and down on the coach-box. "Jakoff will die before we get there; then
our journey will have been a useless torment of the flesh. And even if
we do find him alive, what will be the good of it all? No one should
force himself into the presence of the dying at the moment of death;
the dying person should be left alone, so that his thoughts may not be
distracted from the consideration of the needs of his soul, nor his
mind turned from the depths of his own heart to the contemplation of
trifles. For we, who are alive, are in fact nothing but trifles and of
no use to one who is dying.... It is true that our customs demand that
we should remain near them; but if we only would make use of the brains
in our heads instead of the brains in our heels, we should soon see
that this custom is good neither for the living nor for the dying, but
is only an extra torment for the heart. The living ought not to think
of death, nor remember that it is waiting somewhere for them; it is bad
for them to do so, for it darkens their joys. Holloa! you stock! Move
your legs more briskly! Look alive!"
Isaiah spoke in a monotonous, thick, hoarse voice, and his awkward,
thin figure, wrapped in a clumsy, ragged, rusty armiah, rocked heavily
backwards and forwards on the coach-box. Now and again he would jump up
from his seat, then he would sway from side to side, then nod his head,
or toss it backwards. His broad-brimmed black hat--a present from
the priest--was fastened under his chin with tapes, the floating ends
of which were blown into his face by the wind. With his hat slouched
forward over his eyes, and his coat-tails puffed out behind by the
wind, he shook his queer-shaped head, and jumped and swore, and twisted
about on his seat. As I watched him, I thought how much needless
trouble men take about most insignificant things! If the miserable worm
of small commonplace evils had not so much power over us, we might
easily crush the great horrible serpent of our serious misfortunes!
"It's gone!" exclaimed Isaiah.
"Can you see it?"
"I can see horses standing near the bushes. And there are people with
them!" Isaiah spat on one side with a gesture of despair.
"That means there is no chance of getting across?"
"Oh, we shall manage to get over somehow! Yes, of course we shall get
over, when the ice has gone down stream, but what are we to do till
then? That's the question now! Besides, I'm hungry already; I'm too
hungry for words! I told you we ought to have had something to eat.
'No, drive on!' Well, now you see I have driven on!"
"I'm as hungry as you are! Didn't you bring something with you?"
"And what if I have forgotten to bring something?" replied Isaiah
crossly.
Looking ahead over his shoulders, I caught sight of a landau, drawn by
a troika, and a wicker char-a-banc with a pair of horses. The horses'
heads were turned towards us, and several people were standing near
them; one, a tall Russian functionary with a red moustache, and wearing
a cap with a scarlet band, the badge of Russian nobility. The other man
wore a long fur coat.
"That's our district judge, Soutchoff, and the miller Mamaieff,"
muttered Isaiah, in a tone that denoted respect. Then, addressing the
pony, he shouted, "Whoa, my benefactor!"
Then, pushing his hat to the back of his head, he turned to the fat
coachman standing near the troika, and remarked, "We are too late, it
seems; eh?"
The coachman glanced with a sulky look at Isaiah's egg-shaped head, and
turned away without deigning to reply.
"Yes, you are behindhand," said the miller, with a smile. He was a
short, thick-set man, with a very red face and cunning, smiling eyes.
The district judge scanned us from under his full eyebrows, as he leant
against the foot-board of his carriage, smoked a cigarette, and twisted
his moustache. There were two other people in the group--Mamaieff's
coachman, a tall fellow with a curly head, and a miserable bandy-legged
peasant in a torn sheepskin overcoat swathed tightly round him. His
figure seemed bent into the chronic position of a low bow, which at the
present moment was evidently meant for us. His small, shrunk face was
covered with a scanty grey beard, his eyes were almost hidden in his
wrinkled countenance, and his thin blue lips were drawn into a smile,
expressive at one and the same time of respect and of derision, of
stupidity and of cunning. He was sitting in an ape-like attitude, with
his legs drawn up under his body; and, as he turned his head from side
to side, he followed each one of us closely with his glance, without
showing his own eyes. Through the many holes of his ragged sheepskin
bunches of wool protruded, and he produced altogether a singular
impression--an impression of having been half masticated before
escaping from the iron jaws of some monster, who had meant to swallow
him up.
The high sandy bank behind which we were standing sheltered us from the
blasts of wind, though it concealed the river from our view.
