enough in itself, led on to worse, till the man's natural cruelty became
a ferocious thirst for blood. To inflict torture became with him a
necessity as well as a pleasure. On the days when he could not gratify
this passion, he was depressed and listless, uneasy and even ill; and
this was why his visits to Choorassovo grew steadily rarer and his stay
there shorter. But, on his return to the solitude of Parashino, he made
haste to reward himself for his abstinence. He had only to watch the
labourers at their work, to secure a sufficient number of victims; no
excuses were accepted, and it is always possible to find trifling cases
of neglect on the land if you are determined to hunt for them. Yet it
was the personal servants and people about the house who suffered most
from his ferocity. He seldom flogged a peasant, unless the man had
committed a serious offence or was personally known to him; but his
bailiffs and clerks suffered as much at his hands as the household
servants. He spared no one: every one of his favourites had, some time
or other, been flogged within an inch of his life, and some of them many
times. It is remarkable that, when Kurolyessoff got violently angry,
which seldom happened, he did not use violence; but, when he had got
hold of a man and intended to torture him for his own amusement, he
would say in a quiet and even affectionate tone: "Well, my good friend
Grigori Kuzmitch,"--Grishka[28] being his usual name--"it can't be
helped; come, and I will settle accounts with you." Thus he would speak
to his head-groom, who for some unknown reason was put to the torture
more often than others. "Scratch him up a bit with the cat," said the
master with a smile, and then the torture went on for hours, while the
master drank tea with brandy in it, smoked his pipe, and from time to
time passed jests on his victim till unconsciousness supervened.
Trustworthy witnesses have assured me that only one expedient proved
successful in saving life after such an ordeal: the lacerated body of
the victim was wrapped up in sheepskins taken warm from the animals'
backs as soon as they were slaughtered. Kurolyessoff would carefully
examine his victim; then, if content, he would say, "Well, that's
enough; take him away"--and then he became cheerful, jocular, and
amiable for the whole day and sometimes for several days. In order to
complete the portrait of this monster, I shall quote his own words which
he repeated more than once among his boon-companions: "Don't talk to me
of the knout or the stick! They kill a man before you mean it. The 'cat'
is the thing for me: it gives pain without taking life!" I have told
here only a tithe of what I know, but perhaps I have said enough. It is
remarkable, as an instance of the inexplicable inconsistencies of
corrupt human nature, that Kurolyessoff, at a time when he had reached
the extreme limit of debauchery and cruelty, was zealously engaged in
building a stone church at Parashino. At the time I am about to
describe, the outside of the church was finished, and workmen had been
hired for the internal decoration: carpenters, carvers, gilders, and
_ikon_[29]-painters had been at work for some months and were occupying
all the smaller manor-house of Parashino.
[28] A diminutive form of Grigori (Gregory).
[29] An _ikon_ is a sacred image, kept in a church or hung on the wall
of a room.
Praskovya Ivanovna had now been married fourteen years. She noticed
something strange about her husband, whom for two years she had only
seen at long intervals for a few days at a time, but she did not even
suspect anything like the truth. She went on with her easy cheerful way
of life: in summer she gave great attention to her orchard and the
water-springs which she left in their natural state and liked to clean
out with her own hands; at other seasons she spent her time with her
visitors and became a great lover of cards. Suddenly she received, by
post or special messenger, a letter from an old lady for whom she had
great respect, a distant relation of her husband's. This letter gave a
full description of Kurolyessoff's life, and ended in this way, that it
would be sinful not to open the eyes of the mistress of a thousand
serfs, when they were suffering such monstrous cruelty and she could
protect them by cancelling the legal authority she had given her husband
to manage her estates. "Their blood cries to heaven," she wrote, "and at
this moment a servant known to you, Ivan Onufrieff, is dying in
consequence of cruel maltreatment. You have nothing to fear yourself
from Kurolyessoff: he will not venture to show his face at Choorassovo,
and your good neighbours and the Governor himself will protect you."
