PUGATCHÉF.
Before beginning to relate those strange events to which I was witness,
I must say a few words about the state of affairs in the district of
Orenburg about the end of the year 1773. This rich and large province
was peopled by a crowd of half-savage tribes, who had lately
acknowledged the sovereignty of the Russian Tzars. Their perpetual
revolts, their impatience of all rule and civilized life, their
treachery and cruelty, obliged the authorities to keep a sharp watch
upon them in order to reduce them to submission.
Forts had been placed at suitable points, and in most of them troops
had been permanently established, composed of Cossacks, formerly
possessors of the banks of the River Yaïk. But even these Cossacks, who
should have been a guarantee for the peace and quiet of the country, had
for some time shown a dangerous and unruly spirit towards the Imperial
Government. In 1772 a riot took place in the principal settlement. This
riot was occasioned by the severe measures taken by General Traubenberg,
in order to quell the insubordination of the army. The only result was
the barbarous murder of Traubenberg, the substitution of new chiefs, and
at last the suppression of the revolt by volleys of grape and harsh
penalties.
All this befell shortly before my coming to Fort Bélogorsk. Then all
was, or seemed, quiet. But the authorities had too lightly lent faith
to the pretended repentance of the rebels, who were silently brooding
over their hatred, and only awaiting a favourable opportunity to reopen
the struggle.
One evening (it was early in October, 1773) I was alone in my quarters,
listening to the whistling of the autumn wind and watching the clouds
passing rapidly over the moon. A message came from the Commandant that
he wished to see me at once at his house. I found there Chvabrine, Iwán
Ignatiitch, and the "_ouriadnik_" of the Cossacks. Neither the wife nor
daughter of the Commandant was in the room. He greeted me in an absent
manner. Then, closing the door, he made everybody sit down, except the
"_ouriadnik_," who remained standing, drew a letter from his pocket, and
said to us--
"Gentlemen, important news. Listen to what the General writes."
He put on his spectacles and read as follows:--
"_To the Commandant of Fort Bélogorsk,
"Captain Mironoff, these. (Secret.)_
"I hereby inform you that the fugitive and schismatic Don Cossack,
Emelian Pugatchéf, after being guilty of the unpardonable insolence of
usurping the name of our late Emperor, Peter III.,[49] has assembled a
gang of robbers, excited risings in villages on the Yaïk, and taken and
oven destroyed several forts, while committing everywhere robberies and
murders. In consequence, when you shall receive this, it will be your
duty to take such measures as may be necessary against the aforesaid
rascally usurper, and, if possible, crush him completely should he
venture to attack the fort confided to your care."
"Take such measures as may be necessary," said the Commandant, taking
off his spectacles and folding up the paper. "You know it is very easy
to say that. The scoundrel seems in force, and we have but a hundred and
thirty men, even counting the Cossacks, on whom we must not count too
much, be it said, without any reproach to you, Maximitch." The
"_ouriadnik_" smiled. "Nevertheless, let us do our duty, gentlemen. Be
ready, place sentries, let there be night patrols in case of attack,
shut the gates, and turn out the troops. You, Maximitch, keep a sharp
eye on the Cossacks; look to the cannon, and let it be well cleansed;
and, above all, let everything be kept secret. Let no one in the fort
know anything until the time comes."
After thus giving his orders, Iván Kouzmitch dismissed us. I went out
with Chvabrine, speculating upon what we had just heard.
"What do you think of it? How will it all end?" I asked him.
"God knows," said he; "we shall see. As yet there is evidently nothing
serious. If, however--"
Then he fell into a brown study while whistling absently a French air.
In spite of all our precautions the news of Pugatchéf's appearance
spread all over the fort. Whatever was the respect in which Iván
Kouzmitch held his wife, he would not have revealed to her for the world
a secret confided to him on military business.
After receiving the General's letter he had rather cleverly got rid of
Vassilissa Igorofna by telling her that Father Garasim had heard most
extraordinary news from Orenburg, which he was keeping most profoundly
dark.
Vassilissa Igorofna instantly had a great wish to go and see the Pope's
wife, and, by the advice of Iván Kouzmitch, she took Masha, lest she
should be dull all alone.
Left master of the field, Iván Kouzmitch sent to fetch us at once, and
took care to shut up Polashka in the kitchen so that she might not spy
upon us.