"I am going to see how matters stand yonder," said Isaiah, as he
started climbing up the bank.
The district judge followed him in gloomy silence; and finally the
merchant and myself, with the unhappy-looking peasant, who scrambled on
his hands and feet, brought up the rear. When we had all reached the
top of the bank we all sat down again, looking as black and as gloomy
as a lot of crows. About three or four arshines away from us, and eight
or nine below us, lay the river, a broad blue-grey line, its surface
wrinkled and dotted with heaps of broken ice. These little heaps of ice
had the appearance of an unpleasant scab, moving ever slowly forward
with an indomitable force lying hidden under its furtive movement. A
grating, scraping sound was heard through the raw, damp air.
"Kireelka!" cried the district judge.
The unhappy-looking peasant jumped to his feet, and pulling off his
hat, bowed low before the judge; at the same time placing himself in
a position which gave him the appearance of offering his head for
decapitation.
"Well, is it coming soon?"
"It won't detain your honour long; it will put in directly. Just see,
your honour: this is the way it comes. At this rate it can't help
getting in in time. A little higher up there is a small headland; if it
touches that, all will be right. It will all depend on that large block
of ice. If that gets fixed in the passage by the headland, then all
is up, for the ferry will get squeezed in the narrow passage, and all
movement will be stopped."
"That's enough! Hold your tongue!"
The peasant closed his lips with a snap, and was silent.
"Devil take it all!" cried the judge indignantly. "I told you, you
idiot, to send two boats over to this side, didn't I?"
"Yes, your honour, you did," replied the peasant, with an air of having
deserved blame.
"Well, and why did you not do so?"
"I hadn't time, because it went off all of a sudden."
"You blockhead!" replied the judge; then turning to Mamaieff, "These
stupid asses can't even understand ordinary language!"
"Yes, that's true; but then they're nothing but peasants," sneered
Manaieff, with an ingratiating smirk. "They're a silly race--a dull
set of wooden blockheads; but let us hope that this renewed energy
of the Zemstvo, this increase of schools, this enlightenment, this
education"--
"Schools! Oh yes, indeed! Reading--rooms, magic lanterns! A fine
story! I know what it all means. But I'm no enemy to education, as you
know yourself. And I know by experience that a good whipping educates
quicker and better than does anything else. Birch rods cost the peasant
nothing, whereas education strips him bare to the skin, and causes him
more suffering than can any rod. Up to the present time education has
brought nothing but ruin to the peasant. That's my opinion. I don't,
however, object to their being taught; I only say wait a little."
"That's it!" exclaimed the merchant, in a tone of voice that denoted
thorough agreement. "It would really be better to wait a little; times
are hard for the peasants just now. Failing harvests, sickness and
disease, their unfortunate weakness for strong drinks, all these things
undermine their prosperity, and then, on the top of this, they pile
schools and reading-rooms! What's to be done for the peasant under such
circumstances? There is nothing to be done for him, believe me."
"Yes; nobody knows that better than you do, Nitrita Pavlovitch,"
remarked Isaiah. His tone was firm but scrupulously polite, and he
sighed devoutly as he spoke.
"I should think so, indeed! Haven't I been seventeen years among them?
As for education, my opinion is this: if education is given at the
proper time it's all right, then it may benefit people. But if--excuse
the expression--I have an empty belly, I don't want to learn anything
except, maybe, how to rob and steal."
"No, indeed, there's no good at all in education!" exclaimed Isaiah,
assuming an expression of good-natured respect.
Mamaieff glanced at him, and drew in his lips.
"There's a peasant for you, that fellow Kireelka!" cried the judge,
turning to us with something almost of solemnity in his face and in
his voice. "Just look at him, please. He is anything but an ordinary
peasant--he is a rare sort of animal! During the fire on board the
steamer _Gregory_ this ragamuffin, this gnat, rescued without anyone's
assistance six persons. It was late autumn then; for four long hours
he laboured in peril of his life, soaked to the skin, for rain was
coming down in torrents. When he had rescued six lives, he quietly
disappeared; they looked for him everywhere, for they wanted to
recompense him, to give him a medal for his bravery; and at last they
found him, stealing away to hide himself in the dark woods. He has
always managed his affairs well; he has been thrifty; he drove his
young daughter-in-law into her grave; his old wife beats him sometimes
with logs of wood; he is a drunkard, and at the same time he is pious.