This letter fell like a thunderbolt on Praskovya Ivanovna. I have heard
her say myself that she was quite stunned for some minutes; but she was
supported by her firm faith in God and the uncommon strength of her
will, and soon determined on a step from which most brave men would have
shrunk. She ordered horses to be harnessed, saying that she was going to
Simbirsk, and then, with one maid and a man and the coachman, drove
straight to Parashino. It was a long journey of 400 _versts_, and she
had plenty of leisure to think over what she was doing. She used to say
herself that she had formed no plan of action whatever; she merely
wished to see with her own eyes and find out for certain what her
husband was doing and how he lived. She did not entirely trust the
letter from his kinswoman, who lived at a distance and might have been
deceived by false reports; and she did not choose to question her old
nurse at Choorassovo. The thought of danger never entered her head: her
husband had always been so gentle and respectful with her, that it
seemed to her quite natural and quite possible to induce him to return
in her carriage to Choorassovo. She timed herself to arrive at Parashino
in the evening, left her carriage outside the village, and walked
unrecognised--few of the people there knew her--accompanied by her maid
and man, to the court of the mansion-house. She passed through the back
entrance, made her way to a wing from which loud sounds of singing and
laughter were issuing, and opened the door with a steady hand.
Fortune, as if on purpose, had brought together everything that could
reveal at one flash the kind of life her husband was leading. More
intoxicated than usual, he was carousing with his boon-companions.
Dressed in a shirt of red silk, he held a glass of punch in one hand[30]
while a tipsy herd of servants, retainers, and country women danced and
sang before him. Praskovya Ivanovna nearly fainted at the sight. She
understood all now. Unnoticed, because the room was crowded with people,
she shut the door and left the house. On the steps she came face to face
with one of Kurolyessoff's servants, not a young man, and, fortunately,
sober. He recognised his mistress and was just calling out,
"_Matushka_[31] Praskovya Ivanovna, is it you?"--when she put her hand
over his mouth and led him to the centre of the courtyard. She said in
an ominous voice, "Is this the way you go on behind my back? The days of
your feasting and dancing are done." The man fell at her feet weeping
and said: "_Matushka_, do you suppose that _we_ find pleasure in his
goings-on, that _we_ are responsible? God himself has brought you here."
She told him to be silent and take her to see Ivan Onufrieff; she had
heard that he was still living. She found him in a dying state, lying in
a cow-byre in the backyard. He was too weak to tell her anything; but
his brother, Alexyei, a mere lad, who had been flogged only the day
before, crawled somehow from his pallet, fell on his knees, and told her
what had befallen his brother and himself and others as well. Praskovya
Ivanovna's heart swelled with pity and horror. She felt that she also
was to blame, and she formed a firm resolve to put an end to the crimes
and atrocities of Kurolyessoff. She thought there would be no
difficulty. She gave strict orders that her presence should be kept
secret. Then, as she heard that the smaller house, which had been built
some years before, but, from some caprice of her husband's, never
furnished, contained one habitable room unoccupied by the workmen, she
went off, intending to pass the remainder of the night there and to
speak next morning to her husband when he was sober. But the secret of
her arrival was not strictly kept. The report reached the ear of one of
the most desperate of Kurolyessoff's gang, and he, moved by devotion or
by fear, whispered it to his master. Kurolyessoff was dumbfounded by the
news; it sobered him in a moment; he felt uneasy and scented danger
ahead. His wife's firm and masculine temper had found few opportunities
to display itself hitherto, but he guessed that it was there. Dismissing
his band of revellers, he had two buckets of cold water poured over his
head; and then, braced up and invigorated by this expedient, he changed
into ordinary clothing and went to see if his wife was asleep. He had
had time to reflect and fix on a line of action. He guessed the truth,
that Praskovya Ivanovna had received from some quarter information as to
his way of life, but that she was incredulous and had come to Parashino
to ascertain the truth herself. He knew that her eye had rested for a
moment on his revels, but he did not know that she had seen Onufrieff
and that Alexyei had told her the whole story. He intended to play the
repentant sinner, to excuse himself as best he could for his riotous
debauch, to pour oil on the troubled waters by his delicate attentions,
and to take his wife away as soon as possible from Parashino.
[30] The asterisks apparently imply that the author is unwilling to
report some details of this orgy.
[31] _I.e_. mother, a term of affection and respect.
