Arina Vassilyevna and her daughters were in league with her and had
themselves accepted presents at different times from Kurolyessoff. This
disclosure turned the whole force of my grandfather's rage back upon his
own family. He threatened that he would dissolve the marriage on the
ground that Parasha was not of age, and then started home. On the way he
turned aside to visit the priest who had performed the ceremony, and
called him to account. But the priest met his attack very coolly, and
showed him with no hesitation the certificate of affinity, the
signatures of the grandmother, the bride, and the witnesses, and also
the baptismal certificate which alleged that Praskovya Ivanovna was
seventeen. This was a fresh blow to my grandfather, for it deprived him
of all hope of breaking the hateful marriage; and it increased
enormously his anger against his wife and daughters. I shall not dwell
upon his behaviour when he got home: it would be too painful and
repulsive. Thirty years later, my aunts could never speak of that day
without trembling. I shall only say, that the culprits made a full
confession, that he sent back all the presents, including those intended
for himself, to Mme. Bakteyeff, to be forwarded to the proper quarter,
that the elder daughters long kept their beds, and that my grandmother
lost all her hair and went about for a whole year with her head
bandaged. He sent a message to the Kurolyessoffs forbidding them to dare
to appear before him, and ordered that their names should never be
mentioned in his house.
Time rolled on, healing wounds whether of mind or body, and calming
passions. Within a year Arina Vassilyevna's head was healed, and the
anger in the heart of Stepan Mihailovitch had cooled. At first he
refused either to see or hear of the Kurolyessoffs, and would not even
write to Praskovya Ivanovna; but, when a year had passed and he heard
from all quarters good accounts of her way of life, and was told that
she had suddenly become sensible beyond her years, his heart softened
and he became anxious to see the cousin whom he had loved. He reasoned
that she, as a perfect child, was less to blame than any of the rest,
and gave her leave to come, without her husband, to Bagrovo; and, as a
matter of course, she came at once. The reports were true: one year of
marriage had wrought such a change in Praskovya Ivanovna, that Stepan
Mihailovitch could hardly believe it. It was puzzling also, that she now
showed towards her cousin a kind of love and gratitude which she had
never felt in her girlhood, and was still less likely, one would think,
to feel after her marriage. In his eyes, which filled with tears when
they met, did she read how much love was concealed under that harsh
exterior and that arbitrary violence? Had she any dark foreboding of the
future, or did she dimly realise that here was her one support and stay?
Or did she feel unconsciously, that the rough cousin who had opposed her
happiness and still disliked her husband, loved her better than all the
women who had indulged her by falling in with all her childish wishes? I
cannot answer these questions; but all were struck by the change. In her
careless childhood she had been indifferent to her cousin, thinking
little of his rights and her duties; and now she had every reason to
resent his treatment of her grandmother; yet she felt to him now as a
devoted daughter feels to a tender father when both have long known and
loved one another. Whatever the cause of it, this sudden feeling ended
only with her life.