He sings in the church choir, and he possesses a fine beehive with good
swarms of bees; added to all this, he is a great thief! Once a barge
got stopped here, and he was caught stealing; he had carried off three
bags of plums. You see what a curious character he is!"
This speech made us all turn our attention to the clever peasant, who
stood in front of us with eyes cast down, and sniffing vigorously. His
gaze was fixed on the elegant shoes of the district judge, and two
suggestive little wrinkles played round the corner of his mouth, though
his lips were firmly closed, and his face was void of all expression.
"Come, let us examine him. Tell us, Kireelka, what benefits are to be
derived from learning to read?"
Kireelka sighed, moved his lips, but no word escaped from them.
"Come now, you can read!" continued the judge, in a more imperative
tone. "You must know whether learning to read has made it easier for
you to live or not!"
"That depends upon circumstances," said Kireelka, dropping his head
still lower on his breast.
"But you must tell us something more definite than that. You can read
and write, so you surely can say whether you gain any benefit by it?"
"Benefit, well perhaps. But no, I think there is more; that is, if we
look upon it in the right light, those who teach us may gain something
by it."
"What can they gain by it? And who do you mean by 'they'?"
"Well, I mean the teachers, or maybe the Zemstvo, or somebody."
"You stupid creature! But I ask you about yourself; for you personally,
is it of any use?"
"That is just as you wish, your honour."
"How just as I wish?"
"Why, to be sure, just as you wish. You see, you are our masters."
"Be off with you!"
The ends of the judge's moustache quivered, and his face grew very red.
"Well, you see, he has said little, but I think you are well answered.
No, gentlemen, the time is not yet ripe for teaching the peasant his A
B C; he must be thoroughly disciplined first. The peasant is nothing
but a vicious child; that is what he is. Nevertheless, it is of him
that the foundations are made. Do you understand? He is the groundwork,
the base of the pyramid of the State. If that base should suddenly
begin to shake, do you not understand what serious disorder might be
produced in the State?"
"That's quite true," reflected Mamaieff. "Certainly the foundations
ought to be kept strong."
As I also was interested in the cause of the peasants, I, at this
point, joined in the conversation, and in a short time all four of us
were hotly and eagerly deciding the future of the peasantry. The true
vocation of every individual seems to be to lay down rules for his
neighbour's conduct; and those preachers are in the wrong who declare
that we are all egoists; for in our altruistic aspirations to improve
the human race, we forget our own shortcomings; and this may account
for the fact that much of the evil of the world is concealed from us.
We continued thus to argue, whilst the river wound its serpentine
course in front of our eyes, swishing against the banks with its cold
grey scales of ice.
In the same way our conversation twisted and wound like an angry snake,
that flings itself now on one side, and now on the other, in the
endeavour to seize its prey, which nevertheless continues to escape.
And the cause of all our talk, the peasant himself, who sat there, at
no great distance from us, on the sandy bank, in silence, and with a
countenance wholly devoid of expression--who was he, and what was he?
Mamaieff again took up the conversation.
"No, he is not such a fool as you say; he is not really stupid; it's
not so easy to get round him."
The district judge seemed to be losing his temper. "I don't say he is
a fool; I say he is demoralised!" "Pray don't misunderstand me. I say
he has no control over himself. No control such as it is necessary to
exercise over children--that is where the root of the evil lies."
"And with all due deference, I beg to think that there is nothing wrong
with him! He is one of the Great Maker's children, like all of us; but,
I must apologise perhaps for mentioning it, he is tormented out of his
senses. I mean, bad government has deprived him of all hope for the
future."
It was Isaiah who spoke in a suave, respectful voice, smiling softly,
and sighing all the time. His eyes were half closed, as if he feared
to look straight at anyone; but the swelling on the side of his head
seemed to be overflowing with laughter, ready to burst into loud mirth,
but not daring to do so. "I for my part urge that there is nothing the
matter with the peasant but hunger. Only give him enough good food, and
he would soon be everything we I could desire."
"You believe he is starved!" exclaimed the judge irritably. "In the
devil's name, what makes you think so?"
"To me it seems quite clear."
"For goodness' sake, do tell me! Why, fifty years ago, he did not know
what hunger meant. He was then well fed, healthy, humble--h'm! I did
not mean that exactly. I meant to say--I--I--myself am hungry just now!
