pulled +out the rope, sat down on the stick, and went down into the well. + +The moment the groom let the elder down to the water, the same thing +happened to the elder. He let go of the rope and fell head foremost upon +the woman. The groom began to cry, and ran to church to call the people. +Mass was over, and people were walking home. All the men and women +rushed to the well. They gathered around it, and everybody holloaed, but +nobody knew what to do. The young carpenter Iván made his way through +the crowd, took hold of the rope, sat down on the stick, and told them +to let him down. Iván tied himself to the rope with his belt. Two men +let him down, and the rest looked into the well, to see what would +become of Iván. Just as he was getting near the water, he dropped his +hands from the rope, and would have fallen down head foremost, if the +belt had not held him. All shouted, "Pull him out!" and Iván was pulled +out. + +He hung like dead down from the belt, and his head was drooping and +beating against the sides of the well. His face was livid. They took him +off the rope and put him down on the ground. They thought that he was +dead; but he suddenly drew a deep breath, began to rattle, and soon +revived. + +Others wanted to climb down, but an old peasant said that they could not +go down because there was bad air in the well, and that that bad air +killed people. Then the peasants ran for hooks and began to pull out the +elder and the woman. The elder's mother and wife cried at the well, and +others tried to quiet them; in the meantime the peasants put down the +hooks and tried to get out the dead people. Twice they got the elder +half-way up by his clothes; but he was heavy, and his clothes tore and +he fell down. Finally they stuck two hooks into him and pulled him out. +Then they pulled out the cow-tender. Both were dead and did not revive. + +Then, when they examined the well, they found that indeed there was bad +air down in the well. + +This air is so heavy that neither man nor any animal can live in it. +They let down a cat into the well, and the moment she reached the place +where the bad air was, she died. Not only can no animal live there, even +no candle will burn in it. They let down a candle, and the moment it +reached that spot, it went out. + +There are places underground where that air gathers, and when a person +gets into one of those places, he dies at once. For this purpose they +have lamps in the mines, and before a man goes down to such a place, +they let down the lamp. If it goes out, no man can go there; then they +let down fresh air until the lamp will burn. + +Near the city of Naples there is one such cave. There is always about +three feet of bad air in it on the ground, but above it the air is good. +A man can walk through the cave, and nothing will happen to him, but a +dog will die the moment it enters. + +Where does this bad air come from? It is made of the same good air that +we breathe. If you gather a lot of people in one place, and close all +the doors and windows, so that no fresh air can get in, you will get the +same kind of an air as in the well, and people will die. + +One hundred years ago, during a war, the Hindoos captured 146 Englishmen +and shut them up in a cave underground, where the air could not get in. + +After the captured Englishmen had been there a few hours they began to +die, and toward the end of the night 123 had died, and the rest came out +more dead than alive, and ailing. At first the air had been good in the +cave; but when the captives had inhaled all the good air, and no fresh +air came in, it became bad, just like what was in the well, and they +died. + +Why does the good air become bad when many people come together? + +Because, when people breathe, they take in good air and breathe out bad +air. + + + + +HOW BALLOONS ARE MADE + + +If you take a blown-up bladder under water and let go of it, it will fly +up to the surface of the water and will swim on it. Just so, when water +is boiled in a pot, it becomes light at the bottom, over the fire,--it +is turned into a gas; and when a little of that water-gas is collected +it goes up as a bubble. First comes up one bubble, then another, and +when the whole water is heated, the bubbles come up without stopping. +Then the water boils. + +Just as the bubbles leap to the surface, full of vapoury water, because +they are lighter than water, just so will a bladder which is filled with +hydrogen, or with hot air, rise, because hot air is lighter than cold +air, and hydrogen is lighter than any other gases. + +Balloons are made with hydrogen or with hot air. With hydrogen they are +made as follows: They make a large bladder, attach it by ropes to posts, +and fill it with hydrogen. The moment the ropes are untied, the balloon +flies up in the air, and keeps flying up until it gets beyond the air +which is heavier than hydrogen. When it gets up into the light air, it +begins to swim in it like a bladder on the surface of the water. + +With hot air balloons are made like this: They make a large empty ball, +with a neck below, like an upturned pitcher, and to the mouth of it they +attach a bunch of cotton, and that cotton is soaked with spirits, and +lighted. The fire heats the air in the balloon, and makes it lighter +than the cold air, and the balloon is drawn upward, like the bladder in +the water. And the balloon will fly up until it comes to the air which +is lighter than the hot air in the balloon. + +Nearly one hundred years ago two Frenchmen, the brothers Montgolfier, +invented the air balloons. They made a balloon of canvas and paper and +filled it with hot air,--the balloon flew. Then they made another, a +larger balloon, and tied under the balloon a sheep, a cock, and a duck, +and let it off. The balloon rose and came down safely. Then they +attached a little basket under the balloon, and a man seated himself in +it. The balloon flew so high that it disappeared from view; it flew +away, and came down safely. Then they thought of filling a balloon with +hydrogen, and began to fly higher and faster. + +In order to fly with a balloon, they attach a basket under the balloon, +and in this basket two, three, and even eight persons are seated, and +they take with them food and drink. + +In order to rise and come down as one pleases, there is a valve in the +balloon, and the man who is flying with it can pull a rope and open or +close the valve. If the balloon rises too high, and the man who is +flying wants to come down, he opens the valve,--the gas escapes, the +balloon is compressed, and begins to come down. Then there are always +bags with sand in the balloon. When a bag with sand is thrown out, the +balloon gets lighter, and it flies up. If the one who is flying wants to +get down, but sees that it is not what he wants below him,--either a +river or a forest,--he throws out the sand from the bags, and the +balloon grows lighter and rises again. + + + + +GALVANISM + + +There was once a learned Italian, Galvani. He had an electric machine, +and he showed his students what electricity was. He rubbed the glass +hard with silk with something smeared over it, and then he approached to +the glass a brass knob which was attached to the glass, and a spark flew +across from the glass to the brass knob. He explained to them that the +same kind of a spark came from sealing-wax and amber. He showed them +that feathers and bits of paper were now attracted, and now repelled, by +electricity, and explained to them the reason of it. He did all kinds of +experiments with electricity, and showed them all to his students. + +Once his wife grew ill. He called a doctor and asked him how to cure +her. The doctor told him to prepare a frog soup for her. Galvani gave +order to have edible frogs caught. They caught them for him, killed +them, and left them on his table. + +Before the cook came after the frogs, Galvani kept on showing the +electric machine to his students, and sending sparks through it. + +Suddenly he saw the dead frogs jerk their legs on the table. He watched +them, and saw that every time when he sent a spark through the machine, +the frogs jerked their legs. Galvani collected more frogs, and began to +experiment with them. And every time he sent a spark through the +machine, the dead frogs moved their legs as though they were alive. + +It occurred to Galvani that live frogs moved their legs because +electricity passed through them. Galvani knew that there was +electricity in the air; that it was more noticeable in the amber and +glass, but that it was also in the air, and that thunder and lightning +came from the electricity in the air. + +So he tried to discover whether the dead frogs would not move their legs +from the electricity in the air. For this purpose he took the frogs, +skinned them, chopped off their heads, and hung them on brass hooks on +the roof, beneath an iron gutter. He thought that as soon as there +should be a storm, and the air should be filled with electricity, it +would pass by the brass rod to the frogs, and they would begin to move. + +But the storm passed several times, and the frogs did not move. Galvani +was just taking them down, and as he did so a frog's leg touched the +iron gutter, and it jerked. Galvani took down the frogs and made the +following experiment: he tied to the brass hook an iron wire, and +touched the leg with the wire, and it jerked. + +So Galvani decided that the animals lived because there was electricity +in them, and that the electricity jumped from the brain to the flesh, +and that made the animals move. Nobody had at that time tried this +matter and they did not know any better, and so they all believed +Galvani. But at that time another learned man, Volta, experimented in +his own way, and proved to everybody that Galvani was mistaken. He tried +touching the frog differently from what Galvani had done, not with a +copper hook with an iron wire, but either with a copper hook and a +copper wire, or an iron hook and an iron wire,--and the frogs did not +move. The frogs moved only when Volta touched them with an iron wire +that was connected with a copper wire. + +Volta thought that the electricity was not in the dead frog but in the +iron and copper. He experimented and found it to be so: whenever he +brought together the iron and the copper, there was electricity; and +this electricity made the dead frogs jerk their legs. Volta tried to +produce electricity differently from what it had been produced before. +Before that they used to get electricity by rubbing glass or +sealing-wax. But Volta got electricity by uniting iron and copper. He +tried to connect iron and copper and other metals, and by the mere +combination of metals, silver, platinum, zinc, lead, iron, he produced +electric sparks. + +After Volta they tried to increase electricity by pouring all kinds of +liquids--water and acids--between the metals. These liquids made the +electricity more powerful, so that it was no longer necessary, as +before, to rub in order to produce it; it is enough to put pieces of +several metals in a bowl and fill it with a liquid, and there will be +electricity in that bowl, and the sparks will come from the wires. + +When this kind of electricity was discovered, people began to apply it: +they invented a way of gold and silver plating by means of electricity, +and electric light, and a way to transmit signs from place to place over +a long distance by means of electricity. + +For this purpose pieces of different metals are placed in jars, and +liquids are poured into them. Electricity is collected in these jars, +and is transferred by means of wires to the place where it is wanted, +and from that place the wire is put into the ground. The electricity +runs through the ground back to the jars, and rises from the earth by +means of the other wire; thus the electricity keeps going around and +around, as in a ring,--from the wire into the ground, and along the +ground, and up the wire, and again through the earth. Electricity can +travel in either direction, just as one wants to send it: it can first +go along the wire and return through the earth, or first go through the +earth, and then return through the wire. Above the wire, in the place +where the signs are given, there is attached a magnetic hand, and that +hand turns in one direction, when the electricity is allowed to pass +through the wire and back through the earth, and in another direction, +when the electricity is sent through the earth and back through the +wire. Along this hand there are certain signs, and by means of these +signs they write from one place to another on the telegraph. + + + + +THE SUN'S HEAT + + +Go out in the winter on a calm, frosty day into the field, or into the +woods, and look about you and listen: all around you is snow, the rivers +are frozen, dry grass blades stick out of the grass, the trees are +bare,--nothing is moving. + +Look in the summer: the rivers are running and rippling, in every puddle +the frogs croak and plunge in; the birds fly from place to place, and +whistle, and sing; the flies and the gnats whirl around and buzz; the +trees and the grass grow and wave to and fro. + +Freeze a pot with water, and it will become as hard as a rock. Put the +frozen pot on the fire: the ice will begin to break, and melt, and move; +the water will begin to stir, and bubbles will rise; then, when it +begins to boil, it whirls about and makes a noise. The same happens in +the world from the heat. Without heat everything is dead; with the heat +everything moves and lives. If there is little heat, there is little +motion; with more heat, there is more motion; with much heat, there is +much motion; with very much heat, there is also very much motion. + +Where does the heat in the world come from? The heat comes from the sun. + +In winter the sun travels low, to one side, and its beams do not fall +straight upon the earth, and nothing moves. The sun begins to travel +higher above our heads, and begins to shine straight down upon the +earth, and everything is warmed up in the world, and begins to stir. + +The snow settles down; the ice begins to melt on the rivers; the water +comes down from the mountains; the vapours rise from the water to the +clouds, and rain begins to fall. Who does it all?--The sun. The seeds +swell, and let out rootlets; the rootlets take hold of the ground; old +roots send up new shoots, and the trees and the grass begin to grow. Who +has done that?--The sun. + +The bears and moles get up; the flies and bees awaken; the gnats are +hatched, and the fish come out from their eggs, when it is warm. Who has +done it all?--The sun. + +The air gets warmed up in one place, and rises, and in its place comes +colder air,--and there is a wind. Who has done that?--The sun. + +The clouds rise and begin to gather and to scatter,--and the lightning +flashes. Who has made that fire?--The sun. + +The grass, the grain, the fruits, the trees grow up; animals find their +food, men eat their fill, and gather food and fuel for the winter; they +build themselves houses, railways, cities. Who has prepared it all?--The +sun. + +A man has built himself a house. What has he made it of? Of timbers. The +timbers were cut out of trees, but the trees are made to grow by the +sun. + +The stove is heated with wood. Who has made the wood to grow?--The sun. + +Man eats bread, or potatoes. Who has made them grow?--The sun. Man eats +meat. Who has made the animals, the birds to grow?--The grass. But the +grass is made to grow by the sun. + +A man builds himself a house from brick and lime. The bricks and the +lime are burnt by wood. The wood has been prepared by the sun. + +Everything that men need, that is for their use,--all that is prepared +by the sun, and on all that goes much sun's heat. The reason that men +need bread is because the sun has produced it, and because there is much +sun's heat in it. Bread warms him who eats it. + +The reason that wood and logs are needed is because there is much heat +in them. He who buys wood for the winter, buys sun's heat; and in the +winter he burns the wood whenever he wants it, and lets the sun's heat +into his room. + +When there is heat, there is motion. No matter what motion it may +be,--it all comes from heat, either directly from the sun's heat, or +from the heat which the sun has prepared in the coal, the wood, the +bread, and the grass. + +Horses and oxen pull, men work,--who moves them?--Heat. Where does the +heat come from?--From the food. And the food has been prepared by the +sun. + +Watermills and windmills turn around and grind. Who moves them?--Wind +and water. And who drives the wind?--Heat. And who drives the +water?--Again heat. Heat raises the water in the shape of vapour, and +without this the water would not be falling down. A machine works,--it +is moved by steam. And who makes steam?--Wood. And in the wood is the +sun's heat. + +Heat makes motion, and motion makes heat. And both heat and motion are +from the sun. + + + + +STORIES FROM ZOOLOGY + + + + +THE OWL AND THE HARE + + +It was dusk. The owls began to fly through the forest to find some prey. + +A large hare leaped out on a clearing and began to smooth out his fur. +An old owl looked at the hare, and seated himself on a branch; but a +young owl said to him: + +"Why do you not catch the hare?" + +The old owl said: + +"He is too much for me: if I get caught in him, he will drag me into the +woods." + +But the young owl said: + +"I will stick one claw into his body, and with the other I will clutch a +tree." + +The young owl made for the hare, and stuck one claw into his back so +that all his talons entered the flesh, and the other claw it got ready +to push into the tree. The hare yanked the owl, while the owl held on to +the tree, and thought, "He will not get away." The hare darted forward +and tore the owl. One claw was left in the tree, and the other in the +hare's back. + +The next year a hunter killed that hare, and wondered how the owl's +talons had grown into the hare's back. + + + + +HOW THE WOLVES TEACH THEIR WHELPS + + +I was walking along the road, and heard a shout behind me. It was the +shepherd boy who was shouting. He was running through the field, and +pointing to something. + +I looked, and saw two wolves running through the field: one was +full-grown, and the other a whelp. The whelp was carrying a dead lamb on +his shoulders, and holding on to one of its legs with its teeth. The old +wolf was running behind. When I saw the wolves, I ran after them with +the shepherd, and we began to shout. In response to our cries came +peasants with dogs. + +The moment the old wolf saw the dogs and the people, he ran up to the +whelp, took the lamb away from him, threw it over his back, and both +wolves ran as fast as they could, and disappeared from view. + +Then the boy told what had happened: the large wolf had leaped out from +the ravine, had seized the lamb, killed it, and carried it off. + +The whelp ran up to him and grasped the lamb. The old wolf let the whelp +carry the lamb, while he himself ran slowly beside him. + +Only when there was danger, did the old wolf stop his teaching and +himself take the lamb. + + + + +HARES AND WOLVES + + +The hares feed at night on tree bark; the field hares eat the winter rye +and the grass, and the threshing-floor hares eat the grain in the +granary. Through the night the hares make a deep, visible track through +the snow. The hares are hunted by men, and dogs, and wolves, and foxes, +and ravens, and eagles. If a hare walked straight ahead, he would be +easily caught in the morning by his tracks; but God has made a hare +timid, and his timidity saves him. + +A hare goes at night fearlessly through the forests and fields, making +straight tracks; but as soon as morning comes and his enemies wake up, +and he hears the bark of dogs, or the squeak of sleighs, or the voice of +peasants, or the crashing of a wolf through the forest, he begins to +toss from side to side in his fear. He jumps forward, gets frightened at +something, and runs back on his track. He hears something again, and he +leaps at full speed to one side and runs away from his old track. Again +something makes a noise, and the hare turns back, and again leaps to one +side. When it is daylight, he lies down. + +In the morning the hunters try to follow the hare tracks, and they get +mixed up on the double tracks and long leaps, and marvel at the hare's +cunning. But the hare did not mean to be cunning. He is merely afraid of +everything. + + + + +THE SCENT + + +Man sees with his eyes, hears with his ears, smells with his nose, +tastes with his mouth, and feels with his fingers. One man's eyes see +better, another man's see worse. One hears from a distance, and another +is deaf. One has keen senses and smells a thing from a distance, while +another smells at a rotten egg and does not perceive it. One can tell a +thing by the touch, and another cannot tell by touch what is wood and +what paper. One will take a substance in his mouth and will find it +sweet, while another will swallow it without making out whether it is +bitter or sweet. + +Just so the different senses differ in strength in the animals. But with +all the animals the sense of smell is stronger than in man. + +When a man wants to recognize a thing, he looks at it, listens to the +noise that it makes, now and then smells at it, or tastes it; but, above +all, a man has to feel a thing, to recognize it. + +But nearly all animals more than anything else need to smell a thing. A +horse, a wolf, a dog, a cow, a bear do not know a thing until they smell +it. + +When a horse is afraid of anything, it snorts,--it clears its nose so as +to scent better, and does not stop being afraid until it has smelled the +object well. + +A dog frequently follows its master's track, but when it sees him, it +does not recognize him and begins to bark, until it smells him and finds +out that that which has looked so terrible is its master. + +Oxen see other oxen stricken down, and hear them roar in the +slaughter-house, but still do not understand what is going on. But an ox +or a cow need only find a spot where there is ox blood, and smell it, +and it will understand and will roar and strike with its feet, and +cannot be driven off the spot. + +An old man's wife had fallen ill; he went himself to milk the cow. The +cow snorted,--she discovered that it was not her mistress, and would not +give him any milk. The mistress told her husband to put on her fur coat +and kerchief,--and the cow gave milk; but the old man threw open the +coat, and the cow scented him, and stopped giving milk. + +When hounds follow an animal's trail, they never run on the track +itself, but to one side, about twenty paces from it. When an +inexperienced hunter wants to show the dog the scent, and sticks its +nose on the track, it will always jump to one side. The track itself +smells so strong to the dog that it cannot make out on the track whether +the animal has run ahead or backward. It runs to one side, and then only +discovers in what direction the scent grows stronger, and so follows the +animal. The dog does precisely what we do when somebody speaks very loud +in our ears; we step a distance away, and only then do we make out what +is being said. Or, if anything we are looking at is too close, we step +back and only then make it out. + +Dogs recognize each other and make signs to each other by means of their +scent. + +The scent is more delicate still in insects. A bee flies directly to the +flower that it wants to reach; a worm crawls to its leaf; a bedbug, a +flea, a mosquito scents a man a hundred thousand of its steps away. + +If the particles which separate from a substance and enter our noses are +small, how small must be those particles that reach the organ of smell +of the insects! + + + + +TOUCH AND SIGHT + + +Twist the forefinger over the middle finger and touch a small ball with +them, so that it may roll between the two fingers, and shut your eyes. +You will think that there are two balls. Open your eyes,--and you will +see that it is one ball. The fingers have deceived you, but the eyes +correct you. + +Look (best of all sidewise) at a good, clean mirror,--you will think +that it is a window or a door, and that there is something behind it. +Touch it with a finger,--and you will see that it is a mirror. The eyes +have deceived you, but the fingers correct you. + + + + +THE SILKWORM + + +I had some old mulberry-trees in my garden. My grandfather had planted +them. In the fall I was given a dram of silkworm eggs, and was advised +to hatch them and raise silkworms. These eggs are dark gray and so small +that in that dram I counted 5,835 of them. They are smaller than the +tiniest pin-head. They are quite dead; only when you crush them do they +crack. + +The eggs had been lying around on my table, and I had almost forgotten +about them. + +One day, in the spring, I went into the orchard and noticed the buds +swelling on the mulberry-trees, and where the sun beat down, the leaves +were out. I thought of the silkworm eggs, and took them apart at home +and gave them more room. The majority of the eggs were no longer dark +gray, as before, but some were light gray, while others were lighter +still, with a milky shade. + +The next morning, I looked at the eggs, and saw that some of the worms +had hatched out, while other eggs were quite swollen. Evidently they +felt in their shells that their food was ripening. + +The worms were black and shaggy, and so small that it was hard to see +them. I looked at them through a magnifying-glass, and saw that in the +eggs they lay curled up in rings, and when they came out they +straightened themselves out. I went to the garden for some mulberry +leaves; I got about three handfuls of leaves, which I put on my table, +and began to fix a place for the worms, as I had been taught to do. + +While I was fixing the paper, the worms smelled their food and started +to crawl toward it. I pushed it away, and began to entice the worms to a +leaf, and they made for it, as dogs make for a piece of meat, crawling +after the leaf over the cloth of the table and across pencils, scissors, +and papers. Then I cut off a piece of paper, stuck holes through it with +a penknife, placed the leaf on top of it, and with the leaf put it down +on the worms. The worms crawled through the holes, climbed on the leaf, +and started to eat. + +When the other worms hatched out, I again put a piece of paper with a +leaf on them, and all crawled through the holes and began to eat. The +worms gathered on each leaf and nibbled at it from its edges. Then, when +they had eaten everything, they crawled on the paper and looked for more +food. Then I put on them new sheets of perforated paper with mulberry +leaves upon them, and they crawled over to the new food. + +They were lying on my shelf, and when there was no leaf, they climbed +about the shelf, and came to its very edge, but they never fell down, +though they are blind. The moment a worm comes to an edge, it lets out a +web from its mouth before descending, and then it attaches itself to it +and lets itself down; it hangs awhile in the air, and watches, and if it +wants to get down farther, it does so, and if not, it pulls itself up by +its web. + +For days at a time the worms did nothing but eat. I had to give them +more and more leaves. When a new leaf was brought, and they transferred +themselves to it, they made a noise as though a rain were falling on +leaves,--that was when they began to eat the new leaf. + +Thus the older worms lived for five days. They had grown very large and +began to eat ten times as much as ever. On the fifth day, I knew, they +would fall asleep, and waited for that to happen. Toward evening, on the +fifth day, one of the older worms stuck to the paper and stopped eating +and stirring. + +The whole next day I watched it for a long time. I knew that worms +moulted several times, because they grew up and found it close in their +old hide, and so put on a new one. + +My friend and I watched it by turns. In the evening my friend called +out: + +"It has begun to undress itself,--come!" + +I went up to him, and saw that the worm had stuck with its old hide to +the paper, had torn a hole at the mouth, thrust forth its head, and was +writhing and working to get out, but the old shirt held it fast. I +watched it for a long time as it writhed and could not get out, and I +wanted to help it. I barely touched it with my nail, but soon saw that I +had done something foolish. Under my nail there was something liquid, +and the worm died. At first I thought that it was blood, but later I +learned that the worm has a liquid mass under its skin, so that the +shirt may come off easier. With my nail I no doubt disturbed the new +shirt, for, though the worm crawled out, it soon died. + +The other worms I did not touch. All of them came out of their shirts in +the same manner; only a few died, and nearly all came out safely, though +they struggled hard for a long time. + +After shedding their skins, the worms began to eat more voraciously, and +more leaves were devoured. Four days later they again fell asleep, and +again crawled out of their skins. A still larger quantity of leaves was +now consumed by them, and they were now a quarter of an inch in length. +Six days later they fell asleep once more, and once more came out in new +skins, and now were very large and fat, and we had barely time to get +leaves ready for them. + +On the ninth day the oldest worms quit eating entirely and climbed up +the shelves and rods. I gathered them in and gave them fresh leaves, but +they turned their heads away from them, and continued climbing. Then I +remembered that when the worms get ready to roll up into larvæ, they +stop eating and climb upward. + +I left them alone, and began to watch what they would do. + +The eldest worms climbed to the ceiling, scattered about, crawled in all +directions, and began to draw out single threads in various directions. +I watched one of them. It went into a corner, put forth about six +threads each two inches long, hung down from them, bent over in a +horseshoe, and began to turn its head and let out a silk web which began +to cover it all over. Toward evening it was covered by it as though in a +mist; the worm could scarcely be seen. On the following morning the worm +could no longer be seen; it was all wrapped in silk, and still it spun +out more. + +Three days later it finished spinning, and quieted down. Later I learned +how much web it had spun in those three days. If the whole web were to +be unravelled, it would be more than half a mile in length, seldom less. +And if we figure out how many times the worm has to toss its head in +these three days in order to let out all the web, it will appear that in +these three days the worm tosses its head 300,000 times. Consequently, +it makes one turn a second, without stopping. But after the work, when +we took down a few cocoons and broke them open, we found inside the +worms all dried up and white, looking like pieces of wax. + +I knew that from these larvæ with their white, waxen bodies would come +butterflies; but as I looked at them, I could not believe it. None the +less I went to look at them on the twentieth day, to see what had become +of them. + +On the twentieth day, I knew, there was to be a change. Nothing was to +be seen, and I was beginning to think that something was wrong, when +suddenly I noticed that the end of one of the cocoons grew dark and +moist. I thought that it had probably spoiled, and wanted to throw it +away. But then I thought that perhaps it began that way, and so I +watched to see what would happen. And, indeed, something began to move +at the wet end. For a long time I could not make out what it was. Later +there appeared something like a head with whiskers. The whiskers moved. +Then I noticed a leg sticking out through the hole, then another, and +the legs scrambled to get out of the cocoon. It came out more and more, +and I saw a wet butterfly. When all six legs scrambled out, the back +jumped out, too, and the butterfly crawled out and stopped. When it +dried it was white; it straightened its wings, flew away, circled +around, and alighted on the window. + +Two days later the butterfly on the window-sill laid eggs in a row, and +stuck them fast. The eggs were yellow. Twenty-five butterflies laid +eggs. I collected five thousand eggs. The following year I raised more +worms, and had more silk spun. + + + + +STORIES FROM BOTANY + + + + +THE APPLE-TREE + + +I set out two hundred young apple-trees, and for three years I dug +around them in the spring and the fall, and in winter wrapped them with +straw against the hares. On the fourth year, when the snow melted, I +went to take a look at my apple-trees. They had grown stouter during the +winter: the bark was glossy and filled with sap; all the branches were +sound, and at all the tips and axils there were pea-shaped flower-buds. +Here and there the buds were bursting, and the purple edges of the +flower-leaves could be seen. I knew that all the buds would be blossoms +and fruit, and I was delighted as I looked at the apple-trees. But when +I took off the wrapping from the first tree, I saw that down at the +ground the bark was nibbled away, like a white ring, to the very wood. +The mice had done that. I unwrapped a second tree, and the same had +happened there. Of the two hundred trees not one was unharmed. I smeared +pitch and wax on the nibbled spots; but when the trees were all in +bloom, the blossoms at once fell off; there came out small leaves, and +they, too, dropped off. The bark became wrinkled and black. Out of the +two hundred apple-trees only nine were left. On these nine trees the +bark had not been gnawed through all around, but strips of bark were +left on the white ring. On the strips, where the bark held together, +there grew out knots, and, although the trees suffered, they lived. All +the rest were ruined; below the rings there came out shoots, but they +were all wild. + +The bark of the tree is like the arteries in man: through the arteries +the blood goes to the whole body, and through the bark the sap goes +along the tree and reaches the branches, leaves, and flowers. The whole +inside of a tree may be taken out, as is often the case with old +willows, and yet the tree will live so long as the bark is alive; but +when the bark is ruined, the tree is gone. If a man's arteries are cut +through, he will die, in the first place, because the blood will flow +out, and in the second, because the blood will not be distributed +through the body. + +Even thus a birch dries up when the children bore a hole into it, in +order to drink its sap, and all the sap flows out of it. + +Just so the apple-trees were ruined because the mice gnawed the bark all +around, and the sap could not rise from the roots to the branches, +leaves, and flowers. + + + + +THE OLD POPLAR + + +For five years our garden was neglected. I hired labourers with axes and +shovels, and myself began to work with them in the garden. We cut out +and chopped out all the dry branches and wild shoots, and the +superfluous trees and bushes. The poplars and bird-cherries grew ranker +than the rest and choked the other trees. A poplar grows out from the +roots, and it cannot be dug out, but the roots have to be chopped out +underground. + +Beyond the pond there stood an enormous poplar, two men's embraces in +circumference. About it there was a clearing, and this was all overgrown +with poplar shoots. I ordered them to be cut out: I wanted the spot to +look more cheerful, but, above all, I wanted to make it easier for the +old poplar, because I thought that all those young trees came from its +roots, and were draining it of its sap. When we cut out these young +poplars, I felt sorry as I saw them chop out the sap-filled roots +underground, and as all four of us pulled at the poplar that had been +cut down, and could not pull it out. It held on with all its might, and +did not wish to die. I thought that, no doubt, they had to live, since +they clung so much to life. But it was necessary to cut them down, and +so I did it. Only later, when nothing could be done, I learned that they +ought not to have been cut down. + +I thought that the shoots were taking the sap away from the old poplar, +but it turned out quite differently. When I was cutting them down, the +old poplar was already dying. When the leaves came out, I saw (it grew +from two boughs) that one bough was bare; and that same summer it dried +up completely. The tree had been dying for quite awhile, and the tree +knew it, so it tried to give its life to the shoots. + +That was the reason why they grew so fast. I wanted to make it easier +for the tree, and only killed all its children. + + + + +THE BIRD-CHERRY + + +A bird-cherry grew out on a hazel bush path and choked the bushes. I +deliberated for a long time whether I had better cut down the +bird-cherry, or not. This bird-cherry grew not as a bush, but as a tree, +about six inches in diameter and thirty feet high, full of branches and +bushy, and all besprinkled with bright, white, fragrant blossoms. You +could smell it from a distance. I should not have cut it down, but one +of the labourers (to whom I had before given the order to cut down the +bird-cherry) had begun to chop it without me. When I came, he had +already cut in about three inches, and the sap splashed under the axe +whenever it struck the same cut. "It cannot be helped,--apparently such +is its fate," I thought, and I picked up an axe myself and began to chop +it with the peasant. + +It is a pleasure to do any work, and it is a pleasure to chop. It is a +pleasure to let the axe enter deeply in a slanting line, and then to +chop out the chip by a straight stroke, and to chop farther and farther +into the tree. + +I had entirely forgotten the bird-cherry, and was thinking only of +felling it as quickly as possible. When I got tired, I put down my axe +and with the peasant pressed against the tree and tried to make it fall. +We bent it: the tree trembled with its leaves, and the dew showered down +upon us, and the white, fragrant petals of the blossoms fell down. + +At the same time something seemed to cry,--the middle of the tree +creaked; we pressed against it, and it was as though something wept, +there was a crash in the middle, and the tree tottered. It broke at the +notch and, swaying, fell with its branches and blossoms into the grass. +The twigs and blossoms trembled for awhile after the fall, and stopped. + +"It was a fine tree!" said the peasant. "I am mightily sorry for it!" + +I myself felt so sorry for it that I hurried away to the other +labourers. + + + + +HOW TREES WALK + + +One day we were cleaning an overgrown path on a hillock near the pond. +We cut down a lot of brier bushes, willows, and poplars,--then came the +turn of a bird-cherry. It was growing on the path, and it was so old and +stout that it could not be less than ten years old. And yet I knew that +five years ago the garden had been cleaned. I could not understand how +such an old bird-cherry could have grown out there. We cut it down and +went farther. Farther away, in another thicket, there grew a similar +bird-cherry, even stouter than the first. I looked at its root, and saw +that it grew under an old linden. The linden with its branches choked +it, and it had stretched out about twelve feet in a straight line, and +only then came out to the light, raised its head, and began to blossom. + +I cut it down at the root, and was surprised to find it so fresh, while +the root was rotten. After we had cut it down, the peasants and I tried +to pull it off; but no matter how much we jerked at it, we were unable +to drag it away: it seemed to have stuck fast. I said: + +"Look whether it has not caught somewhere." + +A workman crawled under it, and called out: + +"It has another root; it is out on the path!" + +I walked over to him, and saw that it was so. + +Not to be choked by the linden, the bird-cherry had gone away from +underneath the linden out on the path, about eight feet from its former +root. The root which I had cut down was rotten and dry, but the new one +was fresh. The bird-cherry had evidently felt that it could not exist +under the linden, so it had stretched out, dropped a branch to the +ground, made a root of that branch, and left the other root. Only then +did I understand how the first bird-cherry had grown out on the road. It +had evidently done the same,--only it had had time to give up the old +root, and so I had not found it. + + + + +THE DECEMBRISTS + +Fragments of a Novel + +1863-1878 + + + + +THE DECEMBRISTS + +A Novel + + +FIRST FRAGMENT + +I. + +This happened not long ago, in the reign of Alexander II., in our days +of civilization, progress, questions, regeneration of Russia, and so +forth, and so forth; at a time when the victorious Russian army was +returning from Sevastopol, surrendered to the enemy; when all of Russia +celebrated the annihilation of the Black Sea fleet, and white-stoned +Moscow received and congratulated with this happy event the remainders +of the crews of that fleet, offering them a good Russian cup of vódka, +and bread and salt, according to the good Russian custom, and bowing +down to their feet. It was that time when Russia, in the person of +far-sighted virgin politicians, lamented the shattered dream of a Te +Deum in the Cathedral of St. Sophia, and the loss of two great men, so +painful for the country, who had perished during the war (one, who had +been carried away by the desire to celebrate the Te Deum in the +above-mentioned cathedral at the earliest time possible, and who fell in +the fields of Wallachia, but who, at least, left two squadrons of +hussars in the same fields, and the other, an unappreciated man, who had +distributed tea, other people's money, and bed-sheets to the wounded, +without stealing any of these things); that time, when on all sides, in +all branches of human activities, great men--generals, administrators, +economists, writers, orators, and simply great men, without any especial +calling or purpose--sprang up in Russia like mushrooms; that time, when, +at the jubilee of a Moscow actor, there appeared the public opinion, +confirmed by a toast, which began to rebuke all the criminals,--when +menacing commissions galloped south from St. Petersburg, to convict and +punish the evil-doers of the commissariat,--when in all the cities +dinners with speeches were given to the heroes of Sevastopol, and when +to them, with arms and legs torn off, toasts were drunk, on meeting them +on the bridges and on the highways; that time, when oratorical talents +developed so rapidly in the nation that a certain dram-shopkeeper +everywhere and upon all occasions wrote and printed and recited by rote +at dinners such strong speeches, that the guardians of the peace had to +take repressive measures against the dram-shopkeeper's eloquence,--when +in the very English club a special room was set aside for the discussion +of public matters,--when periodicals sprang up under the most +diversified standards,--periodicals that evolved European principles on +a European basis, but with a Russian world conception, and periodicals +on an exclusively Russian basis, but with a European world +conception,--when suddenly there appeared so many periodicals that all +names seemed to be exhausted,--"The Messenger," and "The Word," and "The +Speaker," and "The Observer," and "The Star," and "The Eagle," and many +more, and, in spite of it, there appeared ever new names; that time, +when the constellation of philosophic writers made its appearance to +prove that science was national, and not national, and non-national, and +so forth, and the constellation of artistic writers, who described a +grove, and the sunrise, and a storm, and the love of a Russian maiden, +and the indolence of a certain official, and the bad conduct of many +officials; that time, when on all sides appeared questions (as in the +year '56 they called every concourse of circumstances, of which no one +could make any sense), questions of cadet corps, universities, +censorship, oral judicature, finance, banking, police, emancipation, and +many more:--everybody tried to discover ever new questions, everybody +tried to solve them, wrote, read, spoke, made projects, wanted to mend +everything, destroy, change, and all Russians, like one man, were in +indescribable ecstasy. + +That is a state of affairs which has been twice repeated in the Russia +of the nineteenth century,--the first time, when in the year '12 we +repulsed Napoleon I., and the second time, when in the year '56 we were +repulsed by Napoleon III. Great, unforgettable time of the regeneration +of the Russian people! Like the Frenchman who said that he has not lived +who has not lived through the great French Revolution, I venture to say +that he who has not lived through the year '56 in Russia does not know +what life is. The writer of these lines not only lived through that +time, but was one of the actors of that period. Not only did he pass +several weeks in one of the blindages of Sevastopol, but he also wrote a +work on the Crimean War, which brought him great fame, and in which he +described clearly and minutely how the soldiers fired their guns from +the bastions, how the wounds were dressed at the ambulance, and how they +buried people in the cemetery. Having achieved these deeds, the writer +of these lines arrived in the centre of the empire,--a rocket +establishment,--where he cut the laurels for his deeds. He saw the +transports of the two capitals and of the whole nation, and experienced +in his person to what extent Russia knew how to reward real deserts. The +mighty of this world sought his friendship, pressed his hands, gave him +dinners, urged him to come to their houses, and, in order to learn the +details of the war from him, informed him of their own sentimentalities. +Consequently the writer of these lines can appreciate that great and +memorable time. But that is another matter. + +At that very time, two vehicles on wheels and a sleigh were standing at +the entrance of the best Moscow hotel. A young man ran through the door, +to find out about quarters. In one of the vehicles sat an old man with +two ladies. He was talking about the condition of Blacksmith Bridge in +the days of the French. It was the continuation of a conversation +started as they entered Moscow, and now the old man with the white +beard, in his unbuttoned fur coat, calmly continued his conversation in +the vehicle, as though he intended to stay in it overnight. His wife and +daughter listened to him, but kept looking at the door with some +impatience. The young man emerged from the door with the porter and room +servant. + +"Well, Sergyéy," asked the mother, thrusting her emaciated face out into +the glare of the lamplight. + +Either because it was his habit, or because he did not wish the porter +to take him for a lackey on account of the short fur coat which he wore, +Sergyéy replied in French that there were rooms to be had, and opened +the carriage door. The old man looked for a moment at his son, and again +turned to the dark corner of the vehicle, as though nothing else +concerned him: + +"There was no theatre then." + +"Pierre!" said his wife, lifting her cloak; but he continued: + +"Madame Chalmé was in Tverskáya Street--" + +Deep in the vehicle could be heard a youthful, sonorous laugh. + +"Papa, step out! You are forgetting where we are." + +The old man only then seemed to recall that they had arrived, and looked +around him. + +"Do step out!" + +He pulled his cap down, and submissively passed through the door. The +porter took him under his arm, but, seeing that the old man was walking +well, he at once offered his services to the lady. Judging from the +sable cloak, and from the time it took for her to emerge, and from the +way she pressed down on his arm, and from the way she, leaning on her +son's arm, walked straight toward the porch, without looking to either +side, Natálya Nikoláevna, his wife, seemed to the porter to be an +important personage. He did not even separate the young lady from the +maids, who climbed out from the other vehicle; like them, she carried a +bundle and a pipe, and walked behind. He recognized her only by her +laughing and by her calling the old man father. + +"Not that way, father,--to the right!" she said, taking hold of the +sleeve of his sheepskin coat. "To the right." + +On the staircase there resounded, through the noise of the steps, the +doors, and the heavy breathing of the elderly lady, the same laughter +which had been heard in the vehicle, and about which any one who heard +it thought: "How excellently she laughs,--I just envy her." + +Their son, Sergyéy, had attended to all the material conditions on the +road, and, though he lacked knowledge of the matter, he had attended to +it with the energy and self-satisfying activity which are characteristic +of twenty-five years of age. Some twenty times, and apparently for no +important reason, he ran down to the sleigh in his greatcoat, and ran +up-stairs again, shivering in the cold and taking two or three steps at +a time with his long, youthful legs. Natálya Nikoláevna asked him not to +catch a cold, but he said that it was all right, and continued to give +orders, slamming doors, and walking, and, when it seemed that only the +servants and peasants had to be attended to, he several times walked +through all the rooms, leaving the drawing-room by one door, and coming +in through another, as though he were looking for something else to do. + +"Well, papa, will you be driven to the bath-house? Shall I find out?" he +asked. + +His papa was deep in thought and, it seemed, was not at all conscious of +where he was. He did not answer at once. He heard the words, but did not +comprehend them. Suddenly he comprehended. + +"Yes, yes, yes. Find out, if you please, at Stone Bridge." + +The head of the family walked through the rooms with hasty, agitated +steps, and seated himself in a chair. + +"Now we must decide what to do, how to arrange matters," he said. "Help +along, children, lively! Like good fellows, drag things around, put them +up, and to-morrow we shall send Serézha with a note to sister Márya +Ivánovna, to the Nikítins, or we shall go there ourselves. Am I right, +Natásha? But now, fix things!" + +"To-morrow is Sunday. I hope, Pierre, that first of all you will go to +mass," said his wife, kneeling in front of a trunk and opening it. + +"That is so, it is Sunday! We shall by all means all of us go to the +Cathedral of the Assumption. Thus will our return begin. O Lord! When I +think of the day when I was for the last time in the Cathedral of the +Assumption! Do you remember, Natásha? But that is another matter." + +And the head of the family rose quickly from the chair, on which he had +just seated himself. + +"Now we must settle down!" + +And without doing anything, he kept walking from one room to another. + +"Well, shall we drink tea? Or are you tired, and do you want to rest?" + +"Yes, yes," replied his wife, taking something out from the trunk. "You +wanted to go to the bath-house, did you not?" + +"Yes--in my day it was near Stone Bridge. Serézha, go and find out +whether there is still a bath-house near Stone Bridge. This room here +Serézha and I shall occupy. Serézha! Will you be comfortable here?" + +But Serézha had gone to find out about the bath-house. + +"No, that will not do," he continued. "You will not have a straight +passage to the drawing-room. What do you think, Natásha?" + +"Calm yourself, Pierre, everything will come out all right," Natásha +said, from another room, where peasants were bringing in things. + +But Pierre was still under the influence of that ecstatic mood which the +arrival had evoked in him. + +"Look there,--don't mix up Serézha's things! You have thrown his +snow-shoes down in the drawing-room." And he himself picked them up and +with great care, as though the whole future order of the quarters +depended upon it, leaned them against the door-post and tried to make +them stand there. But the snow-shoes did not stick to it, and, the +moment Pierre walked away from them, fell with a racket across the door. +Natálya Nikoláevna frowned and shuddered, but, seeing the cause of the +fall, she said: + +"Sónya, darling, pick them up!" + +"Pick them up, darling," repeated the husband, "and I will go to the +landlord, or else you will never get done. I must talk things over with +him." + +"You had better send for him, Pierre. Why should you trouble yourself?" + +Pierre assented. + +"Sónya, bring him here, what do you call him? M. Cavalier, if you +please. Tell him that we want to speak about everything." + +"Chevalier, papa," said Sónya, ready to go out. + +Natálya Nikoláevna, who was giving her commands in a soft voice, and was +softly stepping from room to room, now with a box, now with a pipe, now +with a pillow, imperceptibly finding places for a mountain of baggage, +in passing Sónya, had time to whisper to her: + +"Do not go yourself, but send a man!" + +While a man went to call the landlord, Pierre used his leisure, under +the pretext of aiding his consort, in crushing a garment of hers and in +stumbling against an empty box. Steadying himself with his hand against +the wall, the Decembrist looked around with a smile; but Sónya was +looking at him with such smiling eyes that she seemed to be waiting for +permission to laugh. He readily granted her that permission, and himself +burst out into such a good-natured laugh that all those who were in the +room, his wife, the maids, and the peasants, laughed with him. This +laughter animated the old man still more. He discovered that the divan +in the room for his wife and daughter was not standing very conveniently +for them, although they affirmed the opposite, and asked him to calm +himself. Just as he was trying with his own hands to help a peasant to +change the position of that piece of furniture, the landlord, a +Frenchman, entered the room. + +"You sent for me," the landlord asked sternly and, in proof of his +indifference, if not contempt, slowly drew out his handkerchief, slowly +unfolded it, and slowly cleared his nose. + +"Yes, my dear sir," said Peter Ivánovich, stepping up toward him, "you +see, we do not know ourselves how long we are going to stay here, I and +my wife--" and Peter Ivánovich, who had the weakness of seeing a +neighbour in every man, began to expound his plans and affairs to him. + +M. Chevalier did not share that view of people and was not interested in +the information communicated to him by Peter Ivánovich, but the good +French which Peter Ivánovich spoke (the French language, as is known, is +something like rank in Russia) and his lordly manner somewhat raised the +landlord's opinion about the newcomers. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked. + +This question did not embarrass Peter Ivánovich. He expressed his desire +to have rooms, tea, a samovár, supper, dinner, food for the servants, in +short, all those things for which hotels exist, and when M. Chevalier, +marvelling at the innocence of the old man, who apparently imagined that +he was in the Trukhmén steppe, or supposed that all these things would +be given him without pay, informed him that he could have all those +things, Peter Ivánovich was in ecstasy. + +"Now that is nice! Very nice! And so we shall get things all fixed. +Well, then please--" but he felt embarrassed to be speaking all the time +about himself, and he began to ask M. Chevalier about his family and his +business. When Sergyéy Petróvich returned to the room, he did not seem +to approve of his father's address; he observed the landlord's +dissatisfaction, and reminded his father of the bath. But Peter +Ivánovich was interested in the question of how a French hotel could be +run in Moscow in the year '56, and of how Madame Chevalier passed her +time. Finally the landlord himself bowed and asked him whether he was +not pleased to order anything. + +"We will have tea, Natásha. Yes? Tea, then, if you please! We will have +some other talks, my dear monsieur! What a charming man!" + +"And the bath, papa?" + +"Oh, yes, then we shall have no tea." + +Thus the only result from the conversation with the newly arrived guests +was taken from the landlord. But Peter Ivánovich was now proud and happy +of his arrangements. The drivers, who came to ask a _pourboire_, vexed +him, because Serézha had no change, and Peter Ivánovich was on the point +of sending once more for the landlord, but the happy thought that +others, too, ought to be happy on that evening helped him out of that +predicament. He took two three-rouble bills, and, sticking one bill into +the hand of one of the drivers, he said, "This is for you" (Peter +Ivánovich was in the habit of saying "you" to all without exception, +unless to a member of his family); "and this is for you," he said, +transferring the other bill from the palm of his hand to that of the +driver, in some such manner as people do when paying a doctor for a +visit. After attending to all these things, he was taken to the +bath-house. + +Sónya, who was sitting on the divan, put her hand under her head and +burst out laughing. + +"Oh, how nice it is, mamma! Oh, how nice!" + +Then she placed her feet on the divan, stretched herself, adjusted +herself, and fell into the sound, calm sleep of a healthy girl of +eighteen years of age, after six weeks on the road. Natálya Nikoláevna, +who was still busy taking out things in her sleeping-room, heard, no +doubt with her maternal ear, that Sónya was not stirring, and went out +to take a look at her. She took a pillow and, raising the girl's +reddened, dishevelled head with her large white hand, placed her on the +pillow. Sónya drew a deep, deep sigh, shrugged her shoulders, and put +her head on the pillow, without saying "_Merci_," as though that had all +been done of its own accord. + +"Not on that bed, not on that, Gavrílovna, Kátya," Natálya Nikoláevna +immediately turned to the maids who were making a bed, and with one +hand, as though in passing, she adjusted the straying hair of her +daughter. Without stopping and without hurrying, Natálya Nikoláevna +dressed herself, and upon the arrival of her husband and her son +everything was ready: the trunks were no longer in the rooms; in +Pierre's sleeping-room everything was arranged as it had been for +several decades in Irkútsk: the morning-gown, the pipe, the +tobacco-pouch, the sugared water, the Gospel, which he read at night, +and even the image stuck to the rich wall-paper in the rooms of +Chevalier, who never used such adornments, but on that evening they +appeared in all the rooms of the third division of the hotel. + +Having dressed herself, Natálya Nikoláevna adjusted her collar and +cuffs, which, in spite of the journey, were still clean, combed herself, +and seated herself opposite the table. Her beautiful black eyes gazed +somewhere into the distance: she looked and rested herself. She seemed +to be resting, not from the unpacking alone, nor from the road, nor from +the oppressive years,--she seemed to be resting from her whole life, and +the distance into which she was gazing, and in which she saw living and +beloved faces, was that rest which she was wishing for. Whether it was +an act of love, which she had done for her husband, or the love which +she had experienced for her children when they were young, or whether it +was a heavy loss, or a peculiarity of her character,--everyone who +looked at that woman could not help seeing that nothing could be +expected from her, that she had long ago given all of herself to life, +and that nothing was left of her. All that there was left was something +worthy of respect, something beautiful and sad, as a reminiscence, as +the moonlight. She could not be imagined otherwise than surrounded by +all the comforts of life. It was impossible for her ever to be hungry, +or to eat eagerly, or to have on soiled clothes, or to stumble, or to +forget to clear her nose. It was a physical impossibility. Why it was +so, I do not know, but every motion of hers was dignity, grace, +gentleness toward all those who could enjoy her sight. + + "Sie pflegen und weben + Himmlische Rosen ins irdische Leben." + +She knew those verses and loved them, but was not guided by them. All +her nature was an expression of that thought; all her life was this one +unconscious weaving of invisible roses in the lives of those with whom +she came in contact. She had followed her husband to Siberia only +because she loved him; she had not thought what she could do for him, +and instinctively had done everything. She had made his bed, had put +away his things, had prepared his dinner and his tea, and, above all, +had always been where he was, and no woman could have given more +happiness to her husband. + +In the drawing-room the samovár was boiling on the round table. Natálya +Nikoláevna sat near it. Sónya wrinkled her face and smiled under her +mother's hand, which was tickling her, when father and son, with +wrinkled finger-tips and glossy cheeks and foreheads (the father's bald +spot was particularly glistening), with fluffy white and black hair, and +with beaming countenances, entered the room. + +"It has grown brighter since you have come in," said Natálya Nikoláevna. +"O Lord, how white you are!" + +She had been saying that each Saturday, for several decades, and each +Saturday Pierre experienced bashfulness and delight, whenever he heard +that. They seated themselves at the table; there was an odour of tea and +of the pipe, and there were heard the voices of the parents, the +children, and the servants, who received their cups in the same room. +They recalled everything funny that had happened on the road, admired +Sónya's hair-dressing, and laughed. Geographically they were all +transferred a distance of five thousand versts, into an entirely +different, strange milieu, but morally they were that evening still at +home, just such as the peculiar, long, solitary family life had made +them to be. It will not be so to-morrow. Peter Ivánovich seated himself +near the samovár, and lighted his pipe. He was not in a cheerful mood. + +"So here we are," he said, "and I am glad that we shall not see any one +to-night; this is the last evening we shall pass with the family," and +he washed these words down with a large mouthful of tea. + +"Why the last, Pierre?" + +"Why? Because the eaglets have learned to fly, and they have to make +their own nests, and from here they will fly each in a different +direction--" + +"What nonsense!" said Sónya, taking his glass from him, and smiling at +him, as she smiled at everything. "The old nest is good enough!" + +"The old nest is a sad nest; the old man did not know how to make +it,--he was caught in a cage, and in the cage he reared his young ones, +and was let out only when his wings no longer would hold him up. No, the +eaglets must make their nests higher up, more auspiciously, nearer to +the sun; that is what they are his children for, that his example might +serve them; but the old one will look on, so long as he is not blind, +and will listen, when he becomes blind-- Pour in some rum, more, +more--enough!" + +"We shall see who is going to leave," replied Sónya, casting a cursory +glance at her mother, as though she felt uneasy speaking in her +presence. "We shall see who is going to leave," she continued. "I am not +afraid for myself, neither am I for Serézha." (Serézha was walking up +and down in the room, thinking of how clothes would be ordered for him +to-morrow, and wondering whether he had better go to the tailor, or send +for him; he was not interested in Sónya's conversation with his father.) +Sónya began to laugh. + +"What is the matter? What?" asked her father. + +"You are younger than we, papa. Much younger, indeed," she said, again +bursting out into a laugh. + +"Indeed!" said the old man, and his austere wrinkles formed themselves +into a gentle, and yet contemptuous, smile. + +Natálya Nikoláevna bent away from the samovár which prevented her seeing +her husband. + +"Sónya is right. You are still sixteen years old, Pierre. Serézha is +younger in feelings, but you are younger in soul. I can foresee what he +will do, but you will astound me yet." + +Whether he recognized the justice of this remark, or was flattered by +it, he did not know what reply to make, and only smoked in silence, +drank his tea, and beamed with his eyes. But Serézha, with +characteristic egoism of youth, interested in what was said about him, +entered into the conversation and affirmed that he was really old, that +his arrival in Moscow and the new life, which was opening before him, +did not gladden him in the least, and that he calmly reflected on the +future and looked forward toward it. + +"Still, it is the last evening," repeated Peter Ivánovich. "It will not +be again to-morrow." + +And he poured a little more rum into his glass. He sat for a long time +at the tea-table, with an expression as though he wished to say many +things, but had no hearers. He moved up the rum toward him, but his +daughter softly carried away the bottle. + +II. + +When M. Chevalier, who had been up-stairs to look after his guests, +returned to his room and gave the benefit of his observations on the +newcomers to his life companion, in laces and a silk garment, who in +Parisian fashion was sitting back of the counter, several habitual +visitors of the establishment were sitting in the room. Serézha, who had +been down-stairs, had taken notice of that room and of its visitors. If +you have been in Moscow, you have, no doubt, noticed that room yourself. + +If you, a modest man who do not know Moscow, have missed a dinner to +which you are invited, or have made a mistake in your calculations, +imagining that the hospitable Muscovites would invite you to dinner, or +simply wish to dine in the best restaurant, you enter the lackeys' room. +Three or four lackeys jump up: one of them takes off your fur coat and +congratulates you on the occasion of the New Year, or of the +Butter-week, or of your arrival, or simply remarks that you have not +called for a long while, though you have never been in that +establishment before. + +You enter, and the first thing that strikes your eyes is a table set, as +you in the first moment imagine, with an endless quantity of palatable +dishes. But that is only an optical illusion, for the greater part of +that table is occupied by pheasants in feather, raw lobsters, boxes with +perfume and pomatum, and bottles with cosmetics and candy. Only at the +very edge, if you look well, will you find the vódka and a piece of +bread with butter and sardines, under a wire globe, which is quite +useless in Moscow in the month of December, even though it is precisely +such as those which are used in Paris. Then, beyond the table, you see +the room, where behind a counter sits a Frenchwoman, of extremely +repulsive exterior, but wearing the cleanest of gloves and a most +exquisite, fashionable gown. Near the Frenchwoman you will see an +officer in unbuttoned uniform, taking a dram of vódka, a civilian +reading a newspaper, and somebody's military or civilian legs lying on a +velvet chair, and you will hear French conversation, and more or less +sincere, loud laughter. + +If you wish to know what is going on in that room, I should advise you +not to enter within, but only to look in, as though merely passing by to +take a sandwich. Otherwise you will feel ill at ease from the +interrogative silence and glances, and you will certainly take your tail +between your legs and skulk away to one of the tables in the large hall, +or to the winter garden. Nobody will keep you from doing so. These +tables are for everybody, and there, in your solitude, you may call Dey +a garçon and order as many truffles as you please. The room with the +Frenchwoman, however, exists for the select, golden Moscow youth, and it +is not so easy to find your way among the select as you imagine. + +On returning to this room, M. Chevalier told his wife that the gentleman +from Siberia was dull, but that his son and daughter were fine people, +such as could be raised only in Siberia. + +"You ought just to see the daughter! She is a little rose-bush!" + +"Oh, this old man is fond of fresh-looking women," said one of the +guests, who was smoking a cigar. (The conversation, of course, was +carried on in French, but I render it in Russian, as I shall continue to +do in this story.) + +"Oh, I am very fond of them!" replied M. Chevalier. "Women are my +passion. Do you not believe me?" + +"Do you hear, Madame Chevalier?" shouted a stout officer of Cossacks, +who owed a big bill in the institution and was fond of chatting with the +landlord. + +"He shares my taste," said M. Chevalier, patting the stout man on his +epaulet. + +"And is this Siberian young lady really pretty?" + +M. Chevalier folded his fingers and kissed them. + +After that the conversation between the guests became confidential and +very jolly. They were talking about the stout officer; he smiled as he +listened to what they were saying about him. + +"How can one have such perverted taste!" cried one, through the +laughter. "Mlle. Clarisse! You know, Strúgov prefers such of the women +as have chicken calves." + +Though Mlle. Clarisse did not understand the salt of that remark, she +behind her counter burst out into a laughter as silvery as her bad +teeth and advanced years permitted. + +"Has the Siberian lady turned him to such thoughts?" and she laughed +more heartily still. M. Chevalier himself roared with laughter, as he +said: + +"_Ce vieux coquin_," patting the officer of Cossacks on his head and +shoulders. + +"But who are they, those Siberians? Mining proprietors or merchants?" +one of the gentlemen asked, during a pause in the laughter. + +"Nikíta, ask ze passport from ze chentleman zat as come," said M. +Chevalier. + +"We, Alexander, ze Autocrat--" M. Chevalier began to read the passport, +which had been brought in the meantime, but the officer of Cossacks tore +it out of his hands, and his face expressed surprise. + +"Guess who it is," he said, "for you all know him by reputation." + +"How can we guess? Show it to us! Well, Abdel Kader, ha, ha, ha! Well, +Cagliostro-- Well, Peter III.