Vassilissa Igorofna came home without having been able to worm anything
out of the Pope's wife; she learnt upon coming in that during her
absence Iván Kouzmitch had held a council of war, and that Palashka had
been locked up. She suspected that her husband had deceived her, and she
immediately began overwhelming him with questions. But Iván Kouzmitch
was ready for this onset; he did not care in the least, and he boldly
answered his curious better-half--
"Look here, little mother, the country-women have taken it into their
heads to light fires with straw, and as that might be the cause of a
misfortune, I assembled my officers, and I ordered them to watch that
the women do not make fires with straw, but rather with faggots and
brambles."
"And why were you obliged to shut up Polashka?" his wife asked him. "Why
was the poor girl obliged to stay in the kitchen till we came back?"
Iván Kouzmitch was not prepared for such a question; he stammered some
incoherent words.
Vassilissa Igorofna instantly understood that her husband had deceived
her, but as she could not at that moment get anything out of him, she
forebore questioning him, and spoke of some pickled cucumbers which
Akoulina Pamphilovna knew how to prepare in a superlative manner. All
night long Vassilissa Igorofna lay awake trying to think what her
husband could have in his head that she was not permitted to know.
The morrow, on her return from mass, she saw Iwán Ignatiitch busy
clearing the cannon of the rags, small stones, bits of wood,
knuckle-bones, and all kinds of rubbish that the little boys had crammed
it with.
"What can these warlike preparations mean?" thought the Commandant's
wife. "Can it be that they are afraid of an attack by the Kirghiz; but
then is it likely that Iván Kouzmitch would hide from me such a trifle?"
She called Iwán Ignatiitch, determined to have out of him the secret
which was provoking her feminine curiosity.
Vassilissa Igorofna began by making to him some remarks on household
matters, like a judge who begins a cross-examination by questions
irrelevant to the subject in hand, in order to reassure and lull the
watchfulness of the accused. Then, after a few minutes' silence, she
gave a deep sigh, and said, shaking her head--
"Oh! good Lord! Just think what news! What will come of all this?"
"Eh! my little mother," replied Iwán Ignatiitch; "the Lord is merciful.
We have soldiers enough, and much, powder; I have cleared the cannon.
Perhaps we may be able to defeat this Pugatchéf. If God do not forsake
us, the wolf will eat none of us here."
"And what manner of man is this Pugatchéf?" questioned the Commandant's
wife.
Iwán Ignatiitch saw plainly that he had said too much, and bit his
tongue; but it was too late. Vassilissa Igorofna obliged him to tell her
all, after giving her word that she would tell no one.
She kept her promise, and did not breathe a word indeed to anyone, save
only to the Pope's wife, and that for the very good reason that the good
lady's cow, being still out on the steppe, might be "lifted" by the
robbers.
Soon everybody was talking of Pugatchéf. The rumours abroad about him
were very diverse. The Commandant sent the "_ouriadnik_" on a mission to
look well into all in the neighbouring village and little forts. The
"_ouriadnik_" came back after an absence of two days, and reported that
he had seen in the steppe, about sixty versts from the fort, many fires,
and that he had heard the Bashkirs say that an innumerable force was
approaching. He had nothing of a more detailed or accurate nature to
relate, having been afraid of going too far.
We soon began to notice a certain stir among the Cossacks in the
garrison. They gathered in all the streets in little groups, spoke among
themselves in low voices, and dispersed directly they caught sight of a
dragoon or any other Russian soldier. They were watched. Joulaï, a
baptized Kalmuck, revealed to the Commandant something very serious.
According to him the "_ouriadnik_" had made a false report. On his
return the perfidious Cossack had told his comrades that he had advanced
upon the rebels, and that he had been presented to their chief, and that
this chief gave him his hand to kiss and had had a long interview with
him. At once the Commandant put the "_ouriadnik_" in arrest, and
declared Joulaï his substitute. This change was received by the Cossacks
with manifest discontent. They grumbled aloud, and Iwán Ignatiitch, who
executed the Commandant's orders, heard them with his own ears say
pretty clearly--
"Only wait a bit, you garrison rat!"
The Commandant had intended to cross-examine his prisoner that same day,
but the "_ouriadnik_" had escaped, doubtless with the connivance of his
accomplices.
Another thing occurred to augment the Commandant's disquiet; a Bashkir
was taken bearing seditious letters. Upon this occasion the Commandant
decided upon assembling his officers anew, and in order to do that he
wished again to get rid of his wife under some plausible pretext. But as
Iván Kouzmitch was one of the most upright and sincere of men he could
not think of any other way than that which he had already employed on a
previous occasion.