But what was the remarkable change that had come over so young a woman
as Praskovya Ivanovna, after one year of married life? The foolish child
had turned into a sensible but cheerful woman. She frankly confessed
that they had all behaved badly to Stepan Mihailovitch. For herself only
she pleaded youth and ignorance, and, for her grandmother, her husband,
and the rest, their blind devotion to her. She did not ask him to pardon
the chief criminal at once; but she hoped that in time, when he saw her
happiness and the unwearied care with which her husband managed her
property and looked after her estates, her cousin would forgive the
culprit and admit him at Bagrovo. My grandfather, though he made no
answer at the time, was completely conquered by this appeal. He did not
keep his "clever cousin"--as he now began to call her--long at his
house; he said that her place was now elsewhere, and soon sent her back
to her husband. At parting, he said: "If you are as well satisfied with
your husband a year hence, and if he behaves as well to you as he does
now, I shall be reconciled to him." A year later, as he knew that
Kurolyessoff was behaving well and paying the utmost attention to the
management of his wife's property, and found his cousin, when he saw
her, looking healthy and happy and cheerful, Stepan Mihailovitch told
her to bring her husband with her to Bagrovo. He received Kurolyessoff
cordially, frankly confessed his former doubts, and ended by promising
to treat him as a kinsman and friend, on condition of continued good
conduct. The guest behaved very cleverly: he was less furtive and less
insinuating than he used to be, but just as respectful, attentive, and
tactful. His bearing was clearly more confident and self-assured; he was
giving the closest attention to agricultural problems, on which he asked
advice from my grandfather--advice which he took in very quickly and
followed with remarkable skill. He was connected in some distant way
with Stepan Mihailovitch, and addressed him as "uncle" and treated the
rest of the family as relations. Even before the scene of reconciliation
or forgiveness, he had rendered a service of some kind to Stepan
Mihailovitch; my grandfather was aware of this and thanked him for it
now; he even gave him a similar commission to execute. In fact, the
visit passed off very well. But, though all the circumstances seemed to
speak in favour of Kurolyessoff, my grandfather still said: "The lad is
all right: he is clever and sensible; but somehow I don't take to him."
It was in the course of the next year that Stepan Mihailovitch made his
move to the district of Ufa. For three years after his marriage,
Kurolyessoff behaved with discretion and moderation, or at least
concealed his conduct with such care that nothing got round. Besides, he
was constantly moving about and spent little time at home. There was
only one report, which spread everywhere with exaggeration--that the
young landowner was a very strict master. During the next two years he
did wonders in the way of improving his wife's property, and established
his character for unceasing activity, bold enterprise, and steadfast
perseverance in the execution of his schemes. The property had been
mismanaged previously: the land had been injured by neglect, and the
peasants brought in very little income, not because there was no market
for their grain, but because they were spoilt and lazy, and had too
little land; and another difficulty was that some of them belonged to
three different owners--Mme. Bakteyeff and her daughter as well as
Praskovya Ivanovna. Kurolyessoff began by transferring some of the
peasants to new ground, while he sold the old land at a good profit. He
bought about 20,000 acres of steppe in the Government of Simbirsk (now
Samara) and the district of Stavropolsk--excellent arable land, level
and easy to plough, with over three feet of black soil. The land lay on
the river Berlya, which had some coppices on its banks near the source;
and there was also "Bear Hollow," which was left untouched for some time
and is now the only forest on the property. He settled 350 serfs here.
This estate turned out highly profitable, because it was only a hundred
_versts_ from Samara and about fifty from a number of ports on the
Volga. It is well known that the value of an estate in our country
depends entirely upon the market for grain.
Next, Kurolyessoff went off to the district of Ufa and bought from the
Bashkirs 60,000 acres. The soil, though good, was not as productive as
that in Simbirsk, but there was a considerable quantity of wood, not
only firewood, but timber for building. He planted two colonies there,
one of 450 serfs and the other of 50; and he called the larger
