A Russian Gentleman

by S. T. Aksakov

This man was a Kalmuck, and I must tell something of his history. In those distant times it was a common practice in the district of Ufa to buy native boys and girls, either Kalmucks or Kirghizes, from their parents or relations, and to make use of them later as serfs. Forty years before the date of my story, M. Zubin had bought two Kalmuck boys. He had them baptized, became fond of them, and made pets of them. He had them taught to read and write; and, when they grew up, they became his personal servants. Both of them were intelligent and neat-handed and appeared to be very devoted; but, when Pugatchoff[⁴⁶] raised the standard of revolt, they both ran off and joined the rebels. One of them soon lost his life; but the other, who had been his master's favourite and was called Nikolai, now became the favourite of one Chika, who was prominent among the rebels and stood high in the favour of Pugatchoff himself. It is well known that one band of the revolters was encamped for a long time near Ufa, on the opposite bank of the river Byélaya. Nikolai was in this camp and had by this time been promoted to a position of some authority. It was said that he was fiercer than any of them and breathed fire and slaughter against no one so much as his old master who had brought him up. Tradition tells that, whenever the rebels were preparing to cross the river and fall upon the defenceless town, they saw a great army march out to defend the heights on the opposite bank, and an ancient warrior at their head, riding on a snow-white horse, and holding a spear in one hand and a Cross in the other. The cowardly band of outlaws were terrified by this vision and desisted from all their attempts; and they had done nothing when the news came that Pugatchoff was defeated. Of course they scattered at once. The revolt came to an end, and the scattered rabble were seized and brought to trial. Nikolai, who was one of these, was condemned to the gallows. I cannot vouch for the truth of this; but I have been assured that, after his trial at Ufa, the noose was actually round his neck, when M. Zubin claimed the privilege which he possessed as a landholder, pardoned his old favourite, and took him home, undertaking to be responsible himself for the criminal's behaviour. Nikolai seemed penitent and tried by zeal and devotion to atone for his crime. By degrees he contrived to get back into his master's confidence; and, when Sofya Nikolayevna, after her stepmother's death, took over the management of the household, she found Nikolai established as butler; he had been a favourite with her stepmother, and this now became a passport to her father's goodwill. Nikolai had been guilty of much insolence to his young mistress during her time of humiliation; but he was a very cunning fellow and quite realised his present position. He played the part of the repentant sinner, throwing all the guilt on the stepmother, and blaming himself for the slavish spirit in which he had carried out her orders. It would have been quite easy for Sofya Nikolayevna to get rid of him for good and all; but her youth and generous nature made her believe that his repentance was genuine. She pardoned him, and actually begged her father to leave him in his old position. As time went on, she was sometimes vexed by the way in which he settled things without consulting her, and she felt doubts about his honesty. She noticed also that his intimacy with her father, though concealed from her, was closer than she liked. But he was very zealous in his attendance upon his sick master, sleeping always in the same room, and also found time to do his work as butler exceedingly well. She was therefore content with mild reproofs, and the man was left free to take root at leisure in his double office. When she became engaged, she had to see herself to the buying of her wedding-clothes and to spend much time with her future husband; and so she was less with her father and gave less attention to household affairs. Nikolai took full advantage of this opportunity, and his power over the old invalid increased daily. Hoping soon to get rid of his mistress and to become master of the house himself, he grew more insolent and less careful to conceal his power. Sofya Nikolayevna sometimes snubbed him sharply; she was grieved to see her father's increasing dependence on this man and abdication of his own authority.

Nikolai had made full use of the few days that preceded and followed the marriage, and of her absence for a fortnight at Bagrovo: his master, now at death's door, was completely under his control. Sofya Nikolayevna guessed the true state of affairs as soon as she saw the man lying asleep in the armchair; never before had he ventured on such a liberty. She gave him a look which sent him in some haste and confusion out of the room. Her father was by no means as pleased to see her as she expected; he made haste to tell her that Nikolai was not to blame: "It is at my urgent wish," he said, "that he sometimes takes a seat at my bedside." "It is a pity you do that, father," she said; "you will spoil him altogether and be forced to turn him off; I know him better than you do." Then, without entering upon further explanations, she expressed her joy at having found him no worse. Alexyéi Stepanitch soon came in, and then the old man, touched by his daughter's unfeigned tenderness, his son-in-law's attentive behaviour, and the love between husband and wife, listened with pleasure to their narrative and thanked God with tears for their happiness.