"Do you know, Vassilissa Igorofna," said he to her, while clearing his
throat once or twice, "it is said that Father Garosim has received from
the town--"
"Hold your tongue," interrupted his wife; "you want again to call a
council of war, and talk without me about Emelian Pugatchéf; but you
will not deceive me this time."
Iván Kouzmitch opened his eyes wide.
"Well, little mother," said he, "if you know all, stay; there is nothing
more to be done, we will talk before you."
"Yes, you are quite right, my little father," rejoined she; "it is of
no use your trying to play the sly fox. Send for the officers."
We again met. Iván Kouzmitch read to us, before his wife, Pugatchéf's
proclamation, drawn up by some illiterate Cossack. The robber proclaimed
his intention of marching directly upon our fort, inviting the Cossacks
and the soldiers to join him, and counselling the chiefs not to
withstand him, threatening them, should they do so, with the utmost
torture.
The proclamation was written in coarse but emphatic terms, and was
likely to produce a great impression on the minds of simple people.
"What a rascal," cried the Commandant's wife. "Just look what he dares
to propose to us! To go out to meet him and lay our colours at his feet!
Oh! the son of a dog! He doesn't then know that we have been forty
years in the service, and that, thank heaven, we have had a taste of all
sorts! Is it possible that there can have been commandants base and
cowardly enough to obey this robber?"
"Such a thing should not be possible," rejoined Iván Kouzmitch;
"nevertheless, they say the scoundrel has already got possession of
several forts."
"It appears that he is in strength, indeed," observed Chvabrine.
"We shall know directly the amount of his strength," resumed the
Commandant. "Vassilissa Igorofna, give me the key of the barn. Iván
Ignatiitch, bring up the Bashkir and tell Joulaï to fetch the rods."[50]
"Wait a bit, Iván Kouzmitch," said the Commandant's wife, rising; "let
me take Masha out of the house. Without I do so she would hear the
cries, and they would frighten her. And as for me, to tell the truth, I
am not over curious about such matters. So hoping to see you again--"
Torture was then so rooted in the practice of justice that the
beneficial ukase[51] ordaining its abolition remained a long time of
none effect. It was thought that the confession of the accused was
indispensable to condemnation, an idea not merely unreasonable, but
contrary to the dictates of the simplest good sense in legal matters,
for, if the denial of the accused be not accepted as proof of his
innocence, the extorted confession should still less serve as proof of
his guilt. Yet even now I still hear old judges sometimes regret the
abolition of this barbarous custom.
But in those days no one ever doubted of the necessity for torture,
neither the judges nor the accused themselves. That is why the
Commandant's order did not arouse any surprise or emotion among us. Iwán
Ignatiitch went off to seek the Bashkir, who was under lock and key in
the Commandant's barn, and a few minutes later he was brought into the
ante-room. The Commandant ordered him to be brought before him.
The Bashkir crossed the sill with difficulty, owing to the wooden
shackles he had on his feet. I glanced at him and involuntarily
shuddered.
He lifted his high cap and remained near the door. I shall never forget
that man; he seemed to be at least seventy years old, and he had neither
nose nor ears. His head was shaven, and his beard consisted of a few
grey hairs. He was little of stature, thin and bent; but his Tartar eyes
still sparkled.
"Eh! eh!" said the Commandant, who recognized by these terrible marks
one of the rebels punished in 1741, "you are an old wolf, by what I see.
You have already been caught in our traps. 'Tis not the first time you
have rebelled, since you have been so well cropped. Come near and tell
me who sent you."
The old Bashkir remained silent, and looked at the Commandant with a
look of complete idiocy.
"Well, why don't you speak?" continued Iván Kouzmitch. "Don't you
understand Russ? Joulaï, ask him in your language who sent him to our
fort."
Joulaï repeated Iván Kouzmitch's question in the Tartar language. But
the Bashkir looked at him with the same expression, and spoke never a
word.
"Jachki!" the Commandant rapped out a Tartar oath, "I'll make you speak.
Here, Joulaï, strip him of his striped dressing-gown, his idiot's dress,
and stripe his shoulders. Now then, Joulaï, touch him up properly."