--ha, ha, ha, ha!" + +"Well, read it!" + +The officer of Cossacks unfolded the paper and read the name of him who +once had been Prince Peter Ivánovich, and the family name which +everybody knows and pronounces with a certain respect and pleasure, when +speaking of a person bearing that name, as of a near and familiar +person. We shall call him Labázov. The officer of Cossacks had a dim +recollection that this Peter Labázov had been something important in the +year '25, and that he had been sent to hard labour,--but what he had +been famous for, he did not exactly know. But of the others not one knew +anything about him, and they replied: + +"Oh, yes, the famous prince," just as they would have said, "Of course, +he is famous!" about Shakespeare, who had written the "Æneid." But they +recognized him from the explanations of the stout officer, who told +them that he was a brother of Prince Iván, an uncle of the Chíkins, of +Countess Prut, in short, the well-known-- + +"He must be very rich, if he is a brother of Prince Iván," remarked one +of the young men, "if the fortune has been returned to him. It has been +returned to some." + +"What a lot of exiles are returning nowadays!" remarked another. +"Really, fewer seem to have been sent away, than are returning now. +Zhikínski, tell us that story of the 18th!" he turned to an officer of +sharp-shooters, who had the reputation of being a good story-teller. + +"Do tell it!" + +"In the first place, it is a true story, and happened here, at +Chevalier's, in the large hall. Three Decembrists came to have their +dinner. They were sitting at one table, eating, drinking, talking. +Opposite them sat down a gentleman of respectable mien, of about the +same age, and he listened to their talking about Siberia. He asked them +something, they exchanged a few words, began to converse, and it turned +out that he, too, was from Siberia. + +"'And do you know Nerchínsk?' + +"'Indeed I do, I lived there.' + +"'And do you know Tatyána Ivánovna?' + +"'Of course I do!' + +"'Permit me to ask you,--were you, too, exiled?' + +"'Yes, I had the misfortune to suffer, and you?' + +"'We are all exiles of the 14th of December. It is strange that we +should not know you, if you, too, were exiled for the 14th. Permit me to +know your name!' + +"'Fédorov.' + +"'Also for the 14th?' + +"'No, for the 18th.' + +"'For the 18th?' + +"'For the 18th of September, for a gold watch. I was falsely accused of +having stolen it, and I suffered, though innocent.'" + +All of them rolled in laughter, except the story-teller, who with a most +serious face looked at the outstretched hearers and swore that it was a +true story. + +Soon after the story one of the young men got up and went to the club. +He passed through the halls which were filled with tables at which old +men were playing whist; turned into the "infernal region," where the +famous "Puchin" had begun his game against the "company;" stood for +awhile near one of the billiard-tables, where, holding on to the +cushion, a distinguished old man was fumbling around and with difficulty +striking a ball; looked into the library, where a general, holding a +newspaper a distance away from him, was reading it slowly above his +glasses, and a registered young man turned the leaves of one periodical +after another, trying to make no noise; and finally seated himself on a +divan in the billiard-room, near some young people who were playing +pyramids, and who were as much gilded as he was. + +It was a day of dinners, and there were there many gentlemen who always +frequented the club. Among them was Iván Vavílovich Pákhtin. He was a +man of about forty years of age, of medium stature, fair-complexioned, +with broad shoulders and hips, with a bare head, and a glossy, happy, +clean-shaven face. He was not playing at pyramids, but had just sat down +beside Prince D----, with whom he was on "thou" terms, and had accepted +a glass of champagne which had been offered to him. He had located +himself so comfortably after the dinner, having quietly unbuckled his +trousers at the back, that it looked as though he could sit there all +his life, smoking a cigar, drinking champagne, and feeling the proximity +of princes, counts, and the children of ministers. The news of the +arrival of the Labázovs interfered with his calm. + +"Where are you going, Pákhtin," said a minister's son, having noticed +during the game that Pákhtin had got up, pulled his waistcoat down, and +emptied his champagne in a large gulp. + +"Syévernikov has invited me," said Pákhtin, feeling a restlessness in +his legs. "Well, will you go there?" + +"Anastásya, Anastásya, please unlock the door for me." That was a +well-known gipsy-song, which was in vogue at that time. + +"Perhaps. And you?" + +"Where shall I, an old married man, go?" + +"Well!" + +Pákhtin, smiling, went to the glass hall, to join Syévernikov. He was +fond of having his last word appear to be a joke. And so it came out at +that time, too. + +"Well, how is the countess's health?" he asked, walking over to +Syévernikov, who had not called him at all, but who, according to +Pákhtin's surmise, should more than any one else learn of the arrival of +the Labázovs. Syévernikov had somehow been mixed up with the affair of +the 14th, and was a friend of the Decembrists. The countess's health was +much better, and Pákhtin was very glad to hear it. + +"Do you know, Labázov has arrived; he is staying at Chevaliers." + +"You don't say so! We are old friends. How glad I am! How glad! The poor +old fellow must have grown old. His wife wrote to my wife--" + +But Syévernikov did not finish saying what it was she had written, +because his partners, who were playing without trumps, had made some +mistake. While speaking with Iván Pávlovich, he kept an eye on them, and +now he leaned forward with his whole body against the table, and, +thumping it with his hands, he tried to prove that they ought to have +played from the seven. Iván Pávlovich got up and, going up to another +table, in the middle of a conversation informed another worthy gentleman +of his bit of news, again got up, and repeated the same at a third +table. The worthy gentlemen were all glad to hear of the arrival of the +Labázovs, so that, upon returning to the billiard-room, Iván Pávlovich, +who at first had had his misgivings about whether he had to rejoice in +the return of the Labázovs, or not, no longer started with an +introduction about the ball, about an article in the _Messenger_, about +health, or weather, but approached everybody directly with the +enthusiastic announcement of the safe return of the famous Decembrist. + +The old man, who was still vainly endeavouring to hit the white ball +with his cue, would, in Pákhtin's opinion, be very much delighted to +hear the news. He went up to him. + +"Are you playing well, your Excellency?" he said, just as the old man +stuck his cue into the marker's red waistcoat, wishing to indicate that +it had to be chalked. + +"Your Excellency" was not said, as you might think, from a desire of +being subservient (no, that was not the fashion in '56). Iván Pávlovich +was in the habit of calling the old man by his name and patronymic, but +this was said partly as a joke on men who spoke that way, partly in +order to hint that he knew full well to whom he was talking, and yet was +taking liberties, and partly in truth: altogether it was a very delicate +jest. + +"I have just learned that Peter Labázov has returned. Straight from +Siberia, with his whole family." + +These words Pákhtin pronounced just as the old man again missed his +ball, for such was his bad luck. + +"If he has returned as cracked as he went away, there is no cause for +rejoicing," gruffly said the old man, who was irritated by his +incomprehensible failure. + +This statement vexed Iván Pávlovich, and again he was at a loss whether +there was any cause for rejoicing at Labázov's return, and, in order +fully to settle his doubt, he directed his steps to a room, where +generally assembled the clever people, who knew the meaning and value of +each thing, and, in short, knew everything. Iván Pávlovich was on the +same footing of friendship with the frequenters of the intellectual room +as with the gilded youths and with the dignitaries. It is true, he had +no special place of his own in the intellectual room, but nobody was +surprised to see him enter and seat himself on a divan. They were just +discussing in what year and upon what occasion there had taken place a +quarrel between two Russian journalists. Waiting for a moment of +silence, Iván Pávlovich communicated his bit of news, not as something +joyous, nor as an unimportant event, but as though part of the +conversation. But immediately, from the way the "intellectuals" (I use +the word "intellectuals" as a name for the frequenters of the +"intellectual" room) received the news and began to discuss it, Iván +Pávlovich understood that it belonged there, and that only there would +it receive such an elaboration as to enable him to carry it farther and +_savoir à quoi s'en tenir_. + +"Labázov was the only one who was wanting," said one of the +intellectuals; "now all the living Decembrists have returned to Russia." + +"He was one of the herd of the famous--" said Pákhtin, still with an +inquisitive glance, prepared to make that quotation both jocular and +serious. + +"Indeed, Labázov was one of the most remarkable men of that time," began +an intellectual. "In 1819 he was an ensign of the Seménovski regiment, +and was sent abroad with messages to Duke Z----. Then he returned and in +the year '24 was received in the First Masonic lodge. The Masons of that +time used all to gather at the house of D---- and at his house. He was +very rich. Prince Zh----, Fédor D----, Iván P----, those were his +nearest friends. Then his uncle, Prince Visarión, to remove the young +man from that society, took him to Moscow." + +"Pardon me, Nikoláy Stepánovich," another intellectual interrupted him, +"it seems to me that that happened in the year '23, because Visarión +Labázov was appointed a commander of the Third Corps in '24, and was +then in Warsaw. He had offered him an adjutantship, and after his +refusal, he was removed. However, pardon me for interrupting you." + +"Not at all. Proceed!" + +"Pardon me!" + +"Proceed! You ought to know that better than I, and, besides, your +memory and knowledge have been sufficiently attested here." + +"In Moscow he against his uncle's will left the army," continued the one +whose memory and knowledge had been attested, "and there he gathered +around him a second society, of which he was the progenitor and the +heart, if it be possible so to express it. He was rich, handsome, +clever, educated; they say he was exceedingly amiable. My aunt used to +tell me that she did not know a more bewitching man. Here he married +Miss Krínski, a few months before the revolt broke out." + +"The daughter of Nikoláy Krínski, the one of Borodinó fame, you know," +somebody interrupted him. + +"Well, yes. Her immense fortune he still possesses, but his own paternal +estate passed over to his younger brother, Prince Iván, who is now +Ober-Hof-Kaffermeister" (he gave him some such name) "and was a +minister." + +"The best thing is what he did for his brother," continued the narrator. +"When he was arrested, there was one thing which he succeeded in +destroying, and that was his brother's letters and documents." + +"Was his brother mixed up in it, too?" + +The narrator did not say "Yes," but compressed his lips and gave a +significant wink. + +"Then, during all the inquests Peter Labázov kept denying everything +which concerned his brother, and so suffered more than the rest. But the +best part of it is that Prince Iván got all the property, and never sent +a penny to his brother." + +"They say that Peter Labázov himself declined it," remarked one of the +hearers. + +"Yes; but he declined it only because Prince Iván wrote him before the +coronation, excusing himself and saying that if he had not taken it, it +would have been confiscated, and that he had children and debts, and +that now he was unable to return it to him. Peter Labázov replied to him +in two lines: 'Neither I nor my heirs have any right, nor can have any +right, to the property legally appropriated by you.' That was all. How +was that? And Prince Iván swallowed it, and in delight locked up that +document with the notes in a safe, and showed it to no one." + +One of the peculiarities of the intellectual room was that its visitors +knew, whenever they wanted to know, everything that was taking place in +the world, no matter how secret the event might have been. + +"Still it is a question," said a new interlocutor, "whether it was just +to deprive the children of Prince Iván of the property, with which they +have grown up and have been educated, and to which they thought they had +a right." + +Thus the conversation was transferred to an abstract sphere, which did +not interest Pákhtin. + +He felt the necessity of communicating the news to fresh people, and so +he rose and, speaking to the right and to the left, walked from one hall +to another. One of his fellow officers stopped him to give him the news +of Labázov's arrival. + +"Who does not know that?" replied Iván Pávlovich, with a calm smile, +turning to the exit. The news had had time to complete its circle, and +was again returning to him. + +There was nothing else to do in the club, and he went to an evening +party. It was not a special entertainment, but a salon where guests were +received any evening. There were there eight ladies, and one old +colonel, and all found it terribly dull. Pákhtin's firm gait alone and +his smiling face cheered the ladies and maidens. And the news was the +more appropriate, since the old Countess Fuks and her daughter were +present in the salon. When Pákhtin told nearly word for word what he had +heard in the intellectual room, Madame Fuks, shaking her head and +marvelling at her old age, began to recall how she used to go out +together with Natásha Krínski, the present Princess Labázov. + +"Her marriage is a very romantic story, and all that happened under my +eyes. Natásha was almost engaged to Myátlin, who was later killed in a +duel with Debras. Just then Prince Peter arrived in Moscow, fell in love +with her, and proposed to her. But her father, who wanted Myátlin very +much,--they were, in general, afraid of Labázov because he was a +Mason,--refused him. The young man continued to see her at balls, +everywhere, and became friendly with Myátlin, whom he begged to decline. +Myátlin agreed to do so, and he persuaded her to elope. She, too, +agreed, but the last repentance----" (the conversation was taking place +in French), "and she went to her father and said that everything was +ready for the elopement, and she could leave him, but hoped for his +magnanimity. And, indeed, her father forgave her,--everybody begged for +her,--and gave his consent. Thus the wedding was celebrated, and it was +a jolly wedding! Who of us thought that a year later she would follow +him to Siberia! She, an only daughter, the most beautiful, the richest +woman of that time. Emperor Alexander always used to notice her at +balls, and had danced with her so often. Countess G---- gave a _bal +costumé_,--I remember it as though it were to-day,--and she was a +Neapolitan maid, oh, so charming! Whenever he came to Moscow, he used to +ask, '_que fait la belle Napolitaine_?' And suddenly this woman, in such +a condition (she bore a child on the way), did not stop for a moment to +think, without preparing anything, without collecting her things, just +as she was, when they took him, followed him a distance of five thousand +versts." + +"Oh, what a remarkable woman!" said the hostess. + +"Both he and she were remarkable people," said another lady. "I have +been told,--I don't know whether it is true,--that wherever they worked +in the mines in Siberia, or whatever it is called, the convicts, who +were with them, improved in their presence." + +"But she has never worked in the mines," Pákhtin corrected her. + +How much that year '56 meant! Three years before no one had been +thinking of the Labázovs, and if any one recalled them, it was with that +unaccountable feeling of dread with which one speaks of one lately dead; +but now they vividly recalled all the former relations, all the +beautiful qualities, and each lady was making a plan for getting the +monopoly of the Labázovs, in order to treat the other guests to them. + +"Their son and their daughter have come with them," said Pákhtin. + +"If they are only as handsome as their mother used to be," said Countess +Fuks. "Still, their father, too, was very, very handsome." + +"How could they educate their children there?" asked the hostess. + +"They say, nicely. They say that the young man is as nice, as amiable, +and as cultured as though he had been brought up in Paris." + +"I predict great success to that young person," said a homely spinster. +"All those Siberian ladies have something pleasantly trivial about them, +which everybody, however, likes." + +"Yes, yes," said another spinster. + +"Here we have another rich prospective bride," said a third spinster. + +The old colonel, of German origin, who had come to Moscow three years +before, in order to marry a rich girl, decided as quickly as possible, +before the young people knew anything about it, to present himself and +propose. But the spinsters and ladies thought almost the same about the +young Siberian. + +"No doubt that is the one I am destined to marry," thought a spinster +who had been going out for eight years. + +"No doubt it was for the best that that stupid officer of the Chevalier +Guards did not propose to me. I should certainly have been unhappy." + +"Well, they will again grow yellow with envy, if this one, too, falls in +love with me," thought a young and pretty lady. + +We hear much about the provincialism of small towns,--but there is +nothing worse than the provincialism of the upper classes. There are no +new persons there, and society is prepared to receive all kinds of new +persons, if they should make their appearance; but they are rarely, very +rarely, recognized as belonging to their circle and accepted, as was the +case with the Labázovs, and the sensation produced by them is stronger +than in a provincial town. + +III. + +"This is Moscow, white-stoned Mother Moscow," said Peter Ivánovich, +rubbing his eyes in the morning, and listening to the tolling of the +bells which was proceeding from Gazette Lane. Nothing so vividly +resurrects the past as sounds, and these sounds of the Moscow bells, +combined with the sight of a white wall opposite the window, and with +the rumbling of wheels, so vividly reminded him not only of the Moscow +which he had known thirty-five years before, but also of the Moscow with +the Kremlin, with the palaces, with Iván the bell, and so forth, which +he had been carrying in his heart, that he experienced a childish joy at +being a Russian, and in Moscow. + +There appeared the Bukhara morning-gown, wide open over the broad chest +with its chintz shirt, the pipe with its amber, the lackey with soft +manners, tea, the odour of tobacco; a loud male voice was heard in +Chevalier's apartments; there resounded the morning kisses, and the +voices of daughter and son, and the Decembrist was as much at home as in +Irkútsk, and as he would have been in New York or in Paris. + +No matter how much I should like to present to my readers the Decembrist +hero above all foibles, I must confess, for truth's sake, that Peter +Ivánovich took great pains in shaving and combing himself, and in +looking at himself in the mirror. He was dissatisfied with the garments, +which had been made in Siberia with little elegance, and two or three +times he buttoned and unbuttoned his coat. + +But Natálya Nikoláevna entered the drawing-room, rustling with her black +moire gown, with mittens and with ribbons in her cap, which, though not +according to the latest fashion, were so arranged that, far from making +her appear _ridicule_, they made her look _distinguée_. For this ladies +have a special sixth sense and perspicacity, which cannot be compared to +anything. + +Sónya, too, was so dressed that, although she was two years behind in +fashion, she could not be reproached in any way. On her mother +everything was dark and simple, and on the daughter bright and +cheerful. + +Serézha had just awakened, and so they went by themselves to mass. +Father and mother sat in the back seat, and their daughter was opposite +them. Vasíli climbed on the box, and the hired carriage took them to the +Kremlin. When they got out of the carriage, the ladies adjusted their +robes, and Peter Ivánovich took the arm of his Natálya Nikoláevna, and, +throwing back his head, walked up to the door of the church. Many +people, merchants, officers, and everybody else, could not make out what +kind of people they were. + +Who was that old man with his old sunburnt, and still unblanched face, +with the large, straight work wrinkles of a peculiar fold, different +from the wrinkles acquired in the English club, with snow-white hair and +beard, with a good, proud glance and energetic movements? Who was that +tall lady with that determined gait, and those weary, dimmed, large, +beautiful eyes? Who was that fresh, stately, strong young lady, neither +fashionable, nor timid? Merchants? No, no merchants. Germans? No, no +Germans. Gentlefolk? No, they are different,--they are distinguished +people. Thus thought those who saw them in church, and for some reason +more readily and cheerfully made way for them than for men in thick +epaulets. Peter Ivánovich bore himself just as majestically as at the +entrance, and prayed quietly, with reserve, and without forgetting +himself. Natálya Nikoláevna glided down on her knees, took out a +handkerchief, and wept much during the cherubical song. Sónya seemed to +be making an effort over herself in order to pray. Devotion did not come +to her, but she did not look around, and diligently made the signs of +the cross. + +Serézha stayed at home, partly because he had overslept himself, partly +because he did not like to stand through a mass, which made his legs +faint,--a matter he was unable to understand, since it was a mere trifle +for him to walk forty miles on snow-shoes, whereas standing through +twelve pericopes was the greatest physical torture for him,--but chiefly +because he felt that more than anything he needed a new suit of clothes. +He dressed himself and went to Blacksmith Bridge. He had plenty of +money. His father had made it a rule, ever since his son had passed his +twenty-first year, to let him have as much money as he wished. It lay +with him to leave his parents entirely without money. + +How sorry I am for the 250 roubles which he threw away in Kuntz's shop +of ready-made clothes! Any one of the gentlemen who met Serézha would +have been only too happy to show him around, and would have regarded it +as a piece of happiness to go with him to get his clothes made. But, as +it was, he was a stranger in the crowd, and, making his way in his cap +along Blacksmith Bridge, he went to the end, without looking into the +shops, opened the door, and came out from it in a cinnamon-coloured +half-dress coat, which was tight (though at that time they wore wide +coats), and in loose black trousers (though they wore tight trousers), +and in a flowery atlas waistcoat, which not one of the gentlemen, who +were in Chevalier's special room, would have allowed their lackeys to +wear, and bought a number of other a things; on the other hand, Kuntz +marvelled at the young man's slender waist, the like of which, as he +explained to everybody, he had never seen. Serézha knew that he had a +beautiful waist, and he was very much flattered by the praise of a +stranger, such as Kuntz was. + +He came out with 250 roubles less, but was dressed badly, in fact so +badly that his apparel two days later passed over into Vasíli's +possession and always remained a disagreeable memory for Serézha. + +At home he went down-stairs, seated himself in the large hall, looking +now and then into the sanctum, and ordered a breakfast of such strange +dishes that the servant in the kitchen had to laugh. Then he asked for +a periodical, and pretended to be reading. When the servant, encouraged +by the inexperience of the young man, addressed some questions to him, +Serézha said, "Go to your place!" and blushed. But he said this so +proudly that the servant obeyed. Mother, father, and daughter, upon +returning home, found his clothes excellent. + +Do you remember that joyous sensation of childhood, when you were +dressed up for your name-day and taken to mass, and when, upon returning +with a holiday expression in your clothes, upon your countenance, and in +your soul, you found toys and guests at home? You knew that on that day +there would be no classes, that even the grown-ups celebrated on that +day, and that that was a day of exceptions and pleasures for the whole +house; you knew that you alone were the cause of that holiday, and that +you would be forgiven, no matter what you might do, and you were +surprised to see that the people in the streets did not celebrate along +with your home folk, and the sounds were more audible, and the colours +brighter,--in short, a name-day sensation. It was a sensation of that +kind that Peter Ivánovich experienced on his return from church. + +Pákhtin's solicitude of the evening before did not pass in vain: instead +of toys Peter Ivánovich found at home several visiting-cards of +distinguished Muscovites, who, in the year '56, regarded it as their +peremptory duty to show every attention possible to a famous exile, whom +they would under no consideration have wished to see three years before. +In the eyes of Chevalier, the porter, and the servants of the hotel, the +appearance of carriages asking for Peter Ivánovich, on that one morning +increased their respect and subserviency tenfold. + +All those were name-day toys for Peter Ivánovich. No matter how much +tried in life, how clever a man may be, the expression of respect from +people respected by a large number of men is always agreeable. Peter +Ivánovich felt light of heart when Chevalier, bowing, offered to change +his apartments and asked him to order anything he might need, and +assured him that he regarded Peter Ivánovich's visit as a piece of luck, +and when, examining the visiting-cards and throwing them into a vase, he +called out the names of Count S----, Prince D----, and so forth. + +Natálya Nikoláevna said that she would not receive anybody and that she +would go at once to the house of Márya Ivánovna, to which Peter +Ivánovich consented, though he wished very much to talk to some of the +visitors. + +Only one visitor managed to get through before the refusal to meet him. +That was Pákhtin. If this man had been asked why he went away from the +Prechístenka to go to Gazette Lane, he would have been unable to give +any excuse, except that he was fond of everything new and remarkable, +and so had come to see Peter Ivánovich, as something rare. One would +think that, coming to see a stranger for no other reason than that, he +would have been embarrassed. But the contrary was true. Peter Ivánovich +and his son and Sónya Petróvna became embarrassed. Natálya Nikoláevna +was too much of a _grande dame_ to become embarrassed for any reason +whatever. The weary glance of her beautiful black eyes was calmly +lowered on Pákhtin. But Pákhtin was refreshing, self-contented, and +gaily amiable, as always. He was a friend of Márya Ivánovna's. + +"Ah!" said Natálya Nikoláevna. + +"Not a friend,--the difference of our years,--but she has always been +kind to me." + +Pákhtin was an old admirer of Peter Ivánovich's,--he knew his +companions. He hoped that he could be useful to the newcomers. He would +have appeared the previous evening, but could not find the time, and +begged to be excused, and sat down and talked for a long time. + +"Yes, I must tell you, I have found many changes in Russia since then," +Peter Ivánovich said, in reply to a question. + +The moment Peter Ivánovich began to speak, you ought to have seen with +what respectful attention Pákhtin received every word that flew out of +the mouth of the distinguished old man, and how after each sentence, at +times after a word, Pákhtin with a nod, a smile, or a motion of his eyes +gave him to understand that he had received and accepted the memorable +sentence or word. + +The weary glance approved of that manoeuvre. Sergyéy Petróvich seemed to +be afraid lest his father's conversation should not be weighty enough, +corresponding to the attention of the hearer. Sónya Petróvna, on the +contrary, smiled that imperceptible self-satisfied smile which people +smile who have caught a man's ridiculous side. It seemed to her that +nothing was to be got from him, that he was a "shyúshka," as she and her +brother nicknamed a certain class of people. + +Peter Ivánovich declared that during his journey he had seen enormous +changes, which gave him pleasure. + +"There is no comparison, the masses--the peasants--stand so much higher +now, have so much greater consciousness of their dignity," he said, as +though repeating some old phrases. "I must say that the masses have +always interested me most. I am of the opinion that the strength of +Russia does not lie in us, but in the masses," and so forth. + +Peter Ivánovich with characteristic zeal evolved his more or less +original ideas in regard to many important subjects. We shall hear more +of them in fuller form. Pákhtin was melting for joy, and fully agreed +with him in everything. + +"You must by all means meet the Aksátovs. Will you permit me to +introduce them to you, prince? You know they have permitted him to +publish his periodical. To-morrow, they say, the first number will +appear. I have also read his remarkable article on the consistency of +the theory of science in the abstract. Remarkably interesting. Another +article, the history of Servia in the eleventh century, of that famous +general Karbovánets, is also very interesting. Altogether an enormous +step." + +"Indeed," said Peter Ivánovich. But he was apparently not interested in +all these bits of information; he did not even know the names and merits +of all those men whom Pákhtin quoted as universally known. + +But Natálya Nikoláevna, without denying the necessity of knowing all +these men and conditions, remarked in justification of her husband that +Pierre received his periodicals very late. He read entirely too much. + +"Papa, shall we not go to aunty?" asked Sónya, upon coming in. + +"We shall, but we must have our breakfast. Won't you have anything?" + +Pákhtin naturally declined, but Peter Ivánovich, with the hospitality +characteristic of every Russian and of him in particular, insisted that +Pákhtin should eat and drink something. He himself emptied a wine-glass +of vódka and a tumbler of Bordeaux. Pákhtin noticed that as he was +filling his glass, Natálya accidentally turned away from it, and the son +cast a peculiar glance on his father's hands. + +After the wine, Peter Ivánovich, in response to Pákhtin's questions +about what his opinion was in respect to the new literature, the new +tendency, the war, the peace (Pákhtin had a knack of uniting the most +diversified subjects into one senseless but smooth conversation), in +response to these questions Peter Ivánovich at once replied with one +general _profession de foi_, and either under the influence of the wine, +or of the subject of the conversation, he became so excited that tears +appeared in his eyes, and Pákhtin, too, was in ecstasy, and himself +became tearful, and without embarrassment expressed his conviction that +Peter Ivánovich was now in advance of all the foremost men and should +become the head of all the parties. Peter Ivánovich's eyes became +inflamed,--he believed what Pákhtin was telling him,--and he would have +continued talking for a long time, if Sónya Petróvna had not schemed to +get Natálya Nikoláevna to put on her mantilla, and had not come herself +to raise Peter Ivánovich from his seat. He poured out the rest of the +wine into a glass, but Sónya Petróvna drank it. + +"What is this?" + +"I have not had any yet, papa, pardon." + +He smiled. + +"Well, let us go to Márya Ivánovna's. You will excuse us, Monsieur +Pákhtin." + +And Peter Ivánovich left the room, carrying his head high. In the +vestibule he met a general, who had come to call on his old +acquaintance. They had not seen each other for thirty-five years. The +general was toothless and bald. + +"How fresh you still are!" he said. "Evidently Siberia is better than +St. Petersburg. These are your family,--introduce me to them! What a +fine fellow your son is! So to dinner to-morrow?" + +"Yes, yes, by all means." + +On the porch they met the famous Chikháev, another old acquaintance. + +"How did you find out that I had arrived?" + +"It would be a shame for Moscow if it did not know it. It is a shame +that you were not met at the barrier. Where do you dine? No doubt with +your sister, Márya Ivánovna. Very well, I shall be there myself." + +Peter Ivánovich always had the aspect of a proud man for one who could +not through that exterior make out the expression of unspeakable +goodness and impressionableness; but just then even Márya Nikoláevna was +delighted to see his unwonted dignity, and Sónya Petróvna smiled with +her eyes, as she looked at him. They arrived at the house of Márya +Ivánovna. Márya Ivánovna was Peter Ivánovich's godmother and ten years +his senior. She was an old maid. + +Her history, why she did not get married, and how she had passed her +youth, I will tell some time later. + +She had lived uninterruptedly for forty years in Moscow. She had neither +much intelligence, nor great wealth, and she did not think much of +connections,--on the contrary; and there was not a man who did not +respect her. She was so convinced that everybody ought to respect her +that everybody actually respected her. There were some young liberals +from the university who did not recognize her power, but these gentlemen +made a bold front only in her absence. She needed only to enter the +drawing-room with her royal gait, to say something in her calm manner, +to smile her kindly smile, and they were vanquished. Her society +consisted of everybody. She looked upon all of Moscow as her home folk, +and treated them as such. She had friends mostly among the young people +and clever men, but women she did not like. She had also dependents, +whom our literature has for some reason included with the Hungarian +woman and with generals in one common class for contempt; but Márya +Ivánovna considered it better for Skópin, who had been ruined in cards, +and Madame Byéshev, whom her husband had driven away, to be living with +her than in misery, and so she kept them. + +But the two great passions in Márya Ivánovna's present life were her two +brothers. Peter Ivánovich was her idol. Prince Iván was hateful to her. +She had not known that Peter Ivánovich had arrived; she had attended +mass, and was just finishing her coffee. + +At the table sat the vicar of Moscow, Madame Byéshev, and Skópin. Márya +Ivánovna was telling them about young Count V----, the son of P---- +Z----, who had returned from Sevastopol, and with whom she was in love. +(She had some passion all the time.) He was to dine with her on that +day. The vicar got up and bowed himself out. Márya Ivánovna did not keep +him,--she was a freethinker in this respect: she was pious, but had no +use for monks and laughed at the ladies that ran after them, and boldly +asserted that in her opinion monks were just such men as we sinful +people, and that it was better to find salvation in the world than in a +monastery. + +"Give the order not to receive anybody, my dear," she said, "I will +write to Pierre. I cannot understand why he is not coming. No doubt, +Natálya Nikoláevna is ill." + +Márya Ivánovna was of the opinion that Natálya Nikoláevna did not like +her and was her enemy. She could not forgive her because it was not she, +his sister, who had given up her property and had followed him to +Siberia, but Natálya Nikoláevna, and because her brother had definitely +declined her offer when she got ready to go with him. After thirty-five +years she was beginning to believe that Natálya Nikoláevna was the best +woman in the world and his guardian angel; but she was envious, and it +seemed all the time to her that she was not a good woman. + +She got up, took a few steps in the parlour, and was on the point of +entering the cabinet when the door opened, and Madame Byéshev's +wrinkled, grayish face, expressing joyous terror, was thrust through the +door. + +"Márya Ivánovna, prepare yourself," she said. + +"A letter?" + +"No, something better--" + +But before she had a chance to finish, a man's loud voice was heard in +the antechamber: + +"Where is she? Go, Natásha." + +"He!" muttered Márya Ivánovna, walking with long, firm steps toward her +brother. She met them all as though she had last seen them the day +before. + +"When didst thou arrive? Where have you stopped? How have you come,--in +a carriage?" Such were the questions which Márya Ivánovna put, walking +with them to the drawing-room and not hearing the answers, and looking +with large eyes, now upon one, and now upon another. Madame Byéshev was +surprised at this calm, even indifference, and did not approve of it. +They all smiled; the conversation died down, and Márya Ivánovna looked +silently and seriously at her brother. + +"How are you?" asked Peter Ivánovich, taking her hand, and smiling. + +Peter Ivánovich said "you" to her, though she had said "thou." Márya +Ivánovna once more looked at his gray beard, his bald head, his teeth, +his wrinkles, his eyes, his sunburnt face, and recognized all that. + +"Here is my Sónya." + +But she did not look around. + +"What a stup--" her voice faltered, and she took hold of his bald head +with her large white hands. "What a stupid you are," she had intended to +say, "not to have prepared me," but her shoulders and breast began to +tremble, her old face twitched, and she burst out into sobs, pressing to +her breast his bald head, and repeating: "What a stupid you are not to +have prepared me!" + +Peter Ivánovich no longer appeared as such a great man to himself, not +so important as he had appeared on Chevalier's porch. His back was +resting against a chair, but his head was in his sister's arms, his nose +was pressed against her corset, his nose was tickled, his hair +dishevelled, and there were tears in his eyes. But he felt happy. + +When this outburst of joyous tears was over, Márya Ivánovna understood +what had happened and believed it, and began to examine them all. But +several times during the course of the day, whenever she recalled what +he had been then, and what she had been, and what they were now, and +whenever the past misfortunes, and past joys and loves, vividly rose in +her imagination, she was again seized by emotion, and got up and +repeated: "What a stupid you are, Pierre, what a stupid not to have +prepared me!" + +"Why did you not come straight to me? I should have found room for you," +said Márya Ivánovna. "At least, stay to dinner. You will not feel +lonesome, Sergyéy,--a young, brave Sevastopol soldier is dining here +to-day. Do you not know Nikoláy Mikháylovich's son? He is a writer,--has +written something nice. I have not read it, but they praise it, and he +is a dear fellow,--I shall send for him. Chikháev, too, wanted to come. +He is a babbler,--I do not like him. Has he already called on you? Have +you seen Nikíta? That is all nonsense. What do you intend to do? How are +you, how is your health, Natálya? What are you going to do with this +young fellow, and with this beauty?" + +But the conversation somehow did not flow. + +Before dinner Natálya Nikoláevna went with the children to an old aunt; +brother and sister were left alone, and he began to tell her of his +plans. + +"Sónya is a young lady, she has to be taken out; consequently, we are +going to live in Moscow," said Márya Ivánovna. + +"Never." + +"Serézha has to serve." + +"Never." + +"You are still as crazy as ever." + +But she was just as fond of the crazy man. + +"First we must stay here, then go to the country, and show everything to +the children." + +"It is my rule not to interfere in family matters," said Márya +Ivánovna, after calming down from her agitation, "and not to give +advice. A young man has to serve, that I have always thought, and now +more than ever. You do not know, Pierre, what these young men nowadays +are. I know them all: there, Prince Dmítri's son is all ruined. Their +own fault. I am not afraid of anybody, I am an old woman. It is not +good." And she began to talk about the government. She was dissatisfied +with it for the excessive liberty which was given to everything. "The +one good thing they have done was to let you out. That is good." + +Pierre began to defend it, but Márya Ivánovna was not Pákhtin: they +could come to no terms. She grew excited. + +"What business have you to defend it? You are just as senseless as ever, +I see." + +Peter Ivánovich grew silent, with a smile which showed that he did not +surrender, but that he did not wish to quarrel with Márya Ivánovna. + +"You are smiling. We know that. You do not wish to discuss with me, a +woman," she, said, merrily and kindly, and casting a shrewd, intelligent +glance at her brother, such as could not be expected from her old, +large-featured face. "You could not convince me, my friend. I am ending +my three score and ten. I have not been a fool all that time, and have +seen a thing or two. I have read none of your books, and I never will. +There is only nonsense in them!" + +"Well, how do you like my children? Serézha?" Peter Ivánovich said, with +the same smile. + +"Wait, wait!" his sister replied, with a threatening gesture. "Don't +switch me off on your children! We shall have time to talk about them. +Here is what I wanted to tell you. You are a senseless man, as senseless +as ever, I see it in your eye. Now they are going to carry you in their +arms. Such is the fashion. You are all in vogue now. Yes, yes, I see by +your eyes that you are as senseless as ever," she added, in response to +his smile. "Keep away, I implore you in the name of Jesus Christ our +Lord, from those modern liberals. God knows what they are up to. I know +it will not end well. Our government is silent just now, but when it +comes later to showing up the nails, you will recall my words. I am +afraid lest you should get mixed up in things again. Give it up! It is +all nonsense. You have children." + +"Evidently you do not know me, Márya Ivánovna," said her brother. + +"All right, all right, we shall see. Either I do not know you, or you do +not know yourself. I just told you what I had on my heart, and if you +will listen to me, well and good. Now we can talk about Serézha. What +kind of a lad is he?" She wanted to say, "I do not like him very much," +but she only said: "He resembles his mother remarkably: they are like +two drops of water. Sónya is you all over,--I like her very much, very +much--so sweet and open. She is a dear. Where is she, Sónya? Yes, I +forgot." + +"How shall I tell you? Sónya will make a good wife and a good mother, +but my Serézha is clever, very clever,--nobody will take that from him. +He studied well,--a little lazy. He is very fond of the natural +sciences. We have been fortunate: we had an excellent, excellent +teacher. He wants to enter the university,--to attend lectures on the +natural sciences, chemistry--" + +Márya Ivánovna scarcely listened when her brother began to speak of the +natural sciences. She seemed to feel sad, especially when he mentioned +chemistry. She heaved a deep sigh and replied directly to that train of +thoughts which the natural sciences evoked in her. + +"If you knew how sorry I am for them, Pierre," she said, with sincere, +calm, humble sadness. "So sorry, so sorry. A whole life before them. Oh, +how much they will suffer yet!" + +"Well, we must hope that they will be more fortunate than we." + +"God grant it, God grant it! It is hard to live, Pierre! Take this one +advice from me, my dear: don't philosophize! What a stupid you are, +Pierre, oh, what a stupid! But I must attend to matters. I have invited +a lot of people, but how am I going to feed them?" She flared up, turned +away, and rang the bell. + +"Call Tarás!" + +"Is the old man still with you?" + +"Yes; why, he is a boy in comparison with me." + +Tarás was angry and clean, but he undertook to get everything done. + +Soon Natálya Nikoláevna and Sónya, agleam with cold and happiness, and +rustling in their dresses, entered the room; Serézha was still out, +attending to some purchases. + +"Let me get a good look at her!" + +Márya Ivánovna took her face. Natálya Nikoláevna began to tell +something. + + +THE DECEMBRISTS + +SECOND FRAGMENT + +(Variant of the First Chapter) + +The litigation "about the seizure in the Government of Pénza, County of +Krasnoslobódsk, by the landed proprietor and ex-lieutenant of the +Guards, Iván Apýkhtin, of four thousand desyatínas of land from the +neighbouring Crown peasants of the village of Izlegóshcha," was through +the solicitude of the peasants' representative, Iván Mirónov, decided in +the court of the first instance--the County Court--in favour of the +peasants, and the enormous parcel of land, partly in forest, and partly +in ploughings which had been broken by Apýkhtin's serfs, in the year +1815 returned into the possession of the peasants, and they in the year +1816 sowed in this land and harvested. + +The winning of this irregular case by the peasants surprised all the +neighbours and even the peasants themselves. This success of theirs +could be explained only on the supposition that Iván Petróvich Apýkhtin, +a very meek, peaceful man, who was opposed to litigations and was +convinced of the righteousness of this matter, had taken no measures +against the action of the peasants. On the other hand, Iván Mirónov, the +peasants' representative, a dry, hook-nosed, literate peasant, who had +been a township elder and had acted in the capacity of collector of +taxes, had collected fifty kopeks from each peasant, which money he +cleverly applied in the distribution of presents, and had very shrewdly +conducted the whole affair. + +Immediately after the decision handed down by the County Court, +Apýkhtin, seeing the danger, gave a power of attorney to the shrewd +manumitted serf, Ilyá Mitrofánov, who appealed to the higher court +against the decision of the County Court. Ilyá Mitrofánov managed the +affair so shrewdly that, in spite of all the cunning of the peasants' +representative, Iván Mirónov, in spite of the considerable presents +distributed by him to the members of the higher court, the case was +retried in the Government Court in favour of the proprietor, and the +land was to go back to him from the peasants, of which fact their +representative was duly informed. + +The representative, Iván Mirónov, told the peasants at the meeting of +the Commune that the gentleman in the Government capital had pulled the +proprietor's leg and had "mixed up" the whole business, so that they +wanted to take the land back again, but that the proprietor would not be +successful, because he had a petition all written up to be sent to the +Senate, and that then the land would be for ever confirmed to the +peasants; all they had to do was to collect a rouble from each soul. The +peasants decided to collect the money and again to entrust the whole +matter to Iván Mirónov. When Mirónov had all the money in his hands, he +went to St. Petersburg. + +When, in the year 1817, during Passion-week,--it fell late that +year,--the time came to plough the ground, the Izlegóshcha peasants +began to discuss at a meeting whether they ought to plough the land +under litigation during that year, or not; and, although Apýkhtin's +clerk had come to see them during Lent with the order that they should +not plough the land and should come to some agreement with him in regard +to the rye already planted in what had been the doubtful, and now was +Apýkhtin's land, the peasants, for the very reason that the winter crop +had been sowed on the debatable land, and because Apýkhtin, in his +desire to avoid being unfair to them, wished to arbitrate the matter +with them, decided to plough the land under litigation and to take +possession of it before touching any other fields. + +On the very day when the peasants went out to plough, which was Maundy +Thursday, Iván Petróvich Apýkhtin, who had been preparing himself for +communion during the Passion-week, went to communion, and early in the +morning drove to the church in the village of Izlegóshcha, of which he +was a parishioner, and there he, without knowing anything about the +matter, amicably chatted with the church elder. Iván Petróvich had been +to confession the night before, and had attended vigils at home; in the +morning he had himself read the Rules, and at eight o'clock had left the +house. They waited for him with the mass. As he stood at the altar, +where he usually stood, Iván Petróvich rather reflected than prayed, +which made him dissatisfied with himself. + +Like many people of that time, and, so far as that goes, of all times, +he was not quite clear in matters of religion. He was past fifty years +of age; he never omitted carrying out any rite, attended church, and +went to communion once a year; in talking to his only daughter, he +instructed her in the articles of faith; but, if he had been asked +whether he really believed, he would not have known what to reply. + +On that day more than on any other, he felt meek of spirit, and, +standing at the altar, he, instead of praying, thought of how strangely +everything was constructed in the world: there he was, almost an old +man, taking the communion for perhaps the fortieth time in his life, and +he knew that everybody, all his home folk and all the people in the +church, looked at him as a model and took him for an example, and he +felt himself obliged to act as an example in matters of religion, +whereas he himself did not know anything, and soon, very soon, he would +die, and even if he were killed he could not tell whether that in which +he was showing an example to others was true. And it also seemed strange +to him how every one considered--that he saw--old people to be firm and +to know what was necessary and what not (thus he always thought about +old men), and there he was old and positively failed to know, and was +just as frivolous as he had been twenty years before; the only +difference was that formerly he did not conceal it, while now he did. +Just as in his childhood it had occurred to him during the service that +he might crow like a cock, even so now all kinds of foolish things +passed through his mind, and he, the old man, reverentially bent his +head, touching the flagstones of the church with the old knuckles of his +hands, and Father Vasíli was evidently timid in celebrating mass in his +presence, and incited to zeal by his zeal. + +"If they only knew what foolish things are running through my head! But +that is a sin, a sin; I must pray," he said to himself, when the service +commenced; and, trying to catch the meaning of the responses, he began +to pray. Indeed, he soon transferred himself in feeling to the prayer +and thought of his sins and of everything which he regretted. + +A respectable-looking old man, bald-headed, with thick gray hair, +dressed in a fur coat with a new white patch on one-half of his back, +stepping evenly with his out-toeing bast shoes, went up to the altar, +bowed low to him, tossed his hair, and went beyond the altar to place +some tapers. This was the church elder, Iván Fedótov, one of the best +peasants of the village of Izlegóshcha. Iván Petróvich knew him. The +sight of this stern, firm face led Iván Petróvich to a new train of +thoughts. He was one of those peasants who wanted to take the land away +from him, and one of the best and richest married farmers, who needed +the land, who could manage it, and had the means to work it. His stern +aspect, ceremonious bow, and measured gait, and the exactness of his +wearing-apparel,--the leg-rags fitted his legs like stockings and the +laces crossed each other symmetrically on either leg,--all his +appearance seemed to express rebuke and enmity on account of the land. + +"I have asked forgiveness of my wife, of Mánya" (his daughter), "of the +nurse, of my valet, Volódya, but it is his forgiveness that I ought to +ask for, and I ought to forgive him," thought Iván Petróvich, and he +decided that after matins he would ask Iván Fedótov to forgive him. + +And so he did. + + * * * * * + +There were but few people in church. The country people were in the +habit of going to communion in the first and in the fourth week. Now +there were only forty men and women present, who had not had time to go +to communion before, a few old peasant women, the church servants, and +the manorial people of the Apýkhtins and his rich neighbours, the +Chernýshevs. There was also there an old woman, a relative of the +Chernýshevs, who was living with them, and a deacon's widow, whose son +the Chernýshevs, in the goodness of their hearts, had educated and made +a man of, and who now was serving as an official in the Senate. Between +the matins and the mass there were even fewer people left in the church. +There were left two beggar women, who were sitting in the corner and +conversing with each other and looking at Iván Petróvich with the +evident desire to congratulate him and talk with him, and two +lackeys,--one his own, in livery, and the other, Chernýshev's, who had +come with the old woman. These two were also whispering in an animated +manner to each other, just as Iván Petróvich came out from the +altar-place; when they saw him, they grew silent. There was also a +woman in a tall head-gear with a pearl face-ornament and in a white fur +coat, with which she covered up a sick child, who was crying, and whom +she was attempting to quiet; and another, a stooping old woman, also in +a head-gear, but with a woollen face-ornament and a white kerchief, +which was tied in the fashion of old women, and in a gray gathered coat +with an iris-design on the back, who, kneeling in the middle of the +church, and turning to an old image between two latticed windows, over +which hung a new scarf with red edges, was praying so fervently, +solemnly, and impassionately that one could not fail directing one's +attention to her. + +Before reaching the elder, who, standing at the little safe, was +kneading over the remnants of some tapers into one piece of wax, Iván +Petróvich stopped to take a look at the praying woman. The old woman was +praying well. She knelt as straight as it was possible to kneel in front +of the image; all the members of her body were mathematically +symmetrical; her feet behind her pressed with the tips of her bast shoes +at the same angle against the stone floor; her body was bent back, to +the extent to which her stooping shoulders permitted her to do so; her +hands were quite regularly placed below her abdomen; her head was thrown +back, and her face, with an expression of bashful commiseration, +wrinkled, and with a dim glance, was turned straight toward the image +with the scarf. Having remained in an immobile position for a minute or +less,--evidently a definite space of time,--she heaved a deep sigh and, +taking her right hand away, swung it above her head-gear, touched the +crown of her head with folded fingers, and made ample crosses by +carrying her hand down again to her abdomen and to her shoulders; then +she swayed back and dropped her head on her hands, which were placed +evenly on the floor, and again raised herself, and repeated the same. + +"Now she is praying," Iván Petróvich thought, as he looked at her. "She +does it differently from us sinners: this is faith, though I know that +she is praying to her own image, or to her scarf, or to her adornment on +the image, just like the rest of them. All right. What of it?" he said +to himself, "every person has his own faith: she prays to her image, and +I consider it necessary to beg the peasant's forgiveness." + +And he walked over to the elder, instinctively scrutinizing the church +in order to see who was going to see his deed, which both pleased and +shamed him. It was disagreeable to him, because the old beggar women +would see it, and more disagreeable still, because Míshka, his lackey, +would see it. In the presence of Míshka,--he knew how wide-awake and +shrewd he was,--he felt that he should not have the strength to walk up +to Iván Fedótov. He beckoned to Míshka to come up to him. + +"What is it you wish?" + +"Go, my dear, and bring me the rug from the carriage, for it is too damp +here for my feet." + +"Yes, sir." + +When Míshka went away, Iván Petróvich at once went up to Iván Fedótov. +Iván Fedótov was disconcerted, like a guilty person, at the approach of +the gentleman. Timidity and hasty motions formed a queer contradiction +to his austere face and curly steel-gray hair and beard. + +"Do you wish a dime taper?" he said, raising the desk, and now and then +casting his large, beautiful eyes upon the master. + +"No, I do not want a taper, Iván. I ask you to forgive me for Christ's +sake, if I have in any way offended you. Forgive me, for Christ's sake," +Iván Petróvich repeated, with a low bow. + +Iván Fedótov completely lost his composure and began to move restlessly, +but when he comprehended it all, he smiled a gentle smile: + +"God forgives," he said. "It seems to me, I have received no offence +from you. God will forgive you,--I have not been offended by you," he +hastened to repeat. + +"Still--" + +"God will forgive you, Iván Petróvich. So you want two dime tapers?" + +"Yes, two." + +"He is an angel, truly, an angel. He begs even a base peasant to forgive +him. O Lord, true angels," muttered the deacon's widow, in an old black +capote and black kerchief. "Truly, we ought to understand that." + +"Ah, Paramónovna!" Iván Petróvich turned to her. "Are you getting ready +for communion, too? You, too, must forgive me, for Christ's sake." + +"God will forgive you, sir, angel, merciful benefactor! Let me kiss your +hand!" + +"That will do, that will do, you know I do not like that," said Iván +Petróvich, smiling, and going away from the altar. + + * * * * * + +The mass, as always, did not take long to celebrate in the parish of +Izlegóshcha, the more so since there were few communicants. Just as, +after the Lord's Prayer, the regal doors were closed, Iván Petróvich +looked through the north door, to call Míshka to take off his fur coat. +When the priest saw that motion, he angrily beckoned to the deacon, and +the deacon almost ran out to call in the lackey. Iván Petróvich was in a +pretty good humour, but this subserviency and expression of respect from +the priest who was celebrating mass again soured him entirely; his thin, +bent, shaven lips were bent still more and his kindly eyes were lighted +up by sarcasm. + +"He acts as though I were his general," he thought, and immediately he +thought of the words of the German tutor, whom he had once taken to the +altar to attend a Russian divine service, and who had made him laugh +and had angered his wife, when he said, "_Der Pop war ganz böse, dass +ich ihm Alles nachgesehen hatte_." He also recalled the answer of the +young Turk that there was no God, because he had eaten up the last piece +of him. "And here I am going to communion," he thought, and, frowning, +he made a low obeisance. + +He took off his bear-fur coat, and in his blue dress coat with bright +buttons and in his tall white neckerchief and waistcoat, and tightly +fitting trousers, and heelless, sharp-toed boots, went with his soft, +modest, and light gait to make his obeisances to the large images. Here +he again met that same obsequiousness from the other communicants, who +gave up their places to him. + +"They act as though they said, '_Après vous, s'il en reste_,'" he +thought, awkwardly making side obeisances; this awkwardness was due to +the fact that he was trying to find that mean in which there would be +neither disrespect, nor hypocrisy. Finally the doors were opened. He +said the prayer after the priest, repeating the words, "As a robber;" +his neckerchief was covered with the chalice cloth, and he received his +communion and the lukewarm water in the ancient dipper, having put new +silver twenty-kopek pieces on ancient plates; after hearing the last +prayers, he kissed the cross and, putting on his fur coat left the +church, receiving congratulations and experiencing the pleasant +sensation of having everything over. As he left the church, he again +fell in with Iván Fedótov. + +"Thank you, thank you!" he replied to his congratulations. "Well, are +you going to plough soon?" + +"The boys have gone out, the boys have," replied Iván Fedótov, more +timidly even than before. He supposed that Iván Petróvich knew whither +the Izlegóshcha peasants had gone out to plough. "It is damp, though. +Damp it is. It is early yet, early it is." + +Iván Petróvich went up to his parents' monument, bowed to it, and went +back to be helped into his six-in-hand with an outrider. + +"Well, thank God," he said to himself, swaying on the soft, round +springs and looking at the vernal sky with the scattering clouds, at the +bared earth and the white spots of unmelted snow, and at the tightly +braided tail of a side horse, and inhaling the fresh spring air, which +was particularly pleasant after the air in the church. + +"Thank God that I have been through the communion, and thank God that I +now may take a pinch of snuff." And he took out his snuff-box and for a +long time held the pinch between his fingers, smiling and, without +letting the pinch out of the hand, raising his cap in response to the +low bows of the people on the way, especially of the women, who were +washing the tables and chairs in front of their houses, just as the +carriage at a fast trot of the large horses of the six-in-hand plashed +and clattered through the mud of the street of the village of +Izlegóshcha. + +Iván Petróvich held the pinch of snuff, anticipating the pleasure of +snuffing, not only down the whole village, but even until they got out +of a bad place at the foot of a hill, toward which the coachman +descended not without anxiety: he held up the reins, seated himself more +firmly, and shouted to the outrider to go over the ice. When they went +around the bridge, over the bed of the river, and scrambled out of the +breaking ice and mud, Iván Petróvich, looking at two plovers that rose +from the hollow, took the snuff and, feeling chilly, put on his glove, +wrapped himself in his fur coat, plunged his chin into the high +neckerchief, and said to himself, almost aloud, "Glorious!" which he was +in the habit of saying secretly to himself whenever he felt well. + +In the night snow had fallen, and when Iván Petróvich had driven to +church the snow had not yet disappeared, but was soft; now, though there +was no sun, it was all melted from the moisture, and on the highway, on +which he had to travel for three versts before turning into Chirakóvo, +the snow was white only in last year's grass, which grew in parallel +lines along the ruts; but on the black road the horses splashed through +the viscous mud. The good, well-fed, large horses of his own stud had no +difficulty in pulling the carriage, and it just rolled over the grass, +where it left black marks, and over the mud, without being at all +detained. Iván Petróvich was having pleasant reveries; he was thinking +of his home, his wife, and his daughter. + +"Mánya will meet me at the porch, and with delight. She will see such +holiness in me! She is a strange, sweet girl, but she takes everything +too much to heart. The rôle of importance and of knowing everything that +is going on in this world, which I must play before her, is getting to +be too serious and ridiculous. If she knew that I am afraid of her!" he +thought. "Well, Káto," (his wife) "will no doubt be in good humour +to-day, she will purposely be in good humour, and we shall have a fine +day. It will not be as it was last week on account of the Próshkin +women. What a remarkable creature! How afraid of her I am! What is to be +done? She does not like it herself." And he recalled a famous anecdote +about a calf. A proprietor, having quarrelled with his wife, was sitting +at a window, when he saw a frisky calf: "I should like to get you +married!" he said. And Iván Petróvich smiled again, according to his +custom solving every difficulty and every perplexity by a joke, which +generally was directed against himself. + +At the third verst, near a chapel, the outrider bore to the left, into a +cross-road, and the coachman shouted to him for having turned in so +abruptly that the centre horses were struck by the shaft; and the +carriage almost glided all the way down-hill. Before reaching the house, +the outrider looked back at the coachman and pointed to something; the +coachman looked back at the lackey, and indicated something to him. And +all of them looked in the same direction. + +"What are you looking at?" asked Iván Petróvich. + +"Geese," said Míshka. + +"Where?" + +Though he strained his vision, he could not see them. + +"There they are. There is the forest, and there is the cloud, so be +pleased to look between the two." + +Iván Petróvich could not see anything. + +"It is time for them. Why, it is less than a week to Annunciation." + +"That's so." + +"Well, go on!" + +Near a puddle, Míshka jumped down from the footboard and tested the +road, again climbed up, and the carriage safely drove on the pond dam in +the garden, ascended the avenue, drove past the cellar and the laundry, +from which water was falling, and nimbly rolled up and stopped at the +porch. The Chernýshev calash had just left the yard. From the house at +once ran the servants: gloomy old Danílych with the side whiskers, +Nikoláy, Míshka's brother, and the boy Pavlúshka; and after them came a +girl with large black eyes and red arms, which were bared above the +elbow, and with just such a bared neck. + +"Márya Ivánovna, Márya Ivánovna! Where are you going? Your mother will +be worried. You will have time," was heard the voice of fat Katerína +behind her. + +But the girl paid no attention to her; just as her father had expected +her to do, she took hold of his arm and looked at him with a strange +glance. + +"Well, papa, have you been to communion?" she asked, as though in dread. + +"Yes. You look as though you were afraid that I am such a sinner that I +could not receive the communion." + +The girl was apparently offended by her father's jest at such a solemn +moment. She heaved a sigh and, following him, held his hand, which she +kissed. + +"Who is here?" + +"Young Chernýshev. He is in the drawing-room." + +"Is mamma up? How is she?" + +"Mamma feels better to-day. She is sitting down-stairs." + +In the passage room Iván Petróvich was met by nurse Evprakséya, clerk +Andréy Ivánovich, and a surveyor, who was living at the house, in order +to lay out some land. All of them congratulated Iván Petróvich. In the +drawing-room sat Luíza Kárlovna Trugóni, for ten years a friend of the +house, an emigrant governess, and a young man of sixteen years, +Chernýshev, with his French tutor. + + +THE DECEMBRISTS + +THIRD FRAGMENT + +(Variant of the First Chapter) + +On the 2d of August, 1817, the sixth department of the Directing Senate +handed down a decision in the debatable land case between the economic +peasants of the village of Izlegóshcha and Chernýshev, which was in +favour of the peasants and against Chernýshev. This decision was an +unexpected and important calamitous event for Chernýshev. The case had +lasted five years. It had been begun by the attorney of the rich village +of Izlegóshcha with its three thousand inhabitants, and was won by the +peasants in the County Court; but when, with the advice of lawyer Ilyá +Mitrofánov, a manorial servant bought of Prince Saltykóv, Prince +Chernýshev carried the case to the Government, he won it and besides, +the Izlegóshcha peasants were punished by having six of them, who had +insulted the surveyor, put in jail. + +After that, Prince Chernýshev, with his good-natured and merry +carelessness, entirely acquiesced, the more so since he knew full well +that he had not "appropriated" any land of the peasants, as was said in +the petition of the peasants. If the land was "appropriated," his father +had done it, and since then more than forty years had passed. He knew +that the peasants of the village of Izlegóshcha were getting along well +without that land, had no need of it, and lived on terms of friendship +with him, and was unable to understand why they had become so infuriated +against him. He knew that he never offended and never wished to offend +any one, that he lived in peace with everybody, and that he never wished +to do