Fiction  |  Nikolai Gogol  |  Dead Souls  |  Chapter 12 Tentyotnikoff; or, the Sorrows of Love

Dead Souls — Chapter 12 Tentyotnikoff; or, the Sorrows of Love (Part 6 of 16)

heart began to beat on a sudden. When, in answer to the query, “Whose forest is this?” he was told, “Tentyotnikoff’s”; when, emerging from the forest, the road ran through meadows, past groves of quivering aspens, old willows, and young vines, in sight of the heights which stretched afar; when it flew over the bridges, leaving the river now on the right, and now on the left; and when, in answer to the query, “Whose are these fields and water-meadows?” the answer came, “Tentyotnikoff’s”; when the road again ascended the heights, and ran on the one hand along a level plateau, past crops of wheat, rye, and barley, and on the other past all the places through which he had previously journeyed, and which presented themselves, all of a sudden, foreshortened by the distance; and when, as the darkness gradually descended, the road again stretched beneath the shadow of luxuriant trees, scattered over the greensward up to the very entrance of the village, and the peasants’ cabins made their appearance here and there, together with the red-roofed manor-house and its dependent buildings, and the gleaming golden cupolas of the church; when, by his hotly beating heart and without putting any question, he became conscious what the place was where he had arrived—then it was that the sensations and thoughts which had been incessantly accumulating within him burst into expression in the following words:—

“Well and have not I been a fool hitherto? Fate destined me to be the owner of an earthly paradise, and I bound myself into servitude as a scribbler of dead documents! The idea of intrusting this place of mine to a steward—of preferring the conduct of affairs at a distance among strangers—of preferring to the actual management of my own property, the fantastic paper management of provinces situated a thousand versts away, where I have never set foot, and in attending to which I can only commit a heap of contradictions and absurdities!”

But another spectacle was awaiting him. Having heard of the impending arrival of their master, the moujiks and women had assembled on the verandah; soroki,1 kitchi,2 kerchiefs, peasant-kirtles, beards, with all the picturesque accessories of a handsome population, surrounded him, while the words, “O thou our provider!” rang out, and the old men and women burst into involuntary tears as they recalled his grandfather and great-grandfather. He also could not refrain from tears, and said to himself, “How much love! And why? I had never seen them, never troubled myself about them!” Then he made a vow to share their labours with them, to attend to their wants, in order that their love might not be in vain, and so that he might really be their “provider.”

Accordingly, he began to take charge of the management, and to make various arrangements. He diminished the compulsory service to the lord of the manor, leaving certain days of labour due to the master to the time allowed to the peasant. He dismissed the fool of an overseer. He began to examine into everything himself; showed himself in the fields, at the threshing-floor, near the grain-ricks, at the mills, the landing- stages, watching the lading and launching of rafts and flat-boats.

“There he is; see the brisk-legged fellow!” the peasants began to say, while they themselves began to grow indolent, and to scratch the backs of their heads.

But all this did not last long. The moujiks quickly learn the lay of the land. In this case they speedily understood that although the master was very alert, he had no idea so far as to the proper way of treating them. And although he spoke in a scholarly manner, it was not to the purpose. The result was, that the master and the peasant not only failed to understand each other and act in harmony, but were incapable of singing the same notes.

Tentyotnikoff soon observed that everything on the land belonging to himself did not thrive so well as it did on the peasants’ land. The seed was sown earlier but came up later; and yet to all appearance the men worked well. He even presided over the work in person, and ordered a measure of brandy to be given to each man who worked assiduously. The peasants’ rye had eared, their oats had yielded bountifully, their millet had developed stalks long before his grain had shown a stem. In a word, he began to perceive that the peasants were simply cheating him, in spite of all the privileges which he had conferred upon them.