"Parashino" and the smaller "Ivanovka." As the Simbirsk estate was
called "Kurolyessovo," each of the properties bore one of the names of
his wife. Such a romantic fancy has always seemed to me curious,
considering the sort of man that Kurolyessoff turned out to be; but some
will maintain that these inconsistencies are common enough. He also made
a seat for himself and his wife in the village of Choorassovo, fifty
_versts_ from Simbirsk; this was a separate property of 350 serfs which
his wife had inherited from her mother. He built there a splendid
mansion, according to the ideas of those days, with all the usual
appurtenances; it was finely decorated and furnished, and painted with
frescoes inside and out; the chandeliers and bronzes, the silver plate
and china, were a wonder to behold. The house was situated on the slope
of a hill, from which more than twenty excellent springs came bubbling
out. The house and the hill stood in the centre of an orchard, very
large and productive, stocked with apple-trees and cherry-trees of every
possible sort. The internal arrangements--the service and cooking, the
horses and carriages--were luxurious and substantial. There was a
constant succession of visitors at Choorassovo, either country
neighbours, of whom there were a good many, or people from Simbirsk;
they ate and drank, took walks and played cards, sang and talked, and
were generally noisy and merry. Kurolyessoff dressed his wife up like a
doll, anticipated all her wishes, and entertained her from morning till
night, that is, when he happened to be at home. In short, after a few
years, he had attained such a position all round, that good people
admired him and bad people envied him. Nor did he forget the claims of
religion: in place of an old tumbledown wooden erection, he built a new
church of stone and equipped it splendidly; he even formed an excellent
choir out of the household servants. Praskovya Ivanovna was quite
contented and happy. She gave birth to a daughter in the fourth year of
her marriage, and to a son a year later, but she soon lost them, the
girl in infancy, and the boy when he was three. She had become so
attached to the boy that this loss cost her dear. For a whole year her
eyes were never dry, her excellent constitution was seriously affected,
and she had no more children. Meanwhile her husband's reputation and
influence grew by leaps and bounds. It is true that his behaviour to the
small landowners was arbitrary and harsh; yet they, if they did not like
him, were exceedingly afraid of him; and people of importance thought it
only to his credit, that he made his inferiors know their proper place.
His absences from home became more frequent and longer, from year to
year, especially after the sad year in which Praskovya Ivanovna lost her
son and would not be comforted. It is probable that he grew weary of
tears and sighs and solitude; for she refused to have any visitors for a
whole year. But indeed the most cheerful and noisy society at
Choorassovo was no attraction to Kurolyessoff.
Little by little, certain rumours began to spread abroad and gain
strength. According to these reports, the Major was not merely strict,
as was said before, but cruel; in the privacy of his estates at Ufa he
gave himself up to drink and debauchery; he had gathered round him a
band, with whom he drank and committed excesses of every kind; and,
worse still, several victims had already been killed by him in the fury
of his drunken violence. The police and magistrates of the district, it
was said, were all his creatures: he had bribed some with money and
others with drink and terrorised them all. The small landowners and
inferior officials went in terror of their lives: if any dared to act or
speak against him, they were seized in broad daylight and imprisoned in
cellars or corn-kilns, where they were fed on bread and water and
suffered the pangs of cold and hunger; and some were unmercifully
flogged with an instrument called a "cat." Kurolyessoff had a special
fancy for this implement, which was merely a leather whip with seven
tails and knots at the end of each tail. They remained for some time
after Kurolyessoff's death in a store-room at Parashino, for show, not
for use; and I saw them there myself; they were burnt by my father when
he inherited the property. These reports were only too well founded: the
reality far surpassed the timid whisper of rumour. Kurolyessoff's thirst
for blood, inflamed to madness by strong drink, grew unchecked to its
full proportions, till it presented one of those horrible spectacles at
which humanity shudders and turns sick. The instinct of the tiger is
terrible indeed, when combined with the reasoning power of a man.