And hungry--devil take him!--because of his stupidity. Come now, what
do you think of that? I had given orders for the boats to be sent over
here to wait for me. Well, when I get here, there sits Kireelka, just
as if nothing were the matter. No, really, they are a dreadful set of
idiots, I assure you. I mean they have not the least respect or the
least obedience for the commands of those who are set in authority over
them."
"Well, it would be a good thing if we could get something to eat," said
Mamaieff in a melancholy voice.
"Ah, it would indeed!" sighed Isaiah.
Suddenly all four of us, who a few moments before had been snarling
irritably at each other over our argument, grew silent, feeling
suddenly united by the common pangs of hunger, felt in common. We all
turned towards poor Kireelka, who grew confused under our gaze, and
began dragging at his hat.
"Whatever have you done with that boat--eh?" Isaiah asked him
reproachfully.
"Well, supposing the boat had been here, you couldn't have eaten it,"
replied Kireelka, with a hangdog look on his face, which made us all
turn our backs on him.
"Six mortal hours have I been sitting here!" ejaculated Mamaieff,
taking out his gold watch and looking at it.
"There now, you see!" angrily exclaimed the judge, twisting his
moustache. "And this wretch says there will be a block in the ice
directly, and I want to know if we shall get off before that--eh?"
It almost appeared as if the judge imagined that Kireelka had some
power over the river, and considered that he was entirely to blame
for our long delay. However that might be, the judge's question set
all poor Kireelka's muscles in motion. He crawled to the very edge of
the bank, shaded his eyes with his hand, and with a troubled look on
his face tried to peer out into the distance. His lips moved, and he
spasmodically kicked out one leg, as if he were trying either to work a
spell or to utter some inaudible commands to the river.
The ice was moving slowly down in an ever more compact mass, the
grey-blue blocks ground against each other with a grating sound as
they broke, cracked, and split into small fragments, sometimes showing
the muddy waters below, and then once again hiding them from view. The
river had the appearance of some enormous body eaten by some terrible
skin disease, as it lay spread out before us, covered with scabs and
sores; while some invisible hand seemed to be trying to purify it from
the filthy scales which disfigured its surface. Any minute it seemed to
us we might behold the river, freed from its bondage, and flowing past
us in all its might and beauty, with its waves once more sparkling and
gleaming under the sunlight, which, piercing the clouds, would cast
bright, joyful glances earthwards.
"They will be here soon now, your honour!" exclaimed Kireelka in a
cheerful voice. "The ice is getting thinner there, and they are just at
the headland now."
He pointed with his cap, which he held in his hand, into the distance,
where, however, I could see nothing but ice.
"Is it far from here to Olchoff?"
"Well, your honour, by the nearest way it would be about five versts."
"Devil take it all! A-hem. I say, have you got anything with you?
Potatoes or bread?"
"Bread? Well, yes, your honour, I have got a bit of bread with me, but
as for potatoes--no--I haven't any; they didn't yield this year."
"Well, have you got the bread with you?"
"Yes, here it is, inside my shirt."
"Faugh! Why the devil do you put it into your pazoika?"
"Well, there isn't much of it--only a pound or two; and it keeps warmer
there."
"You fool! I wish I had sent my man over to Olchoff; he might have got
some milk or something else there; but this idiot kept on saying,
'Very so-on, very so-on!' The devil! how vexing it all is!"
The judge continued to twist his moustache angrily, but the merchant
cast longing glances in the direction of the peasant's pazoika. This
latter stood with bowed head, slowly raising his hand towards his shirt
front. Isaiah meanwhile was making signs to him. When he caught sight
of them he moved noiselessly towards my friend, keeping his face turned
to the judge's back.
The ice was still gradually diminishing, and already fissures showed
themselves between the blocks, like wrinkles on a pale, bloodless face.
The play of these wrinkles seemed to give various expressions to the
river, all of them alike cold and pensive, though sometimes sad or
mocking, or even disfigured by pain. The heavy, damp mass of clouds
overhead seemed to look down on the movements of the ice with a stolid,
passionless expression. The grating of the ice blocks against the sand
sounded now like a frightened whisper, awakening in those who listened
to it a feeling of despondency.
"Give me a bit of your bread," I heard Isaiah say in a low whisper.
