The prince lived in this way on his estate at Pneestcheva for more than
two years. Then the Tsar sent out his manifesto granting freedom to
the serfs, and there commenced a time of alarm and disturbance among
the landowners. Many of them were not at all pleased about it, and sat
at home on their far-away estates and took to writing reports on the
matter. Others, more avaricious and far-sighted, were on the watch with
the freed peasants, trying to turn everything to their own advantage.
And some were very much afraid of a rising of the peasants, and applied
to the authorities for any kind of troops to defend their estates.
When the manifesto arrived, Prince Andrey called his peasants together
and explained the matter to them in very simple words, without any
insinuations. "You," he said, "are now free, as free as I am. And this
is a good thing to have happened. But don't use your freedom to do
wrong, because the authorities will always keep an eye on you. And,
remember, that as I have helped you in the past I shall continue to do
so. And take as much land as you can cultivate for your ransom."
Then he suddenly left the place and went off to Petersburg.
I think you know very well what happened at that time, gentlemen, both
in Moscow and in Petersburg. The aristocracy turned up immediately,
with piles of money, and went on the spree. The farmers and the holders
of concessions and the bankers had amazed all Russia, but they were
only as children or puppies in comparison with the landowners. It's
terrible to think what took place. Many a time a man's whole fortune
was thrown to the winds for one supper.
Prince Andrey fell into this very whirlpool, and began to whirl about.
Added to that, he fell in again with his old regimental friends, and
then he let himself go altogether. However, he didn't stay long in
Petersburg, for he was quickly forced to leave the city against his
will. It was all because of some horses.
V
He was having supper one evening with his officer friends in one of
the most fashionable restaurants. They had had very much to drink,
champagne above all. Suddenly the talk turned on horses--it's well
known to be an eternal subject of conversation with officers--as to
who owned the most spirited team in Petersburg. One Cossack--I don't
remember his name, I only know that he was one of the reigning princes
in the Caucasus--said that at that time the most spirited horses were
a pair of black stallions belonging to ----, and he named a lady in an
extremely high position.
"They are not horses," said he, "but wild things. It's only Ilya who
can manage them, and they won't allow themselves to be out-distanced."
But Prince Andrey laughed at this.
"I'd pass them with my bays."
"No, you wouldn't," said the Cossack.
"Yes, I would."
"You wouldn't race them."
"Yes, I would."
"Well, in that case," said the Cossack, "we'll lay a wager about it at
once."
And the wager was laid. It was agreed that if Prince Andrey were put
to shame he should give the Cossack his pair of bay horses, and with
them a sledge and a carriage with silver harness, and if the prince got
in front of Ilya's team, then the Cossack would buy up all the tickets
in the theatre for an opera when Madame Barba was to sing, so that
they could walk about in the gallery and not allow anyone else in the
theatre. At that time Madame Barba had captivated all the _beau-monde._
Very well, then. On the next day, when the prince woke up, he ordered
the bay horses to be put into the carriage. The horses were not very
much to look at, hairy country horses, but they were sufficiently fast
goers; the most important thing about them was that they liked to get
in front of other horses, and they were exceptionally long-winded.
As soon as his companions saw that the prince was really in earnest
about the matter, they tried to dissuade him. "Give up this wager,"
urged they, "you can't escape getting into some trouble over it." But
the prince would not listen, and ordered his coachman, Bartholomew, to
be called.
The coachman, Bartholomew, was a gloomy and, so to speak, absent-minded
man. God had endowed him with such extraordinary strength that he could
even stop a troika when the horses were going at full gallop. The
horses would fall back on their hind legs. He drank terribly, had no
liking for conversation with anyone, and, though he adored the prince
with all his soul, he was rude and supercilious towards him, so that
he sometimes had to receive a flogging. The prince called Bartholomew
to him and said: "Do you think, Bartholomew, you could race another
pair of horses with our bays?"
"Which pair?" asked Bartholomew.
The prince told him which horses they were. Bartholomew scratched the
back of his head.
"I know that pair," he said, "and I know Ilya, their driver, pretty
well. He's a dangerous man. However, if your Excellency wishes it, we
can race them. Only, if the bay horses are ruined, don't be angry."
"Very well," said the prince. "And now, how much vodka shall we pour
down your throat?"
But Bartholomew wouldn't have any vodka.
"I can't manage the horses if I'm drunk," said he.
The prince got in the carriage, and they started. They took up their
position at the end of the Nevsky Prospect, and waited. It was known
beforehand that the important personage would drive out at midday. And
so it happened. At twelve o'clock the pair of black horses were seen.
Ilya was driving, and the lady was in the sledge.
The prince let them just get in front, and then he said to the coachman:
"Drive away!"
Bartholomew let the horses go. As soon as Ilya heard the tramping of
the horses behind, he turned round; the lady looked round also. Ilya
gave his horses the reins, and Bartholomew also whipped up his. But the
owner of the blacks was a woman of an ardent and fearless temperament,
and she had a passion for horses. She said to Ilya, "Don't dare to let
that scoundrel pass us!"
What began to happen then I can't describe. Both the coachmen and
the horses were as if mad; the snow rose up above them in clouds as
they raced along. At first the blacks seemed to be gaining, but they
couldn't last out for a long time, they got tired. The prince's horses
went ahead. Near the railway station, Prince Andrey jumped out of his
carriage, and the personage threatened him angrily with her finger.
Next day the governor of Petersburg--His Serene Highness Prince
Suvorof--sent for the prince, and said to him:
"You must leave Petersburg at once, prince. If you're not punished and
made an example of, it's only because the lady whom you treated in
such a daring fashion yesterday has a great partiality for bold and
desperate characters. And she knows also about your wager. But don't
put your foot in Petersburg again, and thank the Lord that you've got
off so cheaply."
But, gentlemen, I've been gossiping about Prince Andrey and I haven't
yet touched on what I promised to tell you. However, I'm soon coming
to the end of my story. And, though it has been in rather a disjointed
fashion, I have described the personality of the prince as best I can.