It was morning by now, and the sun had actually risen. Kurolyessoff
stole on tiptoe to the room occupied by Praskovya Ivanovna and softly
opened the door. A bed had been made for her on the top of a chest, but
the sheets were still smooth and no one had lain down on them. He looked
all round the room and saw Praskovya Ivanovna. She was kneeling in
prayer; there was no _ikon_ in the room, and her eyes, full of tears,
were fixed upon the Cross on the church, which was just opposite the
window and glittered in the rays of the rising sun. He remained standing
a few moments, and then said in a playful voice: "You have prayed long
enough, my dear! I am delighted to see you. What made you think of
coming?" Praskovya Ivanovna rose from her knees with no sign of
confusion; she refused her husband's embrace; then, concealing the flame
of her just anger under a cold determined manner, she told him that she
knew all and had seen Ivan Onufrieff. She expressed in plain terms her
aversion to the monster whom she could no longer regard as her husband,
and she passed sentence upon him: he was to return the document which
gave him authority over her estates, to leave Parashino at once, never
to appear before her again, and never to set foot on any of her lands;
if he refused, she would petition the Governor of the province, and
reveal all his crimes; and his fate would be Siberia and penal
servitude. Kurolyessoff was taken by surprise; he foamed at the mouth
with rage and anger. "So that is the way you talk to me, my beauty! Then
I shall change my tune too!" roared the infuriated ruffian. "You shall
not leave Parashino till you sign a document transferring all your
estates to me; if you refuse, I shall shut you up in a cellar and starve
you to death." Then he caught up a stick from a corner of the room,
felled his wife to the floor with his first blows, and went on beating
her till she lost her senses. Next he ordered some of his trusted
servants to carry their mistress to a stone cellar, which he locked with
a huge padlock and put the key in his pocket. He was a formidable figure
when he appeared before the assembled household; he had summoned them
all, in order to discover the culprit who had led his mistress to the
cow-byre; but the man had already sought safety in flight, accompanied
by the coachman and manservant who had come from Choorassovo. The
fugitives were pursued at once. Kurolyessoff did no injury to the maid,
who had refused to desert her mistress: he gave her directions for
exhorting the prisoner to submission, and then locked her up with his
own hands in the same cellar. What did Kurolyessoff do next? He began to
drink and riot more furiously than before. But alas! in vain did he
swallow brandy like water, in vain did his revel rout dance and sing
before him--he had turned gloomy and sullen. Yet this did not prevent
him from working indefatigably for the attainment of his purpose. He
procured from the local town a legal document by which Praskovya
Ivanovna professed to sell Parashino and Kurolyessovo to one of his
disreputable friends--Choorassovo he was kind enough to leave to
her--and twice a day he went down to the cellar and pressed his wife to
sign the paper; he begged pardon for his violence in the heat of the
moment, promised that if she consented she should never see him again,
and took an oath that he would restore all her property to her by his
will. But Praskovya Ivanovna, though bruised and half-starved and
suffering from fever, refused even to listen to any compromise whatever.
So things went on for five days, and God only knows how it would all
have ended.
All this time my grandfather Stepan Mihailovitch was living and
prospering on his estate of New Bagrovo, which was 120 _versts_ distant
from Parashino. As I have mentioned already, he had frankly made it up
with Kurolyessoff and was satisfied with him in general, though he felt
no fancy for him. Kurolyessoff, on his side, showed great deference to
Stepan Mihailovitch and all his family, and was ready to perform any
services for them. When he had planted his colony at Parashino and was
engaged in organising it, he came every year to Bagrovo and made himself
very agreeable. He appealed to Stepan Mihailovitch, as a man of
practical experience in colonising, for his advice; he received it
gratefully, wrote it all down word for word, and really followed it. He
even invited Stepan Mihailovitch twice to Parashino, to judge of his
pupil's proficiency; and each time my grandfather approved entirely of
what he saw; and on his last visit, when he had inspected the arable
land and all the farming arrangements, he said to Kurolyessoff, "You are
young, friend, but you've got on fast; I can teach you nothing." And, as
a matter of fact, everything at Parashino was in excellent order. Of
course the host received the old man as if he had been his own father,
with all possible deference and attention. As years went on, ugly
rumours about Kurolyessoff found their way to Bagrovo. As my grandfather
disliked gossip, nothing was said to him at first; but the rumours grew
steadily. The womankind at Bagrovo knew of them; and Arina Vassilyevna
ventured at last to tell her husband that Kurolyessoff was leading a
terribly wicked life. He would not believe it. He said: "Once you
believe what people say, you will soon accuse your neighbour of robbing
a church! I know what the Bakteyeff servants were like--thieves and
shirkers, to a man! And my cousin's serfs too got spoilt, with no master