At the same moment the merchant gave a grunt, and the judge called out
in a loud, angry voice, "Kireelka, bring the bread here!" The poor
peasant pulled off his cap with one hand, whilst with the other he
drew the bread out of his shirt, laid it on his cap, and presented it
to the judge, bending and bowing low, like a court lackey of the time
of Louis XV. Taking the bread in his hand, the judge examined it with
something like a look of disgust, smiled sourly, and turning to us,
said--
"Gentlemen, I see we all aspire to the possession of this piece of
bread, and we all have a perfectly equal right to it--the right of
hungry people. Well, let us divide equally this frugal meal. Devil take
it! it is indeed a ludicrous position we are in! But what else is there
to do? In my haste to start before the road got spoiled--Allow me to
offer you"--
With this he handed a piece of the bread to Mamaieff. The merchant
looked at it askance, cocked his head on one side, measured with his
eye the piece of bread, and bolted his share of it. Isaiah took what
was left and gave me my share of it. Once more we sat down side by
side, this time silently munching our--what shall I call it? For lack
of a better word to describe it, I suppose I must call it bread. It was
of the consistency of clay, and it smelt of sheepskin, saturated with
perspiration, and with the stale odour of rotten cabbage; its flavour
no words could express! I ate it, however, as I silently watched the
dirty fragments of the river's winter attire float slowly past.
"Now this is what they call bread!" said our judge, looking
reproachfully at the sour lump in his hand. "This is the Russian
peasant's food! He eats this stuff while the peasants of other
countries eat cheese, good wheaten bread, and drink wine. There is
sawdust, trash, and refuse of all sorts in this bread; and this is our
peasant's food on the eve of the twentieth century! I should like to
know why that is so?"
As the question seemed addressed to the merchant, he sighed deeply, and
meekly answered, "Yes, it's not very grand food--not attractive!"
"But I ask you why, sir?" demanded the judge.
"Why? I suppose because the land is exhausted, if I may say so."
"Ahem! Nonsense, no such thing! All this talk about exhausted land is
useless; it's nothing but a fancy of the statisticians."
On hearing this remark Kireelka sighed deeply, and crushed his hat down
on his head.
"You tell me now, my good fellow, how does your land yield?" said the
judge.
"Well, that depends. When the land is healthy it yields--well, as much
as you can want."
"Come, now, don't try to get out of it! But give a straight answer.
Does your land give good crops?"
"If---that is--then"--
"Don't lie!"
"If good hands work it, why, then, it is all right" "Ah-ha! Do you
hear that? Good hands! There it is! No hands to work the land! And
why? What do we see? Drunkenness and slackness, idleness, sloth. There
is no authority over the peasants. If they happen to have a bad crop
one year, well, then, the Zemstvo comes at once to their aid, saying,
'Here is seed for you; sow your land, my friend. Here is bread; eat
it, my good friend.' Now I tell you, this is all wrong! Why did the
land yield good harvests up till 1861? Because when the crops were not
good the peasant was brought before his master, who asked him, 'How
did you sow? How did you plough?' and so on. The master then gave him
some seed, and if the crops were then not good the peasant answered
for it with a scarred back. His crops after that were sure to be good.
Whereas, now he is protected by the Zemstvo, and has lost his capacity
for work. It's all because there is no master over him to teach him to
use his senses!"
"Yes, that's just it. The proprietors knew well how to make their serfs
work!" said Mamaieff, with assurance. "They could make what they liked
out of the moujiks!"
"Musicians, painters, dancers, actors!" eagerly interrupted the judge;
"they made them whatever they liked!"
"That's quite true. I well remember when I was a boy how our Count's
house-servant was taught to mimic everything he heard."
"Yes, that was so."
"Indeed, he learnt to mimic everything, not only human or animal
sounds, but even the sound of the sawing of wood, the breaking of
glass, or anything else. He would blow out his cheeks and make
whatever sound was commanded. The Count would say, 'Feodka, bark like
vixen--like Catcher!' And Feodka did it. That was how they were taught
then. Nowadays a good sum of money might be earned by such tricks!"
"The boats are coming!" shouted Isaiah.
"At last! Kireelka, my horses! No, stop a moment; I will tell the
coachman myself."
"Well, let's hope our waiting has come to an end," said Mamaieff, with
a smile of relief.
"Yes, I suppose it has come to an end."
"It's always like that in life; one waits, and waits; and at last what
one was waiting for arrives. Ha! ha! ha! All things in this world come
to an end."
"That's a comfort, at any rate," said Isaiah.