At last the rumours were changed into certain knowledge; and of all the
people with whom Praskovya Ivanovna lived--relations, neighbours, and
servants, every one knew the real truth about Kurolyessoff. When he
returned to Choorassovo from the scene of his exploits, he always showed
the same respect to rank, the same friendly attention to his equals, the
same anxiety to please his wife. She had now got over her loss and had
recovered health and spirits; the house was as full of visitors as it
used to be, and something was always going on. At Choorassovo,
Kurolyessoff never struck any of the servants, leaving the bailiff and
the butler in sole possession of this amusement; but they all knew about
him and trembled at a mere look. Even relations and intimate friends
showed some discomfort and embarrassment in his company. But Praskovya
Ivanovna noticed nothing, or, if she did, ascribed it to a quite
different cause--the involuntary respect which every one felt for her
husband's remarkable success as a landowner, his splendid establishment,
and his general intelligence and firmness of purpose. Sensible people
who loved Praskovya Ivanovna, when they saw her perfectly composed and
happy, were glad of her ignorance and hoped it might last as long as
possible. There were, no doubt, some women among her dependants and
humble neighbours whose tongues itched uncommonly, and who felt a strong
desire to pay the Major out for his contemptuous treatment of them, by
disclosing the truth; but, apart from the fear they could not help
feeling, which would probably not have deterred them, there was another
obstacle which prevented the fulfilment of their kind intentions. It was
simply impossible to bring any tales against her husband to Praskovya
Ivanovna. She was clever, keen-sighted, and determined; and, as soon as
she detected any hidden innuendo to the detriment of Kurolyessoff, she
knitted her dark eyebrows and said in her downright way that any offence
of the kind would be punished by perpetual exclusion from her house. As
the natural result of such a significant warning, nobody ventured to
interfere in what was not their business. There were two servants in the
house, a favourite attendant of her late father's and her own old nurse,
whom she specially favoured, though they were not admitted to such close
intimacy as old servants often were in those days; but they too were
powerless. To them it was a matter of life and death that their mistress
should know the real truth about her husband; for they had near
relations who were personal attendants of Kurolyessoff's and were
suffering beyond endurance from their master's cruelty. At last they
determined to tell the whole story to their mistress. They chose a time
when she was alone, and went together to her room; but the old nurse had
hardly mentioned Kurolyessoff's name, when Praskovya Ivanovna flew into
a violent passion. She told the woman that, if she ever again ventured
to open her mouth against her master, she would banish her from her
presence for ever and send her to live at Parashino. Thus all possible
channels were blocked, and all mouths were stopped, that might have
informed against the criminal. Praskovya Ivanovna loved her husband and
trusted him absolutely. She knew that people like to meddle with what
does not concern them, and like to trouble the water, that they may
catch fish; and she had made up her mind at once and laid down an
absolute rule, to listen to no tales against her husband. It is an
excellent rule, and indispensable for the preservation of domestic
peace. But there is no rule that does not admit of exceptions; and
perhaps, in the present case, the resolute temper and strong will of the
wife, added to the fact that all the wealth belonged to her, might have
checked the husband at the outset of his career. As a sensible man, he
would not have cared to deprive himself of all the advantages of a
luxurious life; he would not have gone to such extremes or given such
free play to his monstrous passions. It is more likely that, like many
other men, he would have taken his pleasures in moderation and with
precaution.
Thus several years went by, during which Kurolyessoff gave himself up
without restraint to his evil tendencies. His degeneration was rapid,
and at last he began to commit incredible crimes, and always with
impunity. I shall not describe in detail the kind of life he led on his
estates, especially at Parashino, and also in the villages of the
district; the story would be too repulsive. I shall say no more than is
necessary to convey a true conception of this formidable man. During the
early years when his whole attention was given to organising his wife's
estates, he deserved to be called the most far-seeing, practical, and
watchful of agents. To all the infinitely various and troublesome
business, involved in removing peasants and settling them down in
distant holdings, he gave his personal and unremitting attention. He
kept constantly in view one object only, the well-being of his
dependants. He could spend money where it was needed; he saw that it
came to hand at the right time and in the right quantity; he anticipated
all the wants and requirements of the settlers. He accompanied them
himself for a great part of their journey, and met them himself at the
end of it, where they found everything prepared for their reception. It
is true that he was too severe and even cruel in the punishment of
culprits; but he was just, and could keep his eyes shut at times. From
time to time he allowed himself a little relaxation, when he disappeared
for a day or two to amuse himself; but he could throw off the effects of
his debauchery like water off a duck's back, and come to work again with
fresh vigour.