to look after them. It's not surprising if they're terrified of honest
work and decent order. Friend Mihail may have gone to work too fast:
what of that? they'll learn to bear it. As to his drinking--if he takes
a glass after his work, a man's none the worse for that, provided he
doesn't neglect his business. There _are_ beastly things a man shouldn't
do; but there, I fancy, they're lying. You women are too fond of
listening to gossip." For a long time after this, Stepan Mihailovitch
heard nothing more of the rumours. At last, some Bagroff serfs, who had
been transferred from the Government of Simbirsk to Parashino together
with the serfs of the Bakteyeff family, came to visit their relations at
New Bagrovo and told terrible stories of their master. Arina Vassilyevna
again appealed to her husband, and begged that he would himself question
one of these men who was now at Bagrovo; he was an old man with an
established character for speaking the truth; and Stepan Mihailovitch
had known him all his life. My grandfather consented. He sent for the
man and questioned him, and heard a story which made his hair stand on
end. He could not think what to do, or how to mend matters. Praskovya
Ivanovna's occasional letters showed that she was quite happy and
undisturbed; and he concluded that she knew nothing of her husband's
conduct. In the old days he had warned her himself never to listen to
tales against her husband; and he felt sure that she was following his
advice only too well. He reflected, that, if she learnt the truth, it
was doubtful if she could do anything; she would distress herself
terribly, all to no purpose. It was therefore desirable that her eyes
should never be opened. He could not now interfere; and he thought
interference useless in the case of such a man. "I hope he will break
his neck or be tried for a murder; he deserves it. No hand but God's can
mend a man like that. He is not so hard upon his peasants and labourers,
and the house-servants are a pack of scoundrels; let them suffer for
their sins! I have no mind to soil my fingers with this dirty business."
Thus Stepan Mihailovitch reasoned in his own way. He broke off all
relations with Kurolyessoff, however, and ceased to answer his letters.
This hint was understood, and the correspondence came to an end. But to
Praskovya Ivanovna, Stepan Mihailovitch began to write oftener and more
intimately than before.
So matters remained till the morning, when the three fugitives from
Parashino made their appearance before my grandfather as he sat on his
stoop. They had spent the first day concealed in an inaccessible swamp
which joined on to the stackyards of Parashino; in the evening they
learnt from some one in the village exactly what had happened, and made
their way straight to Bagrovo, considering Stepan Mihailovitch as the
only possible protector and champion of Praskovya Ivanovna. His feelings
may be imagined when he heard what had happened at Parashino. He loved
his one cousin not less, perhaps more, than his own daughters. The image
of Parasha half-killed by her ruffian of a husband, of Parasha confined
in a cellar for three days and perhaps dead already, presented itself so
vividly to his lively imagination that he sprang up like one demented,
and rushed down the courtyard and through the village, summoning his
retainers and labourers in accents of frenzy. Those who were not in the
cottages came running from the fields. When all were assembled, they
were full of sympathy for their master's passionate despair, and cried
with one voice that they would go on foot, if need be, to the rescue of
Praskovya Ivanovna. In a short time three cars, drawn by teams of
spirited horses from the stables of Bagrovo, and carrying a dozen men
chosen for strength and courage, were galloping along the road to
Parashino. The party included the fugitives from Parashino, and were
armed with guns and swords, pikes and pitchforks. Later in the day two
more cars followed to reinforce Stepan Mihailovitch; the men were armed
in the same way; the horses were the best the peasants could produce. By
the evening of the second day, the vanguard was within seven _versts_ of
Parashino. They fed the jaded horses, and in the first light of the
summer dawn dashed into the wide courtyard and drove straight up to the
cellar. It was close to the rooms occupied by Kurolyessoff. Stepan
Mihailovitch jumped out and began to beat his fist against the wooden
door of the cellar. A voice faintly asked, "Who is there?" My
grandfather recognised his cousin's voice; dropping a tear of joy that
he had found her alive, and crossing himself, he called out in a loud
voice, "Thank God! It is your cousin, Stepan Mihailovitch; you are safe
now!" He sent off the servants from Choorassovo to get ready Praskovya
Ivanovna's carriage, and posted six armed men to defend the gate, while
he himself and the rest of his men applied axes and crowbars to the
cellar-door. It gave way in a moment; and Stepan Mihailovitch himself
carried out Praskovya Ivanovna, placed her on a car between himself and
her faithful maid, and drove unmolested out of the courtyard with all
his retainers. The sun was rising as they drove past the church, and his
first beams lit up the Cross on the roof. It was just six days since
Praskovya Ivanovna had prayed with her eyes fixed on that Cross; and now
she prayed again and thanked God for her deliverance. The carriage
caught them up, when they were five _versts_ from Parashino; and Stepan
Mihailovitch moved his cousin into the carriage and drove with her back
to Bagrovo.