otherwise, and so could not believe that any one should think of +offending him. He hated litigations, and so did not defend his case in +the Senate, in spite of the advice and earnest solicitations of his +lawyer, Ilyá Mitrofánov; by allowing the time for the appeal to lapse, +he lost the case in the Senate, and lost it in such a way that he was +confronted with complete ruin. By the decree of the Senate he not only +was to be deprived of five thousand desyatínas of land, but also, for +the illegal tenure of that land, was to be mulcted to the amount of +107,000 roubles in favour of the peasants. + +Prince Chernýshev had eight thousand souls, but all the estates were +mortgaged and he had large debts, so that this decree of the Senate +ruined him with his whole large family. He had a son and five daughters. +He thought of his case when it was too late to attend to it in the +Senate. According to Ilyá Mitrofánov's words there was but one +salvation, and that was, to petition the sovereign and to transfer the +case to the Imperial Council. To obtain this it was necessary in person +to approach one of the ministers or a member of the Council, or, better +still, the emperor himself. Taking all that into consideration, Prince +Grigóri Ivánovich in the fall of the year 1817 with his whole family +left his beloved estate of Studénets, where he had lived so long without +leaving it, and went to Moscow. He started for Moscow, and not for St. +Petersburg, because in the fall of that year the emperor with his whole +court, with all the highest dignitaries, and with part of the Guards, in +which the son of Grigóri Ivánovich was serving, was to arrive in Moscow +to lay the corner-stone of the Church of the Saviour in commemoration +of the liberation of Russia from the French invasion. + +In August, immediately after receiving the terrible news of the decree +of the Senate, Prince Grigóri Ivánovich got ready to go to Moscow. At +first the majordomo was sent away to fix the prince's own house on the +Arbát; then was sent out a caravan with furniture, servants, horses, +carriages, and provisions. In September the prince with his whole family +travelled in seven carriages, drawn by his own horses, and, after +arriving in Moscow, settled in his house. Relatives, friends, visitors +from the province and from St. Petersburg began to assemble in Moscow in +the month of September. The Moscow life, with its entertainments, the +arrival of his son, the débuts of his daughters, and the success of his +eldest daughter, Aleksándra, the only blonde among all the brunettes of +the Chernýshevs, so much occupied and diverted the prince's attention +that, in spite of the fact that here in Moscow he was spending +everything which would be left to him after paying all he owed, he +forgot his affair and was annoyed and tired whenever Ilyá Mitrofánov +talked of it, and undertook nothing for the success of his case. + +Iván Mirónovich Baúshkin, the chief attorney of the peasants, who had +conducted the case against the prince with so much zeal in the Senate, +who knew all the approaches to the secretaries and departmental chiefs, +and who had so skilfully distributed the ten thousand roubles, collected +from the peasants, in the shape of presents, now himself brought his +activity to an end and returned to the village, where, with the money +collected for him as a reward and with what was left of the presents, he +bought himself a grove from a neighbouring proprietor and built there a +hut and an office. The case was finished in the court of the highest +instance, and everything would now proceed of its own accord. + +The only ones of those concerned in the case who could not forget it +were the six peasants who were passing their seventh month in jail, and +their families that were left without their heads. But nothing could be +done in the matter. They were imprisoned in Krasnoslobódsk, and their +families tried to get along as well as they could. Nobody could be +invoked in the case. Iván Mirónovich himself said that he could not take +it up, because it was not a communal, nor a civil, but a criminal case. +The peasants were in prison, and nobody paid any attention to them; but +one family, that of Mikhaíl Gerásimovich, particularly his wife +Tíkhonovna, could not get used to the idea that the precious old man, +Gerásimovich, was sitting in prison with a shaven head. Tíkhonovna could +not rest quiet. She begged Mirónovich to take the case, but he declined +it. Then she decided to go herself to pray to God for the old man. She +had made a vow the year before that she would go on a pilgrimage to a +saint, and had delayed it for another year only because she had had no +time and did not wish to leave the house to the young daughters-in-law. +Now that the misfortune had happened and Gerásimovich was put into jail, +she recalled her vow; she turned her back on her house and, together +with the deacon's wife of the same village, got ready to go on the +pilgrimage. + +First they went to the county seat to see her old man in the prison and +to take him some shirts; from there they went through the capital of the +Government to Moscow. On her way Tíkhonovna told the deacon's wife of +her sorrow, and the latter advised her to petition the emperor who, it +was said, was to be in Pénza, telling her of various cases of pardon +granted by him. + +When the pilgrims arrived in Pénza, they heard that there was there, not +the emperor, but his brother Grand Duke Nikoláy Pávlovich. When he came +out of the cathedral, Tíkhonovna pushed herself forward, dropped down on +her knees, and began to beg for her husband. The grand duke was +surprised, the governor was angry, and the old woman was taken to the +lockup. The next day she was let out and she proceeded to Tróitsa. In +Tróitsa she went to communion and confessed to Father Paísi. At the +confession she told him of her sorrow, and repented having petitioned +the brother of the Tsar. Father Paísi told her that there was no sin in +that and that there was no sin in petitioning the Tsar even in a just +case, and dismissed her. In Khótkov she called on the blessed abbess, +and she ordered her to petition the Tsar himself. + +On their way back, Tíkhonovna and the deacon's wife stopped in Moscow to +see the saints. Here she heard that the Tsar was there, and she thought +that it was evidently God's command that she should petition the Tsar. +All that had to be done was to write the petition. + +In Moscow the pilgrims stopped in a hostelry. They begged permission to +stay there overnight; they were allowed to do so. After supper the +deacon's wife lay down on the oven, and Tíkhonovna, placing her wallet +under her head, lay down on a bench and fell asleep. In the morning, +before daybreak, Tíkhonovna got up, woke the deacon's wife, and went +out. The innkeeper spoke to her just as she walked into the yard. + +"You are up early, granny," he said. + +"Before we get there, it will be time for matins," Tíkhonovna replied. + +"God be with you, granny!" + +"Christ save you!" said Tíkhonovna, and the pilgrims went to the +Kremlin. + + * * * * * + +After standing through the matins and the mass, and having kissed the +relics, the old women, with difficulty making their way, arrived at the +house of the Chernýshevs. The deacon's wife said that the old lady had +given her an urgent invitation to stop at her house, and had ordered +that all pilgrims should be received. + +"There we shall find a man who will write the petition," said the +deacon's wife, and the pilgrims started to blunder through the streets +and ask their way. The deacon's wife had been there before, but had +forgotten where it was. Two or three times they were almost crushed, and +people shouted at them and scolded them. Once a policeman took the +deacon's wife by the shoulder and, giving her a push, forbade her to +walk through the street on which they were, and directed them through a +forest of lanes. Tíkhonovna did not know that they were driven off the +Vozdvízhenka for the very reason that through that street was to drive +the Tsar, of whom she was thinking all the time, and to whom she +intended to give the petition. + +The deacon's wife walked, as always, heavily and complainingly, while +Tíkhonovna, as usual, walked lightly and briskly, with the gait of a +young woman. At the gate the pilgrims stopped. The deacon's wife did not +recognize the house: there was there a new hut which she had not seen +before; but on scanning the well with the pumps in the corner of the +yard, she recognized it all. The dogs began to bark and made for the +women with the staffs. + +"Don't mind them, aunties, they will not touch you. Away there, accursed +ones!" the janitor shouted to the dogs, raising the broom on them. "They +are themselves from the country, and just see them bark at country +people! Come this way! You will stick in the mud,--God has not given any +frost yet." + +But the deacon's wife, frightened by the dogs, and muttering in a +whining tone, sat down on a bench near the gate and asked the janitor to +take her by. Tíkhonovna made her customary bow to the janitor and, +leaning on her crutch and spreading her feet, which were tightly +covered with leg-rags, stopped near her, looking as always calmly in +front of her and waiting for the janitor to come up to them. + +"Whom do you want?" the janitor asked. + +"Do you not recognize us, dear man? Is not your name Egór?" asked the +deacon's wife. "We are coming back from the saints, and so are calling +on her Serenity." + +"You are from Izlegóshcha," said the janitor. "You are the wife of the +old deacon,--of course. All right, all right. Go to the house! Everybody +is received here,--nobody is refused. And who is this one?" + +He pointed to Tíkhonovna. + +"From Izlegóshcha, Gerásimovich's wife,--used to be Fadyéev's,--I +suppose you know her?" said Tíkhonovna. "I myself am from Izlegóshcha." + +"Of course! They say your husband has been put into jail." + +Tíkhonovna made no reply; she only sighed and with a strong motion threw +her wallet and fur coat over her shoulder. + +The deacon's wife asked whether the old lady was at home and, hearing +that she was, asked him to announce them to her. Then she asked about +her son, who was an official and, thanks to the prince's influence, was +serving in St. Petersburg. The janitor could not give her any +information about him and directed them over a walk, which crossed the +yard, to the servants' house. The old women went into the house, which +was full of people,--women, children, both old and young,--all of them +manorial servants, and prayed turning to the front corner. The deacon's +wife was at once recognized by the laundress and the old lady's maid, +and she was at once surrounded and overwhelmed with questions: they took +off her wallet, placed her at the table, and offered her something to +eat. In the meantime Tíkhonovna, having made the sign of the cross to +the images and saluted everybody, was standing at the door, waiting to +be invited in. At the very door, in front of the first window, sat an +old man, making boots. + +"Sit down, granny! Don't stand up. Sit down here, and take off your +wallet," he said. + +"There is not enough room to turn around as it is. Take her to the +'black' room," said a woman. + +"This comes straight from Madame Chalmé," said a young lackey, pointing +to the iris design on Tíkhonovna's peasant coat, "and the pretty +stockings and shoes." + +He pointed to her leg-rags and bast shoes, which were new, as she had +specially put them on for Moscow. + +"Parásha, you ought to have such." + +"If you are to go to the 'black' room, all right; I will take you +there." And the old man stuck in his awl and got up; but, on seeing a +little girl, he called her to take the old woman to the black room. + +Tíkhonovna not only paid no attention to what was being said in her +presence and of her, but did not even look or listen. From the time that +she entered the house, she was permeated with the feeling of the +necessity of working for God and with the other feeling, which had +entered her soul, she did not know when, of the necessity of handing the +petition. Leaving the clean servant room, she walked over to the +deacon's wife and, bowing, said to her: + +"Mother Paramónovna, for Christ's sake do not forget about my affair! +See whether you can't find a man." + +"What does that woman need?" + +"She has suffered insult, and people have advised her to hand a petition +to the Tsar." + +"Take her straight to the Tsar!" said the jesting lackey. + +"Oh, you fool, you rough fool," said the old shoemaker. "I will teach +you a lesson with this last, then you will know how to grin at old +people." + +The lackey began to scold, but the old man, paying no attention to him, +took Tíkhonovna to the black room. + +Tíkhonovna was glad that she was sent out of the baking-room, and was +taken to the black, the coachmen's room. In the baking-room everything +looked clean, and the people were all clean, and Tíkhonovna did not feel +at ease there. The black coachmen's room was more like the inside of a +peasant house, and Tíkhonovna was more at home there. The black hut was +a dark pine building, twenty by twenty feet, with a large oven, bed +places, and hanging-beds, and a newly paved, dirt-covered floor. When +Tíkhonovna entered the room, there were there the cook, a white, +ruddy-faced, fat, manorial woman, with the sleeves of her chintz dress +rolled up, who with difficulty was moving a pot in the oven with an +oven-fork; then a young, small coachman, who was learning to play the +balaláyka; an old man with an unshaven, soft white beard, who was +sitting on a bed place with his bare feet and, holding a skein of silk +between his lips, was sewing on some fine, good material, and a +shaggy-haired, swarthy young man, in a shirt and blue trousers, with a +coarse face, who, chewing bread, was sitting on a bench at the oven and +leaning his head on both his arms, which were steadied against his +knees. + +Barefoot Nástka with sparkling eyes ran into the room with her lithe, +bare feet, in front of the old woman, jerking open the door, which stuck +fast from the steam within, and squeaking in her thin voice: + +"Aunty Marína, Simónych sends this old woman, and says that she should +be fed. She is from our parts: she has been with Paramónovna to worship +the saints. Paramónovna is having tea.--Vlásevna has sent for her--" + +The garrulous little girl would have gone on talking for quite awhile +yet; the words just poured forth from her and, apparently, it gave her +pleasure to hear her own voice. But Marína, who was in a perspiration, +and who had not yet succeeded in pushing away the pot with the beet +soup, which had caught in the hearth, shouted angrily at her: + +"Stop your babbling! What old woman am I to feed now? I have enough to +do to feed our own people. Shoot you!" she shouted to the pot, which +came very near falling down, as she removed it from the spot where it +was caught. + +But when she was satisfied in regard to the pot, she looked around and, +seeing trim Tíkhonovna with her wallet and correct peasant attire, +making the sign of the cross and bowing low toward the front corner, +felt ashamed of her words and, as though regaining her consciousness +after the cares which had worn her out, she put her hand to her breast, +where beneath the collar-bone buttons clasped her dress, and examined it +to see whether it was buttoned, and then put her hands to her head to +fasten the knot of the kerchief, which covered her greasy hair, and took +up an attitude, leaning against the oven-fork and waiting for the salute +of the trim old woman. Tíkhonovna made her last low obeisance to God, +and turned around and saluted in three directions. + +"God aid you, good day!" she said. + +"You are welcome, aunty!" said the tailor. + +"Thank you, granny, take off your wallet! Sit down here," said the cook, +pointing to a bench where sat the shaggy-haired man. "Move a little, +can't you? Are you stuck fast?" + +The shaggy man, scowling more angrily still, rose, moved away, and, +continuing to chew, riveted his eyes on the old woman. The young +coachman made a bow and, stopping his playing, began to tighten the +strings of his balaláyka, looking now at the old woman, and now at the +tailor, not knowing how to treat the old woman,--whether respectfully, +as he thought she ought to be treated, because the old woman wore the +same kind of attire that his grandmother and mother wore at home (he +had been taken from the village to be an outrider), or making fun of +her, as he wished to do and as seemed to him to accord with his present +condition, his blue coat and his boots. The tailor winked with one eye +and seemed to smile, drawing the silk to one side of his mouth, and +looked on. Marína started to put in another pot, but, even though she +was busy working, she kept looking at the old woman, while she briskly +and nimbly took off her wallet and, trying not to disturb any one, put +it under the bench. Nástka ran up to her and helped her, by taking away +the boots, which were lying in her way under the bench. + +"Uncle Pankrát," she turned to the gloomy man, "I will put the boots +here. Is it all right?" + +"The devil take them! Throw them into the oven, if you wish," said the +gloomy man, throwing them into another corner. + +"Nástka, you are a clever girl," said the tailor. "A pilgrim has to be +made comfortable." + +"Christ save you, girl! That is nice," said Tíkhonovna. "I am afraid I +have put you out, dear man," she said, turning to Pankrát. + +"All right," said Pankrát. + +Tíkhonovna sat down on the bench, having taken off her coat and +carefully folded it, and began to take off her footgear. At first she +untied the laces, which she had taken special care in twisting smooth +for her pilgrimage; then she carefully unwrapped the white lambskin +leg-rags and, carefully rubbing them soft, placed them on her wallet. +Just as she was working on her other foot, another of awkward Marína's +pots got caught and spilled over, and she again started to scold +somebody, catching the pot with the fork. + +"The hearth is evidently burned out, grandfather. It ought to be +plastered," said Tíkhonovna. + +"When are you going to plaster it? The chimney never cools off: twice a +day you have to bake bread; one set is taken out, and the other is +started." + +In response to Marína's complaint about the bread-baking and the +burnt-out hearth, the tailor defended the ways of the Chernýshev house +and said that they had suddenly arrived in Moscow, that the hut was +built and the oven put up in three weeks, and that there were nearly one +hundred servants who had to be fed. + +"Of course, lots of cares. A large establishment," Tíkhonovna confirmed +him. + +"Whence does God bring you?" the tailor turned to her. + +And Tíkhonovna, continuing to take off her foot-gear, at once told him +where she came from, whither she had gone, and how she was going home. +She did not say anything about the petition. The conversation never +broke off. The tailor found out everything about the old woman, and the +old woman heard all about awkward, pretty Marína. She learned that +Marína's husband was a soldier, and she was made a cook; that the tailor +was making caftans for the driving coachmen; that the stewardess's +errand girl was an orphan, and that shaggy-haired, gloomy Pankrát was a +servant of the clerk, Iván Vasílevich. + +Pankrát left the room, slamming the door. The tailor told her that he +was a gruff peasant, but that on that day he was particularly rude +because the day before he had smashed the clerk's knickknacks on the +window, and that he was going to be flogged to-day in the stable. As +soon as Iván Vasílevich should come, he would be flogged. The little +coachman was a peasant lad, who had been made an outrider, and now that +he was grown he had nothing to do but attend to the horses, and strum +the balaláyka. But he was not much of a hand at it. + + + + +ON POPULAR EDUCATION + +1875 + + + + +ON POPULAR EDUCATION + + +I suppose each of us has had more than one occasion to come in contact +with monstrous, senseless phenomena, and to find back of these phenomena +put forward some important principle, which overshadowed those +phenomena, so that in our youthful and even maturer years we began to +doubt whether it was true that those phenomena were monstrous, and +whether we were not mistaken. And having been unable to convince +ourselves that monstrous phenomena might be good, or that the protection +of an important principle was illegitimate, or that the principle was +only a word, we remained in regard to those phenomena in an ambiguous, +undecided condition. + +In such a state I was, and I assume many of us are, in respect to the +principle of "development" which obfuscates pedagogy, in its connection +with the rudiments. But popular education is too near to my heart, and I +have busied myself too much with it, to remain too long in indecision. +The monstrous phenomena of the imaginary development I could not call +good, nor could I be persuaded that the development of the pupil was +bad, and so I began to inquire what that development was. I do not +consider it superfluous to communicate the deductions to which I have +been led during the study of this matter. + +To define what is understood by the word "development," I shall take the +manuals of Messrs. Bunákov and Evtushévski, as being new works, which +combine all the latest deductions of German pedagogy, intended as guides +for the teachers in the popular schools, and selected by the advocates +of the sound method as manuals in their schools. + +In discussing what is to form the foundation for a choice of this or +that method for the teaching of reading, Mr. Bunákov says: + +"No, an opinion about the method of construction based on such +near-sighted and flimsy foundations (that is, on experience) will be too +doubtful. Only the theoretical substratum, based on the study of human +nature, can make the judgments in this sphere firm and independent of +all casualties, and to a considerable degree guard them against gross +errors. Consequently for the final choice of the best method of teaching +the rudiments, it is necessary first of all to stand on theoretic soil, +on the basis of previous considerations, the general conditions of which +give to this or that method the actual right to be called satisfactory +from the pedagogical standpoint. These conditions are: (1) It has to be +a method which is capable of developing the child's mental powers, so +that the acquisition of the rudiments may be obtained together with the +development and the strengthening of the reasoning powers. (2) It must +introduce into the instruction the child's personal interest, so that +the matter be furthered by this interest, and not by dulling violence. +(3) It must represent in itself the process of self-instruction, +inciting, supporting, and directing the child's self-activity. (4) It +must be based on the impressions of hearing, as of the sense which +serves for the acquisition of language. (5) It has to combine analysis +with synthesis, beginning with the dismemberment of the complex whole +into simple principles, and passing over to the composition of a complex +whole out of the simple principles." + +So this is what the method of instruction is to be based upon. I will +remark, not for contradiction, but for the sake of simplicity and +clearness, that the last two statements are quite superfluous, because +without the union of analysis and synthesis there can be not only no +instruction, but also no other activity of the mind, and every +instruction, except that of the deaf and dumb, is based on the sense of +hearing. These two conditions are put down only for beauty's sake and +for the obscuration of the style, so common in pedagogical treatises, +and so have no meaning whatever. The first three at first sight appear +quite true as a programme. Everybody, of course, would like to know how +the method is secured that will "develop," that will "introduce into the +instruction the pupil's personal interest," and that will "represent the +process of self-instruction." + +But to the questions as to why this method combines all those qualities +you will find an answer neither in the books of Messrs. Bunákov and +Evtushévski, nor in any other pedagogical work of the founders of this +school of pedagogy, unless they be those hazy discussions of this +nature, such as that every instruction must be based on the union of +analysis and synthesis, and by all means on the sense of hearing, and so +forth; or you will find, as in Mr. Evtushévski's book, expositions about +how in man are formed impressions, sensations, representations, and +concepts, and you will find the rule that "it is necessary to start from +the object and lead the pupil up to the idea, and not start with the +idea, which has no point of contact in his consciousness," and so forth. +After such discussions there always follows the conclusion that +therefore the method advocated by the pedagogue gives that exclusive +real development which it was necessary to find. + +After the above-cited definition of what a good method ought to be, Mr. +Bunákov explains how children ought to be educated, and, having given an +exposition of all the methods, which in my opinion and experience lead +to results which are diametrically opposite to development, he says +frankly and definitely: + +"From the standpoint of the above-mentioned fundamental principles for +estimating the value of the satisfactoriness of the methods of +rudimentary instruction, the method which we have just elucidated in its +general features presents the following plastic qualities and +peculiarities: (1) As a sound method it wholly preserves the +characteristic peculiarities of all sound method,--it starts from the +impressions of hearing, at once establishing the regular relation to +language, and only later adds to them the impressions of sight, thus +clearly distinguishing sound, matter, and the letter, its +representation. (2) As a method which unites reading with writing it +begins with decomposition and passes over to composition, combining +analysis with synthesis. (3) As a method which passes over to the study +of words and sounds from the study of objects it proceeds along a +natural path, coöperates with the regular formation of concepts and +ideas, and acts in a developing way on all the sides of the child's +nature: it incites the children to be observant, to group their +observations, to render them orally; it develops the external senses, +mind, imagination, memory, the gift of speech, concentration, +self-activity, the habit of work, the respect for order. (4) As a method +which provides ample work to all the mental powers of the child, it +introduces into instruction the personal interest, rousing in children +willingness and love of work, and transforming it into a process of +self-instruction." + +This is precisely what Mr. Evtushévski does; but why it is all so +remains inexplicable to him who is looking for actual reasons and does +not become entangled in such words as psychology, didactics, methodics, +heuristics. I advise all those who have no inclination for philosophy +and therefore have no desire to verify all those deductions of the +pedagogues not to be embarrassed by these words and to be assured that +a thing which is not clear cannot be the basis of anything, least of all +of such an important and simple thing as popular education. + +All the pedagogues of this school, especially the Germans, the founders +of the school, start with the false idea that those philosophical +questions which have remained as questions for all the philosophers from +Plato to Kant, have been definitely settled by them. They are settled so +definitely that the process of the acquisition by man of impressions, +sensations, concepts, ratiocinations, has been analyzed by them down to +its minutest details, and the component parts of what we call the soul +or the essence of man have been dissected and divided into parts by +them, and that, too, in such a thorough manner that on this firm basis +can go up the faultless structure of the science of pedagogy. This fancy +is so strange that I do not regard it as necessary to contradict it, +more especially as I have done so in my former pedagogical essays. All I +will say is that those philosophical considerations which the pedagogues +of this school put at the basis of their theory not only fail to be +absolutely correct, not only have nothing in common with real +philosophy, but even lack a clear, definite expression with which the +majority of the pedagogues might agree. + +But, perchance, the theory of the pedagogues of the new school, in spite +of its unsuccessful references to philosophy, has some value in itself. +And so we will examine it, to see what it consists in. Mr. Bunákov says: + +"To these little savages (that is, the pupils) must be imparted the main +order of school instruction, and into their consciousness must be +introduced such initial concepts as they will have to come in contact +with from the start, during the first lessons of drawing, reading, +writing, and every elementary instruction, such as: the right side and +the left, to the right--to the left, up--down, near by--around, in +front--in back, close by--in the distance, before--behind, +above--below, fast--slow, softly--aloud, and so forth. No matter how +simple these concepts may be, I know from practice that even city +children, from well-to-do families, are frequently, when they come to +the elementary schools, unable to distinguish the right side from the +left. I assume that there is no need of expatiating on the necessity of +explaining such concepts to village children, for any one who has had to +deal with village schools knows this as well as I do." + +And Mr. Evtushévski says: + +"Without entering into the broad field of the debatable question about +the innate ability of man, we only see that the child can have no innate +concepts and ideas about real things,--they have to be formed, and on +the skill with which they are formed by the educator and teacher depends +both their regularity and their permanency. In watching the development +of the child's soul one has to be much more cautious than in attending +to his body. If the food for the body and the various bodily exercises +are carefully chosen both as regards their quantity and their quality, +in conformity with the man's growth, so much more cautious have we to be +in the choice of food and exercises for the mind. A badly placed +foundation will precariously support what is fastened to it." + +Mr. Bunákov advises that ideas be imparted as follows: + +"The teacher may begin a conversation such as he deems fit: one will ask +every pupil for his name; another about what is going on outside; a +third about where each comes from, where he lives, what is going on at +home,--and then he may pass over to the main subject. 'Where are you +sitting now? Why did you come here? What are we going to do in this +room? Yes, we are going to study in this room,--so let us call it a +class-room. See what there is under your feet, below you. Look, but do +not say anything. The one I will tell to speak shall answer. Tell me, +what do you see under your feet? Repeat everything we have found out +and have said about this room: in what room are we sitting? What are the +parts of the room? What is there on the walls? What is standing on the +floor?' + +"The teacher from the start establishes the order which is necessary for +the success of his work: each pupil is to answer only when asked to do +so; all the others are to listen and should be able to repeat the words +of the teacher and of their companions; the desire to answer, when the +teacher directs a question to everybody, is to be expressed by raising +the left hand; the words are to be pronounced neither in a hurry, nor by +drawing them out, but loudly, distinctly, and correctly. To obtain this +latter result the teacher gives them a living example by his loud, +correct, distinct enunciation, showing them in practice the difference +between soft and loud, distinct and correct, slow and fast. The teacher +should see to it that all the children take part in the work, by having +somebody's question answered or repeated, now by one, now by another, +and now by the whole class at once, but especially by rousing the +indifferent, inattentive, and playful children: the first he must +enliven by frequent questions, the second he must cause to concentrate +themselves on the subject of the common work, and the third he must +curb. During the first period the children ought to answer in full, that +is, by repeating the question: 'We are sitting in the class-room' (and +not in brief, 'In the class-room'); 'Above, over my head, I see the +ceiling;' 'On the left I see three windows,' and so forth." + +Mr. Evtushévski advises that in this way be begun all the lessons on +numbers from 1 to 10, of which there are to be 120, and which are to be +continued through the year. + +"One. The teacher shows the pupils a cube, and asks: 'How many cubes +have I?' and taking several cubes into the other hand, he asks, 'And how +many are there here?'--'Many, a few.' + +"'Name here in the class-room an object of which there are +several.'--'Bench, window, wall, copy-book, pencil, slate-pencil, pupil, +and so forth.'--'Name an object of which there is only one in the +class-room.'--'The blackboard, stove, door, ceiling, floor, picture, +teacher, and so forth.'--'If I put this cube away in my pocket, how many +cubes will there be left in my hand?'--'Not one.'--'And how many must I +again put into my hand, to have as many as before?'--'One.'--'What is +meant by saying that Pétya fell down once? How many times did Pétya +fall? Did he fall another time? Why does it say once?'--'Because we are +speaking only of one case and not of another case.'--'Take your slates +(or copy-books). Make on them a line of this size.' (The teacher draws +on the blackboard a line two or four inches in length, or shows on the +ruler that length.) 'Rub it off. How many lines are left?'--'Not +one.'--'Draw several such lines.' It would be unnatural to invent any +other exercises in order to acquaint the children with number one. It +suffices to rouse in them that conception of unity which they, no doubt, +had previous to their school instruction." + +Then Mr. Bunákov speaks of exercises on the board, and so on, and Mr. +Evtushévski of the number four with its decomposition. Before examining +the theory itself of the transmission of ideas, the question +involuntarily arises whether that theory is not mistaken in its very +problem. Has the condition of the pedagogical material with which it has +to do been correctly defined? The first thing that startles us is the +strange relation to some imaginary children, to such as I, at least, +have never seen in the Russian Empire. The conversations, and the +information which they impart, refer to children of less than two years +of age, because two-year-old children know all that is contained in +them, but as to the questions which have to be asked, they have +reference to parrots. Any pupil of six, seven, eight, or nine years will +not understand a thing in these questions, because he knows all about +that, and cannot make out what it all means. The demands for such +conversations evince either complete ignorance, or a desire to ignore +that degree of development on which the pupils stand. + +Maybe the children of Hottentots and negroes, or some German children, +do not know what is imparted to them in such conversations, but Russian +children, except demented ones, all those who come to a school, not only +know what is up and what down, what is a bench and what a table, what is +two and what one, and so forth, but, in my experience, the peasant +children who are sent to school by their parents can every one of them +express their thoughts well and correctly, can understand another +person's thought (if it is expressed in Russian), and can count to +twenty and more; playing with knuckle-bones they count in pairs and +sixes, and they know how many points and pairs there are in a six. +Frequently the pupils who came to my school brought with them the +problem with the geese, and explained it to me. But even if we admit +that children possess no such conceptions as those the pedagogues want +to impart to them by means of conversations, I do not find the method +chosen by them to be correct. + +Thus, for example, Mr. Bunákov has written a reader. This book is to be +used in conjunction with the conversations to teach the children +language. I have run through the book and have found it to be a series +of bad language blunders, wherever extracts from other books are not +quoted. The same complete ignorance of language I have found in Mr. +Evtushévski's problems. Mr. Evtushévski wants to give ideas by means of +problems. First of all he ought to have seen to it that the tool for the +transmission of ideas, that is, the language, was correct. + +What has been mentioned here refers to the form in which the development +is imparted. Let us look at the contents themselves. Mr. Bunákov +proposes the following questions to be put to the children: "Where can +you see cats? where a magpie? where sand? where a wasp and a suslik? +what are a suslik and a magpie and a cat covered with, and what are the +parts of their bodies?" (The suslik is a favourite animal of pedagogy, +no doubt because not one peasant child in the centre of Russia knows +that word.) + +"Naturally the teacher does not always put these questions straight to +the children, as forming the predetermined programme of the lesson; more +frequently the small and undeveloped children have to be led up to the +solution of the question of the programme by a series of suggestive +questions, by directing their attention to the side of the subject which +is more correct at the given moment, or by inciting them to recall +something from their previous observations. Thus the teacher need not +put the question directly: 'Where can a wasp be seen?' but, turning to +this or that pupil, he may ask him whether he has seen a wasp, where he +has seen it, and then only, combining the replies of several pupils, +compose an answer to the first question of his programme. In answering +the teacher's questions, the children will often connect several remarks +that have no direct relation to the matter; for example, when the +question is about what the parts of a magpie are, one may say +irrelevantly that a magpie jumps, another that it chatters funnily, a +third that it steals things,--let them add and give utterance to +everything that arises in their memory or imagination,--it is the +teacher's business to concentrate their attention in accordance with the +programme, and these remarks and additions of the children he should +take notice of for the purpose of elaborating the other parts of the +programme. In viewing a new subject, the children at every convenient +opportunity return to the subjects which have already been under +consideration. Since they have observed that a magpie is covered with +feathers, the teacher asks: 'Is the suslik also covered with feathers? +What is it covered with? And what is a chicken covered with? and a +horse? and a lizard?' When they have observed that a magpie has two +legs, the teacher asks: 'How many legs has a dog? and a fox? and a +chicken? and a wasp? What other animals do you know with two legs? with +four? with six?'" + +Involuntarily the question arises: Do the children know, or do they not +know, what is so well explained to them in these conversations? If the +pupils know it all, then, upon occasion, in the street or at home, where +they do not need to raise their left hands, they will certainly be able +to tell it in more beautiful and more correct Russian than they are +ordered to do. They will certainly not say that a horse is "covered" +with wool; if so, why are they compelled to repeat these questions just +as the teacher has put them? But if they do not know them (which is not +to be admitted except as regards the suslik), the question arises: by +what will the teacher be guided in what is with so much unction called +the programme of questions,--by the science of zoology, or by logic? or +by the science of eloquence? But if by none of the sciences, and merely +by the desire to talk about what is visible in the objects, there are so +many visible things in objects, and they are so diversified, that a +guiding thread is needed to show what to talk upon, whereas in objective +instruction there is no such thread, and there can be none. + +All human knowledge is subdivided for the purpose that it may more +conveniently be gathered, united, and transmitted, and these +subdivisions are called sciences. But outside their scientific +classifications you may talk about objects anything you please, and you +may say all the nonsense imaginable, as we actually see. In any case, +the result of the conversation will be that the children are either +made to learn by heart the teacher's words about the suslik, or to +change their own words, place them in a certain order (not always a +correct order), and to memorize and repeat them. For this reason all the +manuals of this kind, in general all the exercises of development, +suffer on the one hand from absolute arbitrariness, and on the other +from superfluity. For example, in Mr. Bunákov's book the only story +which, it seems, is not copied from another author, is the following: + +"A peasant complained to a hunter about his trouble: a fox had carried +off several of his chickens and one duck; the fox was not in the least +afraid of watch-dog Dandy, who was chained up and kept barking all night +long; in the morning he had placed a trap with a piece of roast meat in +the fresh tracks on the snow,--evidently the red-haired sneak was +disporting near the house, but he did not go into the trap. The hunter +listened to what the peasant had to say to him, and said: 'Very well; +now we will see who will be shrewder!' The hunter walked all day with +his gun and with his dog, over the tracks of the fox, to discover how he +found his way into the yard. In the daytime the sneak sleeps in his +lair, and knows nothing of what is going on, so that had to be +considered: on its path the hunter dug a hole and covered it with +boards, dirt, and snow; a few steps from it he put down a piece of +horseflesh. In the evening he seated himself with a loaded gun in his +ambush, fixed things in such a way that he could see everything and +shoot comfortably, and there he waited. It grew dark. The moon swam out. +Cautiously, looking around and listening, the fox crept out of his lair, +raised his nose, and sniffed. He at once smelled the odour of +horseflesh, and ran at a slow trot to the place, and suddenly stopped +and pricked his ears: the shrewd one saw that there was a mound there +which had not been in that spot the previous evening. This mound +apparently vexed him, and made him think; he took a large circle around +it, and sniffed and listened, and sat down, and for a long time looked +at the meat from a distance, so that the hunter could not shoot him,--it +was too far. The fox thought and thought, and suddenly ran at full speed +between the meat and the mound. Our hunter was careful, and did not +shoot. He knew that the sneak was merely trying to find out whether +anybody was sitting behind that mound; if he had shot at the running +fox, he would certainly have missed him, and then he would not have seen +the sneak, any more than he could see his own ears. Now the fox quieted +down,--the mound no longer disturbed him: he walked briskly up to the +meat, and ate it with great delight. Then the hunter aimed carefully, +without haste, so that he might not miss him. Bang! The fox jumped up +from pain and fell down dead." + +Everything is arbitrary here: it is an arbitrary invention to say that a +fox could carry off a peasant's duck in winter, that peasants trap +foxes, that a fox sleeps in the daytime in his lair (for he sleeps only +at night); arbitrary is that hole which is uselessly dug in winter and +covered with boards without being made use of; arbitrary is the +statement that the fox eats horseflesh, which he never does; arbitrary +is the supposed cunning of the fox, who runs past the hunter; arbitrary +are the mound and the hunter, who does not shoot for fear of missing, +that is, everything, from beginning to end, is bosh, for which any +peasant boy might arraign the author of the story, if he could talk +without raising his hand. + +Then a whole series of so-called exercises in Mr. Bunákov's lessons is +composed of such questions as: "Who bakes? Who chops? Who shoots?" to +which the pupil is supposed to answer: "The baker, the wood-chopper, and +the marksmen," whereas he might just as correctly answer that the woman +bakes, the axe chops, and the teacher shoots, if he has a gun. Another +arbitrary statement in that book is that the throat is a part of the +mouth, and so on. + +All the other exercises, such as "The ducks fly, and the dogs?" or "The +linden and birch are trees, and the horse?" are quite superfluous. +Besides, it must be observed that if such conversations are really +carried on with the pupils (which never happens) that is, if the pupils +are permitted to speak and ask questions, the teacher, choosing simple +subjects (they are most difficult), is at each step perplexed, partly +through ignorance, and partly because _ein Narr kann mehr fragen, als +zehn Weise antworten_. + +Exactly the same takes place in the instruction of arithmetic, which is +based on the same pedagogical principle. Either the pupils are informed +in the same way of what they already know, or they are quite arbitrarily +informed of combinations of a certain character that are not based on +anything. The lesson mentioned above and all the other lessons up to ten +are merely information about what the children already know. If they +frequently do not answer questions of that kind, this is due to the fact +that the question is either wrongly expressed in itself, or wrongly +expressed as regards the children. The difficulty which the children +encounter in answering a question of that character is due to the same +cause which makes it impossible for the average boy to answer the +question: Three sons were to Noah,[1]--Shem, Ham, and Japheth,--who was +their father? The difficulty is not mathematical, but syntactical, which +is due to the fact that in the statement of the problem and in the +question there is not one and the same subject; but when to the +syntactical difficulty there is added the awkwardness of the proposer of +the problems in expressing himself in Russian, the matter becomes of +greater difficulty still to the pupil; but the trouble is no longer +mathematical. + + [Footnote 1: The Russian way of saying "Noah had three sons."] + +Let anybody understand at once Mr. Evtushévski's problem: "A certain boy +had four nuts, another had five. The second boy gave all his nuts to the +first, and this one gave three nuts to a third, and the rest he +distributed equally to three other friends. How many nuts did each of +the last get?" Express the problem as follows: "A boy had four nuts. He +was given five more. He gave away three nuts, and the rest he wants to +give to three friends. How many can he give to each?" and a child of +five years of age will solve it. There is no problem here at all, but +the difficulty may arise only from a wrong statement of the problem, or +from a weak memory. And it is this syntactical difficulty, which the +children overcome by long and difficult exercises, that gives the +teacher cause to think that, teaching the children what they know +already, he is teaching them anything at all. Just as arbitrarily are +the children taught combinations in arithmetic and the decomposition of +numbers according to a certain method and order, which have their +foundation only in the fancy of the teacher. Mr. Evtushévski says: + +"Four. (1) The formation of the number. On the upper border of the board +the teacher places three cubes together--I I I. How many cubes are there +here? Then a fourth cube is added. And how many are there now? I I I I. +How are four cubes formed from three and one? We have to add one cube to +the three. + +"(2) Decomposition into component parts. How can four cubes be formed? +or, How can four cubes be broken up? Four cubes may be broken up into +two and two: II + II. Four cubes may be formed from one, and one, and +one, and one more, or by taking four times one cube: I + I + I + I. Four +cubes may be broken up into three and one: III + I. It may be formed +from one, and one, and two: I + I + II. Can four cubes be put together +in any other way? The pupils convince themselves that there can be no +other decomposition, distinct from those already given. If the pupils +begin to break the four cubes in this way: one, two, and one, or, two, +one and one; or, one and three, the teacher will easily point out to +them that these decompositions are only repetitions of what has been got +before, only in a different order. + +"Every time, whenever the pupils indicate a new method of decomposition, +the teacher places the cubes on a ledge of the blackboard in the manner +here indicated. Thus there will be four cubes on the upper ledge; two +and two in a second place; in a third place the four cubes will be +separated at some distance from each other; in a fourth place, three and +one, and in a fifth one, one, and two. + +"(3) Decomposition in order. It may easily happen that the children will +at once point out the decomposition of the number into component parts +in order; even then the third exercise cannot be regarded as +superfluous: Here we have formed four cubes of twos, of separate cubes, +and of threes,--in what order had we best place the cubes on the board? +With what shall the decomposition of the four cubes begin? With the +decomposition into separate cubes. How are four cubes to be formed from +separate cubes? We must take four times one cube. How are four cubes to +be formed from twos, from a pair? We must take two twos,--twice two +cubes, two pairs of cubes. How shall we afterward break up the four +cubes? They can be formed of threes: for this purpose we take three and +one, or one and three. The teacher explains to the pupils that the last +decomposition, that is, 1 1 2, does not come under the accepted order, +and is a modification of one of the first three." + +Why does Mr. Evtushévski not admit this last decomposition? Why must +there be the order indicated by him? All that is a matter of mere +arbitrariness and fancy. In reality, it is apparent to every thinking +man that there is only one foundation for any composition and +decomposition, and for the whole of mathematics. Here is the +foundation: 1 + 1 = 2, 2 + 1 = 3, 3 + 1 = 4, and so forth,--precisely +what the children learn at home, and what in common parlance is called +counting to ten, to twenty, and so forth. This process is known to every +pupil, and no matter what decomposition Mr. Evtushévski may make, it is +to be explained from this one. A boy that can count to four, considers +four as a whole, and so also three, and two, and one. Consequently, he +knows that four was produced from the consecutive addition of one. +Similarly he knows that four is produced by adding twice one to two, +just as he knows twice one is two. What, then, are the children taught +here? That which they know, or that process of counting which they must +learn according to the teacher's fancy. + +The other day I happened to witness a lesson in mathematics according to +Grube's method. The pupil was asked: "How much is 8 and 7?" He hastened +to answer and said 16. His neighbour, too, was in a hurry and, without +raising his left hand, said: "8 and 8 is 16, and one less is 15." The +teacher sternly stopped him, and compelled the first boy to add one +after one to 8, until he came to 15, though the boy knew long ago that +he had made a blunder. In that school they had reached the number 15, +but 16 was supposed to be unknown yet. + +I am afraid that many people, reading all these long refutals of the +methods of object instruction and counting according to Grube, which I +am making, will say: "What is there here to talk about? Is it not +evident that it is all mere nonsense which it is not worth while to +criticize? Why pick out the errors and blunders of a Bunákov and +Evtushévski, and criticize what is beneath all criticism?" + +That was the way I myself thought before I was led to see what was going +on in the pedagogical world, when I convinced myself that Messrs. +Bunákov and Evtushévski were not mere individuals, but authorities in +our pedagogics, and that what they prescribe is actually carried out in +our schools. In the backwoods we may find teachers, especially women, +who spread Evtushévski's and Bunákov's manuals out before them and ask +according to their prescription how much one feather and one feather is, +and what a hen is covered with. All that would be funny if it were only +an invention of the theorist, and not a guide in practical work, a guide +that some follow already, and if it did not concern one of the most +important affairs of life,--the education of the children. I was amused +at it when I read it as theoretical fancies; but when I learned and saw +that that was being practised on children, I felt pity for them and +ashamed. + +From a theoretical standpoint, not to mention the fact that they +faultily define the aim of education, the pedagogues of this school make +this essential error, that they depart from the conditions of all +instruction, whether this instruction be on the highest or lowest stage +of the science, in a university or in a popular school. The essential +conditions of all instruction consist in selecting the homogeneous +phenomena from an endless number of heterogeneous phenomena, and in +imparting the laws of these phenomena to the students. Thus, in the +study of language, the pupils are taught the laws of the word, and in +mathematics, the laws of the numbers. The study of language consists in +imparting the laws of the decomposition and of the reverse composition +of sentences, words, syllables, sounds,--and these laws form the subject +of instruction. The instruction of mathematics consists in imparting the +laws of the composition and decomposition of the numbers (but I beg to +observe,--not in the process of the composition and the decomposition of +the numbers, but in imparting the laws of that composition and +decomposition). Thus, the first law consists in the ability of regarding +a collection of units as a unit of a higher order, precisely what a +child does when he says: "2 and 1 = 3." He regards 2 as a kind of unit. +On this law are based the consequent laws of numeration, then of +addition, and of the whole of mathematics. But arbitrary conversations +about the wasp, and so forth, or problems within the limit of 10,--its +decomposition in every manner possible,--cannot form a subject of +instruction, because, in the first place, they transcend the subject +and, in the second place, because they do not treat of its laws. + +That is the way the matter presents itself to me from its theoretical +side; but theoretical criticism may frequently err, and so I will try to +verify my deductions by means of practical data. G---- P---- has given +us a sample of the practical results of both object instruction and of +mathematics according to Grube's method. One of the older boys was told: +"Put your hand under your book!" in order to prove that he had been +taught the conceptions of "over" and "under," and the intelligent boy, +who, I am sure, knew what "over" and "under" was, when he was three +years old, put his hand on the book when he was told to put it under it. +I have all the time observed such examples, and they prove more clearly +than anything else how useless, strange, and disgraceful, I feel like +saying, this object instruction is for Russian children. A Russian child +cannot and will not believe (he has too much respect for the teacher and +for himself) that the teacher is in earnest when he asks him whether the +ceiling is above or below, or how many legs he has. In arithmetic, too, +we have seen that pupils who did not even know how to write the numbers +and during the whole time of the instruction were exercised only in +mental calculations up to 10, for half an hour did not stop blundering +in every imaginable way in response to questions which the teacher put +to them within the limit of 10. Evidently the instruction of mental +calculation brought no results, and the syntactical difficulty, which +consists in unravelling a question that is improperly put, has remained +the same as ever. And thus, the practical results of the examination +which took place did not confirm the usefulness of the development. + +But I will be more exact and conscientious. Maybe the process of +development, which at first is confined not so much to the study, as to +the analysis of what the pupils know already, will produce results later +on. Maybe the teacher, who at first takes possession of the pupils' +minds by means of the analysis, later guides them firmly and with ease, +and from the narrow sphere of the descriptions of a table and the count +of 2 and 1 leads them into the real sphere of knowledge, in which the +pupils are no longer confined to learning what they know already, but +also learn something new, and learn that new information in a new, more +convenient, more intelligent manner. This supposition is confirmed by +the fact that all the German pedagogues and their followers, among them +Mr. Bunákov, say distinctly that object instruction is to serve as an +introduction to "home science" and "natural science." But we should be +looking in vain in Mr. Bunákov's manual to find out how this "home +science" is to be taught, if by this word any real information is to be +understood, and not the descriptions of a hut and a vestibule,--which +the children know already. Mr. Bunákov, on page 200, after having +explained that it is necessary to teach where the ceiling is and where +the stove, says briefly: + +"Now it is necessary to pass over to the third stage of object +instruction, the contents of which have been defined by me as follows: +The study of the country, county, Government, the whole realm with its +natural products and its inhabitants, in general outline, as a sketch of +home science and the beginning of natural science, with the predominance +of reading, which, resting on the immediate observations of the first +two grades, broadens the mental horizon of the pupils,--the sphere of +their concepts and ideas. We can see from the mere definition that here +the objectivity appears as a complement to the explanatory reading and +narrative of the teacher,--consequently, what is said in regard to the +occupations of the third year has more reference to the discussion of +the second occupation, which enters into the composition of the subject +under instruction, which is called the native language,--the explanatory +reading." + +We turn to the third year,--the explanatory reading, but there we find +absolutely nothing to indicate how the new information is to be +imparted, except that it is good to read such and such books, and in +reading to put such and such questions. The questions are extremely +queer (to me, at least), as, for example, the comparison of the article +on water by Ushínski and of the article on water by Aksákov, and the +request made of the pupils that they should explain that Aksákov +considers water as a phenomenon of Nature, while Ushínski considers it +as a substance, and so forth. Consequently, we find here again the same +foisting of views on the pupils, and of subdivisions (generally +incorrect) of the teacher, and not one word, not one hint, as to how any +new knowledge is to be imparted. + +It is not known what shall be taught: natural history, or geography. +There is nothing there but reading with questions of the character I +have just mentioned. On the other side of the instruction about the +word,--grammar and orthography,--we should just as much be looking in +vain for any new method of instruction which is based on the preceding +development. Again the old Perevlévski's grammar, which begins with +philosophical definitions and then with syntactical analysis, serves as +the basis of all new grammatical exercises and of Mr. Bunákov's manual. + +In mathematics, too, we should be looking in vain, at that stage where +the real instruction in mathematics begins, for anything new and more +easy, based on the whole previous instruction of the exercises of the +second year up to 20. Where in arithmetic the real difficulties are met +with, where it becomes necessary to explain the subject from all its +sides to the pupil, as in numeration, in addition, subtraction, +division, in the division and multiplication of fractions, you will not +find even a shadow of anything easier, any new explanation, but only +quotations from old arithmetics. + +The character of this instruction is everywhere one and the same. The +whole attention is directed toward teaching the pupil what he already +knows. And since the pupil knows what he is being taught, and easily +recites in any order desired what he is asked to recite by the teacher, +the teacher thinks that he is really teaching something, and the pupil's +progress is great, and the teacher, paying no attention to what forms +the real difficulty of teaching, that is, to teaching something new, +most comfortably stumps about in one spot. + +This explains why our pedagogical literature is overwhelmed with manuals +for object-lessons, with manuals about how to conduct kindergartens (one +of the most monstrous excrescences of the new pedagogy), with pictures +and books for reading, in which are eternally repeated the same articles +about the fox and the blackcock, the same poems which for some reason +are written out in prose in all kinds of permutations and with all kinds +of explanations; but we have not a single new article for children's +reading, not one Russian, nor Church-Slavic grammar, nor a Church-Slavic +dictionary, nor an arithmetic, nor a geography, nor a history for the +popular schools. All the forces are absorbed in writing text-books for +the instruction of children in subjects they need not and ought not to +be taught in school, because they are taught them in life. Of course, +there is no end to the writing of such books; for there can be only one +grammar and arithmetic, but of exercises and reflections, like those I +have quoted from Bunákov, and of the orders of the decomposition of +numbers from Evtushévski, there may be an endless number. + +Pedagogy is in the same condition in which a science would be that would +teach how a man ought to walk; and people would try to discover rules +about how to teach the children, how to enjoin them to contract this +muscle, stretch that muscle, and so forth. This condition of the new +pedagogy results directly from its two fundamental principles: (1) that +the aim of the school is development and not science, and (2) that +development and the means for attaining it may be theoretically defined. +From this has consistently resulted that miserable and frequently +ridiculous condition in which the whole matter of the schools now is. +Forces are wasted in vain, and the masses, who at the present moment are +thirsting for education, as the dried-up grass thirsts for rain, and are +ready to receive it, and beg for it,--instead of a loaf receive a stone, +and are perplexed to understand whether they were mistaken in regarding +education as something good, or whether something is wrong in what is +being offered to them. That matters are really so there cannot be the +least doubt for any man who becomes acquainted with the present theory +of teaching and knows the actual condition of the school among the +masses. Involuntarily there arises the question: how could honest, +cultured people, who sincerely love their work and wish to do good,--for +such I regard the majority of my opponents to be,--have arrived at such +a strange condition and be in such deep error? + +This question has interested me, and I will try to communicate those +answers which have occurred to me. Many causes have led to it. The most +natural cause which has led pedagogy to the false path on which it now +stands, is the criticism of the old order, the criticism for the sake of +criticism, without positing new principles in the place of those +criticized. Everybody knows that criticizing is an easy business, and +that it is quite fruitless and frequently harmful, if by the side of +what is condemned one does not point out the principles on the basis of +which this condemnation is uttered. If I say that such and such a thing +is bad because I do not like it, or because everybody says that it is +bad, or even because it is really bad, but do not know how it ought to +be right, the criticism will always be useless and injurious. The views +of the pedagogues of the new school are, above all, based on the +criticism of previous methods. Even now, when it seems there would be no +sense in striking a prostrate person, we read and hear in every manual, +in every discussion, "that it is injurious to read without +comprehension; that it is impossible to learn by heart the definitions +of numbers and operations with numbers; that senseless memorizing is +injurious; that it is injurious to operate with thousands without being +able to count 2-3," and so forth. The chief point of departure is the +criticism of the old methods and the concoction of new ones to be as +diametrically opposed to the old as possible, but by no means the +positing of new foundations of pedagogy, from which new methods might +result. + +It is very easy to criticize the old-fashioned method of studying +reading by means of learning by heart whole pages of the psalter, and of +studying arithmetic by memorizing what a number is, and so forth. I will +remark, in the first place, that nowadays there is no need of attacking +these methods, because there will hardly be found any teachers who would +defend them, and, in the second place, that if, criticizing such +phenomena, they want to let it be known that I am a defender of the +antiquated method of instruction, it is no doubt due to the fact that my +opponents, in their youth, do not know that nearly twenty years ago I +with all my might and main fought against those antiquated methods of +pedagogy and coöperated in their abolition. + +And thus it was found that the old methods of instruction were not good +for anything, and, without building any new foundation, they began to +look for new methods. I say "without building any new foundation," +because there are only two permanent foundations of pedagogy: + +(1) The determination of the criterion of what ought to be taught, and +(2) the criterion of how it has to be taught, that is, the determination +that the chosen subjects are most necessary, and that the chosen method +is the best. + +Nobody has even paid any attention to these foundations, and each school +has in its own justification invented quasi-philosophical justificatory +reflections. But this "theoretical substratum," as Mr. Bunákov has +accidentally expressed himself quite well, cannot be regarded as a +foundation. For the old method of instruction possessed just such a +theoretical substratum. + +The real, peremptory question of pedagogy, which fifteen years ago I +vainly tried to put in all its significance, "Why ought we to know this +or that, and how shall we teach it?" has not even been touched. The +result of this has been that as soon as it became apparent that the old +method was not good, they did not try to find out what the best method +would be, but immediately set out to discover a new method which would +be the very opposite of the old one. They did as a man may do who finds +his house to be cold in winter and does not trouble himself about +learning why it is cold, or how to help matters, but at once tries to +find another house which will as little as possible resemble the one he +is living in. I was then abroad, and I remember how I everywhere came +across messengers roving all over Europe in search of a new faith, that +is, officials of the ministry, studying German pedagogy. + +We have adopted the methods of instruction current with our nearest +neighbours, the Germans, in the first place, because we are always +prone to imitate the Germans; in the second, because it was the most +complicated and cunning of methods, and if it comes to taking something +from abroad, of course, it has to be the latest fashion and what is most +cunning; in the third, because, in particular, these methods were more +than any others opposed to the old way. And thus, the new methods were +taken from the Germans, and not by themselves, but with a theoretical +substratum, that is, with a quasi-philosophical justification of these +methods. + +This theoretical substratum has done great service. The moment parents +or simply sensible people, who busy themselves with the question of +education, express their doubt about the efficacy of these methods, they +are told: "And what about Pestalozzi, and Diesterweg, and Denzel, and +Wurst, and methodics, heuristics, didactics, concentrism?" and the bold +people wave their hands, and say: "God be with them,--they know better." +In these German methods there also lay this other advantage (the cause +why they stick so eagerly