Sofya Nikolayevna began at once the business of instalment. She chose three rooms, quite separate from the rest, for their own occupation; and in a few days her arrangements were so complete that she could receive her own guests without any disturbance to her father. It was her intention to arrange as before about the management of the house and the attendance on her father, and to assign to Nikolai the subordinate part of carrying out her instructions; but the man had always hated her, and now felt himself strong enough to declare open war against his young mistress. While attending to the father more zealously than ever, he contrived with extraordinary cunning to insult the daughter at every turn; and to Alexyéi Stepanitch he was so insolent that the young man lost patience, in spite of his easy and unexacting temper, and told his wife that he could not possibly put up with the position. For some time Sofya Nikolayevna did not trouble her father, hoping by her own influence to keep Nikolai within the bounds of reasonable politeness; she relied upon his intelligence, and also believed that he knew her determined character and would not venture to drive her to extremities. But the malicious Asiatic—this was the servants' name for him—was convinced beforehand that he would conquer, and tried to provoke Sofya Nikolayevna into some passionate outburst. Long ago he had been able to instill into his master the belief that the young lady could not endure her father's faithful servant and would certainly try to turn him out of the house. The invalid was horrified by this prospect, and solemnly declared that he would prefer death to such a deprivation. Sofya Nikolayevna tried to hint to her father in very gentle and affectionate terms that Nikolai forgot himself in his behaviour to her husband and neglected to carry out her orders; it seemed to be his intention to provoke her to anger. But her father became agitated and refused to listen: he said that he was perfectly satisfied with Nikolai, and begged her not to trouble the butler but to give her orders to some other servant. Young and impulsive, and accustomed to undisputed authority in her father's house, Sofya Nikolayevna found it hard to endure the insulting behaviour of an unworthy menial; yet her love for her father, and her desire to nurse and comfort him and alleviate his sufferings as far as possible, kept her for long from the idea of leaving him in that dying state to depend entirely upon such a wretch as Nikolai and other servants. She controlled her impulsiveness and injured pride; she gave her household orders through one of the other servants, knowing all the time that all her instructions were altered by her enemy at his will and pleasure. She induced her father to order that Nikolai should not enter the sick-room while she was sitting there. But this arrangement soon broke down: under various pretexts, the man constantly came into the room; and indeed the invalid himself constantly asked for him. This painful situation continued for several months.

Sofya Nikolayevna arranged her engagements in the town in accordance with her own wishes. The people whom she liked she often met, either in their houses or her own; the rest she seldom saw, and was content to exchange formal calls with them. Her husband was acquainted already with everybody in the town; but his wife's intimate friends now became intimate with him. He became popular with them and got on very well in his new position—I mean, in the select society that gathered round his wife.

Meanwhile, soon after her return to Ufa, Sofya Nikolayevna began to feel unpleasant symptoms of a peculiar kind, which gave great satisfaction to Stepan Mihailovitch when he heard of them. The continuation of his ancient line, the descendants of the great Shimon, was a constant theme of the old man's thoughts and wishes; it troubled his peace of mind and stuck in his head like a nail. On receiving the good news from his son, Stepan Mihailovitch was full of happy hopes and convinced that the child would infallibly be a boy. His family always said that his spirits were unusually high at this time. He had prayers said in church for his daughter-in-law's health, forgave certain sums owed him by neighbours or dependants, asked every one to congratulate him, and made them drink till they were dizzy.

In his excitement and joy, it occurred to him suddenly to bestow a mark of his favour upon Aksyutka, the maid who poured out tea and coffee, to whom he always showed an unaccountable partiality. Aksyutka was a peasant's daughter who had lost both parents and was brought to the house at Bagrovo when she was seven years old, merely to save her from starvation. She was exceedingly ugly—red-haired and freckled, with eyes of no colour in particular; she was also bad-tempered and a horrible sloven. This does not sound attractive; but Stepan Mihailovitch took a great fancy to her, and never did dinner pass without his giving or sending to the child something taken from the dishes at table. When she grew up, he made her pour out his tea in the morning and talked to her for hours at a time. She was now a good deal over thirty. One morning, soon after the good news came from Ufa, Stepan Mihailovitch said to her: "What makes you go about looking like a scarecrow? Be off, you stupid creature, and put on your best clothes that you wear on holidays. I mean to find you a husband." Aksyutka grinned: she thought her master was not serious, and answered: "Why, who would marry an orphan like me, except perhaps Kirsanka, the shepherd?" (Kirsanka, as every one knew, was deformed and idiotic.) Stepan Mihailovitch seemed vexed; he went on, "If I arrange the marriage, you can have your pick of the young men. Go and dress yourself, and come back at once." Aksyutka went out surprised and delighted; and Stepan Mihailovitch summoned Little Ivan to his presence. We have heard something of this man already; he was now twenty-four years old, with a complexion of lilies and roses, a very fine young fellow, both tall and stout. At the time of Pugatchoff's revolt, when the master himself took refuge with his family at Astrakhan, Ivan's father had been left in charge of the serfs at Bagrovo; and it was generally supposed that his death was due to overwork and anxiety at that time. He left two sons, both called Ivan, and this one was known as Little Ivan, to distinguish him from his elder brother, who inherited his father's nickname of Weasel. Little Ivan appeared before his master, "like a leaf before the grass."[⁴⁷] Stepan Mihailovitch looked at him with admiration, and then said in a voice so kind that the lad's heart leaped for joy, "Ivan, I mean to give you a wife." "Your will is law, batyushka Stepan Mihailovitch," answered the man, devoted body and soul to his master. "Well, go and dress yourself in your best, and come back to me in less than no time." Ivan flew off to do his master's bidding. Aksyutka was the first to reappear; she had smoothed her red hair and greased it with oil, and put on her smartest jacket and skirt, and her bare feet were hidden in shoes; but alas! she was no more beautiful than before. She was much excited, and her mouth was constantly expanding into a broad grin, which she tried to hide with her hand, because she felt ashamed of it. Stepan Mihailovitch laughed: "Oh, she's willing enough to take a husband," he said. Back flew Ivan; but the sight of Aksyutka's ugly face and fine dress sent a cold shiver down his back. "There is your bride," said Stepan Mihailovitch; "she is a good servant to me as your father was once. You may both count on my protection." His wife now came in, and he turned to her and said: "Arisha, the bride's clothes are all to be made out of our stuff; I shall give her a cow and provide everything to eat and drink at the wedding." No one raised any objections, and the marriage took place. Aksyutka was charmed with her handsome husband, but he detested his repulsive wife, who was ten years older than him to boot. She was jealous of him all day long, and not without reason; and he beat her all day long, with some excuse on his side also; for nothing but the stick—and not even that for long—could shut her mouth and keep her wicked tongue from wagging. It was a pity, a great pity: Stepan Mihailovitch did a wrong thing when he made others sad because he was happy.