But I shall be asked, "How did all this happen? did no one see it? what
had become of Kurolyessoff and his trusty retainers? is it possible that
he was unaware of it or absent at the time?" No: the liberation of
Praskovya Ivanovna took place before many witnesses; and Kurolyessoff
was at home and knew what was going on, but did not venture to show his
face.
The explanation is quite simple. His men had spent the whole evening
carousing with their master, and some of them were so drunk that they
could not be roused. There was one sober man, a complete abstainer and a
favourite. He wakened his master with some difficulty, and, trembling
with fear, told him of the raid of Stepan Mihailovitch and the guns
pointing straight at the windows. "But where are all our fellows?" asked
Kurolyessoff. "Some are asleep, and others are hiding," said the man;
but this was not true; for the drunken rabble was mustering near the
outside steps. Kurolyessoff thought a moment; then with a gesture of
despair he said, "Let her go, and the devil go with her! Lock the door,
go to the window, and watch what happens." In a few minutes, the man
cried out, "They are carrying away the mistress!--They're off!"--"Go to
your bed," said his master; then he rolled himself up in his blankets
and either fell asleep or made a pretence of it.
Yes, right has a moral strength before which wrong must bend, for all
its boldness. Kurolyessoff knew the stout heart and fearless courage of
Stepan Mihailovitch, and he knew that he himself was in the wrong; and
therefore, in spite of his furious temper and unscrupulous impudence, he
let his victim go without a struggle.
Tenderly and carefully Stepan Mihailovitch conveyed the sufferer, whom
he had always loved and who now roused in him deep sympathy and a still
greater affection. No question passed his lips on the journey; and, when
he brought her in safety to Bagrovo, he forbade his womankind to trouble
her with inquiries. But in a fortnight Praskovya Ivanovna was herself
again, thanks to her strong constitution and high spirit; and then
Stepan Mihailovitch determined to cross-examine her. In order to act, he
must know the real truth, and he never trusted secondhand information.
She told him the whole truth with perfect frankness, but begged that he
would keep it from his family and that she should be asked no questions
by any one else. She put herself altogether in his hands; but she feared
his hot temper and implored him not to take vengeance on Kurolyessoff.
She said positively that, on reflection, she had decided not to bring
shame on her husband, or to stain the name which she must continue to
bear throughout her life. She added that she now repented of the words
which had burst from her lips at her first interview with Kurolyessoff
at Parashino, and that nothing would induce her to make a complaint to
the Governor against him. Yet she considered it her duty to rescue her
serfs from his cruelty, and therefore intended to cancel the document
which gave him authority over her estates. She asked Stepan Mihailovitch
to take over the management himself, and also to write to Kurolyessoff
demanding the document and stating that, if he refused to give it up,
she would take legal steps to cancel it. She asked Stepan Mihailovitch
to express this in plain terms but without any abusive epithets; and she
offered to sign the letter herself, to make it more convincing. I should
mention that she could hardly read and write her native language. Stepan
Mihailovitch loved his cousin so well that he bridled his rage and
assented to her wishes. But he would not hear of taking over the
management. "No, my dear," he said; "I don't care to meddle in other
people's affairs, and I don't want your relations to be saying that I
feather my own nest while looking after your multitude of serfs. The
land will be badly managed in your hands, I don't doubt; but you are
rich and will have enough. I don't mind saying in the letter that I am
to take over the management; that will give your sweet pet a turn! All
the rest you ask shall be done."
Strict orders were accordingly issued to the womankind to ask no
questions of the lady. My grandfather wrote the letter to Kurolyessoff
with his own hand, Praskovya Ivanovna added her signature, and a special
messenger was despatched with it to Parashino. But, while they were
considering and wondering and writing at Bagrovo, all was already over
at Parashino. The messenger returned on the fourth day and reported
that, by God's will, Kurolyessoff had died suddenly and was already
buried.