to this method), that with it the teacher does +not need to try too much, does not need to go on studying, does not need +to work over himself and the methods of instruction. For the greater +part of the time the teacher teaches by this method what the children +know, and, besides, teaches it from a text-book, and that is convenient. +And unconsciously, in accordance with an innate human weakness, the +teacher is fond of this convenience. It is very pleasant for me, with my +firm conviction that I am teaching and doing an important and very +modern work, to tell the children from the book about the suslik, or +about a horse's having four legs, or to transpose the cubes by twos and +by threes, and ask the children how much two and two is; but if, instead +of telling about the suslik, the teacher had to tell or read something +interesting, to give the foundations of grammar, geography, sacred +history, and of the four operations, he would at once be led to working +over himself, to reading much, and to refreshing his knowledge. + +Thus, the old method was criticized, and a new one was taken from the +Germans. This method is so foreign to our Russian un-pedantic mental +attitude, its monstrosity is so glaring, that one would think that it +could never have been grafted on Russia, and yet it is being applied, +even though only in a small measure, and in some way gives at times +better results than the old church method. This is due to the fact that, +since it was taken in our country (just as it originated in Germany) +from the criticism of the old method, the faults of the former method +have really been rejected, though, in its extreme opposition to the old +method, which, with the pedantry characteristic of the Germans, has been +carried to the farthest extreme, there have appeared new faults, which +are almost greater than the former ones. + +Formerly reading was taught in Russia by attaching to the consonants +useless endings (_buki_--_uki_, _vyedi_--_yedi_), and in Germany _es em +de ce_, and so forth, by attaching a vowel to each consonant, now in +front, and now behind, and that caused some difficulty. Now they have +fallen into the other extreme, by trying to pronounce the consonants +without the vowels, which is an apparent impossibility. In Ushínski's +grammar (Ushínski is with us the father of the sound method), and in all +the manuals on sound, a consonant is defined thus: "That sound which +cannot be pronounced by itself." And it is this sound which the pupil is +taught before any other. When I remarked that it is impossible to +pronounce _b_ alone, but that it always gives you _b[)u]_, I was told +that was due to the inability of some persons, and that it took great +skill to pronounce a consonant. And I have myself seen a teacher correct +a pupil more than ten times, though he seemed quite satisfactorily to +pronounce short _b_, until at last the pupil began to talk nonsense. And +it is with these _b's_, that is, sounds that cannot be pronounced, as +Ushínski defines them, or the pronunciation of which demands special +skill, that the instruction of reading begins according to the pedantic +German manuals. + +Formerly syllables were senselessly learned by heart (that was bad); +diametrically opposed to this, the new fashion enjoins us not to divide +up into syllables at all, which is absolutely impossible in a long word, +and which in reality is never done. Every teacher, according to the +sound method, feels the necessity of letting a pupil rest after a part +of a word, having him pronounce it separately. Formerly they used to +read the psalter, which, on account of its high and deep style, is +incomprehensible to the children (which was bad); in contrast to this +the children are made to read sentences without any contents whatever, +to explain intelligible words, or to learn by heart what they cannot +understand. In the old school the teacher did not speak to the pupil at +all; now the teacher is ordered to talk to them on anything and +everything, on what they know already, or what they do not need to know. +In mathematics they formerly learned by heart the definition of +operations, but now they no longer have anything to do with operations, +for, according to Evtushévski, they reach numeration only in the third +year, and it is assumed that for a whole year they are to be taught +nothing but numbers up to ten. Formerly the pupils were made to work +with large abstract numbers, without paying any attention to the other +side of mathematics, to the disentanglement of the problem (the +formation of an equation). Now they are taught solving puzzles, forming +equations with small numbers before they know numeration and how to +operate with numbers, though experience teaches any teacher that the +difficulty of forming equations or the solution of puzzles are overcome +by a general development in life, and not in school. + +It has been observed--quite correctly--that there is no greater aid for +a pupil, when he is puzzled by a problem with large numbers, than to +give him the same problem with smaller numbers. The pupil, who in life +learns to grope through problems with small numbers, is conscious of the +process of solving, and transfers this process to the problem with large +numbers. Having observed this, the new pedagogues try to teach only the +solving of puzzles with small numbers, that is, what cannot form the +subject of instruction and is only the work of life. + +In the instruction of grammar the new school has again remained +consistent with its point of departure,--with the criticism of the old +and the adoption of the diametrically opposite method. Formerly they +used to learn by heart the definition of the parts of speech, and from +etymology passed over to syntax; now they not only begin with syntax, +but even with logic, which the children are supposed to acquire. +According to the grammar of Mr. Bunákov, which is an abbreviation of +Perevlévski's grammar, even with the same choice of examples, the study +of grammar begins with syntactical analysis, which is so difficult and, +I will say, so uncertain for the Russian language, which does not fully +comply with the classic forms of syntax. To sum up, the new school has +removed certain disadvantages, of which the chief are the superfluous +addition to the consonants and the memorizing of definitions, and in +this it is superior to the old method, and in reading and writing +sometimes gives better results; but, on the other hand, it has +introduced new defects, which are that the contents of the reading are +most senseless and that arithmetic is no longer taught as a study. + +In practice (I can refer in this to all the inspectors of schools, to +all the members of school councils, who have visited the schools, and to +all the teachers), in practice, in the majority of schools, where the +German method is prescribed, this is what takes place, with rare +exceptions. The children learn not by the sound system, but by the +method of letter composition; instead of saying _b_, _v_, they say +_b[)u]_, _v[)u]_, and break up the words into syllables. The object +instruction is entirely lost sight of, arithmetic does not proceed at +all, and the children have absolutely nothing to read. The teachers +quite unconsciously depart from the theoretical demands and fall in with +the needs of the masses. These practical results, which are repeated +everywhere, should, it seems, prove the incorrectness of the method +itself; but among the pedagogues, those that write manuals and prescribe +rules, there exists such a complete ignorance of and aversion to the +knowledge of the masses and their demands that the relation of reality +to these methods does not in the least impair the progress of their +business. It is hard to imagine the conception about the masses which +exists in this world of the pedagogues, and from which result their +method and all the consequent manner of instruction. + +Mr. Bunákov, in proof of how necessary the object instruction and +development is for the children of a Russian school, with extraordinary +naïveté adduces Pestalozzi's words: "Let any one who has lived among the +common people," he says, "contradict my words that there is nothing more +difficult than to impart any idea to these creatures. Nobody, indeed, +gainsays that. The Swiss pastors affirm that when the people come to +them to receive instruction they do not understand what they are told, +and the pastors do not understand what the people say to them. City +dwellers who settle in the country are amazed at the inability of the +country population to express themselves; years pass before the country +servants learn to express themselves to their masters." This relation of +the common people in Switzerland to the cultured class is assumed as the +foundation for just such a relation in Russia. + +I regard it as superfluous to expatiate on what is known to everybody, +that in Germany the people speak a special language, called +Plattdeutsch, and that in the German part of Switzerland this +Plattdeutsch is especially far removed from the German language, whereas +in Russia we frequently speak a bad language, while the masses always +speak a good Russian, and that in Russia it will be more correct to put +these words of Pestalozzi in the mouth of peasants speaking of the +teachers. A peasant and his boy will say quite correctly that it is very +hard to understand what those creatures, meaning the teachers, say. The +ignorance about the masses is so complete in this world of the +pedagogues that they boldly say that to the peasant school come little +savages, and therefore boldly teach them what is down and what up, that +a blackboard is placed on a stand, and that underneath it there is a +groove. They do not know that if the pupils asked the teacher, there +would turn up very many things which the teacher would not know; that, +for example, if you rub off the paint from the board, nearly any boy +will tell you of what kind of wood the board is made, whether of pine, +linden, or aspen, which the teacher cannot tell; that a boy will always +tell better than the teacher about a cat or a chicken, because he has +observed them better than the teacher; that instead of the problem about +the wagons the boy knows the problems about the crows, about the cattle, +and about the geese. (About the crows: There flies a flock of crows, and +there stand some oak-trees: if two crows alight on each, a crow will be +lacking; if one on each, an oak-tree will be lacking. How many crows and +how many oak-trees are there? About the cattle: For one hundred roubles +buy one hundred animals,--calves at half a rouble, cows at three +roubles, and oxen at ten roubles. How many oxen, cows, and calves are +there?) The pedagogues of the German school do not even suspect that +quickness of perception, that real vital development, that contempt for +everything false, that ready ridicule of everything false, which are +inherent in every Russian peasant boy,--and only on that account so +boldly (as I myself have seen), under the fire of forty pairs of +intelligent youthful eyes, perform their tricks at the risk of ridicule. +For this reason, a real teacher, who knows the masses, no matter how +sternly he is enjoined to teach the peasant children what is up and what +down, and that two and three is five, not one real teacher, who knows +the pupils with whom he has to deal, will be able to do that. + +Thus, the chief causes which have led us into such error are: (1) the +ignorance about the masses; (2) the involuntarily seductive ease of +teaching the children what they already know; (3) our proneness to +imitate the Germans, and (4) the criticism of the old, without putting +down a new, foundation. This last cause has led the pedagogues of the +new school to this, that, in spite of the extreme external difference of +the new method from the old, it is identical with it in its foundation, +and, consequently, in the methods of instruction and in the results. In +either method the essential principle consists in the teacher's firm and +absolute knowledge of what to teach and how to teach, and this knowledge +of his he does not draw from the demands of the masses and from +experience, but simply decides theoretically once for all that he must +teach this or that and in such a way, and so he teaches. The pedagogue +of the ancient school, which for briefness' sake I shall call the church +school, knows firmly and absolutely that he must teach from the +prayer-book and the psalter by making the children learn by rote, and he +admits no alterations in his methods; in the same manner the teacher of +the new, the German, school knows firmly and absolutely that he must +teach according to Bunákov and Evtushévski, begin with the words +"whisker" and "wasp," ask what is up and what down, and tell about the +favourite suslik, and he admits no alterations in his method. Both of +them base their opinion on the firm conviction that they know the best +methods. From the identity of the foundations arises also a further +similarity. If you tell a teacher of the church reading that it takes +the children a long time and causes them difficulty to acquire reading +and writing, he will reply that the main interest is not in the reading +and writing, but in the "divine instruction," by which he means the +study of the church books. The same you will be told by a teacher of +Russian reading according to the German method. He will tell you (all +say and write it) that the main question is not the rapidity of the +acquisition of the art of reading, writing, and arithmetic, but in the +"development." Both place the aim of instruction in something +independent of reading, writing, and arithmetic, that is, of science, in +something else, which is absolutely necessary. + +This similarity continues down to the minutest details. In either method +all instruction previous to the school, all knowledge acquired outside +the school, is not taken into account,--all entering pupils are regarded +as equally ignorant, and all are made to learn from the beginning. If a +boy who knows the letters and the syllables _a_, _be_, enters a church +school, he is made to change them to _buki-az_--_ba_. The same is true +of the German school. + +Just so, in either school it happens that some children cannot learn the +rudiments. + +Just so, with either method, the mechanical side of instruction +predominates over the mental. In either school the pupils excel in a +good handwriting and good enunciation with absolutely exact reading, +that is, not as it is spoken, but as it is written. Just so, with either +method, there always reigns an external order in the school, and the +children are in constant fear and can be guided only with the greatest +severity. Mr. Korolév has incidentally remarked that in instruction +according to the sound method blows are not neglected. I have seen the +same in the schools of the German method, and I assume that without +blows it is impossible to get along even in the new German school, +because, like the church school, it teaches without asking what the +pupil finds interesting to know, but what, in the teacher's opinion, +seems necessary, and so the school can be based only on compulsion. +Compulsion is attained with children generally by means of blows. The +church and the new German school, starting from the same principles and +arriving at the same results, are absolutely identical. But, if it came +to choosing one of the two, I should still prefer the church school. The +defects are the same, but on the side of the church school is the custom +of a thousand years and the authority of the church, which is so +powerful with the masses. + +Having finished the analysis and criticism of the German school, I +consider it necessary,--in view of what I have said, namely, that +criticism is fruitful only when, condemning, it points out how that +which is bad ought to be,--I consider it necessary to speak of those +foundations of instruction which I regard as legitimate, and on which I +rear my method of instruction. + +In order to elucidate in what I find these unquestionable foundations of +every pedagogical activity, I shall be compelled to repeat myself, that +is, to repeat what I said fifteen years ago in the pedagogical +periodical, _Yásnaya Polyána_, which I then published. This repetition +will not be tedious for the pedagogues of the new school, because what I +then wrote is not exactly forgotten, but has never been considered by +the pedagogues,--and yet I still think that just what was expressed by +me at that time might have placed pedagogy, as a theory, on a firm +foundation. Fifteen years ago, when I took up the matter of popular +education without any preconceived theories or views on the subject, +with the one desire to advance the matter in a direct and +straightforward manner, I, as a teacher in my school, was at once +confronted with two questions: (1) What must I teach? and (2) How must +I teach it? + +At that time, even as at the present, there existed the greatest +diversity of opinion in the answers to these questions. + +I know that some pedagogues, who are locked up in their narrow +theoretical world, think that there is no other light than what peeps +through the windows, and that there is no longer any diversity of +opinions. + +I ask those who think so to observe that it only seems so to them, just +as it seems so to the circles that are opposed to them. In the whole +mass of people who are interested in education, there exists, as it has +existed before, the greatest diversity of opinions. Formerly, just as +now, some, in reply to the question of what ought to be taught, said +that outside of the rudiments the most useful information for a primary +school is obtained from the natural sciences; others, even as now, that +that was not necessary, and was even injurious; even as now, some +proposed history, or geography, while others denied their necessity; +some proposed the Church-Slavic language and grammar, and religion, +while others found that, too, superfluous, and ascribed a prime +importance to "development." On the question of how to teach there has +always been a still greater diversity of answers. The most diversified +methods of instructing in reading and arithmetic have been proposed. + +In the bookstalls there were sold, side by side, the self-teachers +according to the _buki-az--ba_, Bunákov's lessons, Zolotóv's charts, +Madame Daragán's alphabets, and all had their advocates. When I +encountered these questions and found no answer for them in Russian +literature, I turned to the literature of Europe. After having read what +had been written on the subject and having made the personal +acquaintance of the so-called best representatives of the pedagogical +science in Europe, I not only failed to find anywhere an answer to the +question I was interested in, but I convinced myself that this question +does not even exist for pedagogy, as a science; that every pedagogue of +any given school firmly believed that the methods which he used were the +best, because they were based on absolute truth, and that it would be +useless for him to look at them with a critical eye. + +However, because, as I said, I took up the matter of popular education +without any preconceived notions, or because I took up the matter +without prescribing laws from a distance about how I ought to teach, but +became a schoolmaster in a village popular school in the backwoods,--I +could not reject the idea that there must of necessity exist a criterion +by means of which the question could be solved: What to teach and how to +teach it. Should I teach the psalter by heart, or the classification of +the organisms? Should I teach according to the sound alphabet, +translated from the German, or from the prayer-book? In the solution of +this question I was aided by a certain pedagogical tact, with which I am +gifted, and especially by that close and impassioned relation in which I +stood to the matter. + +When I entered at once into the closest direct relations with those +forty tiny peasants that formed my school (I call them tiny peasants +because I found in them the same characteristics of perspicacity, the +same immense store of information from practical life, of jocularity, +simplicity, and loathing for everything false, which distinguish the +Russian peasant), when I saw that susceptibility, that readiness to +acquire the information which they needed, I felt at once that the +antiquated church method of instruction had outlived its usefulness and +was not good for them. I began to experiment on other proposed methods +of instruction; but, because compulsion in education, both by my +conviction and by my character, are repulsive to me, I did not exercise +any pressure, and, the moment I noticed that something was not readily +received, I did not compel them, and looked for something else. From +these experiments it appeared to me and to those teachers who instructed +with me at Yásnaya Polyána and in other schools on the same principle of +freedom, that nearly everything which in the pedagogical world was +written about schools was separated by an immeasurable abyss from +reality, and that many of the proposed methods, such as object-lessons, +the natural sciences, the sound method, and others, called forth +contempt and ridicule, and were not accepted by the pupils. We began to +look for those contents and those methods which were readily taken up by +the pupils, and struck that which forms my method of instruction. + +But this method stood in a line with all other methods, and the question +of why it was better than the rest remained as unsolved as before. +Consequently, the question of what the criterion was as to what to teach +and how to teach received an even greater meaning for me; only by +solving it could I be convinced that what I taught was neither injurious +nor useless. This question both then and now has appeared to me as a +corner-stone of the whole pedagogy, and to the solution of this question +I devoted the publication of the pedagogical periodical _Yásnaya +Polyána_. In several articles (I do not renounce anything I then said) I +tried to put the question in all its significance and to solve it as +much as I could. At that time I found no sympathy in all the pedagogical +literature, not even any contradiction, but the most complete +indifference to the question which I put. There were some attacks on +certain details and trifles, but the question itself evidently did not +interest any one. I was young then, and that indifference grieved me. I +did not understand that with my question, "How do you know what to teach +and how to teach?" I was like a man who, let us say, in a gathering of +Turkish pashas discussing the question in what manner they may collect +the greatest revenue from the people, should propose to them the +following: "Gentlemen, in order to know how much revenue to collect from +each, we must first analyze the question on what your right to exact +that revenue is based." Obviously all the pashas would continue their +discussion of the measures of extortion, and would reply only with +silence to his irrelevant question. But the question cannot be +circumvented. Fifteen years ago no attention was paid to it, and the +pedagogues of every school, convinced that everybody else was talking to +the wind and that they were right, most calmly prescribed their laws, +basing their principles on philosophies of a very doubtful character, +which they used as a substratum for their wee little theories. + +And yet, this question is not quite so difficult if we only renounce +completely all preconceived notions. I have tried to elucidate and solve +this question, and, without repeating those proofs, which he who wishes +may read in the article, I will enunciate the results to which I was +led. "The only criterion of pedagogy is freedom, the only +method--experience." After fifteen years I have not changed my opinion +one hair's breadth; but I consider it necessary to define with greater +precision what I understand by these words, not only in respect to +education in general, but also in respect to the particular question of +popular education in a primary school. One hundred years ago the +question what to teach and how to teach could have had no place either +in Europe or with us. Education was inseparably connected with religion. +To learn reading meant to learn Holy Writ. In the Mohammedan countries +this relation of the rudiments and religion still persists in its full +force. To learn means to learn the Koran, and, therefore, Arabic. But +the moment religion ceased to be the criterion of what ought to be +taught, and the school became independent of it, this question had to +arise. But it did not arise because the school was not suddenly freed +from its dependence on religion, but by imperceptible steps. Now it is +accepted by everybody that religion cannot serve as the contents, nor as +an indication of the method of education, and that education has +different demands for its basis. In what do these demands consist? On +what are they based? In order that these principles should be +incontrovertible, it is necessary either that they be proved +philosophically, incontrovertibly, or that, at least, all educated +people should be agreed on them. But is it so? There can be no doubt +whatsoever about this, that in philosophy have not been found those +principles on which could be built up the decision of what ought to be +taught, the more so since the matter itself is not an abstract, but a +practical affair, which depends on an endless number of vital +conditions. Still less can these principles be discovered in the common +consent of all men who busy themselves with this matter, in the consent +which we may take as a practical foundation, as an expression of the +universal common sense. Not only in matters of popular, but even of +higher education do we see a complete diversity of opinions among the +best representatives of education, as, for example, in the question of +classicism and realism. And yet, in spite of the absence of any +foundations, we see education proceeding on its own path and on the +whole being guided by only one principle, namely by freedom. There exist +side by side the classical and the real school, each of which is +prepared to regard itself as the only natural school, and both satisfy +some want, for parents send their children to either. + +In the popular school the right to determine what the children shall +learn, no matter from what standpoint we may consider this question, +belongs just as much to the masses, that is, either to the pupils +themselves, or to the parents who send the children to school, and so +the answer to the question what the children are to be taught in a +popular school can be got only from the masses. But, perhaps, we shall +say that we, as highly cultured people, must not submit to the demands +of the rude masses and that we must teach the masses what to wish. Thus +many think, but to that I can give this one answer: give us a firm, +incontrovertible foundation why this or that is chosen by you, show me a +society in which the two diametrically opposed views on education do not +exist among the highly cultured people; where it is not eternally +repeated that if education falls into the hands of the clergy, the +masses are educated in one sense, and if education falls into the hands +of the progressists, the people are educated in another sense,--show me +a state of society where that does not exist, and I will agree with you. +So long as that does not exist, there is no criterion except the freedom +of the learner, where, in matters of the popular school, the place of +the learning children is taken by their parents, that is, by the needs +of the masses. + +These needs are not only definite, quite clear, and everywhere the same +throughout Russia, but also so intelligent and broad that they include +all the most diversified demands of the people who are debating what the +masses ought to be taught. These needs are: the knowledge of Russian and +Church-Slavic reading, and calculation. The masses everywhere and always +regard the natural sciences as useless trifles. Their programme is +remarkable not only by its unanimity and firm definiteness, but, in my +opinion, also by the breadth of its demands and the correctness of its +view. The masses admit two spheres of knowledge, the most exact and the +least subject to vacillation from a diversity of views,--the languages +and mathematics; everything else they regard as trifles. I think that +the masses are quite correct,--in the first place, because in this +knowledge there can be no half information, no falseness, which they +cannot bear, and, in the second, because the sphere of those two kinds +of knowledge is immense. Russian and Church-Slavic grammar and +calculation, that is, the knowledge of one dead and one living language, +with their etymological and syntactical forms and their literatures, and +arithmetic, that is, the foundation of all mathematics, form their +programme of knowledge, which, unfortunately, but the rarest of the +cultured class possess. In the third place, the masses are right, +because by this programme they will be taught in the primary school only +what will open to them the more advanced paths of knowledge, for it is +evident that the thorough knowledge of two languages and their forms, +and, in addition to them, of arithmetic, completely opens the paths to +an independent acquisition of all other knowledge. The masses, as though +feeling the false relation to them, when they are offered incoherent +scraps of all kinds of information, repel that lie from themselves, and +say: "I need know but this much,--the church language and my own and the +laws of the numbers, but that other knowledge I will take myself if I +want it." + +Thus, if we admit freedom as the criterion of what is to be taught, the +programme of the popular schools is clearly and firmly defined, until +the time when the masses shall express some new demands. Church-Slavic +and Russian and arithmetic to their highest possible stages, and nothing +else but that. That is the determination of the limits of the programme +of the popular school, which, however, does not presume that all three +subjects be introduced systematically. With such a programme the +attainment of symmetrical results in all three subjects would naturally +be desirable; but it cannot be said that the predominance of one subject +over another would be injurious. The problem consists only in keeping +within the limits of the programme. It may happen that from the demands +of the parents, and especially from the knowledge of the teacher, this +or that subject will be more prominent,--with a clerical person the +Church-Slavic language, with a teacher from a county school--either +Russian or arithmetic; in all these cases the demands of the masses will +be satisfied, and the instruction will not depart from its fundamental +criterion. + +The second part of the question, how to teach, that is, how to discover +which method is the best, has remained just as unsolved. + +Just as in the first part of the question of what to teach, the +assumption that on the basis of reflections it is possible to build a +programme of instruction leads to contradictory schools, so it is also +with the question as to how to teach. Let us take the very first +stage of the teaching of reading. One asserts that it is easier to +teach so from cards; another--according to the _b_, _v_ system; a +third--according to Korf; a fourth--according to the _be_, _ve_, _ge_ +system, and so forth. It is said that the nuns teach reading in six +weeks by the _buki-az_--_ba_ system. And every teacher, convinced of the +superiority of his method, proves this superiority either by the fact +that he teaches with it faster than others, or by reflections of the +character which Mr. Bunákov and the German pedagogues adduce. At the +present time, when there are thousands of examples, we ought to know +precisely by what to be guided in our choice. Neither theory, nor +reflections, nor even the results of instruction can show this +completely. + +Education and instruction are generally considered in the abstract, that +is, the question is discussed how in the best and easiest manner to +produce a certain act of instruction on a certain subject (whether it be +one child or a mass of children). This view is quite faulty. All +education and instruction can be viewed only as a certain relation of +two persons or of two groups of persons having for their aim education +or instruction. This definition, more general than all the other +definitions, has special reference to popular education, where the +question is the education of an immense number of persons, and where +there can be no question about an ideal education. In general, with the +popular education we cannot put the question, "How is the best education +to be given?" just as with the question of the nutrition of the masses +we cannot ask how the most nutritious and best loaf is to be baked. The +question has to be put like this: "How is the best relation to be +established between given people who want to learn and others who want +to teach?" or, "How is the best bread to be made from given bolted +flour?" Consequently the question of how to teach and what is the best +method is a question of what will be the best relation between teacher +and pupil. + +Nobody, I suppose, will deny that the best relation between teacher and +pupil is that of naturalness, and that the contrary relation is that of +compulsion. If so, the measure of all methods is to be found in the +greater or lesser naturalness of relations and, therefore, in the lesser +or greater compulsion in instruction. The less the children are +compelled to learn, the better is the method; the more--the worse. I am +glad that I do not have to prove this evident truth. Everybody is agreed +that just as in hygiene the use of any food, medicine, exercise, that +provokes loathing or pain, cannot be useful, so also in instruction can +there be no necessity of compelling children to learn anything that is +tiresome and repulsive to them, and that, if necessity demands that +children be compelled, it only proves the imperfection of the method. +Any one who has taught children has no doubt observed that the less the +teacher himself knows the subject which he teaches and the less he likes +it, the more will he have to have recourse to severity and compulsion; +on the contrary, the more the teacher knows and loves his subject, the +more natural and easy will his instruction be. With the idea that for +successful instruction not compulsion is wanted, but the rousing of the +pupil's interest, all the pedagogues of the school which is opposed to +me agree. The only difference between us is that the conception that the +teaching must rouse the child's interest is with them lost in a mass of +other conflicting notions about "development," of the value of which +they are convinced and in which they exercise compulsion; whereas I +consider the rousing of the pupil's interest, the greatest possible +ease, and, therefore, the non-compulsion and naturalness of instruction +as the fundamental and only measure of good and bad instruction. + +Every progress of pedagogy, if we attentively consider the history of +this matter, consists in an ever increasing approximation toward +naturalness of relations between teacher and pupil, in a lessened +compulsion, and in a greater ease of instruction. + +The objection was formerly made and, I know, is made even now that it is +hard to find the limit of freedom which shall be permitted in school. To +this I will reply that this limit is naturally determined by the +teacher, his knowledge, his ability to manage the school; that this +freedom cannot be prescribed; the measure of this freedom is only the +result of the greater or lesser knowledge and talent of the teacher. +This freedom is not a rule, but serves as a check in comparing schools +between themselves, and as a check in comparing new methods which are +introduced into the school curriculum. The school in which there is less +compulsion is better than the one in which there is more. The method +which at its introduction into the school does not demand an increase of +discipline is good; but the one which demands greater severity is +certainly bad. Take, for example, a more or less free school, such as +mine was, and try to start a conversation in it about the table and the +ceiling, or to transpose cubes,--you will see what it hubbub will arise +in the school and how you will feel the necessity of restoring order by +means of severity; try to tell them an interesting story, or to give +them problems, or make one write on the board and let the others correct +his mistakes, and allow them to leave the benches, and you will find +them all occupied and there will be no naughtiness, and you will not +have to increase your severity,--and you may safely say that the method +is good. + +In my pedagogical articles I have given theoretical reasons why I find +that only the freedom of choice on the side of the learners as to what +they are to be taught and how can form a foundation of any instruction; +in practice I have always applied these rules in the schools under my +guidance, at first on a large scale, and later in narrower limits, and +the results have always been very good, both for the teachers and the +pupils, as also for the evolution of new methods,--and this I assert +boldly, for hundreds of visitors have come to the Yásnaya Polyána school +and know all about it. + +The consequences of such a relation to the pupils has been for the +teachers that they did not consider that method best which they knew, +but tried to discover other methods, became acquainted with other +teachers for the purpose of learning their methods, tested new methods, +and, above all, were learning something all the time. A teacher never +permitted himself to think that in cases of failure it was the pupils' +fault,--their laziness, playfulness, dulness, deafness, stammering,--but +was firmly convinced that he alone was to blame for it, and for every +failure of a pupil or of all the pupils he tried to find a remedy. For +the pupils the result was that they learned readily, always begged the +teachers to give them evening classes in the winter, and were absolutely +free in the school,--which, in my conviction and experience, is the +chief condition for successful progress in instruction. Between teachers +and pupils there were always established friendly, natural relations, +with which alone it is possible for the teacher to know his pupils well. +If, from a first, external impression of the school, we were to +determine the difference between the church, the German, and my own +school, it would be this: in a church school you hear a peculiar, +unnatural, monotonous shouting of all the pupils and now and then the +stern cries of the teacher; in the German school you hear only the +teacher's voice and now and then the timid voices of the pupils; in mine +you hear the loud voices of the teachers and the pupils, almost +simultaneously. + +As for the methods of instruction the consequences were that not one +method of instruction was adopted or rejected because it was liked or +not, but only because it was accepted or not by the pupils without +compulsion. But in addition to the good results which were always +obtained without fail from the application of my method by myself and by +everybody else (more than twenty teachers), who taught according to my +method ("without fail" I say for the reason that not once did we have a +pupil who did not learn the rudiments), besides these results, the +application of the principles of which I have spoken had the effect that +during these fifteen years all the various modifications, to which my +method was subjected, not only did not remove it from the needs of the +masses, but, on the contrary, brought it nearer and nearer to them. The +masses, at least in our parts, know the method itself and discuss it, +and prefer it to the church method, which I cannot say of the sound +method. In the schools which are conducted according to my method the +teacher cannot remain motionless in his knowledge, such as he is and +must be with the method of sounds. If a teacher according to the new +German fashion wants to go ahead and perfect himself, he has to follow +the pedagogical literature, that is, to read all those new inventions +about the conversations about the suslik and about the transposition of +the squares. I do not think that that can promote his personal +education. On the contrary, in my school, where the subjects of +instruction, language and mathematics, demand positive knowledge, every +teacher, in advancing his pupils, feels the need of learning himself, +which was constantly the case with all the teachers I had. + +Besides, the methods of instruction themselves, which are not settled +once for all, but always strive to be as easy and as simple as possible, +are modified and improved from the indications which the teacher +discovers in the relations of the learners to his instruction. + +The very opposite to this I see in what, unfortunately, takes place in +the schools of the German pattern, which of late have been introduced in +our country in an artificial manner. The failure to recognize that +before deciding what to teach and how to teach we must solve the +question how we can find that out has led the pedagogues to a complete +disagreement with reality, and the abyss which fifteen years ago was +felt to exist between theory and practice has now reached the farthest +limits. Now that the masses are on all sides begging for education, +while pedagogy has more than ever passed to personal fancies, this +discord has reached incredible proportions. + +This discord between the demands of pedagogy and reality has of late +found its peculiarly striking expression not only in the matter of +instruction itself, but also in another very important side of the +school, namely in its administration. In order to show in what condition +this matter has been and might be, I shall speak of Krapívensk County of +the Government of Túla, in which I live, which I know, and which, from +its position, forms the type of the majority of counties of central +Russia. + +In 1862 fourteen schools were opened in a district of ten thousand +souls, when I was rural judge; besides, there existed about ten schools +in the district among the clericals and in the manors among the +servants. In the three remaining districts of the county there were +fifteen large and thirty small schools among the clericals and manorial +servants. Without saying anything about the number of the learners, of +which, I assume, there were in general not less than now, nor about the +instruction itself, which was partly bad and partly good, but on the +whole not worse than at present, I will tell how and on what that +business was based. + +All schools were then, with few exceptions, based on a free agreement of +the teacher with the parents of the pupils, or with the whole +partnership of the peasants paying a lump sum for everybody. Such a +relation between the parents or Communes and the teachers is even now +met with in some exceedingly rare places of our county and of the +Government in general. Everybody will agree that, leaving aside the +question of the quality of instruction, such a relation of the teacher +to the parents and peasants is most just, natural, and desirable. But, +with the introduction of the law of 1864, this relation was abolished +and is being abolished more and more. Everybody who knows the matter as +it is will observe that with the abolition of this relation the people +take less and less part in the matter of their education, which is only +natural. In some County Councils the school tax of the peasants is even +turned into the County Council, and the salary, appointment of teachers, +location of schools,--all that is done quite independently of those for +whom it is intended (in theory the peasants, no doubt, are members of +the County Council, but in practice they have through this mediation no +influence on their own schools). Nobody will, I suppose, assert that +that is just, but some will say: "The illiterate peasants cannot judge +what is good and what bad, and we must build for them as well as we +can." But how do we know? Do we know firmly, are we all of one opinion, +how to build schools? And does it not frequently turn out bad, for we +have built much worse than they have? + +Thus, in relation to the administrative side of the schools I have again +to put a third question, on the same basis of freedom: Why do we know +how best to arrange a school? To this question German pedagogy gives an +answer which is quite consistent with its whole system. It knows what +the best school is, it has formed a clear, definite ideal, down to the +minutest details, the benches, the hours of instruction, and so forth, +and gives an answer: the school has to be such and such, according to +this pattern,--this alone is good and every other school is injurious. I +know that, although the desire of Henry IV. to give each Frenchman soup +and a chicken was unrealizable, it was impossible to say that the desire +was false. But the matter assumes an entirely different aspect when the +soup is of a very questionable quality and is not a chicken soup, but a +worthless broth. And yet the so-called science of pedagogy is in this +matter indissolubly connected with power; both in Germany and with us +there are prescribed certain ideal one-class, two-class schools, and so +forth; and the pedagogical and the administrative powers do not wish to +know the fact that the masses would like to attend to their own +education. Let us see how such a view of popular education has been +reflected in practice on the question of education. + +Beginning with the year 1862 the idea that education was necessary has +more and more spread among the masses: on all sides schools were +established by church servants, hired teachers, and the Communes. +Whether good or bad, these schools were spontaneous and grew out +directly from the needs of the masses; with the introduction of the law +of 1864 this tendency was increased, and in 1870 there were, according +to the reports, about sixty schools in Krapívensk County. Since then +officials of the ministry and members of the County Council have begun +to meddle more and more with school matters, and in Krapívensk County +forty schools have been closed and schools of a lower order have been +prohibited from being opened. I know that those who closed those schools +affirm that these schools existed only nominally and were very bad; but +I cannot believe it, because I know well-instructed pupils from three +villages, Trósna, Lamíntsovo, and Yásnaya Polyána, where schools were +closed. I also know—-and this will seem incredible to many—-what is +meant by prohibiting the opening of schools. It means that, on the basis +of a circular of the ministry of public instruction, which spoke of the +prohibition of unreliable teachers (this, no doubt, had reference to the +Nihilists), the school council transferred this prohibition to the minor +schools, taught by sextons, soldiers, and so forth, which the peasants +themselves had opened, and which, no doubt, are not at all comprised in +the circular. But, instead, there exist twenty schools with teachers, +who are supposed to be good because they receive a salary of two hundred +roubles in silver, and the County Council has distributed Ushínski's +text-books, and these schools are called one-class schools, because they +teach in them according to a programme, and the whole year around, that +is, also in summer, with the exception of July and August. + +Leaving aside the question of the quality of the former schools, we +shall now take a glance at their administrative side, and we will +compare, from this side, what was before, with what is now. In the +administrative, external side of the school there are five main +subjects, which are so closely connected with the school business itself +that on their good or bad structure depend to a great extent the success +and dissemination of popular education. These five subjects are: (1) the +school building, (2) the schedule of instruction, (3) the distribution +of the schools according to localities, (4) the choice of the teacher, +and--what is most important--(5) the material means, the remuneration of +the teachers. + +In regard to the school building the masses rarely have any difficulty, +when they start a school for themselves, and if the Commune is rich and +there are any communal buildings, such as a storehouse or a deserted +inn, the Commune fixes it up; if there is none, it buys a building, at +times even from a landed proprietor, or it builds one of its own. If the +Commune is not well-to-do and is small, it hires quarters from a +peasant, or establishes a rotation, and the teacher passes from hut to +hut. If the Commune, as it most generally does, selects a teacher from +its own midst, a manorial servant, a soldier, or a church servant, the +school is located at the house of that person, and the Commune looks +only after the heating. In any case, I have never heard that the +question of the location of the school ever troubled a Commune, or that +half the sum set aside for instruction should be lost, as is done by +school councils, on the buildings, nay, not even one-sixth or one-tenth +of the whole sum. The peasant Communes have arranged it one way or +another, but the question of the school building has never been regarded +as troublesome. Only under the influence of the higher authorities do +there occur cases where the Communes build brick buildings with iron +roofs. The peasants assume that the school is not in the structure, but +in the teacher, and that the school is not a permanent institution, but +that as soon as the parents have acquired knowledge, the next generation +will get the rudiments without a teacher. But the County Council +department of the ministry always assumes--since for it the whole +problem consists in inspecting and classifying--that the chief +foundation of the school is the structure and that the school is a +permanent establishment, and so, as far as I know, now spends about +one-half of its money on buildings, and inscribes empty school buildings +in the list of the schools of the third order. In the Krapívensk County +Council seven hundred roubles out of two thousand roubles are spent on +buildings. The ministerial department cannot admit that the teacher +(that educated pedagogue who is assumed for the masses) would lower +himself to such an extent as to be willing to go, like a tailor, from +hut to hut, or to teach in a smoky house. But the masses assume nothing +and only know that for their money they can hire whom they please, and +that, if they, the hiring peasants, live in smoky huts, the hired +teacher has no reason to turn up his nose at them. + +In regard to the second question, about the division of the school time, +the masses have always and everywhere invariably expressed one demand, +and that is that the instruction shall be carried on in the winter only. + +Everywhere the parents quit sending their children in the spring, and +those children who are left in the school, from one-fourth to one-fifth +of the whole number, are the little tots or the children of rich +parents, and they attend school unwillingly. When the masses hire a +teacher themselves, they always hire him by the month and only for the +winter. The ministerial department assumes that, just as in the +institutions of learning there are two months of vacation, so it ought +also to be in a one-class country school. From the standpoint of the +ministerial department that is quite reasonable: the children will not +forget their instruction, the teacher is provided for during the whole +year, and the inspectors find it more comfortable to travel in the +summer; but the masses know nothing about all that, and their common +sense tells them that in winter the children sleep for ten hours, +consequently their minds are fresh; that in winter there are no plays +and no work for the children, and that if they study in winter as long +as possible, taking in even the evenings, for which a lamp costing one +rouble fifty kopeks is needed and kerosene costing as much, there will +be enough instruction. Besides, in the summer every boy is of use to +the peasant, and in summer proceeds the life instruction, which is more +important than school learning. The masses say that there is no reason +why they should pay the teacher during the summer. "Rather will we +increase his pay for the winter months, and that will please him better. +We prefer to hire a teacher at twenty-five roubles a month for seven +months, than at twelve roubles a month for the whole year. For the +summer the teacher will hire himself out elsewhere." + +As to the third question, the distribution of the schools according to +localities, the arrangements of the masses most markedly differ from +those of the school council. In the first place, the distribution of the +schools, that is, whether there shall be more or less of them for a +certain locality, always depends on the character of the whole +population (when the masses themselves attend to it). Wherever the +masses are more industrial and work out, where they are nearer to the +cities, where they need the rudiments,--there there are more schools; +where the locality is more removed and agricultural, there there are +fewer of them. In the second place, when the masses themselves attend to +the matter, they distribute the schools in such a way as to give all the +parents a chance to make use of the schools in return for their money, +that is, to send their children to school. The peasants of small, remote +villages of from thirty to forty souls, where half the population will +be found, prefer to have a cheap teacher in their own village, than an +expensive one in the centre of the township, whither their children +cannot walk or be driven. By this distribution of the schools, the +schools themselves, as arranged by the peasants, depart, it is true, +from the required pattern of the school, but, instead, acquire the most +diversified forms, everywhere adapting themselves to local conditions. +Here a clerical person from a neighbouring village teaches eight boys at +his house, receiving fifty kopeks a month from each. Here a small +village hires a soldier for eight roubles for the winter, and he goes +from house to house. Here a rich innkeeper hires a teacher for his +children for five roubles and board, and the neighbouring peasants join +him, by adding two roubles for each of their boys. There a large village +or a compact township levies fifteen kopeks from each of the twelve +hundred souls and hires a teacher for 180 roubles for the winter. There +the priest teaches, receiving as a remuneration either money, or labour, +or both. The chief difference in this respect between the view of the +peasants and that of the County Council is this: the peasants, according +to the more or less favourable local conditions, introduce schools of a +better or worse quality, but always in such a way that there is not a +single locality where some kind of instruction is not offered; while +with the arrangement of the County Council a large half of the +population is left outside every possibility of partaking of that +education even in the distant future. + +In matters of the petty villages, forming one-half of the population, +the ministerial department acts most decisively. It says: "We provide +schools where there is a building and where the peasants of the township +have collected enough money to support a teacher at two hundred roubles. +We will contribute from the County Council what is wanting, and the +school is entered on the lists." The villages that are removed from the +school may send their children there, if they so wish. Of course, the +peasants do not take their children there, because it is too far, and +yet they pay. Thus, in the Yásenets township all pay for three schools, +but only 450 souls in three villages make use of the school, though +there are in all three thousand souls; thus, only one-seventh of the +population makes use of the school, though all pay for it. In the +Chermóshen township there are nine hundred souls and there is a school +there, but only thirty pupils attend it, because all the villages of +that township are scattered. To nine hundred souls there ought to be +four hundred pupils. And yet, both in the Yásenets and the Chermóshen +townships the question of the distribution of schools is regarded as +satisfactorily solved. + +In matters of the choice of a teacher, the masses are again guided by +quite different views from the County Council. In choosing a teacher, +the masses look upon him in their own way, and judge him accordingly. If +the teacher has been in the neighbourhood, and the masses know what the +results of his teaching are, they value him according to these results +as a good or as a bad teacher; but, in addition to the scholastic +qualities, the masses demand that the teacher shall be a man who stands +in close relations to the peasant, able to understand his life and to +speak Russian, and so they will always prefer a country to a city +teacher. In doing so, the masses have no bias and no antipathy toward +any class in particular: he may be a gentleman, official, burgher, +soldier, sexton, priest,--that makes no difference so long as he is a +simple man and a Russian. For this reason the peasants have no cause for +excluding clerical persons, as the County Councils do. The County +Councils select their teachers from among strangers, getting them from +the cities, while the masses look for them among themselves. But the +chief difference in this respect between the view of the Communes and +that of the County Council consists in this: the County Council has only +one type,--the teacher who has attended pedagogical courses, who has +finished a course in a seminary or school, at two hundred roubles; but +with the masses, who do not exclude this teacher and appreciate him, if +he is good, there are gradations of all kinds of teachers. Besides, with +the majority of school councils there are definite favourite types of +teachers, for the most part such as are foreign to the masses and +antagonistic to them, and other types which the school councils +dislike. Thus, evidently, the favourite type of many counties of the +Government of Túla are lady teachers; the disliked type are the clerical +persons, and in the whole of the Túla and Krapívensk counties there is +not one school with a teacher from the clergy, which is quite remarkable +from an administrative point of view. In Krapívensk County there are +fifty parishes. The clerical persons are the cheapest of teachers, +because they are permanently settled and for the most part can teach in +their own houses with the aid of their wives and daughters,--and these +are, it seems, purposely avoided, as though they were very harmful +people. + +In matters of the remuneration of the teachers, the difference between +the view of the masses and that of the County Council has almost all +been expressed in the preceding pages. It consists in this: (1) the +masses choose a teacher according to their means, and they admit and +know from experience that there are teachers at all prices, from two +puds of flour a month to thirty roubles a month; (2) teachers are to be +remunerated for the winter months, for those during which there can be +some instruction; (3) the masses, in the housing of the school as also +in matters of the remuneration of the teachers, always know how to find +a cheap way: they give flour, hay, the use of carts, eggs, and all kinds +of trifles, which are imperceptible to the world at large, but which +improve the teacher's condition; (4) above all, a teacher is paid, or is +remunerated in addition to the payment, by the parents of the pupils, +who pay by the month, or by the whole Commune which enjoys the +advantages of the school, and not by the administration that has no +direct interest in the matter. + +The ministerial department cannot act differently in this respect. The +norm of the salary for a model teacher is given, consequently these +means have to be got together in some way. For example: a Commune +intends to open a school,--the township gives it a certain number of +kopeks per soul. The County Council calculates how much to add. If there +are no demands made by other schools, it gives more, sometimes twice as +much as the Commune has given; at times, when all the money has been +distributed, it gives less, or entirely refuses to give any. Thus, there +is in Krapívensk County a Commune which gives ninety roubles, and the +County Council adds to that three hundred roubles for a school with an +assistant; and there is another Commune which gives 250 roubles, and the +County Council adds another fifty roubles; and a third Commune which +offers fifty-six roubles, and the County Council refuses to add anything +or to open the school, because that money is insufficient for a normal +school, and all the money has been distributed. + +Thus, the chief distinctions between the administrative view of the +masses and that of the County Council are the following: (1) the County +Council pays great attention to the housing and spends large sums upon +it, while the masses obviate this difficulty by domestic, economic +means, and look upon the primary schools as temporary, passing +institutions; (2) the ministerial department demands that instruction be +carried on during the whole year, with the exception of July and August, +and nowhere introduces evening classes, while the masses demand that +instruction be carried on only in the winter and are fond of evening +classes; (3) the ministerial department has a definite type of teachers, +without which it does not recognize the school, and has a loathing for +clerical persons and, in general, for local instructors; the masses +recognize no norm and choose their teachers preferably from local +inhabitants; (4) the ministerial department distributes the schools by +accident, that is, it is guided only by the desire of forming a normal +school, and has no care for that greater half of the population which +under such a distribution is left outside the school education; the +masses not only recognize no definite external form of the school, but +in the greatest variety of ways get teachers with all kinds of means, +arranging worse and cheaper schools with small means and good and +expensive schools with greater means, and turn their attention to +furnishing all localities with instruction in return for their money; +(5) the ministerial department determines one measure of remuneration, +which is sufficiently high, and arbitrarily increases the amount from +the County Council; the masses demand the greatest possible economy and +distribute the remuneration in such a way that those whose children are +taught pay directly. + +It seems as though it would be superfluous to expatiate on how clearly +the common sense of the masses is expressed in these demands, in +contradistinction to that artificial structure, in which, at its very +birth, they are trying to imprison the business of popular education. +Even besides this, the feeling of justice is involuntarily provoked +against such an order of things. See what is taking place. The masses +have felt the necessity of education, and have begun to work in the +direction of attaining their end. In addition to all the taxes which +they pay, they have voluntarily imposed upon themselves the tax for +education, that is, they have begun to hire teachers. What have we done? +"Oh, you are able to pay," we said, "wait, then, for you are stupid and +rude. Let us have the money, and we will arrange it for you in the best +manner possible." + +The masses have given up their money (as I have said, in many County +Councils the levy for the schools has been turned directly into a tax). +The money was taken, and the education was arranged for them. + +I am not going to repeat about the artificiality of the education, but +how the whole matter has been arranged. In Krapívensk County there are +forty thousand souls, including girls, according to the last census. +According to Bunyakóvski's table of the distribution of ten thousand of +the Orthodox population for the year 1862, there ought to be, of the +male sex between six and fourteen years, 1,834, and of the female sex, +1,989,--in all 3,823 to each ten thousand. According to my own +observations, there ought to be more, no doubt on account of the +increase of the population, so that the average school population may +boldly be put at four thousand. In a school there are, on an average, in +the large centres, about sixty pupils, and in the smaller, from ten to +twenty-five. In order that all may receive instruction, the smaller +centres, forming the greater half of the population, need schools for +ten, fifteen, and twenty pupils, so that the average of a school, in my +opinion, would be not more than thirty pupils. How many schools are, +then, needed for sixteen thousand pupils? Divide sixteen thousand by +thirty, and we get 530 schools. Let us assume that, although at the +opening of the schools all pupils from seven to fifteen years of age +will enter, not all will attend regularly for the period of eight years; +let us reject one-fourth, that is 130 schools and, consequently, 4,200 +pupils. Let us say that there are four hundred schools. Only twenty have +been opened. The County Council gives two thousand roubles and has added +one thousand roubles, making in all three thousand roubles. From some of +the peasants, not from all, fifteen kopeks are levied from each soul, in +all about four thousand roubles. On the building of schools seven +hundred roubles are spent, and on the pedagogical courses twelve hundred +roubles have been used in one year. But let us suppose that the County +Council will act quite simply and sensibly, and will not waste money on +pedagogical courses and other trifles; let us suppose that all peasants +will pay the new school tax of fifteen kopeks, what will the future of +this matter be? From the peasants six thousand, from the County Council +three thousand, in all nine thousand. Let us assume that ten more +schools will be added. Nine thousand roubles will barely suffice for the +support of these schools, and that only in case the school council will +act most prudently and economically. Consequently, with the County +Council administration, thirty schools to forty thousand of the +population are the highest limit of what the dissemination of the +schools in the county may reach. And this limit of the school business +can be attained only if the peasants will levy fifteen kopeks on each +soul, which is extremely doubtful, and if the disbursement of this money +will be in the hands of the peasants, and not of the County Council. I +do not speak of the possible increase of three thousand roubles, because +this increase of three thousand roubles partly falls back on those same +peasants, and on the other hand is not secured by anything, forming only +an accidental means. Thus, in order to bring the business of popular +education to the state in which it ought to be, that is, in order that +there shall be four hundred schools to the forty thousand of the +population, and in order that the schools shall not be a toy, but may +answer a real want of the masses, there is no other issue than that the +peasants be taxed, not fifteen kopeks, but three roubles a soul, in +order that the necessary three hundred roubles to each school be +obtained. Even then I do not see any reason for thinking that as many +schools as are needed would be built. + +Do we not see that now, when the simplest arithmetical calculation shows +that the only means for the success of the schools is the simplification +of methods, the simplicity and cheapness of the arrangement of the +school,--the pedagogues are busy, as though having made a wager to +concoct a most difficult, most complicated, and expensive (and, I must +add, most bad) instruction? In the manuals of Messrs. Bunákov and +Evtushévski I have figured up three hundred roubles' worth of aids to +instruction which, in their opinion, are absolutely necessary for the +establishment of a primary school. All they talk about in pedagogical +circles is how to prepare improved teachers in the seminaries, so that a +village might not be able to get them even for four hundred roubles. On +that road of perfection, on which pedagogy stands, it is quite apparent +to me that if 120,000 roubles were collected in a county, the pedagogues +would find use for them all in twenty schools, with adjustable tables, +seminaries for teachers, and so forth. Have we not seen that forty +schools were closed in Krapívensk County, and that those who closed them +were fully convinced that they thus advanced the cause of education, for +now they have twenty "good" schools? But what is most remarkable is that +those who express these demands are not in the least interested in +knowing whether the masses for whom they are preparing all these things +want them, and still less, who is going to pay for it all. But the +County Councils are so befogged by these demands that they do not see +the simple calculation and the simple justice. It is as though a man +asked me to buy him two puds of flour for a month, and I bought