Of his happiness I judge partly by tradition but more from a letter which he wrote to Sofya Nikolayevna and which I have seen myself. We have seen that he was capable of strong and deep affection; yet it is hard to believe that a man with so little refinement of manner could give verbal expression to such tender and delicate solicitude as breathed through the whole of this letter. He begged her and commanded her to be careful of her health, and sent her much advice on the subject. Unfortunately, I can only remember a few words of it: "If you were living in my house"—this was one thing the old man said—"I would not suffer the wind to blow on you or a grain of dust to settle on your skin."

Sofya Nikolayevna was able to appreciate this affection, though she understood that half of it was intended for the expected heir; and she promised to carry out scrupulously his wishes and instructions. But it was hard for her to keep this promise. She was one of those women who pay for the joy of motherhood by a constant discomfort which is more painful and distressing than any real illness; and she suffered in mind also, because her relations with her father became daily more humiliating and the insolence of Nikolai more unbearable. Alexyéi Stepanitch, who saw no danger in his wife's constant sufferings, and was told that the symptoms were quite natural and would soon pass away, though he was sorry for his wife, was not excessively put out; and this was another cause of distress to Sofya Nikolayevna. He worked hard at his duties in the law-court, hoping soon to be promoted. He had become accustomed to living with his father-in-law; he avoided for the present all contact with Nikolai, and looked forward without impatience to a change in their position. His wife did not like this either. Things dragged on like this, as I have said already, for several months, and it was not a happy time for any of them.

But Nikolai was not satisfied with this state of things: he desired a final solution. Seeing that Sofya Nikolayevna was controlling her quick temper and righteous indignation, he determined to force her hand. It was necessary for his purpose that she should lose patience and complain to her father; and he warned the invalid more than once that he was constantly expecting Sofya Nikolayevna to complain of him and demand his instant dismissal. He did not wait for any pretext or opportunity. One day, in the presence of other servants, when his young mistress was standing close to him at the open door of the next room, he began, speaking loud and looking straight at her, to use such offensive language of herself and her husband that Sofya Nikolayevna was struck dumb for a moment by his insolence. But she recovered immediately, and without a word to him rushed to her father's room, where, choking with wrath and excitement, she repeated the insulting words which had been said almost to her face by his favourite. Nikolai came in at her heels and would not let her finish her story. Feigning tears and crossing himself, he solemnly swore, that it was mere slander, that he had never said anything of the sort, and that it was wicked of Sofya Nikolayevna to ruin an innocent man! "You hear what he says, Sonitchka," said the invalid in a peevish voice. This was too much for Sofya Nikolayevna: stung to the quick, she forgot her magnanimous self-restraint and forgot also that she might kill her father with fright. She raised her voice with such effect that the favourite was forced to leave the room. Then she said to her father: "After this insult I cannot live under the same roof with Nikolai: you must choose which of us is to go, he or I!"—and then she rushed wildly from the room. The old man had a seizure, and Nikolai hastened to his aid. The usual remedies were applied with success, and then master and man had a long conversation, after which Sofya Nikolayevna was summoned to the room. "Sonitchka," he said, with all the firmness and calmness he could muster, "my weak and suffering state makes it impossible for me to part with Nikolai; my life depends on him. You must buy another house; here is money for the purpose." Sofya Nikolayevna fell fainting to the ground and was carried back to her own room.

To this had come the tender tie of affection between parent and child, a tie which should surely have been made doubly strong by the temporary coolness due to the stepmother, and then by the father's penitence and the daughter's devotion and forgetfulness of all her wrongs. And then, when she married, she had chosen her husband with this in view, and had stipulated that she should not be parted from her father! And now they were to part at a time when the doctors declared he would not live another month! But in this forecast the doctors were mistaken, just as they often are nowadays: he lived on for more than a year.