So long as he had the burden of his work upon his shoulders, it took up
all his powers of mind and kept him from the fatal passion for drink,
which robbed him of his senses and removed the curb from his monstrous
inhuman passions. Work was his salvation; but, when he had got both the
new estates, Kurolyessovo and Parashino, into order, and built
manor-houses at both, with a second smaller house at Parashino, then
came the season of little work and much leisure. Drunkenness, with its
usual consequences, and violence, gained complete mastery over him, and
developed by degrees into an insatiable thirst for human blood and human
suffering. Encouraged by the passive fear of all around him, he soon
ceased to set any limit to his arbitrary violence. He chose from among
his dependants a score of ruffians, fit instruments for his purposes,
and formed them into a band of robbers. They saw that their master bore
a charmed life, and believed in his power; drunken and debauched
themselves, they carried out all his insane orders willingly and boldly.
If any man offended Kurolyessoff by the slightest independence in word
or action--if, for example, he failed to turn up when invited to one of
their drunken revels--the gang set off at once at a sign from their
master, seized the culprit either secretly or openly wherever they found
him, and brought him back to Parashino, where he was treated with insult
and chained up in a cellar underground or flogged by their master's
orders. Kurolyessoff was a man of taste: he liked good horses, and he
liked good pictures--he thought them good at least--to adorn his walls.
If anything of the kind took his fancy in a neighbour's house or in any
house where he happened to be, he at once proposed an exchange; in case
of a refusal, he would sometimes, if he was in a good humour, offer
money; but, if this also was refused, he gave warning that he would take
it and give nothing for it. And he did actually turn up with his gang a
short time after, pack up whatever he wanted, and carry it off.
Complaints were made, and the preliminary steps for an inquiry were
taken. But Kurolyessoff saw this must be stopped at once. He sent a
message to the district magistrate, that he would flay with the "cat"
any officer of the law who dared to present himself; and he remained
master of the situation. Meantime the man who had dared to complain was
seized and beaten, on his own estate and in his own house, with his wife
and children kneeling round and imploring mercy. It was Kurolyessoff's
custom to make it up with his victims after a time: sometimes he offered
them pecuniary compensation, but more often he restored peace by
terrorising them; in any case, the stolen goods remained his lawful
property. During his carouses he liked to boast that he had taken "that
pretty thing in the gilt frame" from so-and-so, and that inlaid
writing-table from some one else; and often these very people were
sitting at the table, pretending to be deaf or plucking up heart to
laugh at their own losses. There were even worse acts of violence, but
these also went scot free.
Kurolyessoff had a very powerful constitution: though he drank a great
deal, it never disabled him but only put him on the move and roused a
horrible activity in his clouded brain and inflamed body. One of his
favourite amusements was to harness teams of spirited horses to a
miscellaneous assortment of carriages, to pack the carriages with his
ragtag and bobtail of men and women, and then scour over the fields and
through the villages at full gallop, with the jingling of bells and the
singing and shouting of his drunken rabble. He took a stock of liquor
with him on these occasions and made every one he met, without regard to
calling or sex or age, drink till they were intoxicated; and any one who
dared to refuse was first flogged, and then tied to a tree or a post,
though it might be raining or freezing at the time. Of more revolting
acts of violence I say nothing. One day he was driving in this state of
mind through a village, and, as he passed a threshing-floor, noticed a
woman of remarkable beauty. "Stop!" he called out. "Petrushka, what do
you think of that woman?" "She's uncommonly pretty," said Petrushka.
"Would you like to marry her?" "How can I marry another man's wife?"
asked Petrushka with a grin on his face. "I'll show you how! Seize her,
my lads, and put her in the carriage beside me!" They did so; the woman
was taken straight to the parish church, and there, though she protested
that she had a husband living and two children, was married to
Petrushka; and no complaints were made either in Kurolyessoff's lifetime
or in that of his widow. When the estate came into my father's hands, he
restored this woman with her husband and children to her former owner;
her first husband had long been dead. My father also distributed various
articles of property to their former owners when they asked for them;
but many of the things had got worn out by tossing about in
lumber-rooms. It is hard to believe that such things could happen in
Russia, even eighty years ago; but the truth of the narrative it is
impossible to dispute.