him for +that rouble a box of perfumed confectionery and reproached him for his +ignorance, because he was dissatisfied. + +As I wish to remain true to my rule that criticism should point out how +that which is not good ought to be, I shall try to show how the whole +school business ought to be arranged, if it is not to be a plaything, +and is to have a future. The answer is the same as to the first two +questions,--freedom. The masses must be given the freedom to arrange +their schools as they wish, and as little as possible should any one +interfere in their arrangement. Only with such a view of the matter will +all the obstacles to the dissemination of the schools be obviated, +though they have seemed insuperable. The chief obstacles are the +insufficiency of the means and the impossibility of increasing them. To +the first the masses reply that they are using all the measures at +their command to make the schools cost little; to the second they reply +that the means will always be found so long as they themselves are the +masters, and that they are not willing to increase the means for the +support of that which they do not need. + +The essential difference between the view of the people and of the +ministerial department consists in the following: (1) In the opinion of +the masses there is no one definite norm and form of the school, outside +and below which the school is not recognized, as is assumed by the +ministerial department; a school may be of any kind, either a very good +and expensive one, or a very poor and cheap one, but even in a very poor +one reading and writing may be learned, and, as in a richer parish a +better pope is appointed and a better church built, so also may a better +school be built in a wealthy village, and a poorer school in a less +well-to-do village; but just as one can pray equally well in a poor or +in a rich parish, even so it is with learning. (2) The masses regard as +the first condition of their education an even, equal distribution of +this education, though it be in its lowest stage, and then only they +propose a further, again an even, raising of the level of education, +while the ministerial department considers it necessary to give to a +certain chosen few, to one-twentieth of the whole number, a specimen of +education, to show them how nice it is. (3) The ministerial department, +either unable or purposely unwilling to calculate, has raised the +educational business to such a high, expensive level, and one which is +so foreign to the masses, that considering the high price at which the +education is acquired, no issue from that situation can be foreseen, and +the number of learners can never be increased; but the masses, who know +how to calculate, and who are interested in that calculation, have no +doubt long ago figured out what I have pointed out above, and see as +clear as daylight that those expensive schools, which cost as much as +four hundred roubles each, may be good indeed, but are not what they +need, and try in every way possible to diminish the expenses for their +schools. + +What, then, is to be done? How are the County Councils to act in order +that this business may not be a plaything and a pastime, but shall have +a future? Let them conform with the needs of the masses, and, so far as +possible, cheapen and free the forms of the school, and afford the +Communes the greatest possible power in the establishment of the +schools. + +For this it is necessary that the County Councils shall entirely abandon +the distribution of the taxes to the schools and the distribution of the +schools according to localities, but shall leave this distribution to +the peasants themselves. The determination of the pay to the teacher, +the hiring, purchase, or building of the house, the choice of place and +of the teacher himself,--all that ought to be left to the peasants. The +County Council, that is, the school council, should only demand that the +Communes inform it where and on what foundations schools have been +established, not in order that, upon learning the facts, it shall +prohibit them, as is done now, but in order that, learning about the +conditions under which the school exists, it may add (if the conditions +are in conformity with the demands of the council) from its County +Council's sums, for the support of the school newly founded, a certain, +definite part of what the school costs the Commune: a half, a third, a +fourth, according to the quality of the school and the means and wishes +of the County Council. Thus, for example, a village of twenty souls +hires a transient man at two roubles a month to teach the children. The +school council, that is, a person authorized by it, of whom I shall +speak later, upon receiving that information, invites the transient to +come to him, asks him what he knows and how he teaches, and, if the +transient is the least bit educated and does not represent anything +harmful, apportions to him the amount determined upon by the County +Council, one-half, one-third, or one-fourth, in precisely the same way +the school council proceeds in reference to a clerical person hired by +the Commune at five roubles per month, or in reference to a teacher +hired at fifteen roubles per month. Of course, that is the way the +school council acts in reference to the teachers hired by the Communes +themselves; but if the Communes turn to the school council, the latter +recommends to them teachers under the same conditions. But in doing so +the County Council must not forget that there should not be merely +teachers at two hundred roubles; the school council should be an +employment agency for teachers of every description and of every price, +from one rouble to thirty roubles a month. On buildings the school +council ought not to spend or add anything, because they are one of the +most unproductive items of expense. But the County Council ought not to +disdain, as it now does, teachers at two, three, four, five roubles per +month and locations in smoky huts or by rotation from farm to farm. + +The County Council ought to remember that the prototype of the school, +that ideal toward which it ought to tend, is not a stone building with +an iron roof, with blackboards and desks, such as we see in model +schools, but the very hut in which the peasant lives, with those benches +and tables on which he eats, and not a teacher in a Prince Albert or a +lady teacher in a chignon, but a male teacher in a caftan and shirt, or +a female teacher in a peasant skirt and with a kerchief on her head, and +not with one hundred pupils, but with five, six, or ten. + +The County Council must have no bias or antipathy for certain types of +teachers, as is the case at present. Thus, for example, the Túla County +Council just now has a special bias for the type of school-teachers from +the gymnasia and clerical schools, and the greater part of the schools +in Túla County are in their charge. In Krapívensk County there exists a +strange antipathy for teachers from the clerical profession, so that in +this county, where there are as many as fifty parishes, there is not one +clerical person employed as a teacher. The County Council, in proposing +a teacher, ought to be guided by two chief considerations: in the first +place, that the teacher should be as cheap as possible; in the second, +that by his education he should stand as near to the masses as possible. +Only thanks to the opposite view on the matter can be explained such an +inexplicable phenomenon as that in Krapívensk County (almost the same is +true of the whole Government and of the majority of Governments) there +are fifty parishes and twenty schools, and that for these twenty schools +there is not a single clerical teacher, although there is not a parish +where a priest, or a deacon, or a sexton, or their daughters and wives +could not be found, who would not be glad to do the teaching for +one-fourth the pay that the teachers coming from the city would be +willing to take. + +But I shall be told: What kind of schools will those be with bigots, +drunken soldiers, expelled scribes, and sextons? And what control can +there be over those formless schools? To this I will reply that, in the +first place, these teachers, bigots, soldiers, and sextons are not so +bad as they are imagined to be. In my school practice I often had to do +with pupils from these schools, and some of them could read fluently and +write beautifully, and soon abandoned the bad habits which they brought +with them from those schools. All of us know peasants who have learned +the rudiments in such schools, and it cannot be said that this learning +was useless or injurious. In the second place, I will say that teachers +of that calibre are especially bad because they are quite abandoned in +the backwoods and teach without any aid or instruction, and that now +there is not to be found a single one of the old teachers who would not +tell you with regret that he does not know the new methods and has +himself learned for copper pence, and that many of them, especially the +younger church servants, are quite willing to learn the new methods. +These teachers ought not to be rejected without further ado as +absolutely worthless. There are among them better and worse teachers +(and I have seen some very capable ones). They ought to be compared; the +better of them ought to be selected, encouraged, brought together with +other better teachers, and instructed,--which is quite feasible and +precisely the thing in which the duty of the school council is to +consist. + +But how are they to be controlled, watched, and taught, if they breed by +the hundred in each county? In my opinion the work of the County Council +and school council ought to consist in nothing but watching the +pedagogical side of the business, and that is feasible, if these means +will be taken: in every County Council, which has taken upon itself the +duty of the dissemination of popular education, or the coöperation with +it, there ought to be one person--whether it be an unpaid member of the +school council, or a man at a salary of not less than one thousand +roubles, hired by the County Council--who is to attend to the +pedagogical side of the business in the county. That person ought to +have a general, fresh education within the limits of a gymnasium course, +that is, he must know Russian thoroughly and Church-Slavic partly, +arithmetic and algebra thoroughly, and be a teacher, that is, know the +practice of pedagogy. This person must be freshly educated, because I +have observed that frequently the information of a man who has long ago +finished his course even in a university, and who has not refreshed his +education, is insufficient, not only for the guidance of teachers, but +even for the examination of a village school. This person must by all +means be a teacher himself in the same locality, in order that in his +demands and instructions he may always have in view that pedagogical +material with which the other teachers have to deal, and that he may +sustain in himself that live relation to reality which is the chief +preservative against error and delusion. If a County Council does not +possess such a man and does not wish to employ one, it has, in my +opinion, absolutely nothing to do with the popular education, except to +give money, because every interference with the administrative side of +the matter, in the way it is done now, can only be injurious. + +This member of the County Council, or the educated person hired by it, +must have the best model school, with an assistant, in the county. In +addition to conducting this school and applying to it all the newest +methods of instruction, this head teacher ought to keep an eye on all +the other schools. This school is not to be a model in the sense of +introducing into it all kinds of cubes and pictures and all kinds of +nonsense invented by the Germans, but the teacher in this school should +experiment on just such peasant children as the other schools consist +of, in order to determine the simplest methods which may be adopted by +the majority of the teachers, sextons, and soldiers, who form the bulk +of all the schools. Since with the arrangement which I propose there +will certainly be formed large complete schools in the larger centres +(as I think, in the proportion of one to twenty of all the other +schools), and in these large schools the teachers will be of a grade of +education equal to that of the seminarists who have finished a course in +a theological school, the head teacher will visit all these larger +schools, bring together these teachers on Sundays, point out to them the +defects, propose new methods, give counsel and books for their own +education, and invite them to his school on Sundays. The library of the +head teacher ought to consist of several copies of the Bible, of +Church-Slavic and Russian grammars, arithmetic, and algebra. The head +teacher, whenever he has time, will visit also the small schools and +invite their teachers to come to see him; but the duty of watching the +minor teachers is imposed on the older teachers, who just in the same +way visit their district and invite those teachers to come to see them +on Sundays and on week-days. The County Council either pays the teachers +for travelling, or, in adding its portion to what the Communes levy, +makes it a condition that the Communes furnish transportation. The +meetings of the teachers and the visits in similar or better schools are +one of the chief conditions for the successful conduct of the business +of education, and so the County Council ought to direct its main +attention to the organization of these meetings, and not spare any money +for them. + +Besides, in the large schools, where there will be more than fifty +pupils, there ought to be chosen, instead of the assistants which they +now have, such of the pupils, of either sex, as show marked ability for +a teacher's calling, and they should be made assistants, two or three in +each school. These assistants should receive a salary of fifty kopeks to +one rouble per month, and the teacher should work with them separately +in the evenings, so that they may not fall behind the others. These +assistants, chosen from among the best, are to form the future teachers, +to take the place of the lowest in the minor schools. + +Naturally the organization of these teachers' meetings, both for the +smaller and the larger schools, and the head teacher's visits of +inspection, and the formation of teachers from pupils acting as +assistants may take place in a large variety of ways; the main point is +that the surveillance of any number of schools (even though it may reach +the norm of one school to every one hundred souls) is possible in this +manner. With such an arrangement the teachers of both the large and the +small schools will feel that their labours are appreciated, that they +have not buried themselves in the backwoods without hope of salvation, +that they have companions and guides, and that in the matter of +instruction, both for their own further education and for the +improvement of their situation, they have means for advancement. With +such an arrangement, the devotee and the sexton who are able to learn +will learn; while those who are unable or unwilling to do so will be +replaced by some one else. + +The time of instruction ought to be, as is the wish of all peasants, +during the seven winter months, and so the salary is to be determined by +the month. With such an arrangement, leaving out the rapidity and the +equal distribution of education, the advantage will be this, that the +schools will be established in those centres where the necessity for +them is felt by the masses, where they are established spontaneously +and, therefore, firmly. Where the character of the population demands +education it will be permanent. Just look: in the towns, the children of +the innkeepers and well-to-do peasants learn to read in one way or +another and never forget what they have learned; but in the backwoods, +where a landed proprietor founds a school, the children learn well, but +in ten years all is forgotten, and the population is as illiterate as +ever. For this reason the centres, large or small, where the schools are +established spontaneously, are particularly precious. Where such a +school has germinated, no matter how poor it be, it will throw out +roots, and sooner or later the population will be able to read and +write. Consequently, these sprouts ought to be deemed precious, and not +be treated, as they are everywhere,--they ought not to be forbidden, +because the schools are not according to our taste, that is, the sprouts +ought not to be killed, and branches stuck in the ground where they will +not take root. + +With merely such an arrangement, without the establishment of costly and +artificial seminaries, the chosen ones--those selected from the best of +the pupils themselves, and those who are educated in the schools--will +form that contingent of cheap popular teachers who will take the place +of the soldiers and sextons and will fully satisfy all the demands of +the masses and of the educated classes. The chief advantage of such an +arrangement is that it alone gives the development of popular education +a future, that is, takes us out from that blind alley into which the +County Councils have gone, thanks to the expensive schools and to the +absence of new sources for the increase of their numbers. Only when the +masses themselves choose the centres for the schools, themselves choose +teachers, determine the amount of the remuneration, and directly enjoy +the advantages of the schools, will they be ready to add means for the +schools if such should become necessary. I know Communes that paid fifty +kopeks a soul for a school in each of their villages; but it is +difficult to compel the peasants to pay fifteen kopeks for a school in +the township, if not all of them can make use of it. For the whole +county, for the County Council, the peasants will not add a single +kopek, because they feel that they will not enjoy the advantages of +their money. Only with such an arrangement will be found soon the means +for the proper maintenance of all schools, of one to each one hundred +souls, which seems so impossible in the present state of affairs. + +In addition to this, with the arrangement which I propose, the interests +of the peasant Communes and of the County Council, as the representative +of the intelligence of the locality, will indissolubly be connected. Let +us say that the County Council gives one-third of what the peasants +give. In furnishing this amount, it will evidently, in one way or +another, see to it that the money is not wasted, and, consequently, will +also keep an eye on the two-thirds given by the peasant Communes. The +peasant Commune sees that the County Council gives its part, and so +admits the right of the Council to follow the progress of the +instruction. At the same time, it has an object-lesson in the difference +which exists between a school maintained at a smaller and that +maintained at a greater expense, and chooses the one which it needs or +which is more accessible to it in accordance with its means. + +I will again take Krapívensk County, with which I am familiar, to show +what difference the proposed arrangement would make. I cannot have the +slightest doubt that the moment permission is granted to open schools, +wherever wanted and of any description desired, there will at once +appear very many schools. I am convinced that in Krapívensk County, in +which there are fifty parishes, there will always be a school in each +parish, because the parishes are always centres of population, and +because among the church servants there will always be found one who is +capable of teaching, likes to teach, and will find his advantage in it. +In addition to the schools maintained by the church servants there will +be opened those forty schools that have been closed (more correctly +thirty, because ten of them were church schools), and there will be +opened very many new schools, so that in a very short time there will be +not far from four hundred instead of the twenty at present. + +I may be believed or not, but I will assume that in Krapívensk County +380 additional schools will be opened, the moment they are given over to +the masses, so that there will be four hundred in all, and I will try to +determine whether the existence of these four hundred schools, that is, +of twenty times as many as at present, is possible under the conditions +which I have assumed in discussing the existing order. + +Assuming that all peasants pay fifteen kopeks per soul, and the County +Council gives three thousand roubles, there will be nine thousand +roubles, which will suffice only for thirty schools with the former +arrangement. But with the new arrangement: + +I assume that ten of the old schools are left intact; in these schools +the teachers get twenty roubles per month, which, for the seven winter +months, amounts to fourteen hundred roubles. + +I assume that in every parish there will be established a school with +the teacher's salary at five roubles per month, which, for fifty +schools, amounts to 1,750 roubles. + +I assume the remaining 340 schools are of the cheap character, at two +roubles per month; fifteen roubles for each of the 340 schools makes +5,100 roubles. + +Thus the four hundred schools will demand an expenditure in salaries +amounting to 8,250 roubles. There are still left 750 roubles for school +appliances and transportation. + +The figures for the teachers' wages are not chosen arbitrarily by me: on +the other hand, the expensive teachers are given a larger salary than +they now get by the month for the whole year. Even so, the amount +apportioned to the church servants is what they now receive in the +majority of cases. But the cheap schools at two roubles per month are +assumed by me at a higher rate than what the peasants in reality pay, so +that the calculation may boldly be accepted. In this calculation is +included the kernel of ten chief teachers and ten or more church servant +teachers. It is evident that only with such a calculation will the +school business be placed on a serious and possible basis and have a +clear and definite future. + +If what I have pointed out does not convince anybody that will mean that +I did not express clearly what I wanted to say, and do not wish to enter +into any disputes with anybody. I know that no deaf people are so +hopeless as those who do not want to hear. I know how it is with +farmers. A new threshing-machine has been bought at a great expense, and +it is put up and started threshing. It threshes miserably, no matter how +you set the screw; it threshes badly, and the grain falls into the +straw. There is a loss, and it is as clear as can be that the machine +ought to be abandoned and another means be employed for threshing, but +the money has been spent and the threshing-machine is put up. "Let her +thresh," says the master. Precisely the same thing will happen with this +matter. I know that for a long time to come there will flourish the +object instruction, and cubes, and buttons instead of arithmetic, and +hissing and sputtering, in teaching the letters, and twenty expensive +schools of the German pattern, instead of the needed four hundred +popular, cheap schools. But I know just as surely that the common sense +of the Russian nation will not permit this false, artificial system of +instruction to be foisted upon it. + +The masses are the chief interested person and the judge, and now do not +pay a particle of attention to our more or less ingenious discussions +about the manner in which the spiritual food of education is best to be +prepared for them. They do not care, because they are firmly convinced +that in the great business of their mental development they will not +make a false step and will not accept what is bad,--and it would be like +making pease stick to the wall to attempt to educate, direct, and teach +them in the German fashion. + + + + +WHAT MEN LIVE BY + +1881 + + + + +WHAT MEN LIVE BY + + We know that we have passed from death unto life, because we love + the brethren. He that loveth not his brother abideth in death. + (First Ep. of John, iii. 14.) + + But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, + and shutteth, up his heart from him, how dwelleth the love of God + in him? (_Ib._ iii. 17.) + + My children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in + deed and in truth. (_Ib._ iii. 18.) + + Love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and + knoweth God. (_Ib._ iv. 7.) + + He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. (_Ib._ iv. 8.) + + No man hath seen God at any time. If we love one another, God + dwelleth in us. (_Ib._ iv. 12.) + + God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God + in him. (_Ib._ iv. 16.) + + If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for + he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love + God whom he hath not seen. (_Ib._ iv. 20.) + + +I. + +A shoemaker was lodging with his wife and children at the house of a +peasant. He had no house, no land of his own, and supported his family +by his shoemaker's trade. Bread was dear, but work was cheap, and he +spent everything he made. The shoemaker and his wife had one fur coat +between them, and even that was all worn to tatters; this was the second +year that the shoemaker had been meaning to buy a sheepskin for a new +fur coat. + +Toward fall the shoemaker had saved some money: three roubles in paper +lay in his wife's coffer, and five roubles and twenty kopeks were +outstanding in the village. + +In the morning the shoemaker went to the village to get him that fur +coat. He put on his wife's wadded nankeen jacket over his shirt, and +over it his cloth caftan; he put the three-rouble bill into his pocket, +broke off a stick, and started after breakfast. He thought: + +"I shall get the five roubles from the peasant, will add my own three, +and with that will buy me a sheepskin for the fur coat." + +The shoemaker came to the village, and called on the peasant: he was not +at home, and his wife promised to send her husband with the money, but +gave him none herself. He went to another peasant, but the peasant swore +that he had no money, and gave him only twenty kopeks for mending a pair +of boots. The shoemaker made up his mind to take the sheepskin on +credit, but the furrier would not give it to him. + +"Bring me the money," he said, "and then you can choose any you please; +we know what it means to collect debts." + +Thus the shoemaker accomplished nothing. All he got was the twenty +kopeks for the boots he had mended, and a peasant gave him a pair of +felt boots to patch with leather. + +The shoemaker was grieved, spent all the twenty kopeks on vódka, and +started home without the fur coat. In the morning it had seemed frosty +to him, but now that he had drunk a little he felt warm even without the +fur coat. The shoemaker walked along, with one hand striking the stick +against the frozen mud clumps, and swinging the felt boots in the other, +and talking to himself. + +"I am warm even without a fur coat," he said. "I have drunk a cup, and +the vódka is coursing through all my veins. I do not need a sheepskin. +I have forgotten my woe. That's the kind of a man I am! What do I care! +I can get along without a fur coat: I do not need it all the time. The +only trouble is the old woman will be sorry. It is a shame indeed: I +work for him, and he leads me by the nose. Just wait! If you do not +bring the money, I'll take away your cap, upon my word, I will! How is +this? He pays me back two dimes at a time! What can you do with two +dimes? Take a drink, that is all. He says he suffers want. You suffer +want, and am I not suffering? You have a house, and cattle, and +everything, and here is all I possess; you have your own grain, and I +have to buy it. I may do as I please, but I have to spend three roubles +a week on bread. I come home, and the bread is gone: again lay out a +rouble and a half! So give me what is mine!" + +Thus the shoemaker came up to a chapel at the turn of the road, and +there he saw something that looked white, right near the chapel. It was +growing dusk, and the shoemaker strained his eyes, but could not make +out what it was. + +"There was no stone here," he thought. "A cow? It does not look like a +cow. It looks like the head of a man, and there is something white +besides. And what should a man be doing there?" + +He came nearer, and he could see plainly. What marvel was that? It was +really a man, either alive or dead, sitting there all naked, leaning +against the chapel, and not stirring in the least. The shoemaker was +frightened, and thought to himself: + +"Somebody must have killed a man, and stripped him of his clothes, and +thrown him away there. If I go up to him, I shall never clear myself." + +And the shoemaker went past. He walked around the chapel, and the man +was no longer to be seen. He went past the chapel, and looked back, and +saw the man leaning away from the building and moving, as though +watching him. The shoemaker was frightened even more than before, and he +thought to himself: + +"Shall I go up to him, or not? If I go up, something bad may happen. Who +knows what kind of a man he is? He did not get there for anything good. +If I go up, he will spring at me and choke me, and I shall not get away +from him; and if he does not choke me, I may have trouble with him all +the same. What can I do with him, since he is naked? Certainly I cannot +take off the last from me and give it to him! May God save me!" + +And the shoemaker increased his steps. He was already a distance away +from the chapel, when his conscience began to smite him. + +And the shoemaker stopped on the road. + +"What are you doing, Semén?" he said to himself. "A man is dying in +misery, and you go past him and lose your courage. Have you suddenly +grown so rich? Are you afraid that they will rob you of your wealth? Oh, +Semén, it is not right!" + +Semén turned back, and went up to the man. + + +II. + +Semén walked over to the man, and looked at him; and saw that it was a +young man, in the prime of his strength, with no bruises on his body, +but evidently frozen and frightened: he was leaning back and did not +look at Semén, as though he were weakened and could not raise his eyes. +Semén went up close to him, and the man suddenly seemed to wake up. He +turned his head, opened his eyes, and looked at Semén. And this one +glance made Semén think well of the man. He threw down the felt boots, +ungirt himself, put his belt on the boots, and took off his caftan. + +"What is the use of talking?" he said. "Put it on! Come now!" + +Semén took the man by his elbows and began to raise him. The man got up. +And Semén saw that his body was soft and clean, his hands and feet not +calloused, and his face gentle. Semén threw his caftan over the man's +shoulders. He could not find his way into the sleeves. So Semén put them +in, pulled the caftan on him, wrapped him in it, and girded it with the +belt. + +Semén took off his torn cap, intending to put it on the naked man, but +his head grew cold, and so he thought: "My whole head is bald, while he +has long, curly hair." He put it on again. "I had better put the boots +on him." + +He seated himself and put the felt boots on him. + +The shoemaker addressed him and said: + +"That's the way, my friend! Now move about and get warmed up. This +business will be looked into without us. Can you walk?" + +The man stood, looking meekly at Semén, but could not say a word. + +"Why don't you speak? You can't stay here through the winter. We must +make for a living place. Here, take my stick, lean on it, if you are +weak. Tramp along!" + +And the man went. And he walked lightly, and did not fall behind. + +As they were walking along, Semén said to him: + +"Who are you, please?" + +"I am a stranger." + +"I know all the people here about. How did you get near that chapel?" + +"I cannot tell." + +"Have people insulted you?" + +"No one has. God has punished me." + +"Of course, God does everything, but still you must be making for some +place. Whither are you bound?" + +"It makes no difference to me." + +Semén was surprised. He did not resemble an evil-doer, and was gentle of +speech, and yet did not say anything about himself. And Semén thought +that all kinds of things happen, and so he said to the man: + +"Well, come to my house and warm yourself a little." + +Semén walked up to the farm, and the stranger did not fall behind, but +walked beside him. A wind rose and blew into Semén's shirt, and his +intoxication went away, and he began to feel cold. He walked along, +sniffling, and wrapping himself in his wife's jacket, and he thought: + +"There is your fur coat: I went to get myself a fur coat, and I am +coming back without a caftan, and am even bringing a naked man with me. +Matréna will not praise me for it!" + +And as Semén thought of Matréna, he felt sorry; and as he looked at the +stranger and recalled how he had looked at him at the chapel, his blood +began to play in his heart. + +[Illustration: "'Whither are you bound?'" + +_Photogravure from Painting by A. Kivshénko_] + + +III. + +Semén's wife got things done early. She chopped the wood, brought the +water, fed the children, herself took a bite of something, and fell to +musing. She was thinking about when to set the bread, whether to-day or +to-morrow. There was a big slice of it left. + +"If Semén has his dinner there," she thought, "and does not eat much for +supper, the bread will last until to-morrow." + +Matréna turned the slice around and a second time, and thought: + +"I will not set any bread to-day. I have enough meal for just one +setting. We shall somehow hold out until Friday." + +Matréna put the bread away, and seated herself at the table to put a +patch in her husband's shirt. She was sewing and thinking of how he +would buy a sheepskin for a fur coat. + +"If only the furrier does not cheat him, for my man is too simple for +anything. He himself will not cheat a soul, but a little child can +deceive him. Eight roubles is no small sum. One can pickup a good fur +coat for it. It will not be tanned, still it will be a fur coat. How we +suffered last winter without a fur coat! We could not get down to the +river, or anywhere. And there he has gone out, putting everything on +him, and I have nothing to dress in. He went away early; it is time for +him to be back. If only my dear one has not gone on a spree!" + +Just as Matréna was thinking this, the steps creaked on the porch, and +somebody entered. Matréna stuck the needle in the cloth, and went out +into the vestibule. She saw two coming in: Semén, and with him a man +without a cap and in felt boots. + +Matréna at once smelt the liquor in her husband's breath. "Well," she +thought, "so it is: he has been on a spree." And when she saw that he +was without his caftan, in nothing but the jacket, and that he was not +bringing anything, but only keeping silent and crouching, something +broke in Matréna's heart. "He has spent all the money in drinks," she +thought, "and has been on a spree with some tramp, and has even brought +him along." + +Matréna let them pass into the hut, and then stepped in herself. She saw +the lean young man, and he had on him their caftan. No shirt was to be +seen under the caftan, and he had no hat on his head. When he entered, +he stood still, and did not stir, and did not raise his eyes. And +Matréna thought: "He is not a good man,--he is afraid." + +Matréna scowled and went to the oven, waiting to see what would happen. + +Semén took off his cap and sat down on the bench like a good man. + +"Well, Matréna, will you let us have something for supper, will you?" he +said. + +Matréna growled something under her breath. She stood at the oven, and +did not stir: she looked now at the one, and now at the other, and shook +her head. Semén saw that his wife was not in a good humour, but there +was nothing to be done, and he acted as though he did not see it. He +took the stranger by the arm: + +"Sit down, my friend," he said, "we shall have our supper." + +The stranger sat down on the bench. + +"Well, have you not cooked anything?" + +That simply roiled Matréna. + +"I have cooked, but not for you. You seem to have drunk away your +senses, I see. You went to get a fur coat, and come back without your +caftan, and have even brought some kind of a naked tramp with you. I +have no supper for you drunkards." + +"Stop, Matréna! What is the use of wagging your tongue without any +sense? First ask what kind of a man it is--" + +"Tell me what you did with the money." + +Semén stuck his hand into the caftan, took out the bill, and opened it +before her. + +"Here is the money. Trifónov has not paid me,--he promised to give it to +me to-morrow." + +That enraged Matréna even more: he had bought no fur coat, and the only +caftan they had he had put on a naked fellow, and had even brought him +along. + +She grabbed the bill from the table, and ran to put it away, and said: + +"I have no supper. One cannot feed all the drunkards." + +"Oh, Matréna, hold your tongue. First hear what I have to say--" + +"Much sense shall I hear from a drunken fool. With good reason did I +object to marrying you, a drunkard. My mother gave me some linen, and +you spent it on drinks; you went to buy a fur coat, and spent that, +too." + +Semén wanted to explain to his wife that he had spent twenty kopeks +only, and wanted to tell her that he had found the man; but Matréna +began to break in with anything she could think of, and to speak two +words at once. Even what had happened ten years before, she brought up +to him now. + +Matréna talked and talked, and jumped at Semén, and grabbed him by the +sleeve. + +"Give me my jacket. That is all I have left, and you have taken it from +me and put it on yourself. Give it to me, you freckled dog,--may the +apoplexy strike you!" + +Semén began to take off the bodice; as he turned back his arm, his wife +gave the bodice a jerk, and it ripped at the seam. Matréna grabbed the +jacket, threw it over her head, and made for the door. She wanted to go +out, but stopped: her heart was doubled, for she wanted to have her +revenge, and also to find out what kind of a man he was. + + +IV. + +Matréna stopped and said: + +"If he were a good man, he would not be naked; but, as it is, he has not +even a shirt on him. If he meant anything good, you would tell me where +you found that dandy." + +"I am telling you: as I was walking along, I saw him sitting at the +chapel, without any clothes, and almost frozen. It is not summer, and he +was all naked. God sent me to him, or he would have perished. Well, what +had I to do? All kinds of things happen! I picked him up and dressed +him, and brought him here. Calm yourself! It is a sin, Matréna. We shall +all die." + +Matréna wanted to go on scolding, but she looked at the stranger and +kept silence. The stranger sat without moving, just as he had seated +himself on the edge of the bench. His hands were folded on his knees, +his head drooped on his breast, his eyes were not opened, and he frowned +as though something were choking him. Matréna grew silent. And Semén +said: + +"Matréna, have you no God?" + +When Matréna heard these words, she glanced at the stranger, and +suddenly her heart became softened. She went away from the door, walked +over to the oven corner, and got the supper ready. She placed a bowl on +the table, filled it with kvas, and put down the last slice of bread. +She handed them a knife and spoons. + +"Eat, if you please," she said. + +Semén touched the stranger. + +"Creep through here, good fellow!" he said. + +Semén cut up the bread and crumbled it into the kvas, and they began to +eat. And Matréna sat down at the corner of the table, and leaned on her +arm, and kept looking at the stranger. + +And Matréna pitied the stranger, and took a liking for him. And suddenly +the stranger grew merry, stopped frowning, raised his eyes on Matréna, +and smiled. + +They got through with their supper. The woman cleared the table, and +began to ask the stranger: + +"Who are you?" + +"I am a stranger." + +"How did you get on the road?" + +"I cannot tell." + +"Has somebody robbed you?" + +"God has punished me." + +"And you were lying there naked?" + +"Yes, I was lying naked, and freezing. Semén saw me, took pity on me, +pulled off his caftan, put it on me, and told me to come here. And you +have given me to eat and to drink, and have pitied me. The Lord will +save you!" + +Matréna got up, took from the window Semén's old shirt, the same that +she had been patching, and gave it to the stranger; and she found a pair +of trousers, and gave them to him. + +"Here, take it! I see that you have no shirt. Put it on, and lie down +wherever it pleases you,--on the hanging bed or on the oven." + +The stranger took off the caftan, put on the shirt, and lay down on the +hanging bed. Matréna put out the light, took the caftan, and climbed to +where her husband was. + +Matréna covered herself with the corner of the caftan, and she lay and +could not sleep: the stranger would not leave her mind. + +As she thought how he had eaten the last slice of bread and how there +would be no bread for the morrow; as she thought how she had given him a +shirt and a pair of trousers, she felt pretty bad; but when she thought +of how he smiled, her heart was gladdened. + +Matréna could not sleep for a long time, and she heard that Semén, too, +was not sleeping; he kept pulling the caftan on himself. + +"Semén!" + +"What is it?" + +"We have eaten up the last bread, and I have not set any. I do not know +what to do for to-morrow. Maybe I had better ask Gossip Malánya for +some." + +"If we are alive we shall find something to eat." + +The woman lay awhile and kept silence. + +"He must be a good man. But why does he not tell about himself?" + +"I suppose he cannot." + +"Semén!" + +"What?" + +"We give, but why does nobody give to us?" + +Semén did not know what to say. He only said, "Stop talking!" and turned +over, and fell asleep. + + +V. + +In the morning Semén awoke. The children were asleep; his wife had gone +to the neighbours to borrow some bread. The stranger of last night, in +the old trousers and shirt, was alone, sitting on the bench and looking +upward. And his face was brighter than on the day before. + +And Semén said: + +"Well, dear man, the belly begs for bread, and the naked body for +clothes. We must earn our living. Can you work?" + +"I do not know anything." + +Semén wondered at him, and said: + +"If only you are willing: people can learn anything." + +"People work, and I, too, will work." + +"What is your name?" + +"Michael." + +"Well, Mikháyla, you do not want to talk about yourself,--that is your +business; but a man has to live. If you work as I order you, I will feed +you." + +"God save you, and I will learn. Show me what to do!" + +Semén took the flax, put it on his fingers and began to make an end. + +"It is not a hard thing to do, you see." + +Mikháyla watched him, himself put the flax on his fingers, and made a +thread end, as Semén had taught him. + +Semén showed him how to wax it. Mikháyla again learned the way at once. +The master showed him how to weld the bristle, and how to whet, and +Mikháyla learned it all at once. + +No matter what work Semén showed to him, he grasped it at once, and on +the third day he began to sew as though he had done nothing else in all +his life. He worked without unbending himself, ate little, between the +periods of work kept silence, and all the time looked toward the sky. He +did not go into the street, spoke no superfluous word, and did not jest +or laugh. + +Only once was he seen to smile, and that was the first evening, when the +woman gave him a supper. + + +VI. + +Day was added to day, week to week, and the circle of a year went by. +Mikháyla was living as before with Semén, and working. And the report +spread about Semén's workman that nobody sewed a boot so neatly and so +strongly as he. And people from all the surrounding country began to +come to Semén for boots, and Semén's income began to grow. + +One time, in the winter, Semén was sitting with Mikháyla and working, +when a tróyka with bells stopped at the door. They looked through the +window: the carriage had stopped opposite the hut, and a fine lad jumped +down from the box and opened the carriage door. Out of the carriage +stepped a gentleman in a fur coat. He came out of the carriage, walked +toward Semén's house, and went on the porch. Up jumped Matréna and +opened the door wide. The gentleman bent his head and entered the hut; +he straightened himself up, almost struck the ceiling with his head, and +took up a whole corner. + +Semén got up, bowed to the gentleman, and wondered what he wanted. He +had not seen such men. Semén himself was spare-ribbed, and Mikháyla was +lean, and Matréna was as dry as a chip, while this one was like a man +from another world: his face was red and blood-filled, his neck like a +bull's, and altogether he looked as though cast in iron. + +The gentleman puffed, took off his fur coat, seated himself on a bench, +and said: + +"Who is the master shoemaker?" + +Semén stepped forward, and said: + +"I, your Excellency." + +The gentleman shouted to his lad: + +"Oh, Fédka, let me have the material!" + +The lad came running in and brought a bundle. The gentleman took it and +put it on the table. + +"Open it!" he said. + +The lad opened it. The gentleman pointed to the material, and said to +Semén: + +"Listen now, shoemaker! Do you see the material?" + +"I do," he said, "your Honour." + +"Do you understand what kind of material this is?" + +Semén felt of it, and said: + +"It is good material." + +"I should say it is! You, fool, have never seen such before. It is +German material: it costs twenty roubles." + +Semén was frightened, and he said: + +"How could we have seen such?" + +"That's it. Can you make me boots to fit my feet from this material?" + +"I can, your Honour." + +The gentleman shouted at him: + +"That's it: you can. You must understand for whom you are working, and +what material you have to work on. Make me a pair of boots that will +wear a year without running down or ripping. If you can, undertake it +and cut the material; if you cannot, do not undertake it and do not cut +the material. I tell you in advance: if the boots wear off or rip before +the year is over, I will put you into jail; if they do not wear off or +rip for a year, I will give you ten roubles for the work." + +Semén was frightened and did not know what to say. He looked at +Mikháyla. He nudged him with his elbow, and said: + +"Friend, what do you say?" + +Mikháyla nodded to him: "Take the work!" + +Semén took Mikháyla's advice and undertook to make a pair of boots that +would not wear down or rip. + +The gentleman shouted at his lad, told him to pull off the boot from his +left foot, and stretched out his leg. + +"Take the measure!" + +Semén sewed together a piece of paper, ten inches in length, smoothed it +out, knelt down, carefully wiped his hand on his apron so as not to soil +the gentleman's stocking, and began to measure. He measured the sole, +then the instep, and then the calf, but there the paper was not long +enough. His leg at the calf was as thick as a log. + +"Be sure and do not make them too tight in the boot-leg!" + +Semén sewed up another piece to the strip. The gentleman sat and moved +his toes in his stocking, and watched the people in the room. He caught +sight of Mikháyla. + +"Who is that man there?" he asked. + +"That is my master workman,--he will make those boots." + +"Remember," said the gentleman to Mikháyla, "remember! Make them so that +they will wear a year." + +Semén, too, looked at Mikháyla, and he saw that Mikháyla was not looking +at the gentleman, but gazed at the corner, as though he saw some one +there. Mikháyla looked and looked, suddenly smiled and shone bright. + +"What makes you show your teeth, fool? You had better be sure and get +the boots in time." + +And Mikháyla said: + +"They will be done in time." + +"Exactly." + +The gentleman put on his boot and his fur coat, and wrapped himself up, +and went to the door. He forgot to bow down, and hit his head against +the lintel. + +The gentleman cursed awhile, and rubbed his head, and seated himself in +the carriage, and drove away. + +When the gentleman was gone, Semén said: + +"He is mighty flinty! You can't kill him with a club. He has knocked out +the lintel, but he himself took little harm." + +And Matréna said: + +"How can he help being smooth, with the life he leads? Even death will +not touch such a sledge-hammer!" + + +VII. + +And Semén said to Mikháyla: + +"To be sure, we have undertaken to do the work, if only we do not get +into trouble! The material is costly, and the gentleman is cross. I hope +we shall not make a blunder. Your eyes are sharper, and your hands are +nimbler than mine, so take this measure! Cut the material, and I will +put on the last stitches." + +Mikháyla did not disobey him, but took the gentleman's material, spread +it out on the table, doubled it, took the scissors, and began to cut. + +Matréna came up and saw Mikháyla cutting, and was wondering at what he +was doing. Matréna had become used to the shoemaker's trade, and she +looked, and saw that Mikháyla was not cutting the material in shoemaker +fashion, but in a round shape. + +Matréna wanted to say something, but thought: "Perhaps I do not +understand how boots have to be made for a gentleman; no doubt Mikháyla +knows better, and I will not interfere." + +Mikháyla cut the pair, and picked up the end, and began to sew, not in +shoemaker fashion, with the two ends meeting, but with one end, like +soft shoes. + +Again Matréna marvelled, but did not interfere. And Mikháyla kept sewing +and sewing. They began to eat their dinner, and Semén saw that Mikháyla +had made a pair of soft shoes from the gentleman's material. + +Semén heaved a sigh. "How is this?" he thought. "Mikháyla has lived with +me a whole year, and has never made a mistake, and now he has made such +trouble for me. The gentleman ordered boots with long boot-legs, and he +has made soft shoes, without soles, and has spoiled the material. How +shall I now straighten it out with the master? No such material can be +found." + +And he said to Mikháyla: + +"What is this, dear man, that you have done? You have ruined me. The +master has ordered boots, and see what you have made!" + +He had just begun to scold Mikháyla, when there was a rattle at the door +ring,--some one was knocking. They looked through the window: there was +there a man on horseback, and he was tying up his horse. They opened the +door: in came the same lad of that gentleman. + +"Good day!" + +"Good day, what do you wish?" + +"The lady has sent me about the boots." + +"What about the boots?" + +"What about the boots? Our master does not need them. Our master has bid +us live long." + +"You don't say!" + +"He had not yet reached home, when he died in his carriage. The carriage +drove up to the house, and the servants came to help him out, but he lay +as heavy as a bag, and was stiff and dead, and they had a hard time +taking him out from the carriage. So the lady has sent me, saying: 'Tell +the shoemaker that a gentleman came to see him, and ordered a pair of +boots, and left the material for them; well, tell him that the boots are +not wanted, but that he should use the leather at once for a pair of +soft shoes. Wait until they make them, and bring them with you.' And so +that is why I have come." + +Mikháyla took the remnants of the material from the table, rolled them +up, and took the soft shoes which he had made, and clapped them against +each other, and wiped them off with his apron, and gave them to the lad. +The lad took the soft shoes. + +"Good-bye, masters, good luck to you!" + + +VIII. + +There passed another year, and a third, and Mikháyla was now living the +sixth year with Semén. He was living as before. He went nowhere, did not +speak an unnecessary word, and all that time had smiled but twice: once, +when they gave him the supper, and the second time when the gentleman +came. Semén did not get tired admiring his workman. He no longer asked +him where he came from; he was only afraid that Mikháyla might leave +him. + +One day they were sitting at home. The housewife was putting the iron +pots into the oven, and the children were running on the benches, and +looking out of the window. Semén was sharpening his knives at one +window, and Mikháyla was heeling a shoe at the other. + +One of the little boys ran up to Mikháyla on the bench, leaned against +his shoulder, and looked out of the window. + +"Uncle Mikháyla, look there: a merchant woman is coming to us with some +little girls. One of the girls is lame." + +When the boy said that, Mikháyla threw down his work, turned to the +window, and looked out into the street. + +And Semén marvelled. Mikháyla had never before looked into the street, +and now he had rushed to the window, and was gazing at something. Semén, +too, looked out of the window: he saw, indeed, a woman who was walking +over to his yard. She was well dressed, and led two little girls in fur +coats and shawls. The girls looked one like the other, so that it was +hard to tell them apart, only one had a maimed left leg,--she walked +with a limp. + +The woman walked up the porch to the vestibule, felt for the entrance, +pulled at the latch, and opened the door. First she let the two girls +in, and then entered herself. + +"Good day, people!" + +"You are welcome! What do you wish?" + +The woman seated herself at the table. The girls pressed close to her +knees: they were timid before the people. + +"I want you to make some leather boots for the girls for the spring." + +"Well, that can be done. We have not made such small shoes, but we can +do it. We can make sharp-edged shoes, or turnover shoes on linen. +Mikháyla is my master." + +Semén looked around at Mikháyla, and he saw that Mikháyla had put away +his work and was sitting and gazing at the girls. + +And Semén marvelled at Mikháyla. Indeed, the girls were pretty: +black-eyed, chubby, ruddy-faced, and the fur coats and shawls which they +had on were fine; but still Semén could not make out why he was gazing +at them as though they were friends of his. + +Semén marvelled, and began to talk with the woman and to bargain. They +came to an agreement, and he took the measures. The woman took the lame +girl on her knees, and said: + +"For this girl take two measures: make one shoe for the lame foot, and +three for the sound foot. They have the same size of feet, exactly +alike. They are twins." + +Semén took the measure, and he said about the lame girl: + +"What has made her lame? She is such a pretty girl. Was she born this +way?" + +"No, her mother crushed her." + +Matréna broke in,--she wanted to know who the woman was, and whose the +children were, and so she said: + +"Are you not their mother?" + +"I am not their mother, nor their kin, housewife! I am a stranger to +them: I have adopted them." + +"Not your children! How you care for them!" + +"Why should I not care for them? I nursed them with my own breast. I had +a child of my own, but God took him away. I did not care for him so much +as I have cared for them." + +"Whose are they, then?" + + +IX. + +The woman began to talk, and said: + +"It was six years ago that these orphans lost their parents in one week: +their father was buried on a Tuesday, and their mother died on Friday. +These orphans were born three days after their father's death, and their +mother did not live a day. At that time I was living with my husband in +the village. We were their neighbours, our yard joining theirs. Their +father was a lonely man; he worked in the forest. They dropped a tree on +him, and it fell across his body and squeezed out his entrails. They had +barely brought him home, when he gave up his soul to God, and that same +week his wife bore twins,--these girls. The woman was poor and alone; +she had neither old woman nor girl with her. + +"Alone she bore them, and alone she died. + +"I went in the morning to see my neighbour, but she, the dear woman, was +already cold. As she died she fell on the girl, and wrenched her leg. +The people came, and they washed and dressed her, and made a coffin, and +buried her. All of them were good people. The girls were left alone. +What was to be done with them? Of all the women I alone had a baby. I +had been nursing my first-born boy for eight weeks. I took them for the +time being to my house. The peasants gathered and thought and thought +what to do with them, and they said to me: 'Márya, keep the girls +awhile, and we will try and think what to do with them.' And I nursed +the straight girl once, but the lame girl I would not nurse. I did not +want her to live. But, I thought, why should the angelic soul go out, +and so I pitied her, too. I began to nurse her, and so I raised my own +and the two girls, all three of them with my own breasts. I was young +and strong, and I had good food. And God gave me so much milk in my +breasts that at times they overflowed. I would feed two of them, while +the third would be waiting. When one rolled away, I took the third. And +God granted that I should raise the three, but my own child I lost in +the second year. And God has given me no other children. We began to +earn more and more, and now we are living here with the merchant at the +mill. The wages are big, and our living is good. I have no children, and +how should I live if it were not for these girls? How can I help loving +them? They are all the wax of my tapers that I have." + +With one hand the woman pressed the lame girl to her side, and with the +other she began to wipe off her tears. + +And Matréna sighed, and said: + +"Not in vain is the proverb: 'You can live without parents, but not +without God.'" + +And so they were talking among themselves, when suddenly the room was +lighted as though by sheet lightning from the corner where sat Mikháyla. +All looked at him, and they saw Mikháyla sitting with folded hands on +his knees, and looking up, and smiling. + + +X. + +The woman went away with the girls, and Mikháyla got up from his bench. +He lay down his work, took off his apron, bowed to the master and to the +housewife, and said: + +"Forgive me, people! God has forgiven me. You, too, should forgive me." + +And the master and his wife saw a light coming from Mikháyla. And Semén +got up, and bowed to Mikháyla, and said: + +"I see, Mikháyla, you are not a simple man, and I cannot keep you, and +must not beg you to remain. But tell me this: Why, when I found you and +brought you home, were you gloomy, and when my wife gave you a supper, +why did you smile at her and after that grow brighter? Later, when the +gentleman ordered the boots, you smiled for the second time, and after +that grew brighter, and now, when the woman brought her girls, you +smiled for the third time, and grew entirely bright. Tell me, Mikháyla, +why does such light come from you, and why did you smile three times?" + +And Mikháyla said: + +"The light comes from me, because I had been punished, and now God has +forgiven me. And I smiled three times because I had to learn three words +of God. And I have learned the three words: one word I learned when your +wife took pity on me, and so I smiled for the first time. The second +word I learned when the rich man ordered the boots, and then I smiled +for the second time. And now, when I saw the girls, I learned the last, +the third word, and I smiled for the third time." + +And Semén said: + +"Tell me, Mikháyla, for what did God punish you, and what are those +words of God, that I may know them." + +And Mikháyla said: + +"God punished me for having disobeyed him. I was an angel in heaven, and +I disobeyed God. I was an angel in heaven, and God sent me down to take +the soul out of a woman. I flew down to the earth, and I saw the woman +lying sick, and she had borne twins,--two girls. The girls were +squirming near their mother, and she could not take them to her breasts. +The woman saw me, and she knew that God had sent me for her soul. She +wept, and said: 'Angel of God! My husband has just been buried,--he was +killed by a tree in the forest. I have neither sister, nor aunt, nor +granny,--there is no one to bring up my orphans, so do not take my soul! +Let me raise my own children, and put them on their feet. Children +cannot live without a father, without a mother.' And I listened to the +mother, and placed one girl to her breast, and gave the other one into +her hands, and rose up to the Lord in heaven. And I came before the +Lord, and said: 'I cannot take the soul out of the mother in childbirth. +The father was killed by a tree, the mother bore twins, and she begged +me not to take the soul out of her, saying, Let me rear and bring up my +children, and put them on their feet. Children cannot live without a +father or mother. I did not take the soul out of the woman in +childbirth.' And the Lord said: 'Go and take the soul out of the woman +in childbirth! And you will learn three words: you will learn what there +is in men, and what is not given to men, and what men live by. When you +learn them, you will return to heaven.' I flew back to earth and took +the soul out of the woman. + +"The little ones fell away from the breasts. The dead body rolled over +on the bed and crushed one of the girls, and wrenched her leg. I rose +above the village and wanted to take the soul to God; but the wind +caught me, and my wings fell flat; and dropped off, and the soul went by +itself before God, and I fell near the road on the earth." + + +XI. + +And Semén and Matréna understood whom they had clothed and fed, and who +had lived with them, and they wept for terror and for joy, and said the +angel: + +"I was left all alone in the field, and naked. I had not known before of +human wants, neither of cold, nor of hunger, and I became a man. I was +starved and chilled and did not know what to do. I saw in the field a +chapel made for the Lord, and I went to God's chapel and wanted to hide +myself in it. The chapel was locked, and I could not get in. And I +seated myself behind the chapel, to protect myself against the wind. The +evening came, I was hungry and chilled, and I ached all over. Suddenly I +heard a man walking on the road; he was carrying a pair of boots and +talking to himself. And I saw a mortal face, for the first time since I +had become a man, and that face was terrible to me, and I turned away +from it. And I heard the man talking to himself about how he might cover +his body in the winter from the cold, and how he might feed his wife and +children. And I thought: 'I am dying from hunger and cold, and here +comes a man, who is thinking only of how to cover himself and his wife +with a fur coat, and of how to feed his family. He cannot help me.' The +man saw me; he frowned, and looked gloomier still, and passed by me. And +I was in despair. Suddenly I heard the man coming back. I looked at him +and did not recognize him: before that death had been in his face, and +now he was revived, and in his face I saw God. He came up to me, and +clothed me, and took me with him, and led me to his house. I came to +his house, and a woman came out of the house and began to talk. The +woman was more terrible yet than the man; the dead spirit was coming out +of her mouth, and I could not breathe from the stench of death. She +wanted to send me out into the cold, and I knew that she would die if +she drove me out. And suddenly her husband reminded her of God. And the +woman suddenly changed. And when she gave us to eat, and looked at us, I +glanced at her: there was no longer death in her,--she was alive, and I +recognized God in her. + +"And I recalled God's first word: 'You will know what there is in men.' +And I learned that there was love in men. And I rejoiced at it, because +God had begun to reveal to me what He had promised, and I smiled for the +first time. But I could not yet learn everything. I could not understand +what was not given to men, and what men lived by. + +"I began to live with you, and lived a year, and there came a man, to +order a pair of boots, such as would wear a year, without ripping or +turning. I looked at him, and suddenly I saw behind his shoulder my +companion, the angel of death. None but me saw that angel; but I knew +him, and I knew that the sun would not go down before the rich man's +soul would be taken away. And I thought: 'The man is providing for a +year, and does not know that he will not live until evening.' And I +thought of God's second word: 'You will learn what is not given to men.' + +"I knew already what there was in men. Now I learned what was not given +to men. It is not given men to know what they need for their bodies. And +I smiled for the second time. I was glad because I had seen my comrade +the angel, and because God had revealed the second word to me. + +"But I could not understand everything. I could not understand what men +lived by. And I lived and waited for God to reveal to me the last word. +And in the sixth year came the twin girls with the woman, and I +recognized the girls and knew how they were kept alive. I recognized +them, and I thought: 'The mother begged me for the sake of the children, +and I believed the mother and thought that the children could not live +without father and mother, and yet a strange woman has fed them and +reared them.' And when the woman was touched as she looked at the +children and wept, I saw in her the living God, and I understood what +men lived by. And I learned that God had revealed the third word to me +and forgave me. And I smiled for the third time." + + +XII. + +And the angel's body was bared and clothed in light, so that the eye +could not behold him, and he spoke louder, as though the voice were +coming not from him but from heaven. And the angel said: + +"I have learned that every man lives not by the care for himself, but by +love. + +"It was not given to the mother to know what her children needed for +life. It was not given to the rich man to know what he needed for +himself. And it is not given to any man to know whether before evening +he will need boots for his life, or soft shoes for his death. + +"I was kept alive when I was a man not by what I did for myself, but +because there was love in a passer-by and in his wife, and because they +pitied and loved me. The orphans were left alive not by what was done +for them, but because there was love in the heart of a strange woman, +and she pitied and loved them. And all men live not by what they do for +themselves, but because there is love in men. + +"I knew before that God gave life to men and that He wanted them to +live; now I understand even something else. + +"I understand that God does not want men to live apart, and so He has +not revealed to them what each needs for himself, but wants them to live +together, and so He has revealed to them what they all need for +themselves and for all. + +"I understand now that it only seems to men that they live by the care +for themselves, and that they live only by love. He who has love, is in +God, and God is in him, because God is love." + +And the angel began to sing the praise of God, and from his voice the +whole hut shook. And the ceiling expanded, and a fiery column rose from +earth to heaven. And Semén and his wife and children fell to the ground. +And the wings were unfolded on the angel's shoulders, and he rose to +heaven. + +And when Semén awoke, the hut was as before, and in the room were only +his family. + + + + +THE THREE HERMITS + +1884 + + + + +THE THREE HERMITS + + But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for + they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not + ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye + have need of, before ye ask him. (Matt. vi. 7-8.) + + +A bishop was sailing in a ship from Arkhángelsk to Solóvki. On this ship +there were pilgrims on their way to visit the saints. The wind was +favourable, the weather clear, and the vessel did not roll. Of the +pilgrims some were lying down, some eating, some sitting in groups, and +some talking with each other. The bishop, too, came out on deck, and +began to walk up and down on the bridge. He walked up to the prow and +saw there several men sitting together. A peasant was pointing to +something in the sea and talking, while the people listened to him. The +bishop stopped to see what the peasant was pointing at: he could see +nothing except that the sun was glistening on the water. The bishop came +nearer and began to listen. When the peasant saw the bishop, he took off +his cap and grew silent. And the people, too, when they saw the bishop, +took off their caps and saluted him. + +"Do not trouble yourselves, friends," said the bishop. "I have just come +to hear what you, good man, are telling about." + +"The fisherman is telling us about the hermits," said a merchant, who +was a little bolder than the rest. + +"What about those hermits?" asked the bishop. He walked over to the +gunwale and sat down on a box. "Tell me, too, and I will listen. What +were you pointing at?" + +"There is an island glinting there," said the peasant, pointing forward +and to the right. "On that island the hermits are living and saving +their souls." + +"Where is that island?" asked the bishop. + +"Please to follow my hand! There is a small cloud; below it and a little +to the left of it the island appears like a streak." + +The bishop looked and looked, but only the water was rippling in the +sun, and he could not make out