Two pensioners began undressing the Bashkir. Great uneasiness then
overspread the countenance of the unhappy man. He began looking all
round like a poor little animal in the hands of children. But when one
of the pensioners seized his hands in order to twine them round his
neck, and, stooping, upraised the old man on his shoulders, when Joulaï
took the rods and lifted his hands to strike, then the Bashkir gave a
long, deep moan, and, throwing back his head, opened his mouth, wherein,
instead of a tongue, was moving a short stump.
We were all horrified.
"Well," said the Commandant, "I see we can get nothing out of him.
Joulaï, take the Bashkir back to the barn; and as for us, gentlemen, we
have still to deliberate."
We were continuing to discuss our situation, when Vassilissa Igorofna
burst into the room, breathless, and looking affrighted.
"What has happened to you?" asked the Commandant, surprised.
"Misery! misery!" replied Vassilissa Igorofna. "Fort Nijnéosern was
taken this morning. Father Garasim's boy has just come back. He saw how
it was taken. The Commandant and all the officers have been hanged, all
the soldiers are prisoners. The rascals are coming here."
This unexpected news made a great impression upon me. The Commandant of
Fort Nijnéosern, a gentle and quiet young man, was known to me. Two
months previously he had passed on his way from Orenburg with his young
wife, and he had stayed with Iván Kouzmitch.
The Nijnéosernaia was only twenty-five versts away from our fort. From
hour to hour we might expect to be attacked by Pugatchéf. The probable
fate of Marya Ivánofna rose vividly before my imagination, and my heart
failed me as I thought of it.
"Listen, Iván Kouzmitch," I said to the Commandant, "it is our duty to
defend the fort to the last gasp, that is understood. But we must think
of the women's safety. Send them to Orenburg, if the road be still open,
or to some fort further off and safer, which the rascals have not yet
had time to reach."
Iván Kouzmitch turned to his wife.
"Look here, mother, really, had we not better send you away to some more
distant place till the rebels be put down?"
"What nonsense!" replied his wife.
"Show me the fortress that bullets cannot reach. In what respect is
Bélogorskaia not safe? Thank heaven, we have now lived here more than
twenty-one years. We have seen the Bashkirs and the Kirghiz; perhaps we
may weary out Pugatchéf here."
"Well, little mother," rejoined Iván Kouzmitch, "stay if you like, since
you reckon so much on our fort. But what are we to do with Masha? It is
all right if we weary him out or if we be succoured. But if the robbers
take the fort?"
"Well, then--"
But here Vassilissa Igorofna could only stammer and become silent,
choked by emotion.
"No, Vassilissa Igorofna," resumed the Commandant, who remarked that his
words had made a great impression on his wife, perhaps for the first
time in her life; "it is not proper for Masha to stay here. Let us send
her to Orenburg to her godmother. There are enough soldiers and cannons
there, and the walls are stone. And I should even advise you to go away
thither, for though you be old yet think on what will befall you if the
fort be taken by assault."
"Well! well!" said the wife, "we will send away Masha; but don't ask me
to go away, and don't think to persuade me, for I will do no such thing.
It will not suit me either in my old age to part from you and go to seek
a lonely grave in a strange land. We have lived together; we will die
together."
"And you are right," said the Commandant. "Let us see, there is no time
to lose. Go and get Masha ready for her journey; to-morrow we will start
her off at daybreak, and we will even give her an escort, though, to
tell the truth, we have none too many people here. But where is she?"
"At Akoulina Pamphilovna's," answered his wife. "She turned sick when
she heard of the taking of Nijnéosern; I dread lest she should fall
ill. Oh! God in heaven! that we should have lived to see this!"
Vassilissa Igorofna went away to make ready for her daughter's
departure.
The council at the Commandant's still continued, but I no longer took
any part in it. Marya Ivánofna reappeared for supper, pale and her eyes
red. We supped in silence, and we rose from table earlier than usual.
Each of us returned to his quarters after bidding good-bye to the whole
family. I purposely forgot my sword, and came back to fetch it. I felt I
should find Marya alone; in fact, she met me in the porch, and handed me
my sword.
"Good-bye, Petr' Andréjïtch," she said to me, crying; "they are sending
me to Orenburg. Keep well and happy. Mayhap God will allow us to see one
another again, if not--"
She began to sob. I pressed her in my arms.
"God be with you, my angel," I said to her. "My darling, my loved one,
whatever befall me, rest assured that my last thought and my last prayer
will be for you."
Masha still wept, sheltered on my breast. I kissed her passionately, and
abruptly went out.