anything with his unaccustomed eye. + +"I do not see it," he said. "What kind of hermits are living on that +island?" + +"God's people," replied the peasant. "I had heard about them for a long +time, and never had any chance to see them; but two summers ago I saw +them myself." + +The fisherman went on to tell how he went out to catch fish and was +driven to that island, and did not know where he was. In the morning he +walked out and came to an earth hut, and there he saw one hermit, and +then two more came out. They fed him and dried him and helped him to +mend his boat. + +"What kind of people are they?" asked the bishop. + +"One is small and stooping, a very old man, in an old cassock; he must +be more than a hundred years old, the gray of his beard is turning +green, and he smiles all the time, and is as bright as an angel of +heaven. The second is taller; he, too, is old, and wears a ragged +caftan; his broad gray beard is streaked yellow, and he is a powerful +man: he turned my boat around as though it were a vat, before I had a +chance to help him; he also is a cheerful man. The third man is tall; +his beard falls down to his knees and is as white as snow; he is a +gloomy man, and his brows hang over his eyes; he is all naked, and +girded only with a piece of matting." + +"What did they tell you?" asked the bishop. + +"They did everything mostly in silence, and spoke little to one another. +When one looked up, the others understood him. I asked the tall man how +long they had been living there. He frowned and muttered something, as +though he were angry, but the little hermit took his arm and smiled, and +the tall one grew silent. All the little hermit said was: 'Have mercy on +us,' and smiled." + +While the peasant spoke, the ship came nearer to the island. + +"Now you can see it plainly," said the merchant. "Please to look there, +your Reverence!" he said, pointing to the island. + +The bishop looked up and really saw a black strip, which was the island. +The bishop looked at it for quite awhile, then he went away from the +prow to the stern, and walked over to the helmsman. + +"What island is this that we see there?" + +"That is a nameless island. There are so many of them here." + +"Is it true what they say, that some hermits are saving their souls +there?" + +"They say so, your Reverence, but I do not know whether it is so. +Fishermen say that they have seen them. But they frequently speak to no +purpose." + +"I should like to land on that island and see the hermits," said the +bishop. "How can I do it?" + +"The ship cannot land there," said the helmsman. "You can get there by a +boat, but you must ask the captain." + +The captain was called out. + +"I should like to see those hermits," said the bishop. "Can I not be +taken there?" + +The captain began to dissuade him. + +"It can be done, but it will take much time, and, I take the liberty of +informing your Reverence, it is not worth while to look at them. I have +heard people say that they were foolish old men: they understand nothing +and cannot speak, just like the fishes of the sea." + +"I wish it," said the bishop. "I will pay you for the trouble, so take +me there." + +It could not be helped. The sailors shifted the sails and the helmsman +turned the ship, and they sailed toward the island. A chair was brought +out for the bishop and put at the prow. He sat down and looked. All the +people gathered at the prow, and all kept looking at the island. Those +who had sharper eyes saw the rocks on the island, and they pointed to +the earth hut. And one man could make out the three hermits. The captain +brought out his spy-glass and looked through it and gave it to the +bishop. + +"That's so," he said, "there, on the shore, a little to the right from +that big rock, stand three men." + +The bishop looked through the glass and turned it to the right spot. +There were three men there: one tall, a second smaller, and a third a +very small man. They were standing on the shore and holding each other's +hands. + +The captain walked over to the bishop, and said: + +"Here, your Reverence, the ship has to stop. If you wish to go there by +all means, you will please go from here in a boat, and we will wait here +at anchor." + +The hawsers were let out, the anchor dropped, the sails furled, and the +vessel jerked and shook. A boat was lowered, the oarsmen jumped into it, +and the bishop went down a ladder. He sat down on a bench in the boat, +and the oarsmen pulled at the oars and rowed toward the island. They +came near to the shore and could see clearly three men standing there: a +tall man, all naked, with a mat about his loins; the next in size, in a +tattered caftan; and the stooping old man, in an old cassock. There they +stood holding each other's hands. + +The oarsmen rowed up to the shore and caught their hook in it. The +bishop stepped ashore. + +The old men bowed to him. He blessed them, and they bowed lower still. +Then the bishop began to talk to them: + +"I have heard," he said, "that you are here, hermits of God, saving your +souls and praying to Christ our God for men. I, an unworthy servant of +Christ, have been called here by the mercy of God to tend His flock, and +so I wanted to see you, the servants of God, and to give you some +instruction, if I can do so." + +The hermits kept silence, and smiled, and looked at one another. + +"Tell me, how do you save yourselves and serve God?" asked the bishop. + +The middle-sized hermit heaved a sigh and looked at the older, the +stooping hermit. And the stooping hermit smiled, and said: + +"We do not know, O servant of God, how to serve God. We only support +ourselves." + +"How, then, do you pray to God?" + +And the stooping hermit said: + +"We pray as follows: There are three of you and three of us,--have mercy +on us!" + +And the moment the stooping hermit had said that, all three of them +raised their eyes to heaven, and all three said: + +"There are three of you and three of us,--have mercy on us!" + +The bishop smiled, and said: + +"You have heard that about the Holy Trinity, but you do not pray the +proper way. I like you, hermits of God, and I see that you want to +please God, but do not know how to serve Him. I will teach you, not +according to my way, but from the Gospel will I teach you as God has +commanded all men to pray to Him." + +And the bishop began to explain to the hermits how God had revealed +Himself to men: he explained to them about God the Father, and God the +Son, and God the Holy Ghost, and said: + +"God the Son came down upon earth to save men and taught them to pray as +follows. Listen, and repeat after me." + +And the bishop began to say, "Our Father." And one of the hermits +repeated, "Our Father," and the second repeated, "Our Father," and the +third repeated, "Our Father." + +"Which art in heaven." The hermit repeated, "Which art in heaven." But +the middle hermit got mixed in his words, and did not say it right; and +the tall, naked hermit did not say it right: his moustache was all over +his mouth, and he could not speak clearly; and the stooping, toothless +hermit, too, lisped it indistinctly. + +The bishop repeated it a second time, and the hermits repeated it after +him. And the bishop sat down on a stone, and the hermits stood around +him and looked into his mouth and repeated after him so long as he +spoke. And the bishop worked with them all day; he repeated one word +ten, and twenty, and a hundred times, and the hermits repeated after +him. They blundered, and he corrected them, and made them repeat from +the beginning. + +The bishop did not leave the hermits until he taught them the whole +Lord's prayer. They said it with him and by themselves. The middle-sized +hermit was the first to learn it, and he repeated it all by himself. The +bishop made him say it over and over again, and both the others said the +prayer, too. + +It was beginning to grow dark, and the moon rose from the sea, when the +bishop got up to go back to the ship. The bishop bade the hermits +good-bye, and they bowed to the ground before him. He raised each of +them, and kissed them, and told them to pray as he had taught them, and +entered the boat, and was rowed back to the ship. + +And as the boat was rowed toward the ship, the bishop heard the hermits +loudly repeating the Lord's prayer in three voices. The boat came nearer +to the ship, and the voices of the hermits could no longer be heard, but +in the moonlight they could be seen standing on the shore, in the spot +where they had been left: the smallest of them was in the middle, the +tallest on the right, and the middle-sized man on the left. The bishop +reached the ship and climbed up to the deck. The anchors were weighed, +the sails unfurled, and the wind blew and drove the ship, and on they +sailed. The bishop went to the prow and sat down there and looked at the +island. At first the hermits could be seen, then they disappeared from +view, and only the island could be seen; then the island, too, +disappeared, and only the sea glittered in the moonlight. + +The pilgrims lay down to sleep, and everything grew quiet on the deck. +But the bishop did not feel like sleeping. He sat by himself at the prow +and looked out to sea to where the island had disappeared, and thought +of the good hermits. He thought of how glad they had been to learn the +prayer, and thanked God for having taken him there to help the God's +people,--to teach them the word of God. + +The bishop was sitting and thinking and looking out to sea to where the +island had disappeared. There was something unsteady in his eyes: now a +light quivered in one place on the waves, and now in another. Suddenly +he saw something white and shining in the moonlight,--either a bird, a +gull, or a white sail on a boat. The bishop watched it closely. + +"A sailboat is following after us," he thought. "It will soon overtake +us. It was far, far away, but now it is very near. It is evidently not a +boat, for there seems to be no sail. Still it is flying behind us and +coming up close to us." + +The bishop could not make out what it was: a boat, no, it was not a +boat; a bird, no, not a bird; a fish, no, not a fish! It was like a man, +but too large for that, and then, how was a man to be in the middle of +the ocean? The bishop got up and walked over to the helmsman. + +"See there, what is it?" + +"What is it, my friend? What is it?" asked the bishop, but he saw +himself that those were the hermits running over the sea. Their beards +shone white, and, as though the ship were standing still, they came up +to it. + +The helmsman looked around and was frightened. He dropped the helm, and +called out in a loud voice: + +"O Lord! The hermits are running after us on the sea as though it were +dry land!" + +The people heard him, and rushed to the helm. All saw the hermits +running and holding each other's hands. Those at the ends waved their +hands, asking the ship to be stopped. All three were running over the +water as though it were dry land, without moving their feet. + +Before the ship could be stopped, the hermits came abreast with the +ship. They came up to the gunwale, raised their heads, and spoke in one +voice: + +"O servant of God, we have forgotten your lesson. So long as we repeated +it, we remembered it; but when we stopped for an hour, one word leaped +out, and then the rest scattered. We do not remember a thing, so teach +us again." + +The bishop made the sign of the cross, bent down to the hermits, and +said: + +"Even your prayer, hermits of God, reaches the Lord. It is not for me to +teach you. Pray for us sinful men!" + +And the bishop made a low obeisance to the hermits. And the hermits +stopped, turned around, and walked back over the sea. And up to morning +a light could be seen on the side where the hermits had departed. + + + + +NEGLECT THE FIRE + +And You Cannot Put It Out + +1885 + + + + +NEGLECT THE FIRE + +And You Cannot Put It Out + + Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother + sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? + + Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, + Until seventy times seven. + + Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened unto a certain king, + which would take account of his servants. + + And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought unto him, which + owed him ten thousand talents. + + But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be + sold, and his wife, and children, and all that he had, and payment + to be made. + + The servant therefore fell down, and worshipped him, saying, Lord, + have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. + + Then the lord of that servant was moved with compassion, and loosed + him, and forgave him the debt. + + But the same servant went out, and found one of his fellowservants, + which owed him an hundred pence: and he laid hands on him, and took + him by the throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest. + + And his fellowservant fell down at his feet, and besought him, + saying, Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. + + And he would not: but went and cast him into prison, till he should + pay the debt. + + So when his fellowservants saw what was done, they were very sorry, + and came and told unto their lord all that was done. + + Then his lord, after that he had called him, said unto him, O thou + wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou + desiredst me: + + Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellowservant, + even as I had pity on thee? + + And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till + he should pay all that was due unto him. + + So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from + your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses. + (Matt. xviii. 21-35.) + + +There lived in a village a peasant, by the name of Iván Shcherbakóv. He +lived well; he was himself in full strength, the first worker in the +village, and he had three sons,--all of them on their legs: one was +married, the second about to marry, and the third a grown-up lad who +drove horses and was beginning to plough. Iván's wife was a clever woman +and a good housekeeper, and his daughter-in-law turned out to be a quiet +person and a good worker. There was no reason why Iván should not have +led a good life with his family. The only idle mouth on the farm was his +old, ailing father (he had been lying on the oven for seven years, sick +with the asthma). + +Iván had plenty of everything, three horses and a colt, a cow and a +yearling calf, and fifteen sheep. The women made the shoes and the +clothes for the men and worked in the field; the men worked on their +farms. + +They had enough grain until the next crop. From the oats they paid their +taxes and met all their obligations. An easy life, indeed, might Iván +have led with his children. But next door to him he had a neighbour, +Gavrílo the Lame, Gordyéy Ivánov's son. And there was an enmity between +him and Iván. + +So long as old man Gordyéy was alive, and Iván's father ran the farm, +the peasants lived in neighbourly fashion. If the women needed a sieve +or a vat, or the men had to get another axle or wheel for a time, they +sent from one farm to another, and helped each other out in a +neighbourly way. If a calf ran into the yard of the threshing-floor, +they drove it out and only said: "Don't let it out, for the heap has not +yet been put away." And it was not their custom to put it away and lock +it up in the threshing-floor or in a shed, or to revile each other. + +Thus they lived so long as the old men were alive. But when the young +people began to farm, things went quite differently. + +The whole thing began from a mere nothing. A hen of Iván's +daughter-in-law started laying early. The young woman gathered the eggs +for Passion week. Every day she went to the shed to pick up an egg from +the wagon-box. But, it seems, the boys scared away the hen, and she flew +across the wicker fence to the neighbour's yard, and laid an egg there. +The young woman heard the hen cackle, so she thought: + +"I have no time now, I must get the hut in order for the holiday; I will +go there later to get it." + +In the evening she went to the wagon-box under the shed, to fetch the +egg, but it was not there. The young woman asked her mother-in-law and +her brother-in-law if they had taken it; but Taráska, her youngest +brother-in-law, said: + +"Your hen laid an egg in the neighbour's yard, for she cackled there and +flew out from that yard." + +The young woman went to look at her hen, and found her sitting with the +cock on the perch; she had closed her eyes and was getting ready to +sleep. The woman would have liked to ask her where she laid the egg, but +she would not have given her any answer. Then the young woman went to +her neighbour. The old woman met her. + +"What do you want, young woman?" + +"Granny, my hen has been in your yard to-day,--did she not lay an egg +there?" + +"I have not set eyes on her. We have hens of our own, thank God, and +they have been laying for quite awhile. We have gathered our own eggs, +and we do not need other people's eggs. Young woman, we do not go to +other people's yards to gather eggs." + +The young woman was offended. She said a word too much, the neighbour +answered with two, and the women began to scold. Iván's wife was +carrying water, and she, too, took a hand in it. Gavrílo's wife jumped +out, and began to rebuke her neighbour. She reminded her of things that +had happened, and mentioned things that had not happened at all. And the +tongue-lashing began. All yelled together, trying to say two words at +the same time. And they used bad words. + +"You are such and such a one; you are a thief, a sneak; you are simply +starving your father-in-law; you are a tramp." + +"And you are a beggar: you have torn my sieve; and you have our +shoulder-yoke. Give me back the yoke!" + +They grabbed the yoke, spilled the water, tore off their kerchiefs, and +began to fight. Gavrílo drove up from the field, and he took his wife's +part. Iván jumped out with his son, and they all fell in a heap. Iván +was a sturdy peasant, and he scattered them all. He yanked out a piece +of Gavrílo's beard. People ran up to them, and they were with difficulty +pulled apart. + +That's the way it began. + +Gavrílo wrapped the piece of his beard in a petition and went to the +township court to enter a complaint. + +"I did not raise a beard for freckled Iván to pull it out." + +In the meantime his wife bragged to the neighbours that they would now +get Iván sentenced and would have him sent to Siberia, and the feud +began. + +The old man on the oven tried to persuade them to stop the first day +they started to quarrel, but the young people paid no attention to him. +He said to them: + +"Children, you are doing a foolish thing, and for a foolish thing have +you started a feud. Think of it,--the whole affair began from an egg. +The children picked up the egg,--well, God be with them! There is no +profit in one egg. With God's aid there will be enough for everybody. +Well, you have said a bad word, so correct it, show her how to use +better words! Well, you have had a fight,--you are sinful people. That, +too, happens. Well, go and make peace, and let there be an end to it! If +you keep it up, it will only be worse." + +The young people did not obey the old man; they thought that he was not +using sense, but just babbling in old man's fashion. + +Iván did not give in to his neighbour. + +"I did not pull his beard," he said. "He jerked it out himself; but his +son has yanked off my shirt-button and has torn my whole shirt. Here it +is." + +And Iván, too, took the matter to court. The case was heard before a +justice of the peace, and in the township court. While they were suing +each other, Gavrílo lost a coupling-pin out of his cart. The women in +Gavrílo's house accused Iván's son of having taken it. + +"We saw him in the night," they said, "making his way under the window +to the cart, and the gossip says that he went to the dram-shop and asked +the dram-shopkeeper to take the pin from him." + +Again they started a suit. But at home not a day passed but that they +quarrelled, nay, even fought. The children cursed one another,--they +learned this from their elders,--and when the women met at the brook, +they did not so much strike the beetles as let loose their tongues, and +to no good. + +At first the men just accused each other, but later they began to snatch +up things that lay about loose. And they taught the women and children +to do the same. Their life grew worse and worse. Iván Shcherbakóv and +Gavrílo the Lame kept suing one another at the meetings of the Commune, +and in the township court, and before the justices of the peace, and all +the judges were tired of them. Now Gavrílo got Iván to pay a fine, or he +sent him to the lockup, and now Iván did the same to Gavrílo. And the +more they did each other harm, the more furious they grew. When dogs +make for each other, they get more enraged the more they fight. You +strike a dog from behind, and he thinks that the other dog is biting +him, and gets only madder than ever. Just so it was with these peasants: +when they went to court, one or the other was punished, either by being +made to pay a fine, or by being thrown into prison, and that only made +their rage flame up more and more toward one another. + +"Just wait, I will pay you back for it!" + +And thus it went on for six years. The old man on the oven kept +repeating the same advice. He would say to them: + +"What are you doing, my children? Drop all your accounts, stick to your +work, don't show such malice toward others, and it will be better. The +more you rage, the worse will it be." + +They paid no attention to the old man. + +In the seventh year the matter went so far that Iván's daughter-in-law +at a wedding accused Gavrílo before people of having been caught with +horses. Gavrílo was drunk, and he did not hold back his anger, but +struck the woman and hurt her so that she lay sick for a week, for she +was heavy with child. Iván rejoiced, and went with a petition to the +prosecuting magistrate. + +"Now," he thought, "I will get even with my neighbour: he shall not +escape the penitentiary or Siberia." + +Again Iván was not successful. The magistrate did not accept the +petition: they examined the woman, but she was up and there were no +marks upon her. Iván went to the justice of the peace; but the justice +sent the case to the township court. Iván bestirred himself in the +township office, filled the elder and the scribe with half a bucket of +sweet liquor, and got them to sentence Gavrílo to having his back +flogged. The sentence was read to Gavrílo in the court. + +The scribe read: + +"The court has decreed that the peasant Gavrílo Gordyéy receive twenty +blows with rods in the township office." + +Iván listened to the decree and looked at Gavrílo, wondering what he +would do. Gavrílo, too, heard the decree, and he became as pale as a +sheet, and turned away and walked out into the vestibule. Iván followed +him out and wanted to go to his horse, when he heard Gavrílo say: + +"Very well, he will beat my back, and it will burn, but something of his +may burn worse than that." + +When Iván heard these words, he returned to the judges. + +"Righteous judges! He threatens to set fire to my house. Listen, he said +it in the presence of witnesses." + +Gavrílo was called in. + +"Is it true that you said so?" + +"I said nothing. Flog me, if you please. Evidently I must suffer for my +truth, while he may do anything he wishes." + +Gavrílo wanted to say something more, but his lips and cheeks trembled. +He turned away toward the wall. Even the judges were frightened as they +looked at him. + +"It would not be surprising," they thought, "if he actually did some +harm to his neighbour or to himself." + +And an old judge said to them: + +"Listen, friends! You had better make peace with each other. Did you do +right, brother Gavrílo, to strike a pregnant woman? Luckily God was +merciful to you, but think what crime you might have committed! Is that +good? Confess your guilt and beg his pardon! And he will pardon you. +Then we shall change the decree." + +The scribe heard that, and said: + +"That is impossible, because on the basis of Article 117 there has taken +place no reconciliation, but the decree of the court has been handed +down, and the decree has to be executed." + +But the judge paid no attention to the scribe. + +"Stop currycombing your tongue. The first article, my friend, is to +remember God, and God has commanded me to make peace." + +And the judge began once more to talk to the peasants, but he could not +persuade them. Gavrílo would not listen to him. + +"I am fifty years old less one," he said, "and I have a married son. I +have not been beaten in all my life, and now freckled Iván has brought +me to being beaten with rods, and am I to beg his forgiveness? Well, he +will--Iván will remember me!" + +Gavrílo's voice trembled again. He could not talk. He turned around and +went out. + +From the township office to the village was a distance of ten versts, +and Iván returned home late. The women had already gone out to meet the +cattle. He unhitched his horse, put it away, and entered the hut. The +room was empty. The children had not yet returned from the field, and +the women were out to meet the cattle. Iván went in, sat down on a +bench, and began to think. He recalled how the decision was announced to +Gavrílo, and how he grew pale, and turned to the wall. And his heart was +pinched. He thought of how he should feel if he were condemned to be +flogged. He felt sorry for Gavrílo. He heard the old man coughing on the +oven. The old man turned around, let down his legs, and sat up. He +pulled himself with difficulty up to the bench, and coughed and coughed, +until he cleared his throat, and leaned against the table, and said: + +"Well, have they condemned him?" + +Iván said: + +"He has been sentenced to twenty strokes with the rods." + +The old man shook his head. + +"Iván, you are not doing right. It's wrong, not wrong to him, but to +yourself. Well, will it make you feel easier, if they flog him?" + +"He will never do it again," said Iván. + +"Why not? In what way is he doing worse than you?" + +"What, he has not harmed me?" exclaimed Iván. "He might have killed the +woman; and he even now threatens to set fire to my house. Well, shall I +bow to him for it?" + +The old man heaved a sigh, and said: + +"You, Iván, walk and drive wherever you please in the free world, and I +have passed many years on the oven, and so you think that you see +everything, while I see nothing. No, my son, you see nothing,--malice +has dimmed your eyes. Another man's sins are in front of you, but your +own are behind your back. You say that he has done wrong. If he alone +had done wrong, there would be no harm. Does evil between people arise +from one man only? Evil arises between two. You see his badness, but you +do not see your own. If he himself were bad, and you good, there would +be no evil. Who pulled out his beard? Who blasted the rick which was at +halves? Who is dragging him to the courts? And yet you put it always on +him. You yourself live badly, that's why it is bad. Not thus did I live, +and no such thing, my dear, did I teach you. Did I and the old man, his +father, live this way? How did we live? In neighbourly fashion. If his +flour gave out, and the woman came: 'Uncle Frol, I need some +flour.'--'Go, young woman, into the granary, and take as much as you +need.' If he had nobody to send out with the horses,--'Go, Iván, and +look after his horses!' And if I was short of anything, I used to go to +him. 'Uncle Gordyéy, I need this and that.' And how is it now? The other +day a soldier was talking about Plévna. Why, your war is worse than what +they did at Plévna. Do you call this living? It is a sin! You are a +peasant, a head of a house. You will be responsible. What are you +teaching your women and your children? To curse. The other day Taráska, +that dirty nose, cursed Aunt Arína, and his mother only laughed at him. +Is that good? You will be responsible for it. Think of your soul. Is +that right? You say a word to me, and I answer with two; you box my +ears, and I box you twice. No, my son, Christ walked over the earth and +taught us fools something quite different. If a word is said to +you,--keep quiet, and let conscience smite him. That's what he, my son, +has taught us. If they box your ears, you turn the other cheek to them: +'Here, strike it if I deserve it.' His own conscience will prick him. He +will be pacified and will do as you wish. That's what he has commanded +us to do, and not to crow. Why are you silent? Do I tell you right?" + +Iván was silent, and he listened. + +The old man coughed again, and with difficulty coughed up the phlegm, +and began to speak again: + +"Do you think Christ has taught us anything bad? He has taught us for +our own good. Think of your earthly life: are you better off, or worse, +since that Plévna of yours was started? Figure out how much you have +spent on these courts, how much you have spent in travelling and in +feeding yourself on the way? See what eagles of sons you have! You ought +to live, and live well, and go up, but your property is growing less. +Why? For the same reason. From your pride. You ought to be ploughing +with the boys in the field and attend to your sowing, but the fiend +carries you to court or to some pettifogger. You do not plough in time +and do not sow in time, and mother earth does not bring forth anything. +Why did the oats not do well this year? When did you sow them? When you +came back from the city. And what did you gain from the court? Only +trouble for yourself. Oh, son, stick to your business, and attend to +your field and your house, and if any one has offended you, forgive him +in godly fashion, and things will go better with you, and you will feel +easier at heart." + +Iván kept silence. + +"Listen, Iván! Pay attention to me, an old man. Go and hitch the gray +horse, and drive straight back to the office: squash there the whole +business, and in the morning go to Gavrílo, make peace with him in godly +fashion, and invite him to the holiday" (it was before Lady-day), "have +the samovár prepared, get a half bottle, and make an end to all sins, so +that may never happen again, and command the women and children to live +in peace." + +Iván heaved a sigh, and thought: "The old man is speaking the truth," +and his heart melted. The only thing he did not know was how to manage +things so as to make peace with his neighbour. + +And the old man, as though guessing what he had in mind, began once +more: + +"Go, Iván, do not put it off! Put out the fire at the start, for when it +burns up, you can't control it." + +The old man wanted to say something else, but did not finish, for the +women entered the room and began to prattle like magpies. The news had +already reached them about how Gavrílo had been sentenced to be flogged, +and how he had threatened to set fire to the house. They had found out +everything, and had had time in the pasture to exchange words with the +women of Gavrílo's house. They said that Gavrílo's daughter-in-law had +threatened them with the examining magistrate. The magistrate, they +said, was receiving gifts from Gavrílo. He would now upset the whole +case, and the teacher had already written another petition to the Tsar +about Iván, and that petition mentioned all the affairs, about the +coupling-pin, and about the garden,--and half of the estate would go +back to him. Iván listened to their talk, and his heart was chilled +again, and he changed his mind about making peace with Gavrílo. + +In a farmer's yard there is always much to do. Iván did not stop to talk +with the women, but got up and went out of the house, and walked over to +the threshing-floor and the shed. Before he fixed everything and started +back again, the sun went down, and the boys returned from the field. +They had been ploughing up the field for the winter crop. Iván met them, +and asked them about their work and helped them to put up the horses. He +laid aside the torn collar and was about to put some poles under the +shed, when it grew quite dark. Iván left the poles until the morrow; +instead he threw some fodder down to the cattle, opened the gate, let +Taráska out with the horses into the street, to go to the night pasture, +and again closed the gate and put down the gate board. + +"Now to supper and to bed," thought Iván. He took the torn collar and +went into the house. He had entirely forgotten about Gavrílo, and about +what his father had told him. As he took hold of the ring and was about +to enter the vestibule, he heard his neighbour on the other side of the +wicker fence scolding some one in a hoarse voice. + +"The devil take him!" Gavrílo was crying to some one. "He ought to be +killed." + +These words made all the old anger toward his neighbour burst forth in +Iván. He stood awhile and listened to Gavrílo's scolding. Then Gavrílo +grew quiet, and Iván went into the house. + +He entered the room. Fire was burning within. The young woman was +sitting in the corner behind the spinning-wheel; the old woman was +getting supper ready; the eldest son was making laces for the bast +shoes, the second was at the table with a book, and Taráska was getting +ready to go to the night pasture. + +In the house everything was good and merry, if it were not for that +curse,--a bad neighbour. + +Iván was angry when he entered the room. He knocked the cat down from +the bench and scolded the women because the vat was not in the right +place. Iván felt out of humour. He sat down, frowning, and began to mend +the collar. He could not forget Gavrílo's words, with which he had +threatened him in court, and how he had said about somebody, speaking in +a hoarse voice: "He ought to be killed." + +The old woman got Taráska something to eat. When he was through with his +supper, he put on a fur coat and a caftan, girded himself, took a piece +of bread, and went out to the horses. The eldest brother wanted to see +him off, but Iván himself got up and went out on the porch. It was +pitch-dark outside, the sky was clouded, and a wind had risen. Iván +stepped down from the porch, helped his little son to get on a horse, +frightened a colt behind him, and stood looking and listening while +Taráska rode down the village, where he met other children, and until +they all rode out of hearing. Iván stood and stood at the gate, and +could not get Gavrílo's words out of his head, "Something of yours may +burn worse." + +"He will not consider himself," thought Iván. "It is dry, and a wind is +blowing. He will enter somewhere from behind, the scoundrel, and will +set the house on fire, and he will go free. If I could catch him, he +would not get away from me." + +This thought troubled Iván so much that he did not go back to the porch, +but walked straight into the street and through the gate, around the +corner of the house. + +"I will examine the yard,--who knows?" + +And Iván walked softly down along the gate. He had just turned around +the corner and looked up the fence, when it seemed to him that something +stirred at the other end, as though it got up and sat down again. Iván +stopped and stood still,--he listened and looked: everything was quiet, +only the wind rustled the leaves in the willow-tree and crackled through +the straw. It was pitch-dark, but his eyes got used to the darkness: +Iván could see the whole corner and the plough and the penthouse. He +stood and looked, but there was no one there. + +"It must have only seemed so to me," thought Iván, "but I will, +nevertheless, go and see," and he stole up along the shed. Iván stepped +softly in his bast shoes, so that he did not hear his own steps. He came +to the corner, when, behold, something flashed by near the plough, and +disappeared again. Iván felt as though something hit him in the heart, +and he stopped. As he stopped he could see something flashing up, and he +could see clearly some one in a cap squatting down with his back toward +him, and setting fire to a bunch of straw in his hands. He stood +stock-still. + +"Now," he thought, "he will not get away from me. I will catch him on +the spot." + +Before Iván had walked two lengths of the fence it grew quite bright, +and no longer in the former place, nor was it a small fire, but the +flame licked up in the straw of the penthouse and was going toward the +roof, and there stood Gavrílo so that the whole of him could be seen. + +As a hawk swoops down on a lark, so Iván rushed up against Gavrílo the +Lame. + +"I will twist him up," he thought, "and he will not get away from me." + +But Gavrílo the Lame evidently heard his steps and ran along the shed +with as much speed as a hare. + +"You will not get away," shouted Iván, swooping down on him. + +He wanted to grab him by the collar, but Gavrílo got away from him, and +Iván caught him by the skirt of his coat. The skirt tore off, and Iván +fell down. + +Iván jumped up. + +"Help! Hold him!" and again he ran. + +As he was getting up, Gavrílo was already near his yard, but Iván caught +up with him. He was just going to take hold of him, when something +stunned him, as though a stone had come down on his head. Gavrílo had +picked up an oak post near his house and hit Iván with all his might on +the head, when he ran up to him. + +Iván staggered, sparks flew from his eyes, then all grew dark, and he +fell down. When he came to his senses, Gavrílo was gone. It was as light +as day, and from his yard came a sound as though an engine were working, +and it roared and crackled there. Iván turned around and saw that his +back shed was all on fire and the side shed was beginning to burn; the +fire, and the smoke, and the burning straw were being carried toward the +house. + +"What is this? Friend!" cried Iván. He raised his hands and brought them +down on his calves. "If I could only pull it out from the penthouse, and +put it out! What is this? Friends!" he repeated. He wanted to shout, but +he nearly strangled,--he had no voice. He wanted to run, but his feet +would not move,--they tripped each other up. He tried to walk slowly, +but he staggered, and he nearly strangled. He stood still again and drew +breath, and started to walk. Before he came to the shed and reached the +fire, the side shed was all on fire, and he could not get into the yard. +People came running up, but nothing could be done. The neighbours +dragged their own things out of their houses, and drove the cattle out. +After Iván's house, Gavrílo's caught fire; a wind rose and carried the +fire across the street. Half the village burned down. + +All they saved from Iván's house was the old man, who was pulled out, +and everybody jumped out in just what they had on. Everything else was +burned, except the horses in the pasture: the cattle were burned, the +chickens on their roosts, the carts, the ploughs, the harrows, the +women's chests, the grain in the granary,--everything was burned. + +Gavrílo's cattle were saved, and they dragged a few things out of his +house. + +It burned for a long time, all night long. Iván stood near his yard, and +kept looking at it, and saying: + +"What is this? Friends! If I could just pull it out and put it out!" + +But when the ceiling in the hut fell down, he jumped into the hottest +place, took hold of a brand, and wanted to pull it out. The women saw +him and began to call him back, but he pulled out one log and started +for another: he staggered and fell on the fire. Then his son rushed +after him and dragged him out. Iván had his hair and beard singed and +his garments burnt and his hands blistered, but he did not feel +anything. + +"His sorrow has bereft him of his senses," people said. + +The fire died down, but Iván was still standing there, and saying: + +"Friends, what is this? If I could only pull it out." + +In the morning the elder sent his son to Iván. + +"Uncle Iván, your father is dying: he has sent for you, to bid you +good-bye." + +Iván had forgotten about his father, and did not understand what they +were saying to him. + +"What father?" he said. "Send for whom?" + +"He has sent for you, to bid you good-bye. He is dying in our house. +Come, Uncle Iván!" said the elder's son, pulling him by his arm. + +Iván followed the elder's son. + +When the old man, was carried out, burning straw fell on him and +scorched him. He was taken to the elder's house in a distant part of the +village. This part did not burn. + +When Iván came to his father, only the elder's wife was there, and the +children on the oven. The rest were all at the fire. The old man was +lying on a bench, with a taper in his hand, and looking toward the door. +When his son entered, he stirred a little. The old woman went up to him +and said that his son had come. He told her to have him come closer to +him. Iván went up, and then the old man said: + +"What have I told you, Iván? Who has burned the village?" + +"He, father," said Iván, "he,--I caught him at it. He put the fire to +the roof while I was standing near. If I could only have caught the +burning bunch of straw and put it out, there would not have been +anything." + +"Iván," said the old man, "my death has come, and you, too, will die. +Whose sin is it?" + +Iván stared at his father and kept silence; he could not say a word. + +"Speak before God: whose sin is it? What have I told you?" + +It was only then that Iván came to his senses, and understood +everything. And he snuffled, and said: + +"Mine, father." And he knelt before his father, and wept, and said: +"Forgive me, father! I am guilty toward you and toward God." + +The old man moved his hands, took the taper in his left hand, and was +moving his right hand toward his brow, to make the sign of the cross, +but he did not get it so far, and he stopped. + +"Glory be to thee, O Lord! Glory be to thee, O Lord!" he said, and his +eyes were again turned toward his son. + +"Iván! Oh, Iván!" + +"What is it, father?" + +"What is to be done now?" + +Iván was weeping. + +"I do not know, father," he said. "How am I to live now, father?" + +The old man closed his eyes and lisped something, as though gathering +all his strength, and he once more opened his eyes and said: + +"You will get along. With God's aid will you get along." The old man was +silent awhile, and he smiled and said: + +"Remember, Iván, you must not tell who started the fire. Cover up +another man's sin! God will forgive two sins." + +And the old man took the taper into both hands, folded them over his +heart, heaved a sigh, stretched himself, and died. + + * * * * * + +Iván did not tell on Gavrílo, and nobody found out how the fire had been +started. + +And Iván's heart was softened toward Gavrílo, and Gavrílo marvelled at +Iván, because he did not tell anybody. At first Gavrílo was afraid of +him, but later he got used to him. The peasants stopped quarrelling, and +so did their families. While they rebuilt their homes, the two families +lived in one house, and when the village was built again, and the +farmhouses were built farther apart, Iván and Gavrílo again were +neighbours, living in the same block. + +And Iván and Gavrílo lived neighbourly together, just as their fathers +had lived. Iván Shcherbakóv remembered his father's injunction and God's +command to put out the fire in the beginning. And if a person did him +some harm, he did not try to have his revenge on the man, but to mend +matters; and if a person called him a bad name, he did not try to answer +with worse words still, but to teach him not to speak badly. And thus he +taught, also the women folk and the children. And Iván Shcherbakóv +improved and began to live better than ever. + + + + +THE CANDLE + +1885 + + + + +THE CANDLE + + Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a + tooth for a tooth: but I say unto you, That ye resist not evil. + (Matt. v. 38, 39.) + + +This happened in the days of slavery. There were then all kinds of +masters. There were such as remembered their hour of death and God, and +took pity on their people, and there were dogs,--not by that may their +memory live! But there were no meaner masters than those who from +serfdom rose, as though out of the mud, to be lords! With them life was +hardest of all. + +There happened to be such a clerk in a manorial estate. The peasants +were doing manorial labour. There was much land, and the land was good, +and there was water, and meadows, and forests. There would have been +enough for everybody, both for the master and for the peasants, but the +master had placed over them a clerk, a manorial servant of his from +another estate. + +The clerk took the power into his own hand, and sat down on the +peasants' necks. He was a married man,--he had a wife and two married +daughters,--and had saved some money: he might have lived gloriously +without sin, but he was envious, and stuck fast in sin. He began by +driving the peasants to manorial labour more than the usual number of +days. He started a brick-kiln, and he drove all the men and women to +work in it above their strength, and sold the brick. The peasants went +to the proprietor in Moscow to complain against him, but they were not +successful. When the clerk learned that the peasants had entered a +complaint against him, he took his revenge out of them. The peasants led +a harder life still. There were found faithless people among the +peasants: they began to denounce their own brothers to the clerk, and to +slander one another. And all the people became involved, and the clerk +was furious. + +The further it went, the worse it got, and the clerk carried on so +terribly that the people became afraid of him as of a wolf. When he +drove through the village, everybody ran away from him as from a wolf, +so as not to be seen by him. The clerk saw that and raved more than ever +because people were afraid of him. He tortured the peasants with beating +and with work, and they suffered very much from him. + +It used to happen that such evil-doers were put out of the way, and the +peasants began to talk that way about him. They would meet somewhere +secretly, and such as were bolder would say: + +"How long are we going to endure this evil-doer? We are perishing +anyway,--and it is no sin to kill a man like him." + +One day the peasants met in the forest, before Easter week: the clerk +had sent them to clean up the manorial woods. They came together at +dinner-time, and began to talk: + +"How can we live now?" they said. "He will root us up. He has worn us +out with work: neither in the daytime nor at night does he give any rest +to us or to the women. And the moment a thing does not go the way he +wants it to, he nags at us and has us flogged. Semén died from that +flogging; Anísim he wore out in the stocks. What are we waiting for? He +will come here in the evening and will again start to torment us. We +ought just to pull him down from his horse, whack him with an axe, and +that will be the end of it. We will bury him somewhere like a dog, and +mum is the word. Let us agree to stand by each other and not give +ourselves away." + +Thus spoke Vasíli Mináev. He was more furious at the clerk than anybody +else. The clerk had him flogged every week, and had taken his wife from +him and made her a cook at his house. + +Thus the peasants talked, and in the evening the clerk came. He came on +horseback, and immediately began to nag them because they were not +cutting right. He found a linden-tree in the heap. + +"I have commanded you not to cut any lindens down," he said. "Who cut it +down? Tell me, or I will have every one of you flogged!" + +He tried to find out in whose row the linden was. They pointed to Sídor. +The clerk beat Sídor's face until the blood came, and struck Vasíli with +a whip because his pile was small. He rode home. + +In the evening the peasants met again, and Vasíli began to speak. + +"Oh, people, you are not men, but sparrows! 'We will stand up, we will +stand up!' but when the time for action came, they all flew under the +roof. Even thus the sparrows made a stand against the hawk: 'We will not +give away, we will not give away! We will make a stand, we will make a +stand!' But when he swooped down on them, they made for the nettles. And +the hawk seized one of the sparrows, the one he wanted, and flew away +with him. Out leaped the sparrows: 'Chivik, chivik!' one of them was +lacking. 'Who is gone? Vánka. Well, served him right!' Just so you did. +'We will not give each other away, we will not give each other away!' +When he took hold of Sídor, you ought to have come together and made an +end of him. But there you say, We will not give away, we will not give +away! We will make a stand, we will make a stand!' and when he swooped +down on you, you made for the bushes." + +The peasants began to talk that way oftener and oftener, and they +decided fully to make away with the clerk. During Passion week the clerk +told the peasants to get ready to plough the manorial land for oats +during Easter week. That seemed offensive to the peasants, and they +gathered during Passion week in Vasíli's back yard, and began to talk. + +"If he has forgotten God," they said, "and wants to do such things, we +must certainly kill him. We shall be ruined anyway." + +Peter Mikhyéev came to them. He was a peaceable man, and did not take +counsel with the peasants. He came, and listened to their speeches, and +said: + +"Brothers, you are planning a great crime. It is a serious matter to +ruin a soul. It is easy to ruin somebody else's soul, but how about our +own souls? He is doing wrong, and the wrong is at his door. We must +suffer, brothers." + +Vasíli grew angry at these words. + +"He has got it into his head that it is a sin to kill a man. Of course +it is, but what kind of a man is he? It is a sin to kill a good man, but +such a dog even God has commanded us to kill. A mad dog has to be +killed, if we are to pity men. If we do not kill him, there will be a +greater sin. What a lot of people he will ruin! Though we shall suffer, +it will at least be for other people. Men will thank us for it. If we +stand gaping he will ruin us all. You are speaking nonsense, Mikhyéev. +Will it be a lesser sin if we go to work on Christ's holiday? You +yourself will not go." + +And Mikhyéev said: + +"Why should I not go? If they send me, I will go to plough. It is not +for me. God will find out whose sin it is, so long as we do not forget +him. Brothers, I am not speaking for myself. If we were enjoined to +repay evil with evil, there would be a commandment of that kind, but we +are taught just the opposite. You start to do away with evil, and it +will only pass into you. It is not a hard thing to kill a man. But the +blood sticks to your soul. To kill a man means to soil your soul with +blood. You imagine that when you kill a bad man you have got rid of the +evil, but, behold, you have reared a worse evil within you. Submit to +misfortune, and misfortune will be vanquished." + +The peasants could not come to any agreement: their thoughts were +scattered. Some of them believed with Vasíli, and others agreed with +Peter's speech that they ought not commit a crime, but endure. + +The peasants celebrated the first day, the Sunday. In the evening the +elder came with the deputies from the manor, and said: + +"Mikhaíl Seménovich, the clerk, has commanded me to get all the peasants +ready for the morrow, to plough the field for the oats." The elder made +the round of the village with the deputies and ordered all to go out on +the morrow to plough, some beyond the river, and some from the highway. +The peasants wept, but did not dare to disobey, and on the morrow went +out with their ploughs and began to plough. + +Mikhaíl Seménovich, the clerk, awoke late, and went out to look after +the farm. His home folk--his wife and his widowed daughter (she had come +for the holidays)--were all dressed up. A labourer hitched a cart for +them, and they went to mass, and returned home again. A servant made the +samovár, and when Mikhaíl Seménovich came, they sat down to drink tea. +Mikhaíl Seménovich drank his tea, lighted a pipe, and sent for the +elder. + +"Well," he said, "have you sent out the peasants to plough?" + +"Yes, Mikhaíl Seménovich." + +"Well, did all of them go?" + +"All. I placed them myself." + +"Of course, you have placed them,--but are they ploughing? Go and see, +and tell them that I will be there in the afternoon, and by that time +they are to plough a desyatína to each two ploughs, and plough it well. +If I find any unploughed strips, I will pay no attention to the +holiday." + +"Yes, sir." + +The elder started to go out, but Mikhaíl Seménovich called him back. He +called him back, but he hesitated, for he wanted to say something and +did not know how to say it. He hesitated awhile, and then he said: + +"Listen to what those robbers are saying about me. Tell me +everything,--who is scolding me, or whatever they may be saying. I know +those robbers: they do not like to work; all they want to do is to lie +on their sides and loaf. To eat and be idle, that is what they like; +they do not consider that if the time of ploughing is missed it will be +too late. So listen to what they have to say, and let me know everything +you may hear! Go, but be sure you tell me everything and keep nothing +from me!" + +The elder turned around and left the room. He mounted his horse and rode +into the field to the peasants. + +The clerk's wife had heard her husband's talk with the elder, and she +came in and began to implore him. The wife of the clerk was a peaceable +woman, and she had a good heart. Whenever she could, she calmed her +husband and took the peasants' part. + +She came to her husband, and began to beg him: "My dear Míshenka, do not +sin, for the Lord's holiday! For Christ's sake, send the peasants home!" + +Mikhaíl Seménovich did not accept his wife's words, but only laughed at +her: + +"Is it too long a time since the whip danced over you that you have +become so bold, and meddle in what is not your concern?" + +"Míshenka, my dear, I have had a bad dream about you. Listen to my words +and send the peasants home!" + +"Precisely, that's what I say. Evidently you have gathered so much fat +that you think the whip will not hurt you. Look out!" + +Seménovich grew angry, knocked the burning pipe into her teeth, sent her +away, and told her to get the dinner ready. + +Mikhaíl Seménovich ate cold gelatine, dumplings, beet soup with pork, +roast pig, and milk noodles, and drank cherry cordial, and ate pastry +for dessert; he called in the cook and made her sit down and sing songs +to him, while he himself took the guitar and accompanied her. + +Mikhaíl Seménovich was sitting in a happy mood and belching, and +strumming the guitar, and laughing with the cook. The elder came in, +made a bow, and began to report what he had seen in the field. + +"Well, are they ploughing? Will they finish the task?" + +"They have already ploughed more than half." + +"No strips left?" + +"I have not seen any. They are afraid, and are working well." + +"And are they breaking up the dirt well?" + +"The earth is soft and falls to pieces like a poppy." + +The clerk was silent for awhile. + +"What do they say about me? Are they cursing me?" + +The elder hesitated, but Mikhaíl Seménovich commanded him to tell the +whole truth. + +"Tell everything! You are not going to tell me your words, but theirs. +If you tell me the truth, I will reward you; and if you shield them, +look out, I will have you flogged. O Kátyusha, give him a glass of vódka +to brace him up!" + +The cook went and brought the elder the vódka. The elder saluted, drank +the vódka, wiped his mouth, and began to speak. "I cannot help it," he +thought, "it is not my fault if they do not praise him; I will tell him +the truth, if he wants it." And the elder took courage and said: + +"They murmur, Mikhaíl Seménovich, they murmur." + +"What do they say? Speak!" + +"They keep saying that you do not believe in God." + +The clerk laughed. + +"Who said that?" + +"All say so. They say that you are submitting to the devil." + +The clerk laughed. + +"That is all very well," he said, "but tell me in particular what each +says. What does Vasíli say?" + +The elder did not wish to tell on his people, but with Vasíli he had +long been in a feud. + +"Vasíli," he said, "curses more than the rest." + +"What does he say? Tell me!" + +"It is too terrible to tell. He says that you will die an unrepenting +death." + +"What a brave fellow!" he said. "Why, then, is he gaping? Why does he +not kill me? Evidently his arms are too short. All right," he said, +"Vasíli, we will square up accounts. And Tíshka, that dog, I suppose he +says so, too?" + +"All speak ill of you." + +"But what do they say?" + +"I loathe to tell." + +"Never mind! Take courage and speak!" + +"They say: 'May his belly burst, and his guts run out!'" + +Mikhaíl Seménovich was delighted, and he even laughed. + +"We will see whose will run out first. Who said that? Tíshka?" + +[Illustration: "But the candle was still burning" + +_Photogravure from Painting by A. Kivshénko_] + +"Nobody said a good word. All of them curse you and threaten you." + +"Well, and Peter Mikhyéev? What does he say? He, too, I suppose, is +cursing me?" + +"No, Mikhaíl Seménovich, Peter is not cursing." + +"What does he say?" + +"He is the only one of all the peasants who is not saying anything. He +is a wise peasant. I wondered at him, Mikhaíl Seménovich." + +"How so?" + +"All the peasants were wondering at what he was doing." + +"What was he doing?" + +"It is wonderful. I rode up to him. He is ploughing the slanting +desyatína at Túrkin Height. As I rode up to him, I heard some one +singing such nice, high tones, and on the plough-staff something was +shining." + +"Well?" + +"It was shining like a light. I rode up to him, and there I saw a +five-kopek wax candle was stuck on the cross-bar and burning, and the +wind did not blow it out. He had on a clean shirt, and was ploughing and +singing Sunday hymns. And he would turn over and shake off the dirt, but +the candle did not go out. He shook the plough in my presence, changed +the peg, and started the plough, but the candle was still burning and +did not go out." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He said nothing. When he saw me, he greeted me and at once began to +sing again." + +"What did you say to him?" + +"I did not say anything to him, but the peasants came up and laughed at +him: 'Mikhyéev will not get rid of his sin of ploughing during Easter +week even if he should pray all his life.'" + +"What did he say to that?" + +"All he said was: 'Peace on earth and good-will to men.' He took his +plough, started his horses, and sang out in a thin voice, but the candle +kept burning and did not go out." + +The clerk stopped laughing. He put down the guitar, lowered his head, +and fell to musing. + +He sat awhile; then he sent away the cook and the elder, went behind the +curtain, lay down on the bed, and began to sigh and to sob, just as +though a cart were driving past with sheaves. His wife came and began to +speak to him; he gave her no answer. All he said was: + +"He has vanquished me. My turn has come." + +His wife tried to calm him. + +"Go and send them home! Maybe it will be all right. See what deeds you +have done, and now you lose your courage." + +"I am lost," he said. "He has vanquished me." + +His wife cried to him: + +"You just have it on your brain, 'He has vanquished me, he has +vanquished me.' Go and send the peasants home, and all will be well. Go, +and I will have your horse saddled." + +The horse was brought up, and the clerk's wife persuaded him to ride +into the field to send the peasants home. + +Mikhaíl Seménovich mounted his horse and rode into the field. He drove +through the yard, and a woman opened the gate for him, and he passed +into the village. The moment the people saw the clerk, they hid +themselves from him, one in the yard, another around a corner, a third +in the garden. + +The clerk rode through the whole village and reached the outer gate. The +gate was shut, and he could not open it while sitting on his horse. He +called and called for somebody to open the gate, but no one would come. +He got down from his horse, opened the gate, and in the gateway started +to mount again. He put his foot into the stirrup, rose in it, and was on +the point of vaulting over the saddle, when his horse shied at a pig and +backed up toward the picket fence; he was a heavy man and did not get +into his saddle, but fell over, with his belly on picket. There was but +one sharp post in the picket fence, and it was higher than the rest. It +was this post that he struck with his belly. He was ripped open and fell +to the ground. + +When the peasants drove home from their work, the horses snorted and +would not go through the gate. The peasants went to look, and saw +Mikhaíl lying on his back. His arms were stretched out, his eyes stood +open, and all his inside had run out and the blood stood in a pool,--the +earth had not sucked it in. + +The peasants were frightened. They took their horses in by back roads, +but Mikhyéev alone got down and walked over to the clerk. He saw that he +was dead, so he closed his eyes, hitched his cart, with the aid of his +son put the dead man in the bed of the cart, and took him to the manor. + +The master heard about all these things, and to save himself from sin +substituted tenant pay for the manorial labour. + +And the peasants saw that the power of God was not in sin, but in +goodness. + + + + +THE TWO OLD MEN + +1885 + + + + +THE TWO OLD MEN + + + Therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well: + and it was about the sixth hour. There cometh a woman of Samaria to + draw water: Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink. (For his + disciples were gone away unto the city to buy meat.) Then saith the + woman of Samaria unto him, How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest + drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no + dealings with the Samaritans. Jesus answered and said unto her, If + thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, + Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, for the Father + seeketh such to worship him. (John iv. 19-23.) + + +I. + +Two old men got ready to go to old Jerusalem to pray to God. One of them +was a rich peasant; his name was Efím Tarásych Shevelév. The other was +not a well-to-do man, and his name was Eliséy Bodróv. + +Efím was a steady man: he did not drink liquor, nor smoke tobacco, nor +take snuff, had never cursed in his life, and was a stern, firm old man. +He had served two terms as an elder, and had gone out of his office +without a deficit. He had a large family,--two sons and a married +grandson,--and all lived together. As to looks he was a sound, bearded, +erect man, and only in his seventh decade did a gray streak appear in +his beard. + +Eliséy was neither wealthy nor poor; in former days he used to work out +as a carpenter, but in his old age he stayed at home and kept bees. One +son was away earning money, and another was living at home. Eliséy was a +good-natured and merry man. He liked to drink liquor and take snuff, and +sing songs; but he was a peaceable man, and lived in friendship with his +home folk and with the neighbours. In appearance he was an undersized, +swarthy man, with a curly beard and, like his saint, Prophet Elisha, his +whole head was bald. + +The old men had long ago made the vow and agreed to go together, but +Tarásych had had no time before: he had so much business on hand. The +moment one thing came to an end, another began; now he had to get his +grandson married, now he was expecting his younger son back from the +army, and now he had to build him a new hut. + +On a holiday the two old men once met, and they sat down on logs. + +"Well," said Eliséy, "when are we going to carry out our vow?" + +Efím frowned. + +"We shall have to wait," he said, "for this is a hard year for me. I +have started to build a house,--I thought I could do it with one +hundred, but it is going on now in the third. And still it is not done. +We shall have to let it go till summer. In the summer, God willing, we +shall go by all means." + +"According to my understanding," said Eliséy, "there is no sense in +delaying. We ought to go at once. Spring is the best time." + +"The time is all right, but the work is begun, so how can I drop it?" + +"Have you nobody to attend to it? Your son will do it." + +"Do it? My eldest is not reliable,--he drinks." + +"When we die, friend, they will get along without us. Let your son learn +it!" + +"That is so, but still I want to see things done under my eyes." + +"Oh, dear man! You can never attend to everything. The other day the +women in my house were washing and cleaning up for the holidays. This +and that had to be done, and everything could not be looked after. My +eldest daughter-in-law, a clever woman, said: 'It is a lucky thing the +holidays come without waiting for us, for else, no matter how much we +might work, we should never get done.'" + +Tarásych fell to musing. + +"I have spent a great deal of money on this building," he said, "and I +can't start out on the pilgrimage with empty hands. One hundred roubles +are not a trifling matter." + +Eliséy laughed. + +"Don't sin, friend!" he said. "You have ten times as much as I, and yet +you talk about money. Only say when we shall start. I have no money, but +that will be all right." + +Tarásych smiled. + +"What a rich man you are!" he said. "Where shall you get the money +from?" + +"I will scratch around in the house and will get together some there; +and if that is not enough, I will let my neighbour have ten hives. He +has been asking me for them." + +"You will have a fine swarm! You will be worrying about it." + +"Worrying? No, my friend! I have never worried about anything in life +but sins. There is nothing more precious than the soul." + +"That is so; but still, it is not good if things do not run right at +home." + +"If things do not run right in our soul, it is worse. We have made a +vow, so let us go! Truly, let us go!" + + +II. + +Eliséy persuaded his friend to go. Efím thought and thought about it, +and on the following morning he came to Eliséy. + +"Well, let us go," he said, "you have spoken rightly. God controls life +and death. We must go while we are alive and have strength." + +A week later the old men started. + +Tarásych had money at home. He took one hundred roubles with him and +left two hundred with his wife. + +Eliséy, too, got ready. He sold his neighbour ten hives and the increase +of ten other hives. For the whole he received seventy roubles. The +remaining thirty roubles he swept up from everybody in the house. His +wife gave him the last she had,--she had put it away for her funeral; +his daughter-in-law gave him what she had. + +Efím Tarásych left all his affairs in the hands of his eldest son: he +told him where to mow, and how many fields to mow, and where to haul the +manure, and how to finish the hut and thatch it. He considered +everything, and gave his orders. But all the order that Eliséy gave was +that his wife should set out the young brood separately from the hives +sold and give the neighbour what belonged to him without cheating him, +but about domestic affairs he did not even speak: "The needs +themselves," he thought, "will show you what to do and how to do it. You +have been farming yourselves, so you will do as seems best to you." + +The old men got ready. The home folk baked a lot of flat cakes for them, +and they made wallets for themselves, cut out new leg-rags, put on new +short boots, took reserve bast shoes, and started. The home folk saw +them off beyond the enclosure and bade them good-bye, and the old men +were off for their pilgrimage. + +Eliséy left in a happy mood, and as soon as he left his village he +forgot all his affairs. All the care he had was how to please his +companion, how to keep from saying an unseemly word to anybody, how to +reach the goal in peace and love, and how to get home again. As Eliséy +walked along the road he either muttered some prayer or repeated such of +the lives of the saints as he knew. Whenever he met a person on the +road, or when he came to a hostelry, he tried to be as kind to everybody +as he could, and to say to them God-fearing words. He walked along and +was happy. There was only one thing Eliséy could not do: he wanted to +stop taking snuff and had left his snuff-box at home, but he hankered +for it. On the road a man offered him some. He wrangled with himself and +stepped away from his companion so as not to lead him into sin, and took +a pinch. + +Efím Tarásych walked firmly and well; he did no wrong and spoke no vain +words, but there was no lightness in his heart. The cares about his home +did not leave his mind. He was thinking all the time about what was +going on at home,--whether he had not forgotten to give his son some +order, and whether his son was doing things in the right way. When he +saw along the road that they were setting out potatoes or hauling +manure, he wondered whether his son was doing as he had been ordered. He +just felt like returning, and showing him what to do, and doing it +himself. + + +III. + +The old men walked for live weeks. They wore out their home-made bast +shoes and began to buy new ones. They reached the country of the +Little-Russians. Heretofore they had been paying for their night's +lodging and for their dinner, but when they came to the Little-Russians, +people vied with each other in inviting them to their houses. They let +them come in, and fed them, and took no money from them, but even filled +their wallets with bread, and now and then with flat cakes. Thus the old +men walked without expense some seven hundred versts. They crossed +another Government and came to a place where there had been a failure of +crops. There they let them into the houses and did not take any money +for their night's lodging, but would not feed them. And they did not +give them bread everywhere,--not even for money could the old men get +any in some places. The previous year, so the people said, nothing had +grown. Those who had been rich were ruined,--they sold everything; those +who had lived in comfort came down to nothing; and the poor people +either entirely left the country, or turned beggars, or just managed to +exist at home. In the winter they lived on chaff and orach. + +One night the two old men stayed in a borough. There they bought about +fifteen pounds of bread. In the morning they left before daybreak, so +that they might walk a good distance before the heat. They marched some +ten versts and reached a brook. They sat down, filled their cups with +water, softened the bread with it and ate it, and changed their +leg-rags. They sat awhile and rested themselves. Eliséy took out his +snuff-horn. Efím Tarásych shook his head at him. + +"Why don't you throw away that nasty thing?" he asked. + +Eliséy waved his hand. + +"Sin has overpowered me," he said. "What shall I do?" + +They got up and marched on. They walked another ten versts. They came to +a large village, and passed through it. It was quite warm then. Eliséy +was tired, and wanted to stop and get a drink, but Tarásych would not +stop. Tarásych was a better walker, and Eliséy had a hard time keeping +up with him. + +"I should like to get a drink," he said. + +"Well, drink! I do not want any." + +Eliséy stopped. + +"Do not wait for me," he said. "I will just run into a hut and get a +drink of water. I will catch up with you at once." + +"All right," he said. And Efím Tarásych proceeded by himself along the +road, while Eliséy turned to go into a hut. + +Eliséy came up to the hut. It was a small clay cabin; the lower part was +black, the upper white, and the clay had long ago crumbled +off,--evidently it had not been plastered for a long time,--and the roof +was open at one end. The entrance was from the yard. Eliséy stepped into +the yard, and there saw that a lean, beardless man with his shirt stuck +in his trousers in Little-Russian fashion was lying near the earth +mound. The man had evidently lain down in a cool spot, but now the sun +was burning down upon him. He was lying there awake. Eliséy called out +to him, asking him to give him a drink, but the man made no reply. "He +is either sick, or an unkind man," thought Eliséy, going up to the door. +Inside he heard a child crying. He knocked with the door-ring. "Good +people!" No answer. He struck with his staff against the door. +"Christian people!" No stir. "Servants of the Lord!" No reply. Eliséy +was on the point of going away, when he heard somebody groaning within. +"I wonder whether some misfortune has happened there to the people. I +must see." And Eliséy went into the hut. + + +IV. + +Eliséy turned the ring,--the door was not locked. He pushed the door +open and walked through the vestibule. The door into the living-room was +open. On the left there was an oven; straight ahead was the front +corner; in the corner stood a shrine and a table; beyond the table was a +bench, and on it sat a bareheaded old woman, in nothing but a shirt; her +head was leaning on the table, and near her stood a lean little boy, his +face as yellow as wax and his belly swollen, and he was pulling the old +woman's sleeve, and crying at the top of his voice and begging for +something. + +Eliséy entered the room. There was a stifling air in the house. He saw a +woman lying behind the oven, on the floor. She was lying on her face +without looking at anything, and snoring, and now stretching out a leg +and again drawing it up. And she tossed from side to side,--and from her +came that oppressive smell: evidently she was very sick, and there was +nobody to take her away. The old woman raised her head, when she saw the +man. + +"What do you want?" she said, in Little-Russian. "What do you want? We +have nothing, my dear man." + +Eliséy understood what she was saying: he walked over to her. + +"Servant of the Lord," he said, "I have come in to get a drink of +water." + +"There is none, I say, there is none. There is nothing here for you to +take. Go!" + +Eliséy asked her: + +"Is there no well man here to take this woman away?" + +"There is nobody here: the man is dying in the yard, and we here." + +The boy grew quiet when he saw the stranger, but when the old woman +began to speak, he again took hold of her sleeve. + +"Bread, granny, bread!" and he burst out weeping. + +Just as Eliséy was going to ask the old woman another question, the man +tumbled into the hut; he walked along the wall and wanted to sit down on +the bench, but before reaching it he fell down in the corner, near the +threshold. He did not try to get up, but began to speak. He would say +one word at a time, then draw his breath, then say something again. + +"We are sick," he said, "and--hungry. The boy is starving." He indicated +the boy with his head and began to weep. + +Eliséy shifted his wallet on his back, freed his arms, let the wallet +down on the ground, lifted it on the bench, and untied it. When it was +open, he took out the bread and the knife, out off a slice, and gave it +to the man. The man did not take it, but pointed to the boy and the +girl, to have it given to them. Eliséy gave it to the boy. When the boy +saw the bread, he made for it, grabbed the slice with both his hands, +and stuck his nose into the bread. A girl crawled out from behind the +oven and gazed at the bread. Eliséy gave her, too, a piece. He cut off +another slice and gave it to the old woman. She took it and began to +chew at it. + +"If you would just bring us some water," she said. "Their lips are +parched. I wanted to bring some yesterday or to-day,--I do not remember +when,--but I fell down and left the pail there, if nobody took it away." + +Eliséy asked where their well was. The old woman told him where. Eliséy +went out. He found the pail, brought some water, and gave the people to +drink. The children ate some more bread with water, and the old woman +ate some, but the man would not eat. + +"My stomach will not hold it," he said. + +The woman did not get up or come to: she was just tossing on the bed +place. Eliséy went to the shop, and bought millet, salt, flour, and +butter. He found an axe, chopped some wood, and made a fire in the oven. +The girl helped him. Eliséy cooked a soup and porridge, and fed the +people. + + +V. + +The man ate a little, and so did the old woman, and the girl and the +little boy licked the bowl clean and embraced each other and fell +asleep. + +The man and the old woman told Eliséy how it had all happened. + +"We lived heretofore poorly," they said, "but when the crop failed us, +we ate up in the fall everything we had. When we had nothing left, we +began to beg from our neighbours and from good people. At first they +gave us some, but later they refused. Some of them would have been +willing to give us to eat, but they had nothing themselves. Besides we +felt ashamed to beg: we owed everybody money and flour and bread. I +looked for work," said the man, "but could find none. People were +everywhere looking for work to get something to eat. One day I would +work, and two I would go around looking for more work. The old woman and +the girl went a distance away to beg, but the alms were poor,--nobody +had any bread. Still, we managed to get something to eat: we thought we +might squeeze through until the new crop; but in the spring they quit +giving us alms altogether, and sickness fell upon us. It grew pretty +bad: one day we would have something to eat, and two we went without it. +We began to eat grass. And from the grass, or from some other reason, +the woman grew sick. She lay down, and I had no strength, and we had +nothing with which to improve matters." + +"I was the only one," the old woman said, "who worked: but I gave out +and grew weak, as I had nothing to eat. The girl, too, grew weak and +lost her courage. I sent her to the neighbours, but she did not go. She +hid herself in a corner and would not go. A neighbour came in two days +ago, but when she saw that we were hungry and sick, she turned around +and went out. Her husband has left, and she has nothing with which to +feed her young children. So we were lying here and waiting for death." + +When Eliséy heard what they said, he changed his mind about catching up +with his companion, and remained there overnight. In the morning Eliséy +got up and began to work about the house as though he were the master. +He set bread with the old woman and made a fire in the oven. He went +with the girl to the neighbours to fetch what was necessary. Everything +he wanted to pick up was gone: there was nothing left for farming, and +the clothes were used up. Eliséy got everything which was needed: some +things he made himself, and some he bought. Eliséy stayed with them one +day, and a second, and a third. The little boy regained his strength, +and he began to walk on the bench and to make friends with Eliséy. The +girl, too, became quite cheerful and helped him in everything. She kept +running after Eliséy: "Grandfather, grandfather!" + +The old woman got up and went to her neighbour. The man began to walk by +holding on to the wall. Only the woman was lying down. On the third day +she came to and asked for something to eat. + +"Well," thought Eliséy, "I had not expected to lose so much time. Now I +must go." + + +VI. + +The fourth day was the last of a fast, and Eliséy said to himself: + +"I will break fast with them. I will buy something for them for the +holidays, and in the evening I must leave." + +Eliséy went once more to the village and bought milk, white flour, and +lard. He and the old woman cooked and baked a lot of things, and in the +morning Eliséy went to mass and came back and broke fast with the +people. On that day the woman got up and began to move about. The man +shaved himself, put on a clean shirt,--the old woman had washed it for +him,--and went to a rich peasant to ask a favour of him. His mowing and +field were mortgaged to the rich man, so he went to ask him to let him +have the mowing and the field until the new crop. He came back gloomy in +the evening, and burst out weeping. The rich man would not show him the +favour; he had asked him to bring the money. + +Eliséy fell to musing. + +"How are they going to live now? People will be going out to mow, but +they cannot go, for it is all mortgaged. The rye will ripen and people +will begin to harvest it (and there is such a fine stand of it!), but +they have nothing to look forward to,--their desyatína is sold to the +rich peasant. If I go away, they will fall back into poverty." + +And Eliséy was in doubt, and did not go away in the evening, but put it +off until morning. He went into the yard to sleep. He said his prayers +and lay down, but could not fall asleep. + +"I ought to go,--as it is I have spent much time and money; but I am +sorry for the people. You can't help everybody. I meant to bring them +some water and give each a slice of bread, but see how far I have gone. +Now I shall have to buy out his mowing and field. And if I buy out the +field, I might as well buy a cow for the children, and a horse for the +man to haul his sheaves with. Brother Eliséy Kuzmích, you are in for it! +You have let yourself loose, and now you will not straighten out +things." + +Eliséy got up, took the caftan from under his head, and unrolled it; he +drew out his snuff-horn and took a pinch, thinking that he would clear +his thoughts, but no,--he thought and thought and could not come to any +conclusion. He ought to get up and go, but he was sorry for the people. +He did not know what to do. He rolled the caftan up under his head and +lay down to sleep. He lay there for a long time, and the cocks crowed, +and then only did he fall asleep. Suddenly he felt as though some one +had wakened him. He saw himself all dressed, with his wallet and staff, +and he had to pass through a gate, but it was just open enough to let a +man squeeze through. He went to the gate and his wallet caught on one +side, and as he was about to free it, one of his leg-rags got caught on +the other side and came open. He tried to free the leg-rag, but it was +not caught in the wicker fence: it was the girl who was holding on to +it, and crying, "Grandfather, grandfather, bread!" He looked at his +foot, and there was the little boy holding on to it, and the old woman +and the man were looking out of the window. Eliséy awoke, and he began +to speak to himself in an audible voice: + +"I will buy out the field and the mowing to-morrow, and will buy a +horse, and flour to last until harvest-time, and a cow for the children. +For how would it be to go beyond the sea to seek Christ and lose him +within me? I must get the people started." + +And Eliséy fell asleep until morning. He awoke early. He went to the +rich merchant, bought out the rye and gave him money for the mowing. He +bought a scythe,--for that had been sold, too,--and brought it home. He +sent the man out to mow, and himself went to see the peasants: he found +a horse and a cart for sale at the innkeeper's. He bargained with him +for it, and bought it; then he bought a bag of flour, which he put in +the cart, and went out to buy a cow. As he was walking, he came across +two Little-Russian women, and they were talking to one another. Though +they were talking in their dialect, he could make out what they were +saying about him: + +"You see, at first they did not recognize him; they thought that he was +just a simple kind of a man. They say, he went in to get a drink, and he +has just stopped there. What a lot of things he has bought them! I +myself saw him buy a horse and cart to-day of the innkeeper. Evidently +there are such people in the world. I must go and take a look at him." + +When Eliséy heard that, he understood that they were praising him, and +so he did not go to buy the cow. He returned to the innkeeper and gave +him the money for the horse. He hitched it up and drove with the flour +to the house. When he drove up to the gate, he stopped and climbed down +from the cart. When the people of the house saw the horse, they were +surprised. They thought that he had bought the horse for them, but did +not dare say so. The master came out to open the gates. + +"Grandfather, where did you get that horse?" + +"I bought it," he said. "I got it cheap. Mow some grass and put it in +the cart, so that the horse may have some for the night. And take off +the bag!" + +The master unhitched the horse, carried the bag to the granary, mowed a +lot of grass, and put it into the cart. They lay down to sleep. Eliséy +slept in the street, and thither he had carried his wallet in the +evening. All the people fell asleep. Eliséy got up, tied his wallet, put +on his shoes and his caftan, and started down the road to catch up with +Efím. + + +VII. + +Eliséy had walked about five versts, when day began to break. He sat +down under a tree, untied his wallet, and began to count his money. He +found that he had seventeen roubles twenty kopeks left. + +"Well," he thought, "with this sum I cannot travel beyond the sea, but +if I beg in Christ's name, I shall only increase my sin. Friend Efím +will reach the place by himself, and will put up a candle for me. But I +shall evidently never fulfil my vow. The master is merciful, and he will +forgive me." + +Eliséy got up, slung his wallet over his shoulders, and turned back. He +made a circle around the village so that people might not see him. And +soon he reached home. On his way out he had found it hard: it was hard +keeping up with Efím; but on his way home God made it easy for him, for +he did not know what weariness was. Walking was just play to him, and he +swayed his staff, and made as much as seventy versts a day. + +Eliséy came back home. The harvest was all in. The home folk were glad +to see the old man. They asked all about him, why he had left his +companion and why he had not gone to Jerusalem, but had returned home. +Eliséy did not tell them anything. + +"God did not grant me that I should," he said. "I spent my money on the +way, and got separated from my companion. And so I did not go. Forgive +me for Christ's sake." + +He gave the old woman what money he had left. He asked all about the +home matters: everything was right; everything had been attended to and +nothing missed, and all were living in peace and agreement. + +Efím's people heard that very day that Eliséy had come back, and so they +came to inquire about their old man. And Eliséy told them the same +story. + +"You see," he said, "the old man started to walk briskly, and three days +before St. Peter's day we lost each other. I wanted to catch up with +him, but it happened that I spent all my money and could not go on, so I +returned home." + +The people marvelled how it was that such a clever man had acted so +foolishly as to start and not reach the place and merely spend his +money. They wondered awhile, and forgot about it. Eliséy, too, forgot +about it. He began to work about the house: he got the wood ready for +the winter with his son, threshed the grain with the women, thatched the +sheds, gathered in the bees, and gave ten hives with the young brood to +his neighbour. When he got all the work done, he sent his son out to +earn money, and himself sat down in the winter to plait bast shoes and +hollow out blocks for the hives. + + +VIII. + +All that day that Eliséy passed with the sick people, Efím waited for +his companion. He walked but a short distance and sat down. He waited +and waited, and fell asleep; when he awoke, he sat awhile,--but his +companion did not turn up. He kept a sharp lookout for him, but the sun +was going down behind a tree, and still Eliséy was not there. + +"I wonder whether he has not passed by me," he thought. "Maybe somebody +drove him past, and he did not see me while I was asleep. But how could +he help seeing me? In the steppe you can see a long distance off. If I +go back, he may be marching on, and we shall only get farther separated +from each other. I will walk on,--we shall meet at the resting-place for +the night." + +When he came to a village, he asked the village officer to look out for +an old man and bring him to the house where he stayed. Eliséy did not +come there for the night. Efím marched on, and asked everybody whether +they had seen a bald-headed old man. No one had seen him. Efím was +surprised and walked on. + +"We shall meet somewhere in Odessa," he thought, "or on the boat," and +then he stopped thinking about it. + +On the road he fell in with a pilgrim. The pilgrim, in calotte, cassock, +and long hair, had been to Mount Athos, and was now going for the second +time to Jerusalem. They met at a hostelry, and they had a chat and +started off together. + +They reached Odessa without any accident. They waited for three days for +a ship. There were many pilgrims there, and they had come together from +all directions. Again Efím asked about Eliséy, but nobody had seen him. + +Efím provided himself with a passport,--that cost five roubles. He had +forty roubles left for his round trip, and he bought bread and herring +for the voyage. The ship was loaded, then the pilgrims were admitted, +and Tarásych sat down beside the pilgrim he had met. The anchors were +weighed, they pushed off from the shore, and the ship sailed across the +sea. + +During the day they had good sailing; in the evening a wind arose, rain +fell, and the ship began to rock and to be washed by the waves. The +people grew excited; the women began to shriek, and such men as were +weak ran up and down the ship, trying to find a safe place. Efím, too, +was frightened, but he did not show it: where he had sat down on the +floor on boarding the ship by the side of Tambóv peasants, he sat +through the night and the following day; all of them held on to their +wallets and did not speak. On the third day it grew calmer. On the fifth +day they landed at Constantinople. + +Some of the pilgrims went ashore there, to visit the Cathedral of St. +Sophia, which now the Turks hold; Tarásych did not go, but remained on +board the ship. All he did was to buy some white bread. They remained +there a day, and then again sailed through the sea. They stopped at +Smyrna town, and at another city by the name of Alexandria, and safely +reached the city of Jaffa. In Jaffa all pilgrims go ashore: from there +it is seventy versts on foot to Jerusalem. At the landing the people had +quite a scare: the ship was high, and the people were let down into +boats below; but the boats were rocking all the time, and two people +were let down past the boat and got a ducking, but otherwise all went +safely. + +When all were ashore, they went on afoot; on the third day they reached +Jerusalem at dinner-time. They stopped in a suburb, in a Russian +hostelry; there they had their passports stamped and ate their dinner, +and then they followed a pilgrim to the holy places. It was too early +yet to be admitted to the Sepulchre of the Lord, so they went to the +Monastery of the Patriarch. There all the worshippers were gathered, and +the female sex was put apart from the male. They were all ordered to +take off their shoes and sit in a circle. A monk came out with a towel, +and began to wash everybody's feet. He would wash, and rub them clean, +and kiss them, and thus he went around the whole circle. He washed +Efím's feet and kissed them. They celebrated vigils and matins, and +placed a candle, and served a mass for the parents. There they were fed, +and received wine to drink. + +On the following morning they went to the cell of Mary of Egypt, where +she took refuge. There they placed candles, and a mass was celebrated. +From there they went to Abraham's Monastery. They saw the Sebak garden, +the place where Abraham wanted to sacrifice his son to God. Then they +went to the place where Christ appeared to Mary Magdalene, and to the +Church of Jacob, the brother of the Lord. The pilgrim showed them all +the places, and in every place he told how much money they ought to +give. At dinner they returned to the hostelry. They ate, and were just +getting ready to lie down to sleep, when the pilgrim, who was rummaging +through his clothes, began to sigh. + +"They have pulled out my pocketbook with money in it," he said. "I had +twenty-three roubles,--two ten-rouble bills, and three in change." + +The pilgrim felt badly about it, but nothing could be done, and all went +to sleep. + + +IX. + +As Efím went to sleep, a temptation came over him. + +"They have not taken the pilgrim's money," he thought, "he did not have +any. Nowhere did he offer anything. He told me to give, but he himself +did not offer any. He took a rouble from me." + +As Efím was thinking so, he began to rebuke himself: + +"How dare I judge the man, and commit a sin. I will not sin." The moment +he forgot himself, he again thought that the pilgrim had a sharp eye on +money, and that it was unlikely that they had taken the money from him. +"He never had any money," he thought. "It's only an excuse." + +They got up before evening and went to an early mass at the Church of +the Resurrection,--to the Sepulchre of the Lord. The pilgrim did not +leave Efím's side, but walked with him all the time. + +They came to the church. There was there collected a large crowd of +worshippers, Greeks, and Armenians, and Turks, and Syrians. Efím came +with the people to the Holy Gate. A monk led them. He took them past the +Turkish guard to the place where the Saviour was taken from the cross +and anointed, and where candles were burning in nine large candlesticks. +He showed and explained everything to them. Efím placed a candle there. +Then the monks led Efím to the right over steps to Golgotha, where the +cross stood; there Efím prayed; then Efím was shown the cleft where the +earth was rent to the lowermost regions; then he was shown the place +where Christ's hands and feet had been nailed to the cross, and then he +was shown Adam's grave, where Christ's blood dropped on his bones. Then +they came to the rock on which Christ sat when they put the wreath of +thorns on his head; then to the post to which Christ was tied when he +was beaten. Then Efím saw the stone with the two holes, for Christ's +feet. They wanted to show him other things, but the people hastened +away: all hurried to the grotto of the Lord's Sepulchre. Some foreign +mass was just ended, and the Russian began. Efím followed the people to +the grotto. + +He wanted to get away from the pilgrim, for in thought he still sinned +against him, but the pilgrim stuck to him, and went with him to mass at +the Sepulchre of the Lord. They wanted to stand close to it, but were +too late. There was such a crowd there that it was not possible to move +forward or back. Efím stood there and looked straight ahead and prayed, +but every once in awhile he felt his purse, to see whether it was in his +pocket. His thoughts were divided; now he thought that the pilgrim had +deceived him; and then he thought, if he had not deceived him, and the +pocketbook had really been stolen, the same might happen to him. + + +X. + +Efím stood there and prayed and looked ahead into the chapel where the +Sepulchre itself was, and where over the Sepulchre thirty-six lamps were +burning. Efím looked over the heads to see the marvellous thing: under +the very lamps, where the blessed fire was burning, in front of all, he +saw an old man in a coarse caftan, with a bald spot shining on his whole +head, and he looked very much like Eliséy Bodróv. + +"He resembles Eliséy," he thought. "But how can it be he? He could not +have got here before me. The previous ship started a week ahead of us. +He could not have been on that ship. On our ship he was not, for I saw +all the pilgrims." + +Just as Efím was thinking this, the old man began to pray, and made +three bows: once in front of him, to God, and twice to either side, to +all the Orthodox people. And as the old man turned his head to the +right, Efím recognized him. Sure enough, it was Bodróv: it was his +blackish, curly beard, and the gray streak on his cheeks, and his brows, +his eyes, his nose, and full face,--all his. Certainly it was he, Eliséy +Bodróv. + +Efím was glad that he had found his companion, and he marvelled how +Eliséy could have got there ahead of him. + +"How in the world did Bodróv get to that place in front?" he thought. +"No doubt he met a man who knew how to get him there. When all go out, I +will hunt him up, and I will drop the pilgrim in the colette, and will +walk with him. Maybe he will take me to the front place." + +Efím kept an eye on Eliséy, so as not to lose him. When the masses were +over, the people began to stir. As they went up to kiss the Sepulchre, +they crowded and pushed Efím to one side. He was frightened lest his +purse should be stolen. He put his hand to his purse and tried to make +his way out into the open. When he got out, he walked and walked, trying +to find Eliséy, both on the outside and in the church. In the church he +saw many people in the cells: some ate, and drank wine, and slept there, +and read their prayers. But Eliséy was not to be found. Efím returned to +the hostelry, but he did not find his companion there either. On that +evening the pilgrim, too, did not come back. He was gone, and had not +returned the rouble to Efím. So Efím was left alone. + +On the following day Efím went again to the Sepulchre of the Lord with a +Tambóv peasant, with whom he had journeyed on the ship. He wanted to +make his way to the front, but he was again pushed back, and so he stood +at a column and prayed. He looked ahead of him, and there in front, +under the lamps, at the very Sepulchre of the Lord, stood Eliséy. He had +extended his hands, like a priest at the altar, and his bald spot shone +over his whole head. + +"Now," thought Efím, "I will not miss him." + +He made his way to the front, but Eliséy was not there. Evidently he had +left. On the third day he again went to the Sepulchre of the Lord, and +there he saw Eliséy standing in the holiest place, in sight of +everybody, and his hands were stretched out, and he looked up, as though +he saw something above him. And his bald spot shone over his whole head. + +"Now," thought Efím, "I will certainly not miss him; I will go and stand +at the entrance, and then he cannot escape me." + +Efím went out and stood there for a long time. He stood until after +noon: all the people had passed out, but Eliséy was not among them. + +Efím passed six weeks in Jerusalem, and visited all the places, +Bethlehem, and Bethany, and the Jordan, and had a stamp put on a new +shirt at the Lord's Sepulchre, to be buried in it, and filled a bottle +of Jordan water, and got some earth, and candles with blessed fire, and +in eight places inscribed names for the mass of the dead. He spent all +his money and had just enough left to get home on, and so he started for +home. He reached Jaffa, boarded a ship, landed at Odessa, and walked +toward his home. + + +XI. + +Efím walked by himself the same way he had come out. As he was getting +close to his village, he began to worry again about how things were +going at his house without him. In a year, he thought, much water runs +by. It takes a lifetime to get together a home, but it does not take +long to ruin it. He wondered how his son had done without him, how the +spring had opened, how the cattle had wintered, and whether the hut was +well built. Efím reached the spot where the year before he had parted +from Eliséy. It was not possible to recognize the people. Where the year +before they had suffered want, now there was plenty. Everything grew +well in the field. The people picked up again and forgot their former +misery. In the evening Efím reached the very village where the year +before Eliséy had fallen behind. He had just entered the village, when a +little girl in a white shirt came running out of a hut. + +"Grandfather, grandfather! Come to our house!" + +Efím wanted to go on, but the girl would not let him. She took hold of +his coat and laughed and pulled him to the hut. A woman with a boy came +out on the porch, and she, too, beckoned to him: + +"Come in, grandfather, and eat supper with us and stay overnight!" + +Efím stepped in. + +"I can, at least, ask about Eliséy," he thought. "This is the very hut +into which he went to get a drink." + +Efím went inside. The woman took off his wallet, gave him water to wash +himself, and seated him at the table. She fetched milk, cheese, cakes, +and porridge, and placed it all on the table. Tarásych thanked her and +praised the people for being hospitable to pilgrims. The woman shook her +head. + +"We cannot help receiving pilgrims," she said. "We received life from a +pilgrim. We lived forgetting God, and God punished us in such a way that +all of us were waiting for death. Last summer we came to such a point +that we were all lying down sick and starved. We should certainly have +died, but God sent us an old man like you. He stepped in during the +daytime to get a drink; when he saw us, he took pity on us and remained +at our house. He gave us to eat and to drink, and put us on our feet +again. He cleared our land from debt, and bought a horse and cart and +left it with us." + +The old woman entered the room, and interrupted her speech: + +"We do not know," she said, "whether he was a man or an angel of the +Lord. He was good to us all, and pitied us, and then went away without +giving his name, so that we do not know for whom to pray to God. I see +it as though it happened just now: I was lying down and waiting for +death to come; I looked up and saw a man come in,--just a simple, +bald-headed man,--and ask for a drink. I, sinful woman, thought that he +was a tramp, but see what he did! When he saw us he put down his wallet, +right in this spot, and opened it." + +The girl broke in. + +"No, granny," she said, "first he put his wallet in the middle of the +room, and only later did he put it on the bench." + +And they began to dispute and to recall his words and deeds: where he +had sat down, and where he had slept, and what he had done, and what he +had said to each. + +Toward evening the master of the house came home on a horse, and he, +too, began to tell about Eliséy, and how he had stayed at their house. + +"If he had not come to us," he said, "we should all of us have died in +sin. We were dying in despair, and we murmured against God and men. But +he put us on our feet, and through him we found out God, and began to +believe in good people. May Christ save him! Before that we lived like +beasts, and he has made men of us." + +They gave Efím to eat and to drink, and gave him a place to sleep, and +themselves went to bed. + +As Efím lay down, he could not sleep, and Eliséy did not leave his mind, +but he thought of how he had seen him three times in Jerusalem in the +foremost place. + +"So this is the way he got ahead of me," he thought. "My work may be +accepted or not, but his the Lord has accepted." + +In the morning Efím bade the people good-bye: they filled his wallet +with cakes and went to work, while Efím started out on the road. + + +XII. + +Efím was away precisely a year. In the spring he returned home. + +He reached his house in the evening. His son was not at home,--he was in +the dram-shop. He returned intoxicated, and Efím began to ask him about +the house. He saw by everything that the lad had got into bad ways +without him. He had spent all the money, and the business he had +neglected. His father scolded him, and he answered his father with rude +words. + +"You ought to have come back yourself," he said. "Instead, you went away +and took all the money with you, and now you make me responsible." + +The old man became angry and beat his son. + +The next morning Efím Tarásych went to the elder to talk to him about +his son. As he passed Eliséy's farm, Eliséy's wife was standing on the +porch and greeting him: + +"Welcome, friend!" she said. "Did you, dear man, have a successful +journey?" + +Efím Tarásych stopped. + +"Thank God," he said, "I have been at Jerusalem, but I lost your husband +on the way. I hear that he is back." + +And the old woman started to talk to him, for she was fond of babbling. + +"He is back, my dear; he has been back for quite awhile. He returned +soon after Assumption day. We were so glad to see him back. It was +lonely without him. Not that we mean his work,--for he is getting old. +But he is the head, and it is jollier for us. How happy our lad was! +Without him, he said, it was as without light for the eyes. It was +lonely without him, my dear. We love him so much!" + +"Well, is he at home now?" + +"At home he is, neighbour, in the apiary, brushing in the swarms. He +says it was a fine swarming season. The old man does not remember when +there has been such a lot of bees. God gives us not according to our +sins, he says. Come in, dear one! He will be so glad to see you." + +Efím walked through the vestibule and through the yard to the apiary, to +see Eliséy. When he came inside the apiary, he saw Eliséy standing +without a net, without gloves, in a gray caftan, under a birch-tree, +extending his arms and looking up, and his bald spot shone over his +whole head, just as he had stood in Jerusalem at the Lord's Sepulchre, +and above him, through the birch-tree, the sun glowed, and above his +head the golden bees circled in the form of a wreath, and did not sting +him. Efím stopped. + +Eliséy's wife called out to her husband: + +"Your friend is here." + +Eliséy looked around. He was happy, and walked over toward his friend, +softly brushing the bees out of his beard. + +"Welcome, friend, welcome, dear man! Did you have a successful journey?" + +"My feet took me there, and I have brought you some water from the river +Jordan. Come and get it! But whether the Lord has received my work--" + +"Thank God! Christ save you!" + +Efím was silent. + +"I was there with my feet, but in spirit you were there, or somebody +else--" + +"It is God's work, my friend, God's work." + +"On my way home I stopped at the hut where I lost you." + +Eliséy was frightened, and he hastened to say: + +"It is God's work, my friend, God's work. Well, won't you step in? I +will bring some honey." + +And Eliséy changed the subject, and began to speak of home matters. + +Efím heaved a sigh. He did not mention the people of the hut to Eliséy, +nor what he had seen in Jerusalem. And he understood that God has +enjoined that each man shall before his death carry out his vow--with +love and good deeds. + + + + +WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO + +1885 + + + + +WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO + + +Shoemaker Martýn Avdyéich lived in the city. He lived in a basement, in +a room with one window. The window looked out on the street. Through it +the people could be seen as they passed by: though only the feet were +visible, Martýn Avdyéich could tell the men by their boots. He had lived +for a long time in one place and had many acquaintances. It was a rare +pair of boots in the neighbourhood that had not gone once or twice +through his hands. Some he had resoled; on others he had put patches, or +fixed the seams, or even put on new uppers. Frequently he saw his own +work through the window. He had much to do, for he did honest work, put +in strong material, took no more than was fair, and kept his word. If he +could get a piece of work done by a certain time he undertook to do it, +and if not, he would not cheat, but said so in advance. Everybody knew +Avdyéich, and his work never stopped. + +Avdyéich had always been a good man, but in his old age he thought more +of his soul and came near unto God. Even while Martýn had been living +with a master, his wife had died, and he had been left with a boy three +years of age. Their children did not live long. All the elder children +had died before. At first Martýn had intended sending his son to his +sister in a village, but then he felt sorry for the little lad, and +thought: "It will be hard for my Kapitóshka to grow up in somebody +else's family, and so I will keep him." + +Avdyéich left his master, and took up quarters with his son. But God did +not grant Avdyéich any luck with his children. No sooner had the boy +grown up so as to be a help to his father and a joy to him, than a +disease fell upon him and he lay down and had a fever for a week and +died. Martýn buried his son, and was in despair. He despaired so much +that he began to murmur against God. He was so downhearted that more +than once he asked God to let him die, and rebuked God for having taken +his beloved only son, and not him. He even stopped going to church. + +One day an old man, a countryman of Avdyéich's, returning from +Tróitsa,--he had been a pilgrim for eight years,--came to see him. +Avdyéich talked with him and began to complain of his sorrow: + +"I have even no desire to live any longer, godly man. If I could only +die. That is all I am praying God for. I am a man without any hope." + +And the old man said to him: + +"You do not say well, Martýn. We cannot judge God's works. Not by our +reason, but by God's judgment do we live. God has determined that your +son should die, and you live. Evidently it is better so. The reason you +are in despair is that you want to live for your own enjoyment." + +"What else shall we live for?" asked Martýn. + +And the old man said: + +"We must live for God, Martýn. He gives us life, and for Him must we +live. When you shall live for Him and shall not worry about anything, +life will be lighter for you." + +Martýn was silent, and he said: + +"How shall we live for God?" + +And the old man said: + +"Christ has shown us how to live for God. Do you know how to read? If +so, buy yourself a Gospel and read it, and you will learn from it how to +live for God. It tells all about it." + +These words fell deep into Avdyéich's heart. And he went that very day +and bought himself a New Testament in large letters, and began to read. + +Avdyéich had meant to read it on holidays only, but when he began to +read it, his heart was so rejoiced that he read it every day. Many a +time he buried himself so much in reading that all the kerosene would be +spent in the lamp, but he could not tear himself away from the book. And +Avdyéich read in it every evening, and the more he read, the clearer it +became to him what God wanted of him, and how he should live for God; +and his heart grew lighter and lighter. Formerly, when he lay down to +sleep, he used to groan and sob and think of his Kapitóshka, but now he +only muttered: + +"Glory be to Thee, glory to Thee, O Lord! Thy will be done!" + +Since then Avdyéich's life had been changed. Formerly, he used on a +holiday to frequent the tavern, to drink tea, and would not decline a +drink of vódka. He would drink a glass with an acquaintance and, though +he would not be drunk, he would come out of the tavern in a happier +mood, and then he would speak foolish things, and would scold, or +slander a man. Now all that passed away from him. His life came to be +calm and happy. In the morning he sat down to work, and when he got +through, he took the lamp from the hook, put it down on the table, +fetched the book from the shelf, opened it, and began to read it. And +the more he read, the better he understood it, and his mind was clearer +and his heart lighter. + +One evening Martýn read late into the night. He had before him the +Gospel of St. Luke. He read the sixth chapter and the verses: "And unto +him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other; and him +that taketh away thy cloke forbid not to take thy coat also. Give to +every man that asketh of thee; and of him that taketh away thy goods ask +them not again. And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to +them likewise." + +And he read also the other verses, where the Lord says: "And why call ye +me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say? Whosoever cometh to +me, and heareth my sayings, and doeth them, I will shew you to whom he +is like: he is like a man which built an house, and digged deep, and +laid the foundation on a rock: and when the flood arose, the stream beat +vehemently upon that house, and could not shake it: for it was founded +upon a rock. But he that heareth, and doeth not, is like a man that +without a foundation built an house upon the earth; against which the +stream did beat vehemently, and immediately it fell; and the ruin of +that house was great." + +When Avdyéich read these words, there was joy in his heart. He took off +his glasses, put them on the book, leaned his arms on the table, and +fell to musing. And he began to apply these words to his life, and he +thought: + +"Is my house on a rock, or on the sand? It is well if it is founded on a +rock: it is so easy to sit alone,--it seems to me that I am doing +everything which God has commanded; but if I dissipate, I shall sin +again. I will just proceed as at present. It is so nice! Help me, God!" + +This he thought, and he wanted to go to sleep, but he was loath to tear +himself away from the book. And he began to read the seventh chapter. He +read about the centurion, about the widow's son, about the answer to +John's disciples, and he reached the passage where the rich Pharisee +invited the Lord to be his guest, and where the sinning woman anointed +His feet and washed them with her tears, and he justified her. And he +reached the 44th verse, and read: "And he turned to the woman, and said +unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou +gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, +and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but +this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My +head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my +feet with ointment." + +When he had read these verses, he thought: + +"He gave no water for His feet; he gave no kiss; he did not anoint His +head with oil." + +And again Avdyéich took off his glasses and placed them on the book, and +fell to musing. + +"Evidently he was just such a Pharisee as I am. He, no doubt, thought +only of himself: how to drink tea, and be warm, and in comfort, but he +did not think of the guest. About himself he thought, but no care did he +have for the guest. And who was the guest?--The Lord Himself. Would I +have done so, if He had come to me?" + +And Avdyéich leaned his head on both his arms and did not notice how he +fell asleep. + +"Martýn!" suddenly something seemed to breathe over his very ear. + +Martýn shuddered in his sleep: "Who is that?" + +He turned around and looked at the door, but there was nobody there. He +bent down again, to go to sleep. Suddenly he heard distinctly: + +"Martýn, oh, Martýn, remember, to-morrow I will come to the street." + +Martýn awoke, rose from his chair, and began to rub his eyes. He did +not know himself whether he had heard these words in his dream or in +waking. He put out the light and went to sleep. + +Avdyéich got up in the morning before daybreak, said his prayers, made a +fire, put the beet soup and porridge on the stove, started the samovár, +tied on his apron, and sat down at the window to work. And, as he sat +there at work, he kept thinking of what had happened the night before. +His thoughts were divided: now he thought that it had only seemed so to +him, and now again he thought he had actually heard the voice. + +"Well," he thought, "such things happen." + +Martýn was sitting at the window and not so much working as looking out +into the street, and if somebody passed in unfamiliar boots, he bent +over to look out of the window, in order to see not merely the boots, +but also the face. A janitor passed by in new felt boots; then a +water-carrier went past; then an old soldier of the days of Nicholas, in +patched old felt boots, holding a shovel in his hands, came in a line +with the window. Avdyéich recognized him by his felt boots. The old +man's name was Stepánych, and he was living with a neighbouring merchant +for charity's sake. It was his duty to help the janitor. Stepánych began +to clear away the snow opposite Avdyéich's window. Avdyéich cast a +glance at him and went back to his work. + +"Evidently I am losing my senses in my old age," Avdyéich laughed to +himself. "Stepánych is clearing away the snow, and I thought that Christ +was coming to see me. I, old fool, am losing my senses." But before he +had made a dozen stitches, something drew him again toward the window. +He looked out, and there he saw Stepánych leaning his shovel against the +wall and either warming or resting himself. + +He was an old, broken-down man, and evidently shovelling snow was above +his strength. Avdyéich thought: "I ought to give him some tea; +fortunately the samovár is just boiling." He stuck the awl into the +wood, got up, placed the samovár on the table, put some tea in the +teapot, and tapped with his finger at the window. Stepánych turned +around and walked over to the window. Avdyéich beckoned to him and went +to open the door. + +"Come in and get warmed up!" he said. "I suppose you are feeling cold." + +"Christ save you! I have a breaking in my bones," said Stepánych. + +He came in, shook off the snow and wiped his boots so as not to track +the floor, but he was tottering all the time. + +"Don't take the trouble to rub your boots. I will clean up,--that is my +business. Come and sit down!" said Avdyéich. "Here, drink a glass of +tea!" + +Avdyéich filled two glasses and moved one of them up to his guest, and +himself poured his glass into the saucer and began to blow at it. + +Stepánych drank his glass; then he turned it upside down, put the lump +of sugar on top of it, and began to express his thanks; but it was +evident that he wanted another glass. + +"Have some more," said Avdyéich; and he poured out a glass for his guest +and one for himself. Avdyéich drank his tea, but something kept drawing +his attention to the window. + +"Are you waiting for anybody?" asked the guest. + +"Am I waiting for anybody? It is really a shame to say for whom I am +waiting: no, I am not exactly waiting, but a certain word has fallen +deep into my heart: I do not know myself whether it is a vision, or +what. You see, my friend, I read the Gospel yesterday about Father +Christ and how He suffered and walked the earth. I suppose you have +heard of it?" + +"Yes, I have," replied Stepánych, "but we are ignorant people,--we do +not know how to read." + +"Well, so I read about how He walked the earth. I read, you know, about +how He came to the Pharisee, and the Pharisee did not give Him a good +reception. Well, my friend, as I was reading last night about that very +thing, I wondered how he could have failed to honour Father Christ. If +He should have happened to come to me, for example, I should have done +everything to receive Him. But he did not receive Him well. As I was +thinking of it, I fell asleep. And as I dozed off I heard some one +calling me by name: I got up and it was as though somebody were +whispering to me: 'Wait,' he said: 'I will come to-morrow.' This he +repeated twice. Would you believe it,--it has been running through my +head,--I blame myself for it,--and I am, as it were, waiting for Father +Christ." + +Stepánych shook his head and said nothing. He finished his glass and put +it sidewise, but Avdyéich took it again and filled it with tea. + +"Drink, and may it do you good! I suppose when He, the Father, walked +the earth, He did not neglect anybody, and kept the company mostly of +simple folk. He visited mostly simple folk, and chose His disciples +mostly from people of our class, labouring men, like ourselves the +sinners. He who raises himself up, He said, shall be humbled, and he who +humbles himself shall be raised. You call me Lord, He said, but I will +wash your feet. He who wants to be the first, He said, let him be +everybody's servant; because, He said, blessed are the poor, the meek +the humble, and the merciful." + +Stepánych forgot his tea. He was an old man and easily moved to tears. +He sat there and listened, and tears flowed down his cheeks. + +"Take another glass!" said Avdyéich. + +But Stepánych made the sign of the cross, thanked him for the tea, +pushed the glass away from him, and got up. + +"Thank you, Martýn Avdyéich," he said. "You were hospitable to me, and +have given food to my body and my soul." + +"You are welcome. Come in again,--I shall be glad to see you," said +Avdyéich. + +Stepánych went away. Martýn poured out the last tea, finished another +glass, put away the dishes, and again sat down at the window to +work,--to tap a boot. And as he worked, he kept looking out of the +window,--waiting for Christ and thinking of Him and His works. And all +kinds of Christ's speeches ran through his head. + +There passed by two soldiers, one in Crown boots, the other in boots of +his own; then the proprietor of a neighbouring house came by in clean +galoshes, and then a baker with a basket. All of these went past the +window, and then a woman in woollen stockings and peasant shoes came in +line with the window. She went by the window and stopped near a wall. +Avdyéich looked at her through the window, and saw that she was a +strange, poorly dressed woman, with a child: she had stopped with her +back to the wind and was trying to wrap the child, though she did not +have anything to wrap it in. The woman's clothes were for the summer, +and scanty at that. Avdyéich could hear the child cry in the street, and +her vain attempt to quiet it. Avdyéich got up and went out of his room +and up to the staircase, and called out: + +"Clever Woman! Clever woman!" + +The woman heard him and turned around. + +"Why are you standing there in the cold with the child? Come in here! It +will be easier for you to wrap the child in a warm room. Here, this +way!" + +The woman was surprised. She saw an old man in an apron, with glasses +over his nose, calling to her. She followed him in. + +They went down the stairs and entered the room, and Martýn took the +woman up to the bed. + +"Sit down here, clever woman, nearer to the stove, and get warm and feed +the child." + +"There is no milk in my breasts,--I have not had anything to eat since +morning," said the woman, but still she took the child to her breast. + +Avdyéich shook his head, went to the table, fetched some bread and a +bowl, opened a door in the stove, filled the bowl with beet soup, and +took out the pot of porridge, but it was not done yet. He put the soup +on the table, put down the bread, and took off a rag from a hook and put +it down on the table. + +"Sit down, clever woman, and eat, and I will sit with the babe,--I used +to have children of my own, and so I know how to take care of them." + +The woman made the sign of the cross, sat down at the table, and began +to eat, while Avdyéich seated himself on the bed with the child. He +smacked his lips at it, but could not smack well, for he had no teeth. +The babe kept crying all the time. Avdyéich tried to frighten it with +his finger: he quickly carried his finger down toward the babe's mouth +and pulled it away again. He did not put his finger into the child's +mouth, because it was black,--all smeared with pitch. But the child took +a fancy for his finger and grew quiet, and then began even to smile. +Avdyéich, too, was happy. The woman was eating in the meantime and +telling him who she was and whither she was going. + +"I am a soldier's wife," she said. "My husband was driven somewhere far +away eight months ago, and I do not know where he is. I had been working +as a cook when the baby was born; they would not keep me with the child. +This is the third month that I have been without a place. I have spent +all I had saved. I wanted to hire out as a wet-nurse, but they will not +take me: they say that I am too thin. I went to a merchant woman, where +our granny lives, and she promised she would take me. I thought she +wanted me to come at once, but she told me she wanted me next week. She +lives a distance away. I am all worn out and have worn out the dear +child, too. Luckily our landlady pities us for the sake of Christ, or +else I do not know how we should have lived until now." + +Avdyéich heaved a sigh, and said: + +"And have you no warm clothes?" + +"Indeed, it is time now to have warm clothing, dear man! But yesterday I +pawned my last kerchief for twenty kopeks." + +The woman went up to the bed and took her child, but Avdyéich got up, +went to the wall, rummaged there awhile, and brought her an old +sleeveless cloak. + +"Take this!" he said. "It is an old piece, but you may use it to wrap +yourself in." + +The woman looked at the cloak and at the old man, and took the cloak, +and burst out weeping. Avdyéich turned his face away; he crawled under +the bed, pulled out a box, rummaged through it, and again sat down +opposite the woman. + +And the woman said: + +"May Christ save you, grandfather! Evidently He sent me to your window. +My child would have frozen to death. When I went out it was warm, but +now it has turned dreadfully cold. It was He, our Father, who taught you +to look through the window and have pity on me, sorrowful woman." + +Avdyéich smiled, and said: + +"It is He who has instructed me: clever woman, there was good reason why +I looked through the window." + +Martýn told the soldier woman about his dream, and how he had heard a +voice promising him that the Lord would come to see him on that day. + +"Everything is possible," said the woman. She got up, threw the cloak +over her, wrapped the child in it, and began to bow to Avdyéich and to +thank him. + +"Accept this, for the sake of Christ," said Avdyéich, giving her twenty +kopeks, with which to redeem her kerchief. + +The woman made the sign of the cross, and so did Avdyéich, and he saw +the woman out. + +She went away. Avdyéich ate some soup, put the things away, and sat down +once more to work. He was working, but at the same time thinking of the +window: whenever it grew dark there, he looked up to see who was +passing. There went by acquaintances and strangers, and there was +nothing peculiar. + +Suddenly Avdyéich saw an old woman, a huckstress, stop opposite the very +window. She was carrying a basket with apples. There were but few of +them left,--evidently she had sold all, and over her shoulder she +carried a bag with chips. No doubt, she had picked them up at some new +building, and was on her way home. The bag was evidently pulling hard on +her shoulder; she wanted to shift it to her other shoulder, so she let +the bag down on the flagstones, set the apple-basket on a post, and +began to shake down the chips. While she was doing that, a boy in a torn +cap leaped out from somewhere, grasped any apple from the basket, and +wanted to skip out, but the old woman saw him in time and turned around +and grabbed the boy by the sleeve. The boy yanked and tried to get away, +but the old woman held on to him with both her hands, knocked down his +cap, and took hold of his hair. The boy cried, and the old woman +scolded. Avdyéich did not have time to put away the awl. He threw it on +the floor, jumped out of the room, stumbled on the staircase, and +dropped his glasses. He ran out into the street. The old woman was +pulling the boy's hair and scolding him. She wanted to take him to a +policeman; the little fellow struggled and tried to deny what he had +done: + +"I did not take any, so why do you beat me? Let me go!" + +Avdyéich tried to separate them. He took the boy's arm, and said: + +"Let him go, granny, forgive him for Christ's sake!" + +"I will forgive him in such a way that he will not forget until the new +bath brooms are ripe. I will take the rascal to the police station!" + +Avdyéich began to beg the old woman: + +"Let him go, granny, he will not do it again. Let him go, for Christ's +sake!" + +The woman let go of him. The boy wanted to run, but Avdyéich held on to +him. + +"Beg the grandmother's forgiveness," he said. "Don't do that again,--I +saw you take the apple." + +The boy began to cry, and he asked her forgiveness. + +"That's right. And now, take this apple!" Avdyéich took an apple from +the basket and gave it to the boy. "I will pay for it, granny," he said +to the old woman. + +"You are spoiling these ragamuffins," said the old woman. "He ought to +be rewarded in such a way that he should remember it for a week." + +"Oh, granny, granny!" said Avdyéich. "That is according to our ways, but +how is that according to God's ways? If he is to be whipped for an +apple, what ought to be done with us for our sins?" + +The old woman grew silent. + +And Avdyéich told the old woman the parable of the lord who forgave his +servant his whole large debt, after which the servant went and took his +fellow servant who was his debtor by the throat. The old woman listened +to him, and the boy stood and listened, too. + +"God has commanded that we should forgive," said Avdyéich, "or else we, +too, shall not be forgiven. All are to be forgiven, but most of all an +unthinking person." + +The old woman shook her head and sighed. + +"That is so," said the old woman, "but they are very much spoiled +nowadays." + +"Then we old people ought to teach them," said Avdyéich. + +"That is what I say," said the old woman. "I myself had seven of +them,--but only one daughter is left now." And the old woman began to +tell where and how she was living with her daughter, and how many +grandchildren she had. "My strength is waning," she said, "but still I +work. I am sorry for my grandchildren, and they are such nice +children,--nobody else meets me the way they do. Aksyútka will not go to +anybody from me. 'Granny, granny dear, darling!'" And the old woman +melted with tenderness. + +"Of course, he is but a child,--God be with him!" the old woman said +about the boy. + +She wanted to lift the bag on her shoulders, when the boy jumped up to +her, and said: + +"Let me carry it, granny! I am going that way." + +The old woman shook her head and threw the bag on the boy's shoulders. +They walked together down the street. The old woman had forgotten to ask +Avdyéich to pay her for the apple. Avdyéich stood awhile, looking at +them and hearing them talk as they walked along. + +When they disappeared from sight, he returned to his room. He found his +glasses on the staircase,--they were not broken,--and he picked up his +awl and again sat down to work. He worked for awhile; he could not find +the holes with the bristle, when he looked up and saw the lampman +lighting the lamps. + +"It is evidently time to strike a light," he thought, and he got up and +fixed the lamp and hung it on the hook, and sat down again to work. He +finished a boot: he turned it around and looked at it, and he saw that +it was well done. He put down his tool, swept up the clippings, put away +the bristles and the remnants and the awls, took the lamp and put it on +the table, and fetched the Gospel from the shelf. He wanted to open the +book where he had marked it the day before with a morocco clipping, but +he opened it in another place. And just as he went to open the Gospel, +he thought of his dream of the night before. And just as he thought of +it, it appeared to him as though something were moving and stepping +behind him. He looked around, and, indeed, it looked as though people +were standing in the dark corner, but he could not make out who they +were. And a voice whispered to him: + +"Martýn, oh, Martýn, have you not recognized me?" + +"Whom?" asked Avdyéich. + +"Me," said the voice. "It is I." + +And out of the dark corner came Stepánych, and he smiled and vanished +like a cloud and was no more. + +"And it is I," said a voice. + +And out of the dark corner came the woman with the babe, and the woman +smiled and the child laughed, and they, too, disappeared. + +"And it is I," said a voice. + +And out came the old woman and the boy with the apple, and both smiled +and vanished. + +And joy fell on Avdyéich's heart, and he made the sign of the cross, put +on his glasses, and began to read the Gospel, there where he had opened +it. And at the top of the page he read: + +"I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me +drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in." + +And at the bottom of the page he read: + +"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, +ye have done it unto me." (Matt. xxv.) + +And Avdyéich understood that his dream had not deceived him, that the +Saviour had really come to him on that day, and that he had received +Him. + + + + +TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +1885 + + + + +TEXTS FOR CHAPBOOK + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + + +THE FIEND PERSISTS, BUT GOD RESISTS + + +In ancient times there lived a good master. He had plenty of everything, +and many slaves served him. And the slaves prided themselves on their +master. They said: + +"There is not a better master under heaven. He feeds us and dresses us +well, and gives us work to do according to our strength, and never +offends us with a word, and bears no grudge against any one; he is not +like other masters who torture their slaves worse than cattle, and +punish them with cause and without cause, and never say a good word to +them. Our master wishes us good, and does us good, and speaks good words +to us. We do not want any better life." + +Thus the slaves boasted of their master. And the devil was annoyed to +see the slaves living well and in love with their master. And the devil +took possession of one of the master's slaves, Aleb. He took possession +of him and commanded him to seduce other slaves. And when all the slaves +were resting and praising their master, Aleb raised his voice and said: + +"Brothers, in vain do you pride yourselves on the goodness of your +master. Try to do the devil's bidding, and he, too, will be kind to you. +We serve our master well, and please him in everything. He needs only +to have a thing in mind, and we do it.--we guess his thoughts. Why, +then, should he not be good to us? Stop doing his bidding and do him +some wrong, and he will be like everybody else, and will repay evil with +evil, much worse than the worst of masters." + +And the other slaves began to dispute with Aleb. They disputed and made +a wager. Aleb undertook to anger the good master. He undertook to do so +on condition that if he did not succeed in making him angry, he should +lose his holiday garment, but if he did, each should give him his own +holiday garment, and, besides, they promised to defend him against the +master and to free him if the master should put him in irons or throw +him into prison. They made this wager, and Aleb promised to anger the +master on the following morning. + +Aleb was serving in the master's sheepfold and tended on costly +thoroughbred rams. And so, when the good master came the next morning +with his guests to the sheepfold to show them his favourite expensive +rams, the devil's labourer winked to his companions: "Watch me now! I am +going to anger the master." All the slaves gathered and looked through +the door and over the enclosure, and the devil climbed a tree and looked +from there into the yard, to see how his labourer was going to serve +him. The master walked through the yard, showing his guests the sheep +and lambs, and he wanted to show them his best ram. + +"The other rams are nice, too, but the one with the twisted horns is +priceless, and I think more of him than of the pupil of my eye." + +The sheep and the lambs were shying from the people in the yard, and the +guests could not get a good look at the expensive ram. The moment the +ram stopped, the labourer of the devil, as though by accident, +frightened the sheep, and they got all mixed. The guests could not make +out which was the expensive ram. The master got tired of it, so he said: + +"Aleb, my dear friend, take the trouble carefully to catch the best ram +with the twisted horns and to hold him awhile." + +The moment the master had said that, Aleb rushed forward, like a lion, +into the midst of the rams and caught the priceless ram by his fleece. +He got hold of the wool, and with one hand he seized the left hind leg +and raised it and in the eyes of the master jerked it in such a way that +it snapped like a linden post. Aleb had broken the ram's leg beneath the +knee. The ram began to bleat and fell down on his fore legs. Aleb +grasped the right leg while the left hung loose like a whip-cord. The +guests and all the slaves groaned, and the devil rejoiced, when he saw +how cleverly Aleb had done his work. The master looked blacker than +night. He frowned, lowered his head, and did not say a word. The guests +and the slaves were silent. They waited to see what would happen. + +The master was silent, then shook himself, as though he wanted to throw +something off, and raised his head and lifted it to the sky. He looked +at it for a short time, and the wrinkles on his face disappeared, and he +smiled and lowered his eyes on Aleb. He looked at Aleb, and smiled, and +said: + +"O Aleb, Aleb! Your master has commanded you to anger me. But my master +is stronger than yours: you have not angered me, but I will anger your +master. You were afraid that I would punish you, and you wanted to be +free, Aleb. Know, then, that you will receive no punishment from me, +and, since you wanted to be free, I free you in the presence of these my +guests. Go in all four directions and take your holiday garment with +you!" + +And the good master went with his guests to the house. But the devil +ground his teeth and fell down from the tree and sank through the +earth. + + + + +LITTLE GIRLS WISER THAN OLD PEOPLE + + +It was an early Easter. They had just quit using sleighs. In the yards +lay snow, and rills ran down the village. A large puddle had run down +from a manure pile into a lane between two farms. And at this puddle two +girls, one older than the other, had met. Both of them had been dressed +by their mothers in new bodices. The little girl had a blue bodice, and +the elder a yellow one with a design. Both had their heads wrapped in +red kerchiefs. After mass the two girls went to the puddle, where they +showed their new garments to each other, and began to play. They wanted +to plash in the water. The little girl started to go into the puddle +with her shoes on, but the older girl said to her: + +"Don't go, Malásha, your mother will scold you. I will take off my +shoes, and you do the same." + +The girls took off their shoes, raised their skirts, and walked through +the puddle toward each other. Malásha stepped in up to her ankles, and +said: + +"It is deep, Akúlka, I am afraid." + +"Never mind," she replied, "it will not be any deeper. Come straight +toward me!" They came closer to each other. Akúlka said: + +"Malásha, look out, and do not splash it up, but walk softly." + +She had barely said that when Malásha plumped her foot into the water +and bespattered Akúlka's bodice, and not only her bodice, but also her +nose and eyes. When Akúlka saw the spots on her bodice, she grew angry +at Malásha, and scolded her, and ran after her, and wanted to strike +her. Malásha was frightened and, seeing what trouble she had caused, +jumped out of the puddle and ran home. + +Akúlka's mother passed by; she saw her daughter's bodice bespattered and +her shirt soiled. + +"Where, accursed one, did you get yourself so dirty?" + +"Malásha has purposely splashed it on me." + +Akúlka's mother grasped Malásha and gave her a knock on the nape of her +neck. Malásha began to howl, and her mother ran out of the house. + +"Why do you strike my daughter?" she began to scold her neighbour. + +One word brought back another, and the women began to quarrel. The men, +too, ran out, and a big crowd gathered in the street. All were crying, +and nobody could hear his neighbour. They scolded and cursed each other; +one man gave another man a push, and a fight had begun, when Akúlka's +grandmother came out. She stepped in the midst of the peasants, and +began to talk to them: + +"What are you doing, dear ones? Consider the holiday. This is a time for +rejoicing. And see what sin you are doing!" + +They paid no attention to the old woman, and almost knocked her off her +feet. She would never have stopped them, if it had not been for Akúlka +and Malásha. While the women exchanged words, Akúlka wiped off her +bodice, and went back to the puddle in the lane. She picked up a pebble +and began to scratch the ground so as to let the water off into the +street. While she was scratching, Malásha came up and began to help her: +she picked up a chip and widened the rill. The peasants had begun to +fight, just as the water went down the rill toward the place where the +old woman was trying to separate the men. The girls ran, one from one +side of the rill, the other from the other side. + +"Look out, Malásha, look out!" shouted Akúlka. + +Malásha wanted to say something herself, but could not speak for +laughter. + +The girls were running and laughing at a chip which was bobbing up and +down the rill. They ran straight into the crowd of the peasants. The old +woman saw them and said to the peasants: + +"Shame on you before God, men! You have started fighting on account of +these two girls, and they have long ago forgotten it: the dear children +have been playing nicely together. They are wiser than you." + +The men looked at the girls, and they felt ashamed. Then they laughed at +themselves, and scattered to their farms. + +"Except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the +kingdom of heaven." + + + + +THE TWO BROTHERS AND THE GOLD + + +In ancient times there lived not far from Jerusalem two brothers, the +elder named Athanasius, and the younger John. They lived in a mountain, +not far from the city, and supported themselves on what people offered +them. The brothers passed all their days at work. They worked not for +themselves, but for the poor. Wherever were those who were oppressed by +labour, or sick people, or orphans, or widows, thither the brothers +went, and there they worked, and received no pay. Thus the two brothers +passed the whole week away from each other, and met only on Saturday +evening in their abode. On Sunday alone did they stay at home, and then +they prayed and talked with each other. And an angel of the Lord came +down to them and blessed them. On Monday they separated each in his own +direction. Thus they lived for many years, and each week the angel of +the Lord came down to them and blessed them. + +One Monday, when the brothers had already gone out to work and had gone +each in his direction, the elder brother, Athanasius, was loath to part +from his brother, and he stopped and looked back. John was walking with +lowered head, in his direction, without looking back. But suddenly John, +too, stopped and, as though he had suddenly noticed something, gazed at +something, while shielding his eyes. Then he approached what he was +gazing at, suddenly jumped to one side, and, without looking back, ran +down-hill and up-hill again, away from the place, as though a wolf were +after him. Athanasius was surprised. He went back to that spot, to see +what it was that had so frightened his brother. He went up to it and +saw something shining in the sun. He came nearer, and there lay a heap +of gold on the ground, as though poured out from a measure. And +Athanasius was still more surprised, both at the gold and at his +brother's leap. + +"Why was he frightened, and why did he run away?" thought Athanasius. +"There is no sin in gold. The sin is in man. With gold one may do wrong, +but also some good. How many orphans and widows may be fed, how many +naked people dressed, and the poor and sick aided with this gold! We now +serve people, but our service is small, though it is to the best of our +strength. With this gold, however, we can serve people better." + +Thus Athanasius thought, and he wanted to tell it all to his brother; +but John was out of the range of hearing, and could be seen only as a +speck the size of a beetle on another mountain. + +Athanasius took off his cloak, scooped up as much gold as he was able to +carry away, threw it on his shoulder, and carried it into the city. He +came to a hostelry and left the gold with the keeper, and went back for +the rest. When he had brought all the gold, he went to the merchants, +bought some land in the city, and stones and timber, and hired +labourers, and began to build three houses. + +Athanasius lived for three months in the city, and built three houses +there: one--an asylum for widows and orphans, another--a hospital for +the sick and the lame, and a third--for pilgrims and for the needy. And +Athanasius found three God-fearing old men, and one of them he placed in +charge of the asylum, the second--of the hospital, and the third--of the +hostelry. And Athanasius had still three thousand gold coins left. He +gave each old man one thousand coins to distribute them to the poor. + +The three houses began to fill up with people, and the people began to +praise Athanasius for everything he had done. And Athanasius was glad of +that and did not feel like leaving the city. But he loved his brother +and so he bade the people farewell and, without keeping a single coin, +went back to his abode, wearing the same old garment in which he had +come. + +As Athanasius was approaching his mountain, he thought: + +"My brother did not judge rightly when he jumped from the gold and ran +away from it. Have I not done better?" + +And no sooner had Athanasius thought so than he saw the angel who used +to bless him standing in the road and looking threateningly at him. And +Athanasius was frightened and only said: + +"For what, O Lord?" + +And the angel opened his lips, and said: + +"Go hence! You are not worthy of living with your brother. One leap of +your brother is worth all the deeds which you have done with your gold." + +And Athanasius began to speak of how many poor people and pilgrims he +had fed, and how many orphans he had housed. And the angel said: + +"The devil who placed the gold there has also taught you these words." + +Then only did his conscience trouble him, and he saw that he had done +his deeds not for God, and he wept and began to repent. + +The angel stepped out of the road and opened the path on which his +brother, John, was already standing and waiting for him. After that +Athanasius no longer submitted to the temptation of the devil who had +scattered the gold, and he understood that not with gold, but only with +words can we serve God and men. + +And the brothers began to live as before. + + + + +ILYÁS + + +In the Government of Ufá there lived a Bashkir, Ilyás. His father had +left him no wealth. His father had died a year after he had got his son +married. At that time Ilyás had seven mares, two cows, and a score of +sheep; but Ilyás was a good master and began to increase his +possessions; he worked with his wife from morning until night, got up +earlier than anybody, and went to bed later, and grew richer from year +to year. Thus Ilyás passed thirty-five years at work, and came to have a +vast fortune. + +Ilyás finally had two hundred head of horses, 150 head of cattle, and +twelve hundred sheep. Men herded Ilyás's herds and flocks, and women +milked the mares and cows, and made kumys, butter, and cheese. Ilyás had +plenty of everything, and in the district everybody envied him his life. +People said: + +"Ilyás is a lucky fellow. He has plenty of everything,--he does not need +to die." + +Good people made Ilyás's friendship and became his friends. And guests +came to him from a distance. He received them all, and fed them, and +gave them to drink. No matter who came, he received kumys, and tea, and +sherbet, and mutton. If guests came to see him, a sheep or two were +killed, and if many guests arrived, he had them kill a mare. + +Ilyás had two sons and a daughter. He had got all of them married. When +Ilyás had been poor, his sons had worked with him and had herded the +horses and the cattle and the sheep; but when they grew rich, the sons +became spoiled, and one of them even began to drink. One of them, the +eldest, was killed in a fight, and the other, the younger, had a proud +wife, and did not obey his father, and his father had to give him a +separate maintenance. + +Ilyás gave him a house and cattle, and his own wealth was diminished. +Soon after a plague fell on Ilyás's sheep, and many of them died. Then +there was a famine year, the hay crop was a failure, and in the winter +many head of cattle died. Then the Kirgizes drove off the best herd of +horses. And thus Ilyás's estate grew less, and he fell lower and lower, +and his strength began to wane. + +When he was seventy years old, he began to sell off his furs, rugs, +saddles, and tents, and soon had to sell his last head of cattle, so +that he was left without anything. Before he knew it, all was gone, and +in his old age he had to go with his wife to live among strangers. All +that Ilyás had left of his fortune was what garments he had on his body, +a fur coat, a cap, and his morocco slippers and shoes, and his wife, +Sham-shemagi, who was now an old woman. The son to whom he had given the +property had left for a distant country, and his daughter had died. And +so there was nobody to help the old people. + +Their neighbour, Muhamedshah, took pity on them. Muhamedshah was neither +rich nor poor, and he lived an even life, and was a good man. He +remembered Ilyás's hospitality, and so pitied him, and said to Ilyás: + +"Come to live with me, Ilyás, and bring your wife with you! In the +summer work according to your strength in my truck-garden, and in the +winter feed the cattle, and let Sham-shemagi milk the mares and make +kumys. I will feed and clothe you and will let you have whatever you may +need." + +Ilyás thanked his neighbour, and went to live with his wife as +Muhamedshah's labourers. At first it was hard for them, but soon they +got used to the work, and the old people worked according to their +strength. + +It was profitable for the master to keep these people, for they had been +masters themselves and knew all the order and were not lazy, but worked +according to their strength; but it pained Muhamedshah to see the +well-to-do people brought down so low. + +One day distant guests, match-makers, happened to call on Muhamedshah; +and the mulla, too, came. Muhamedshah ordered his men to catch a sheep +and kill it. Ilyás flayed the sheep and cooked it and sent it in to the +guests. They ate the mutton, drank tea, and then started to drink kumys. +The guests and the master were sitting on down cushions on the rugs, +drinking kumys out of bowls, and talking; but Ilyás got through with his +work and walked past the door. When Muhamedshah saw him, he said to a +guest: + +"Did you see the old man who just went past the door?" + +"I did," said the guest; "but what is there remarkable about him?" + +"What is remarkable is that he used to be our richest man. Ilyás is his +name; maybe you have heard of him?" + +"Of course I have," said the guest. "I have never seen him, but his fame +has gone far abroad." + +"Now he has nothing left, and he lives with me as a labourer, and his +wife is with him,--she milks the cows." + +The guest was surprised. He clicked with his tongue, shook his head, and +said: + +"Evidently fortune flies around like a wheel: one it lifts up, another +it takes down. Well, does the old man pine?" + +"Who knows? He lives quietly and peaceably, and works well." + +Then the guest said: + +"May I speak with him? I should like to ask him about his life." + +"Of course you may," said the master, and he called out of the tent: +"Babay!" (This means "grandfather" in the Bashkia language.) "Come in +and drink some kumys, and bring your wife with you!" + +Ilyás came in with his wife. He exchanged greetings with the guests and +with the master, said a prayer, and knelt down at the door; but his wife +went back of a curtain and sat down with the mistress. + +A bowl of kumys was handed to Ilyás. Ilyás saluted the guests and the +master, made a bow, drank a little, and put down the bowl. + +"Grandfather," the guest said to him, "I suppose it makes you feel bad +to look at us and think of your former life, considering what fortune +you had and how hard your life is now." + +But Ilyás smiled and said: + +"If I should tell you about my happiness and unhappiness, you would not +believe me,--you had better ask my wife. She is a woman, and what is in +her heart is on her tongue: she will tell you all the truth about this +matter." + +And the guest spoke to her behind the curtain: + +"Well, granny, tell us how you judge about your former happiness and +present sorrow." + +And Sham-shemagi spoke from behind the curtain: + +"I judge like this: My husband and I lived for fifty years trying to +find happiness, and we did not find it; but now it is the second year +that we have nothing left and that we live as labourers, and we have +found that happiness and need no other." + +The guests were surprised and the master marvelled, and he even got up +to throw aside the curtain and to look at the old woman. But the old +woman was standing with folded hands, smiling and looking at her +husband, and the old man was smiling, too. The old woman said once +more: + +"I am telling you the truth, without any jest: for half a century we +tried to find happiness, and so long as we were rich, we did not find +it; now nothing is left, and we are working out,--and we have come to +have such happiness that we wish for no other.". + +"Wherein does your happiness lie?" + +"In this: when we were rich, my husband and I did not have an hour's +rest: we had no time to talk together, to think of our souls, or to +pray. We had so many cares! Now guests called on us,--and there were the +cares about what to treat them to and what presents to make so that they +should not misjudge us. When the guests left, we had to look after the +labourers: they thought only of resting and having something good to +eat, but we cared only about having our property attended to,--and so +sinned. Now we were afraid that a wolf would kill a colt or a calf, and +now that thieves might drive off a herd. When we lay down to sleep, we +could not fall asleep, fearing lest the sheep might crush the lambs. We +would get up in the night and walk around; no sooner would we be quieted +than we would have a new care,--how to get fodder for the winter. And, +worse than that, there was not much agreement between my husband and me. +He would say that this had to be done so and so, and I would say +differently, and so we began to quarrel, and sin. Thus we lived from one +care to another, from one sin to another, and saw no happy life." + +"Well, and now?" + +"Now my husband and I get up, speak together peaceably, in agreement, +for we have nothing to quarrel about, nothing to worry about,--all the +care we have is to serve our master. We work according to our strength, +and we work willingly so that our master shall have no loss, but profit. +When we come back, dinner is ready, and supper, and kumys. If it is +cold, there are dung chips to make a fire with and a fur coat to warm +ourselves. For fifty years we looked for happiness, but only now have we +found it." + +The guests laughed. + +And Ilyás said: + +"Do not laugh, brothers! This is not a joke, but a matter of human life. +My wife and I were foolish and wept because we had lost our fortune, but +now God has revealed the truth to us, and we reveal this to you, not for +our amusement but for your good." + +And the mulla said: + +"That was a wise speech, and Ilyás has told the precise truth,--it says +so, too, in Holy Writ." + +And the guests stopped laughing and fell to musing. + + + + +A FAIRY-TALE + + About Iván the Fool and His Two Brothers, Semén the Warrior and + Tarás the Paunch, and His Dumb Sister Malánya, and About the Old + Devil and the Three Young Devils + + 1885 + + + + +A FAIRY-TALE + + About Iván the Fool and His Two Brothers, Semén the Warrior and + Tarás the Paunch, and His Dumb Sister Malánya, and About the Old + Devil and the Three Young Devils + + +I. + +In a certain kingdom, in a certain realm, there lived a rich peasant. He +had three sons, Semén the Warrior, Tarás the Paunch, and Iván the Fool, +and a daughter Malánya, the dumb old maid. + +Semén the Warrior went to war, to serve the king; Tarás the Paunch went +to a merchant in the city, to sell wares; but Iván the Fool and the girl +remained at home, to work and hump their backs. + +Semén the Warrior earned a high rank and an estate, and married a lord's +daughter. His salary was big, and his estate was large, but still he +could not make both ends meet: whatever he collected, his wife scattered +as though from a sleeve, and they had no money. + +Semén the Warrior came to his estate, to collect the revenue. His clerk +said to him: + +"Where shall it come from? We have neither cattle, nor tools: neither +horses, nor cows, nor plough, nor harrow. Everything has to be +provided, then there will be an income." + +And Semén the Warrior went to his father: + +"You are rich, father," he said, "and you have not given me anything. +Cut off a third and I will transfer it to my estate." + +And the old man said: + +"You have brought nothing to my house, why should I give you a third? It +will be unfair to Iván and to the girl." + +But Semén said: + +"But he is a fool, and she is a dumb old maid. What do they need?" + +And the old man said: + +"As Iván says so it shall be!" + +But Iván said: + +"All right, let him have it!" + +So Semén the Warrior took his third from the house, transferred it to +his estate, and again went away to serve the king. + +Tarás the Paunch, too, earned much money,--and married a merchant woman. +Still he did not have enough, and he came to his father, and said: + +"Give me my part!" + +The old man did not want to give Tarás his part: + +"You," he said, "have brought nothing to the house, and everything in +the house has been earned by Iván. I cannot be unfair to him and to the +girl." + +But Tarás said: + +"What does he want it for? He is a fool. He cannot marry, for no one +will have him; and the dumb girl does not need anything, either. Give +me," he said, "half of the grain, Iván! I will not take your tools, and +of your animals I want only the gray stallion,--you cannot plough with +him." + +Iván laughed. + +"All right," he said, "I will earn it again." + +So Tarás, too, received his part. Tarás took the grain to town, and +drove off the gray stallion, and Iván was left with one old mare, and he +went on farming and supporting his father and his mother. + + +II. + +The old devil was vexed because the brothers had not quarrelled in +dividing up, but had parted in love. And so he called up three young +devils. + +"You see," he said, "there are three brothers, Semén the Warrior, Tarás +the Paunch, and Iván the Fool. They ought to be quarrelling, but, +instead, they live peacefully; they exchange with each other bread and +salt. The fool has spoiled all my business. Go all three of you.--get +hold of them, and mix them up in such a way that they shall tear out one +another's eyes. Can you do it?" + +"We can," they said. + +"How are you going to do it?" + +"We will do it like this," they said: "First we will ruin them, so that +they will have nothing to eat; then we will throw them all in a heap, so +that they will quarrel together." + +"Very well," he said. "I see that you know your business. Go, and do not +return to me before you have muddled all three, or else I will flay all +three of you." + +The three devils all went to a swamp, and considered how to take hold of +the matter: they quarrelled and quarrelled, for they wanted each of them +to get the easiest job, and finally they decided to cast lots for each +man. If one of them got through first, he was to come and help the +others. The devils cast lots, and set a time when they were to meet +again in the swamp, in order to find out who was through, and who needed +help. + +When the time came, the devils gathered in the swamp. They began to +talk about their affairs. The first devil, Semén the Warrior's, began to +speak. + +"My affair," he said, "is progressing. To-morrow my Semén will go to his +father." + +His comrades asked him how he did it. + +"In the first place," he said, "I brought such bravery over Semén that +he promised his king to conquer the whole world, and the king made him a +commander and sent him out to fight the King of India. They came +together for a fight. But that very night I wet all his powder, and I +went over to the King of India and made an endless number of soldiers +for him out of straw. When Semén's soldiers saw the straw soldiers +walking upon them on all sides, they lost their courage. Semén commanded +them to fire their cannon and their guns, but they could not fire them. +Semén's soldiers were frightened and ran away like sheep. And the King +of India vanquished them. Semén is disgraced,--they have taken his +estate from him, and to-morrow he is to be beheaded. I have only one +day's work left to do: to let him out of the prison, so that he can run +home. To-morrow I shall be through with him, so tell me which of you I +am to aid!" + +Then the other devil, Tarás's, began to speak: + +"I do not need any help," he said, "for my affair is also progressing +nicely,--Tarás will not live another week. In the first place, I have +raised a belly on him, and made him envious. He is so envious of other +people's property that, no matter what he sees, he wants to buy it. He +has bought up an endless lot of things and spent all his money on them +and is still buying. He now buys on other people's money. He has quite a +lot on his shoulders, and is so entangled that he will never free +himself. In a week the time will come for him to pay, and I will change +all his wares into manure,--and he will not be able to pay his debts, +and will go to his father's." + +They began to ask the third devil, Iván's. + +"How is your business?" + +"I must say, my business is not progressing at all. The first thing I +did was to spit into his kvas jug, so as to give him a belly-ache, and I +went to his field and made the soil so hard that he should not be able +to overcome it. I thought that he would never plough it up, but he, the +fool, came with his plough and began to tear up the soil. His belly-ache +made him groan, but he stuck to his ploughing. I broke one plough of +his, but he went home, fixed another plough, wrapped new leg-rags on +him, and started once more to plough. I crept under the earth, and tried +to hold the ploughshare, but I could not do it,--he pressed so hard on +the plough; the ploughshares are sharp, and he has cut up my hands. He +has ploughed up nearly the whole of it,--only a small strip is left. +Come and help me, brothers, or else, if we do not overpower him, all our +labours will be lost. If the fool is left and continues to farm, they +will have no want, for he will feed them all." + +Semén's devil promised to come on the morrow to help him, and thereupon +the devils departed. + + +III. + +Iván ploughed up all the fallow field, and only one strip was left. His +belly ached, and yet he had to plough. He straightened out the lines, +turned over the plough, and went to the field. He had just made one +furrow, and was coming back, when something pulled at the plough as +though it had caught in a root. It was the devil that had twined his +legs about the plough-head and was holding it fast. + +"What in the world is that?" thought Iván. "There were no roots here +before, but now there are." + +Iván stuck his hand down in the furrow, and felt something soft. He +grabbed it and pulled it out. It was as black as a root, but something +was moving on it. He took a glance at it, and, behold, it was a live +devil. + +"I declare," he said, "it is a nasty thing!" And Iván swung him and was +about to strike him against the plough-handle; but the devil began to +scream. + +"Do not beat me," he said, "and I will do for you anything you wish." + +"What will you do for me?" + +"Say what you want!" + +Iván scratched himself. + +"My belly aches,--can you cure me?" + +"I can," he said. + +"Very well, cure me!" + +The devil bent down to the furrow, scratched awhile in it, pulled out a +few roots,--three of them in a bunch,--and gave them to Iván. + +"Here," he said, "is a root, which, if you swallow, will make your ache +go away at once." + +Iván took the roots, tore them up, and swallowed one. His belly-ache +stopped at once. + +Then the devil began to beg again: + +"Let me go, now, and I will slip through the earth, and will not come up +again." + +"All right," he said, "God be with you!" + +And the moment Iván mentioned God's name, the devil bolted through the +earth, as a stone plumps into the water, and only a hole was left. Iván +put the remaining two roots in his cap, and started to finish his work. +He ploughed up the strip, turned over the plough, and went home. He +unhitched the horse, came to the house, and there found his eldest +brother, Semén the Warrior, with his wife, eating supper. His estate had +been taken from him, and he had with difficulty escaped from prison and +come to his father's to live. + +Semén saw Iván, and, "I have come to live with you," he said. "Feed me +and my wife until I find a new place!" + +"All right," he said, "stay here!" + +Iván wanted to sit down on a bench, but the lady did not like the smell +of Iván. So she said to her husband: + +"I cannot eat supper with a stinking peasant." + +"All right," he said, "I have to go anyway to pasture the mare for the +night." + +Iván took some bread and his caftan, and went out to herd his mare. + + +IV. + +That night Semén's devil got through with his work and by agreement went +to find Iván's devil, to help to make an end of the fool. He came to the +field and looked for him everywhere, but found only the hole. + +"Something has evidently gone wrong with my comrade," he thought,--"I +must take his place. The ploughing is done,--I shall have to catch him +in the mowing time." + +The devil went to the meadows and sent a flood on the mowing so that it +was all covered with mud. Iván returned in the morning from the night +watch, whetted his scythe, and went out to mow the meadows. He came, and +began to mow: he swung the scythe once, and a second time, and it grew +dull and would not cut,--it was necessary to grind it. Iván worked hard +and in vain. + +"No," he said, "I will go home, and will bring the grindstone with me, +and a round loaf. If I have to stay here for a week, I will not give up +until I mow it all." + +When the devil heard it he thought: + +"This fool is stiff-necked,--I cannot get at him. I must try something +else." + +Iván came back, ground his scythe, and began to mow. The devil crept +into the grass and began to catch the scythe by the snath-end and to +stick the point into the ground. It went hard with Iván, but he finished +the mowing, and there was left only one scrubby place in the swamp. The +devil crawled into the swamp and thought: + +"If I get both my paws cut, I will not let him mow it." + +Iván went into the swamp; the grass was not dense, but he found it hard +to move the scythe. Iván grew angry and began to swing the scythe with +all his might. The devil gave in; he had hardly time to get away,--he +saw that matters were in bad shape, so he hid in a bush. Iván swung the +scythe with all his might and struck the bush, and cut off half of the +devil's tail. Iván finished the mowing, told the girl to rake it up, and +himself went to cut the rye. + +He went out with a round knife, but the bobtailed devil had been there +before him and had so mixed up the rye that he could not cut it with the +round knife. Iván went back, took the sickle, and began to cut it; he +cut all the rye. + +"Now I must go to the oats," he said. + +The bobtailed devil heard it, and thought: + +"I could not cope with him on the rye, but I will get the better of him +in the oats,--just let the morning come." + +The devil ran in the morning to the oats-field, but the oats were all +cut down. Iván had cut them in the night, to keep them from dropping the +seed. + +The devil grew angry: + +"The fool has cut me all up, and has worn me out. I have not seen such +trouble even in war-time. The accursed one does not sleep,--I cannot +keep up with him. I will go now to the ricks, and will rot them all." + +And the devil went to the rye-rick, climbed between the sheaves, and +began to rot them: he warmed them up, and himself grew warm and fell +asleep. + +Iván hitched his mare, and went with the girl to haul away the ricks. He +drove up to one and began to throw the sheaves into the cart. He had +just put two sheaves in when he stuck his fork straight into the devil's +back; he raised it, and, behold, on the prongs was a live devil, and a +bobtailed one at that, and he was writhing and twisting, and trying to +get off. + +"I declare," he said, "it is a nasty thing! Are you here again?" + +"I am a different devil," he said. "My brother was here before. I was +with your brother Semén." + +"I do not care who you are," he replied, "you will catch it, too." + +He wanted to strike him against the ground, but the devil began to beg +him: + +"Let me go, and I will not do it again, and I will do for you anything +you please." + +"What can you do?" + +"I can make soldiers for you from anything." + +"What good are they?" + +"You can turn them to any use you please: they will do anything." + +"Can they play music?" + +"They can." + +"All right, make them for me!" + +And the devil said: + +"Take a sheaf of rye, strike the lower end against the ground, and say: +'By my master's command not a sheaf shall you stand, but as many straws +as there are so many soldiers there be.'" + +Iván took the sheaf, shook it against the ground, and spoke as the devil +told him to. And the sheaf fell to pieces, and the straws were changed +into soldiers, and in front a drummer was drumming, and a trumpeter +blowing the trumpet. Iván laughed. + +"I declare," he said, "it is clever. This is nice to amuse the girls +with." + +"Let me go now," said the devil. + +"No," he said, "I will do that with threshed straw, and I will not let +full ears waste for nothing. I will thresh them first." + +So the devil said: + +"Say, 'As many soldiers, so many straws there be! With my master's +command again a sheaf it shall stand.'" + +Iván said this, and the sheaf was as before. And the devil begged him +again: + +"Let me go now!" + +"All right!" Iván caught him on the cart-hurdle, held him down with his +hand, and pulled him off the fork. "God be with you!" he said. + +The moment he said, "God be with you," the devil bolted through the +earth, as a stone plumps into the water, and only a hole was left. + +Iván went home, and there he found his second brother. Tarás and his +wife were sitting and eating supper. Tarás the Paunch had not calculated +right, and so he ran away from his debts and came to his father's. When +he saw Iván, he said: + +"Iván, feed me and my wife until I go back to trading!" + +"All right," he said, "stay with us!" + +Iván took off his caftan, and seated himself at the table. + +But the merchant's wife said: + +"I cannot eat with a fool. He stinks of sweat." + +So Tarás the Paunch said: + +"Iván, you do not smell right, so go and eat in the vestibule!" + +"All right," he said, and, taking bread, he went out. "It is just +right," he said, "for it is time for me to go and pasture the mare for +the night." + + +V. + +That night Tarás's devil got through with his job, and he went by +agreement to help out his comrades,--to get the best of Iván the Fool. +He came to the field and tried to find his comrades, but all he saw was +a hole in the ground; he went to the meadows, and found a tail in the +swamp, and in the rye stubbles he found another hole. + +"Well," he thought, "evidently some misfortune has befallen my comrades; +I must take their place, and go for the fool." + +The devil went forth to find Iván. But Iván was through with the field, +and was chopping wood in the forest. + +The brothers were not comfortable living together, and they had ordered +the fool to cut timber with which to build them new huts. + +The devil ran to the woods, climbed into the branches, and did not let +Iván fell the trees. Iván chopped the tree in the right way, so that it +might fall in a clear place; he tried to make it fall, but it came down +the wrong way, and fell where it had no business to fall, and got caught +in the branches. Iván made himself a lever with his axe, began to turn +the tree, and barely brought it down. Iván went to chop a second tree, +and the same thing happened. He worked and worked at it, and brought it +down. He started on a third tree, and again the same happened. + +Iván had expected to cut half a hundred trunks, and before he had +chopped ten it was getting dark. Iván was worn out. Vapours rose from +him as though a mist were going through the woods, but he would not give +up. He chopped down another tree, and his back began to ache so much +that he could not work: he stuck the axe in the wood, and sat down to +rest himself. + +The devil saw that Iván had stopped, and was glad: + +"Well," he thought, "he has worn himself out, and he will stop soon. I +will myself take a rest," and he sat astride a bough, and was happy. + +But Iván got up, pulled out his axe, swung with all his might, and hit +the tree so hard from the other side that it cracked and came down with +a crash. The devil had not expected it and had no time to straighten out +his legs. The bough broke and caught the devil's hand. Iván began to +trim, and behold, there was a live devil. Iván was surprised. + +"I declare," he said, "you are a nasty thing! Are you here again?" + +"I am not the same," he said. "I was with your brother Tarás." + +"I do not care who you are,--you will fare the same way." Iván swung his +axe, and wanted to crush him with the back of the axe. + +The devil began to beg him: + +"Do not kill me,--I will do anything you please for you." + +"What can you do?" + +"I can make as much money for you as you wish." + +"All right, make it for me!" + +And the devil taught him how to do it. + +"Take some oak leaves from this tree," he said, "and rub them in your +hands. The gold will fall to the ground." + +Iván took some leaves and rubbed them,--and the gold began to fall. + +"This is nice to have," he said, "when you are out celebrating with the +boys." + +"Let me go now!" said the devil. + +"All right!" Iván took his lever, and freed the devil. "God be with +you," he said, and the moment he mentioned God's name, the devil bolted +through the earth, as a stone plumps into the water, and only a hole was +left. + + +VI. + +The brothers built themselves houses, and began to live each by himself. +But Iván got through with his field work, and brewed some beer and +invited his brothers to celebrate with him. They would not be Iván's +guests: + +"We have never seen a peasant celebration," they said. + +Iván treated the peasants and their wives, and himself drank until he +was drunk, and he went out into the street to the khorovód. He went up +to the women, and told them to praise him. + +"I will give you what you have not seen in all your lives." + +The women laughed, and praised him. When they got through, they said: + +"Well, let us have it!" + +"I will bring it to you at once," he said. + +He picked up the seed-basket and ran into the woods. The women laughed: +"What a fool he is!" And they forgot about him, when, behold, he was +running toward them, and carrying the basket full of something. + +"Shall I let you have it?" + +"Yes." + +Iván picked up a handful of gold and threw it to the women. O Lord, how +they darted for the money! The peasants rushed out and began to tear it +out of the hands of the women. They almost crushed an old woman to +death. Iván laughed. + +"Oh, you fools," he said, "why did you crush that old woman? Be more +gentle, and I will give you some more." He began to scatter more gold. +People ran up, and Iván scattered the whole basketful. They began to ask +for more. But Iván said: + +"That is all. I will give you more some other time. Now let us have +music! Sing songs!" + +The women started a song. + +"I do not like your kind of songs," he said. + +"What kind is better?" + +"I will show you in a minute," he said. He went to the threshing-floor, +pulled out a sheaf, straightened it up, placed it on end, and struck it +against the ground. + +"At your master's command not a sheaf shall you stand, each straw a +soldier shall be." + +The sheaf flew to pieces, and out came the soldiers, and the drums began +to beat and the trumpets to sound. Iván told the soldiers to play songs, +and went into the street with them. The people were surprised. The +soldiers played songs, and then Iván took them back to the +threshing-floor, and told nobody to follow him. He changed the soldiers +back into a sheaf, and threw it on the loft. He went home and went to +sleep behind the partition. + + +VII. + +On the next morning his eldest brother, Semén the Warrior, heard of it, +and he went to see Iván. + +"Reveal to me," he said, "where did you find those soldiers, and where +did you take them to?" + +"What is that to you?" he said. + +"What a question! With soldiers anything may be done. You can get a +kingdom for yourself." + +Iván was surprised. + +"Indeed? Why did you not tell me so long ago?" he said. "I will make as +many for you as you please. Luckily the girl and I have threshed a lot +of straw." + +Iván took his brother to the threshing-floor, and said: + +"Look here! I will make them for you, but you take them away, or else, +if we have to feed them, they will ruin the village in one day." + +Semén the Warrior promised that he would take the soldiers away, and +Iván began to make them. He struck a sheaf against the floor, there was +a company; he struck another, there was a second, and he made such a lot +of them that they took up the whole field. + +"Well, will that do?" + +Semén was happy, and said: + +"It will do. Thank you, Iván." + +"All right," he said. "If you need more, come to me, and I will make you +more. There is plenty of straw to-day." + +Semén the Warrior at once attended to the army, collected it as was +proper, and went forth to fight. + +No sooner had Semén the Warrior left, than Tarás the Paunch came. He, +too, had heard of the evening's affair, and he began to beg his brother: + +"Reveal to me, where do you get the gold money from? If I had such free +money, I would with it gather in all the money of the whole world." + +Iván was surprised. + +"Indeed? You ought to have told me so long ago," he said. "I will rub up +for you as much as you want." + +His brother was glad: + +"Give me at least three seed-baskets full!" + +"All right," he said, "let us go to the woods! But hitch up the horse, +or you will not be able to carry it away." + +They went to the woods, and Iván began to rub the oak leaves. He rubbed +up a large heap. + +"Will that do, eh?" + +Tarás was happy. + +"It will do for awhile," he said. "Thank you, Iván." + +"You are welcome. If you need more, come to me, and I will rub up some +more,--there are plenty of leaves left." + +Tarás the Paunch gathered a whole wagon-load of money, and went away to +trade with it. + +Both brothers left the home. And Semén went out to fight, and Tarás to +trade. And Semén the Warrior conquered a whole kingdom for himself, +while Tarás the Paunch made a big heap of money by trading. + +The brothers met, and they revealed to one another where Semén got the +soldiers, and Tarás the money. + +Semén the Warrior said to his brother: + +"I have conquered a kingdom for myself, and I lead a good life, only I +have not enough money to feed my soldiers with." + +And Tarás the Paunch said: + +"And I have earned a whole mound of money, but here is the trouble: I +have nobody to guard the money." + +So Semén the Warrior said: + +"Let us go to our brother! I will tell him to make me more soldiers, and +I will give them to you to guard your money; and you tell him to rub me +more money with which to feed the soldiers." + +And they went to Iván. When they came to him, Semén said: + +"I have not enough soldiers, brother. Make me some more soldiers,--if +you have to work over two stacks." + +Iván shook his head. + +"I will not make you any soldiers, for nothing in the world." + +"But you promised you would." + +"So I did, but I will not make them for you." + +"Why, you fool, won't you make them?" + +"Because your soldiers have killed a man. The other day I was ploughing +in the field, when I saw a woman driving with a coffin in the road, and +weeping all the time. I asked her who had died, and she said, 'Semén's +soldiers have killed my husband in a war.' I thought that the soldiers +would make music, and there they have killed a man. I will give you no +more." + +And he stuck to it, and made no soldiers for him. + +Then Tarás the Paunch began to beg Iván to make him more gold money. But +Iván shook his head. + +"I will not rub any, for nothing in the world." + +"But you promised you would." + +"So I did, but I will not do it." + +"Why, you fool, will you not do it?" + +"Because your gold coins have taken away Mikháylovna's cow." + +"How so?" + +"They just did. Mikháylovna had a cow, whose milk the children sipped, +but the other day the children came to me to ask for some milk. I said +to them: 'Where is your cow?' And they answered: 'Tarás the Paunch's +clerk came, and he gave mother three gold pieces, and she gave him the +cow, and now we have no milk to sip.' I thought you wanted to play with +the gold pieces, and you take the cow away from the children. I will not +give you any more." + +And the fool stuck to it, and did not give him any. So the brothers went +away. + +They went away, and they wondered how they might mend matters. Then +Semén said: + +"This is what we shall do. You give me money to feed the soldiers with, +and I will give you half my kingdom with the soldiers to guard your +money." Tarás agreed to it. The brothers divided up, and both became +kings, and rich men. + + +VIII. + +But Iván remained at home, supporting father and mother, and working the +field with the dumb girl. + +One day Iván's watch-dog grew sick: he had the mange and was dying. Iván +was sorry for him, and he took some bread from the dumb girl, put it in +his hat, and took it out and threw it to the dog. But the cap was torn, +and with the bread one of the roots fell out. The old dog swallowed it +with the bread. And no sooner had he swallowed it than he jumped up, +began to play and to bark, and wagged his tail,--he was well again. + +When his father and his mother saw that, they were surprised. + +"With what did you cure the dog?" + +And Iván said to them: + +"I had two roots with which to cure all diseases, and he swallowed one." + +It happened that at that time the king's daughter grew ill, and the king +proclaimed in all the towns and villages that he would reward him who +should cure her, and that if it should be an unmarried man, he should +have his daughter for a wife. The same was also proclaimed in Iván's +village. + +Father and mother called Iván, and said to him: + +"Have you heard what the king has proclaimed? You said that you had a +root, so go and cure the king's daughter. You will get a fortune for the +rest of your life." + +"All right," he said. And he got ready to go. He was dressed up, and +went out on the porch, and saw a beggar woman with a twisted arm. + +"I have heard that you can cure," she said. "Cure my arm, for I cannot +dress myself." + +And Iván said: + +"All right!" He took the root, gave it to the beggar woman, and told her +to swallow it. + +She swallowed it, and was cured at once and could wave her arm. Iván's +parents came out to see him off on his way to the king, and when they +heard that he had given away the last root and had nothing left with +which to cure the king's daughter, they began to upbraid him. + +"You have taken pity on the beggar woman, but you have no pity on the +king's daughter." + +But he hitched his horse, threw a little straw into the hamper, and was +getting ready to drive away. + +"Where are you going, fool?" + +"To cure the king's daughter." + +"But you have nothing to cure her with!" + +"All right," he said, and drove away. + +He came to the king's palace, and the moment he stepped on the porch, +the king's daughter was cured. + +The king rejoiced, and sent for Iván. He had him all dressed up: + +"Be my son-in-law!" he said. + +"All right," he said. + +And Iván married the king's daughter. The king died soon after, and Iván +became king. Thus all three brothers were kings. + + +IX. + +The three brothers were reigning. + +The elder brother, Semén the Warrior, lived well. With his straw +soldiers he got him real soldiers. He commanded his people to furnish a +soldier to each ten homes, and every such soldier had to be tall of +stature, and white of body, and clean of face. And he gathered a great +many such soldiers and taught them all what to do. And if any one acted +contrary to his will, he at once sent his soldiers against that person, +and did as he pleased. And all began to be afraid of him. + +He had an easy life. Whatever he wished for, or his eyes fell upon, was +his. He would send out his soldiers, and they would take away and bring +to him whatever he needed. + +Tarás the Paunch, too, lived well. The money which he had received from +Iván he had not spent, but he had increased it greatly. He, too, had +good order in his kingdom. The money he kept in coffers, and exacted +more money from the people. He exacted money from each soul for walking +past, and driving past, and for bast shoes, and leg-rags, and +shoe-laces. And no matter what he wished, he had; for money they brought +him everything, and they went to work for him, because everybody needs +money. + +Nor did Iván the Fool live badly. As soon as he had buried his +father-in-law, he took off his royal garments and gave them to his wife +to put away in the coffer. He put on his old hempen shirt and trousers, +and his bast shoes, and began to work. + +"I do not feel well," he said. "My belly is growing larger, and I cannot +eat, nor sleep." + +He brought his parents and the dumb girl, and began to work again. + +People said to him: + +"But you are a king!" + +"All right," he said, "but a king, too, has to eat." + +The minister came to him, and said: + +"We have no money with which to pay salaries." + +"All right," he said, "if you have none, pay no salaries!" + +"But they will stop serving you." + +"All right," he said, "Let them stop serving! They will have more time +for work. Let them haul manure. They have not hauled any for a long +time." + +People came to Iván to have a case tried. One said: + +"He stole money from me." + +But Iván replied: + +"All right, evidently he needed it." + +All saw that Iván was a fool. His wife said to him: + +"They say about you that you are a fool." + +"All right," he said. + +Iván's wife, too, was a fool, and she thought and thought. + +"Why should I go against my husband?" she said. "The thread belongs +where the needle is." + +She took off her regal garments, put them in a coffer, and went to the +dumb girl to learn to work. She learned, and began to help her husband. + +All the wise men left Iván's kingdom, and only the fools were left. +Nobody had any money. They lived and worked and fed themselves and all +good people. + + +X. + +The old devil waited and waited for some news from the young devils +about how they had destroyed the three brothers, but none came. He went +to find out for himself: he looked everywhere for the three, but found +only three holes. + +"Well," he thought, "evidently they did not get the best of them. I +shall have to try it myself." + +He went to find the brothers, but they were no longer in their old +places. He found them in different kingdoms. All three were living and +reigning there. That vexed the old devil. + +"I shall have to do the work myself," he said. + +First of all he went to King Semén. He did not go to him in his own +form, but in the shape of a general. He went to him, and said: + +"I have heard that you, King Semén, are a great warrior. I have had good +instruction in this business, and I want to serve you." + +King Semén began to ask him questions, and he saw that he was a clever +man, and so received him into his service. + +The old general began to teach King Semén how to gather a great army. + +"In the first place," he said, "you must collect more soldiers, for too +many people in your kingdom are walking about idly. You must shave the +heads of all the young men without exception, and then you will have an +army which will be five times as large as it is now. In the second +place, you must introduce new guns and cannon. I will get you the kind +of guns that fire one hundred bullets at once, as though pouring out +pease. And I will get you cannon that burn with their fire: whether a +man, or a horse, or a wall,--they burn everything." + +King Semén listened to his new general, and ordered all the young men +without exception to be drafted as soldiers, and started new factories. +He had a lot of new guns and cannon made, and at once started a war +against a neighbouring king. The moment the enemy's army came out +against him, he ordered his soldiers to fire at them with bullets and to +burn them with the cannon fire. He at once maimed and burnt one-half the +army. The neighbouring king became frightened, and he surrendered and +gave up his kingdom to him. King Semén was happy. + +"Now I will vanquish the King of India," he said. + +But the King of India heard of King Semén, and adopted all his +inventions and added a few of his own. The King of India drafted not +only all the young men, but he also made all the unmarried women serve +as soldiers, and so he had even more soldiers than King Semén. He +adopted all of King Semén's guns and cannon, and introduced flying in +the air and throwing explosive bombs from above. + +King Semén went out to make war on the King of India. He thought that he +would conquer him as he had conquered before; but the scythe was cutting +too fine,--the King of India did not give Semén's army a chance to fire +a single shot, for he sent his women into the air, to throw explosive +bombs on Semén's army. The women began to pour the bombs on Semén's +army, like borax on cockroaches, and the whole army ran away, and King +Semén was left alone. The King of India took possession of the whole of +Semén's kingdom, and Semén the Warrior ran whither his eyes took him. + +The old devil had done up this brother, and he made for King Tarás. He +took the shape of a merchant and settled in Tarás's kingdom. He started +an establishment, and began to issue money. The merchant paid high +prices for everything, and the whole nation rushed to the merchant to +get his money. And the people had so much money that they paid all their +back taxes and paid on time all the taxes as they fell due. King Tarás +was happy. + +"Thanks to the merchant," he thought, "I shall now have more money than +ever, and my life will improve." + +And King Tarás fell on new plans. He began to build himself a new +palace: he commanded the people to haul lumber and stone, and to come to +work, and offered high prices for everything. King Tarás thought that as +before the people would rush to work for him. But, behold, all the +lumber and stone was being hauled to the merchant, and only the +labourers were rushing to the king. + +King Tarás offered higher prices, but the merchant went higher still. +King Tarás had much money, but the merchant had more still, and the +merchant could offer better pay than the king. The royal palace came to +a standstill,--it could not be built. + +King Tarás wanted to get a garden laid out. When the fall came, King +Tarás proclaimed that he wanted people to come and set out trees for +him; but nobody came, as they were all digging a pond for the merchant. + +Winter came. King Tarás wanted to buy sable furs for a new coat, and he +sent out men to buy them. The messenger came back, and said that there +were no sables,--that all the furs were in the merchant's possession, as +he had offered a higher price, and that he had made himself a sable rug. + +King Tarás wanted to have some stallions. He sent messengers to buy them +for him; but they came back, and said that the merchant had all the good +stallions, and they were hauling water and filling up the pond. + +All the business of the king came to a stop. Men would not do anything +for him, but worked only for the merchant; all he received was the +merchant's money, for taxes. + +And the king collected such a mass of money that he did not know what to +do with it, and his life grew bad. The king stopped planning things, and +only thought of how he might pass his life peacefully, but he could not +do so. He was oppressed in everything. His cooks, and his coachmen, and +his servants began to leave him for the merchant. And he began to suffer +for lack of food. He would send the women to market to buy provisions, +but there was nothing there, for the merchant bought up everything, and +all he received was money for taxes. + +King Tarás grew angry and sent the merchant abroad; but the merchant +settled at the border and continued to do his work: as before, people +dragged for the merchant's money all the things from the king to him. +The king was in a bad plight: he did not eat for days at a time, and the +rumour was spread that the merchant was boasting that he was going to +buy the king himself with his money. King Tarás lost his courage, and +did not know what to do. + +Semén the Warrior came to him, and said: + +"Support me, for the King of India has vanquished me." + +But Tarás himself was pinched. + +"I have not eaten myself for two days," he said. + + +XI. + +The old devil had done up the two brothers, and now went to Iván. The +old devil took the shape of a general, and he came to Iván and tried to +persuade him to provide himself with an army. + +"It will not do for a king to live without an army," he said. "Just +command me, and I will gather soldiers from among your people, and will +get you up an army." + +Iván took his advice. + +"All right," he said, "get me up an army: teach them to play good +music,--I like that." + +The old devil started to go over the kingdom, to gather volunteers. He +said that they should go and get their crowns shaved, for which they +would get a bottle of vódka each, and a red cap. + +The fools laughed at him. + +"We have all the liquor we want," they said, "for we distil it +ourselves, and as for caps, our women will make us any we want, even +motley ones, with tassels at that." + +Not one of them would go. The old devil went to Iván and said: + +"Your fools will not go of their own will; you will have to force them." + +"All right," he said, "drive them by force!" + +And so the old devil announced that all the fools were to inscribe +themselves as soldiers, and that Iván would execute those who would not +go. + +The fools came to the general and said: + +"You say that the king will have us killed if we do not become soldiers, +but you do not tell us what we shall have to do as soldiers. They say +that soldiers, too, are killed." + +"Yes, that cannot be helped." + +When the fools heard that, they became stubborn. + +"We will not go," they said. "If so, let us be killed at home! Death +cannot be escaped anyway." + +"Fools that you are!" said the old devil. "A soldier may be killed or +not, but if you do not go, King Iván will certainly have you killed." + +The fools considered the matter, and went to see Iván the Fool. + +"Your general has come," they said, "and tells us all to turn soldiers. +'If you become soldiers,' he says, 'you may be killed, or not, but if +you do not become soldiers King Iván will certainly put you to death.' +Is that true?" + +Iván began to laugh. + +"How can I, one man, have you all put to death? If I were not a fool, I +should explain that to you, but as it is, I do not understand it +myself." + +"If so," they said, "we shall not become soldiers." + +"All right," he said, "don't." + +The fools went to the general and refused to become soldiers. + +The old devil saw that his business did not work, so he went to the King +of Cockroachland, and got into his favour. + +"Let us go," he said, "and wage war on King Iván, and vanquish him. He +has no money, but he has plenty of grain, and cattle, and all kinds of +things." + +The King of Cockroachland went out to make war: he had gathered a large +army, and collected guns and cannon, and left his borders, to enter +Iván's kingdom. + +People came to Iván and said: + +"The King of Cockroachland is coming against us." + +"All right," he said, "let him come." + +The King of Cockroachland crossed the border, and sent the +advance-guard to find Iván's army. They looked and looked for it, and +could not find it. They thought that they might wait for it to show up. +But they heard nothing about it,--there was no army to fight. + +The King of Cockroachland sent out his men to take possession of the +villages. The soldiers came to one village,--and there the fools jumped +out to look at the soldiers and to marvel at them. The soldiers began to +take away the grain and the cattle: the fools gave it all up, and did +not resist. The soldiers went to the next village, and the same +happened. The soldiers walked for a day or two, and everywhere the same +happened. They gave up all they had, and nobody resisted, and they +invited the soldiers to come and live with them: + +"If you, dear people," they said, "have not enough to live on in your +country, come and settle among us." + +The soldiers walked and walked, but no army was to be found; everywhere +people were living, and feeding themselves and other people, and they +did not resist, but invited them to come and live with them. + +The soldiers felt bad, and they came back to the King of Cockroachland. + +"We cannot fight here," they said, "so take us to some other place: war +would be a good thing, but this is as though we were to cut soup. We +cannot fight here." + +The King of Cockroachland grew wroth, and commanded his soldiers to +march through the whole kingdom, and destroy villages and houses, and +burn the grain and kill the cattle. + +"If you do not obey my command," he said, "I shall have you all +executed." + +The soldiers became frightened, and began to carry out the king's +command. They started to burn the houses and the grain, and to kill the +cattle. And still the fools did not resist, but only wept. The old men +wept, and the old women wept, and the children wept. + +"Why do you offend us? Why do you destroy the property? If you need it, +take it along!" + +The soldiers felt ashamed. They did not go any farther, and the whole +army ran away. + + +XII. + +The old devil went away,--he could not get at Iván by means of the +soldiers. The old devil changed into a clean-looking gentleman, and went +to live in Iván's kingdom: he wished to get at him by means of money, as +he had done with Tarás the Paunch. + +"I want to do you good," he said, "and to teach you what is good and +proper. I will build a house in your country, and will start an +establishment." + +"All right," he said, "stay here!" + +The clean-looking gentleman stayed overnight, and the following morning +he took a large bag of gold to the market-square, and a sheet of paper, +and said: + +"You are all of you living like pigs. I will teach you how to live. +Build me a house according to this plan! You work, and I will show you +how, and will pay gold money to you." + +And he showed them the gold. The fools were astounded: they had no such +a thing as money, and only exchanged things among themselves, or paid +with work. They marvelled at the gold and said: + +"They are nice things." + +And for these gold things they began to give him what they had and to +work for him. The old devil rejoiced and thought: + +"My affair is proceeding favourably. I will now ruin Iván completely, as +I have ruined Tarás, and will buy him up, guts and all." + +As soon as the fools had any gold, they gave it all away to their women +for necklaces, and their girls wove it into their braids, and the +children began to play in the streets with those pretty things. When all +had enough of it, they refused to get any more. The clean-looking +gentleman's palace was not half done, and the grain and the cattle were +not yet attended to for the year. And the gentleman demanded that they +should go and work for him, and haul his grain, and drive his cattle; he +promised them much gold for everything and for all work. + +But no one came to work, and they brought nothing to him. Only now and +then a boy or girl would run in to exchange an egg for a gold coin; +otherwise nobody came, and he had nothing to eat. The clean-looking +gentleman was starved, and he went to the village to buy something to +eat: he went into one yard, and offered a gold coin for a chicken, but +the woman would not take it. + +"I have too many of them as it is," she said. + +He went to a homeless woman, to buy a herring of her, and offered her a +gold coin. + +"I do not want it, dear man," she said. "I have no children, and so +there is nobody to play with it; I myself have three of these for show." + +He went to a peasant to buy bread of him, but the peasant, too, would +not take the money. + +"I do not want it," he said. "If you want bread, for Christ's sake, +wait, and I will have my wife cut you off a piece." + +The devil just spit out and ran away from the peasant. Not only would he +not take anything for Christ's sake, but it was worse than cutting him +even to hear that word. + +And so he did not get any bread. Everywhere it was the same; no matter +where the devil went, they gave him nothing for money, but said: + +"Bring us something else, or come and work for it, or take it for +Christ's sake!" + +But the devil had nothing but money. He did not like to work, and for +Christ's sake he could not take anything. The old devil grew angry. + +"What else do you want, if I give you money? You can buy anything for +money, or hire a labourer." + +The fools paid no attention to him. + +"No," they said, "we do not want it. We have no taxes and no wages to +pay, so what do we want with the money?" + +The old devil went to bed without eating supper. + +This affair reached the ears of Iván the Fool. They went to ask him: + +"What shall we do? A clean-looking gentleman has appeared among us: he +is fond of eating and drinking, and does not like to work, and does not +beg for Christ's sake, but only offers us gold pieces. So long as we did +not have enough of them, we gave him everything, but now we do not give +him any more. What shall we do with him? We are afraid that he will +starve." + +Iván listened to what they had to say. + +"All right," he said, "we shall have to feed him. Let him go from farm +to farm as a shepherd!" + +The old devil could not help himself, and he began to go from farm to +farm. The turn came to Iván's farm. The old devil came to dinner, and +the dumb girl was just fixing it. Those who were lazy used to deceive +her. Without having worked they came to dinner earlier and ate up all +the porridge. And so the dumb girl contrived to tell the +good-for-nothing by their hands: if one had calluses, she seated him at +the table, but if not, she gave him what was left of the dinner. The old +devil climbed behind the table; but the dumb girl took hold of his +hands, and there were no calluses; the hands were clean and smooth, and +the nails long. + +The dumb girl bawled, and pulled the devil out from behind the table. + +Iván's wife said to him: + +"Don't take it amiss, clean gentleman! My sister-in-law will not let a +man without calluses sit down at the table. Wait awhile! Let the people +eat first, and then you will get what is left." + +The old devil was insulted, because at the king's house they would feed +him with the swine. He said to Iván: + +"What a fool's law you have in your country to let all men work with +their hands! You have invented that in your stupidity. Do men work with +their hands only? How do you suppose clever people work?" + +But Iván said: + +"How can we fools know? We labour mostly with our hands and with our +backs." + +"That is so, because you are fools. I will teach you," he said, "how to +work with your heads. You will see that with your heads you can work +faster than with your hands." + +Iván marvelled. + +"Indeed," he said, "we are called fools for good reason." + +And the old devil said: + +"But it is not easy to work with the head. You do not give me anything +to eat because I have no calluses on my hands, and you do not know that +it is a hundred times harder to work with the head. At times it just +makes the head burst." + +Iván fell to musing. + +"But why do you torture yourself so much, my dear? It is no small matter +to have your head burst. You had better do some easy work,--with your +hands and back." + +And the devil said: + +"The reason I torture myself is because I pity you fools. If I did not +torture myself, you would remain fools to the end of your days. I have +worked with my head, and now I will teach you, too." + +Iván marvelled. + +"Teach us," he said, "for now and then the hands get tired, and it would +be nice to use the head instead." + +The devil promised to teach him. + +And Iván proclaimed throughout his kingdom that a clean-looking man had +appeared who would teach people how to work with their heads, that they +could work more with their heads than with their hands, and that they +should come and learn. + +In Iván's kingdom there was a high tower, and a straight staircase led +up to it, and at the top there was a spy-room. Iván took the gentleman +there so that he might see better. + +The gentleman stood up on the tower and began to speak from it. The +fools gathered around to look at him. The fools thought that he would +show them in fact how to work with the head instead of the hands. But +the old devil taught them only in words how to live without working. + +The fools did not understand a word. They looked and looked and went +away, each to his work. + +The old devil stood on the tower a day, and a second day, and kept +talking. He wanted to eat; but the fools did not have enough sense to +send some bread up to the tower. They thought that if he could work +better with his head than with his hands, he would somehow earn bread +for himself with his head. The old devil stood another day in the +tower-room, and kept talking all the time. And the people came up and +looked, and looked and went away. + +Then Iván asked: + +"Well, has the gentleman begun to work with his head?" + +"Not yet," people said, "he is still babbling." + +The old devil stood another day on the tower and began to weaken; he +tottered and struck his head against a post. One of the fools saw that, +and told Iván's wife about it, and she ran to her husband in the field. + +"Come, let us go and see," she said. "The gentleman is beginning to work +with his head." + +Iván was surprised. + +"Indeed?" he said. He turned in the horse, and went to the tower. When +he came up to it, the old devil was weakened from hunger and tottering +from side to side and knocking his head against the posts. Just as Iván +came up, the devil stumbled and fell and rattled down the stairs, head +foremost: he counted all the steps. + +"Well," said Iván, "the clean-looking gentleman told the truth when he +said that at times the head bursts. This is worse than calluses: such +works will leave bumps on the head." + +The old devil came down the whole staircase and struck his head against +the ground. Iván wanted to go and see how much work he had done, but +suddenly the earth gave way, and the old devil went through the earth, +and nothing but a hole was left. + +Iván scratched himself. + +"I declare," he said, "it is a nasty thing! It is again he. He must be +the father of those others. What a big fellow he is!" + +Iván is still living, and people are all the time rushing to his +kingdom, and his brothers, too, came to him, and he is feeding them all. +If any one comes and says: "Feed me!" he replies: + +"All right, stay here, we have plenty of everything." + +They have but one custom in his country, and that is, if one has +calluses on his hands, he may sit down at the table, and if he has not, +he gets the remnants. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + + On page 133, the original read: "The Tartars after him. He into the + river." + + This has been changed to "The Tartars after him. He threw himself into + the river." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FABLES FOR CHILDREN, STORIES FOR +CHILDREN, NATURAL SCIENCE STORIES, POPULAR EDUCATION, DECEMBRISTS, MORAL +TALES*** + + +******* This file should be named 38025-8.txt or 38025-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/8/0/2/38025 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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