strong men used to come from Tula, from Harkoff, from Tamboff, and from everywhere to him. If he threw any one he would pay him a reward; but if any one threw him, he perfectly loaded him with presents, and kissed him on the lips…. And once, during my stay at Moscow, he arranged a hunting party such as had never been in Russia before; he sent invitations to all the sportsmen in the whole empire, and fixed a day for it, and gave them three months’ notice. They brought with them dogs and grooms: well, it was an army of people—a regular army!
‘First they had a banquet in the usual way, and then they set off into the open country. The people flocked there in thousands! And what do you think?… Your father’s dog outran them all.’
‘Wasn’t that Milovidka?’ I inquired.
‘Milovidka, Milovidka!… So the count began to ask him, «Give me your dog,» says he; «take what you like for her.» «No, count,» he said, «I am not a tradesman; I don’t sell anything for filthy lucre; for your sake I am ready to part with my wife even, but not with Milovidka…. I would give myself into bondage first.» And Alexey Grigoryevitch praised him for it. «I like you for it,» he said. Your grandfather took her back in the coach with him, and when Milovidka died, he buried her in the garden with music at the burial—yes, a funeral for a dog—and put a stone with an inscription on it over the dog.’
‘Then Alexey Grigoryevitch did not oppress anyone,’ I observed.
‘Yes, it is always like that; those who can only just keep themselves afloat are the ones to drag others under.’
‘And what sort of a man was this Baush?’ I asked after a short silence.
‘Why, how comes it you have heard about Milovidka, and not about Baush? He was your grandfather’s chief huntsman and whipper-in. Your grandfather was as fond of him as of Milovidka. He was a desperate fellow, and whatever order your grandfather gave him, he would carry it out in a minute—he’d have run on to a sword at his bidding…. And when he hallooed … it was something like a tally-ho in the forest. And then he would suddenly turn nasty, get off his horse, and lie down on the ground … and directly the dogs ceased to hear his voice, it was all over! They would give up the hottest scent, and wouldn’t go on for anything. Ay, ay, your grandfather did get angry! «Damn me, if I don’t hang the scoundrel! I’ll turn him inside out, the antichrist! I’ll stuff his heels down his gullet, the cut-throat!» And it ended by his going up to find out what he wanted; why he wouldn’t halloo to the hounds? Usually, on such occasions, Baush asked for some vodka, drank it up, got on his horse, and began to halloo as lustily as ever again.’
‘You seem to be fond of hunting too, Luka Petrovitch?’
‘I should have been—certainly, not now; now my time is over—but in my young days…. But you know it was not an easy matter in my position. It’s not suitable for people like us to go trailing after noblemen. Certainly you may find in our class some drinking, good-for-nothing fellow who associates with the gentry—but it’s a queer sort of enjoyment…. He only brings shame on himself. They mount him on a wretched stumbling nag, keep knocking his hat off on to the ground and cut at him with a whip, pretending to whip the horse, and he must laugh at everything, and be a laughing-stock for the others. No, I tell you, the lower your station, the more reserved must be your behaviour, or else you disgrace yourself directly.’
‘Yes,’ continued Ovsyanikov with a sigh, ‘there’s many a gallon of water has flowed down to the sea since I have been living in the world; times are different now. Especially I see a great change in the nobility. The smaller landowners have all either become officials, or at any rate do not stop here; as for the larger owners, there’s no making them out. I have had experience of them—the larger landowners— in cases of settling boundaries. And I must tell you; it does my heart good to see them: they are courteous and affable. Only this is what astonishes me; they have studied all the sciences, they speak so fluently that your heart is melted, but they don’t understand the actual business in hand; they don’t even perceive what’s their own interest; some bailiff, a bondservant, drives them just where he pleases, as though they were in a yoke. There’s Korolyov—Alexandr Vladimirovitch—for instance; you know him, perhaps—isn’t he every inch a nobleman? He is handsome, rich, has studied at the ‘versities, and travelled, I think, abroad; he speaks simply and easily, and shakes hands with us all. You know him?… Well, listen then. Last week we assembled at Beryozovka at the summons of the mediator, Nikifor Ilitch. And the mediator, Nikifor Ilitch, says to us: «Gentlemen, we must settle the boundaries; it’s disgraceful; our district is behind all the others; we must get to work.» Well, so we got to work. There followed discussions, disputes, as usual; our attorney began to make objections. But the first to make an uproar was Porfiry Ovtchinnikov…. And what had the fellow to make an uproar about?… He hasn’t an acre of ground; he is acting as representative of his brother. He bawls: «No, you shall not impose on me! no, you shan’t drive me to that! give the plans here! give me the surveyor’s plans, the Judas’s plans here!» «But what is your claim, then?» «Oh, you think I’m a fool! Indeed! do you suppose I am going to lay bare my claim to you offhand? No, let me have the plans here—that’s what I want!» And he himself is banging his fist on the plans all the time. Then he mortally offended Marfa Dmitrievna. She shrieks out, «How dare you asperse my reputation?» «Your reputation,» says he; «I shouldn’t like my chestnut mare to have your reputation.» They poured him out some Madeira at last, and so quieted him; then others begin to make a row. Alexandr Vladimirovitch Korolyov, the dear fellow, sat in a corner sucking the knob of his cane, and only shook his head. I felt ashamed; I could hardly sit it out. «What must he be thinking of us?» I said to myself. When, behold! Alexandr Vladimirovitch has got up, and shows signs of wanting to speak. The mediator exerts himself, says, «Gentlemen, gentlemen, Alexandr Vladimirovitch wishes to speak.» And I must do them this credit; they were all silent at once. And so Alexandr Vladimirovitch began and said «that we seemed to have forgotten what we had come together for; that, indeed, the fixing of boundaries was indisputably advantageous for owners of land, but actually what was its object? To make things easier for the peasant, so that he could work and pay his dues more conveniently; that now the peasant hardly knows his own land, and often goes to work five miles away; and one can’t expect too much of him.» Then Alexandr Vladimirovitch said «that it was disgraceful in a landowner not to interest himself in the well-being of his peasants; that in the end, if you look at it rightly, their interests and our interests are inseparable; if they are well-off we are well-off, and if they do badly we do badly, and that, consequently, it was injudicious and wrong to disagree over trifles» … and so on—and so on…. There, how he did speak! He seemed to go right to your heart…. All the gentry hung their heads; I myself, faith, it nearly brought me to tears. To tell the truth, you would not find sayings like that in the old books even…. But what was the end of it? He himself would not give up four acres of peat marsh, and wasn’t willing to sell it. He said, «I am going to drain that marsh for my people, and set up a cloth-factory on it, with all the latest improvements. I have already,» he said, «fixed on that place; I have thought out my plans on the subject.» And if only that had been the truth, it would be all very well; but the simple fact is, Alexandr Vladimirovitch’s neighbour, Anton Karasikov, had refused to buy over Korolyov’s bailiff for a hundred roubles. And so we separated without having done anything. But Alexandr Vladimirovitch considers to this day that he is right, and still talks of the cloth-factory; but he does not start draining the marsh.’
‘And how does he manage in his estate?’
‘He is always introducing new ways. The peasants don’t speak well of him—but it’s useless to listen to them. Alexandr Vladimirovitch is doing right.’
‘How’s that, Luka Petrovitch? I thought you kept to the old ways.’
‘I—that’s another thing. You see I am not a nobleman or a landowner. What sort of management is mine?… Besides, I don’t know how to do things differently. I try to act according to justice and the law, and leave the rest in God’s hands! Young gentlemen don’t like the old method; I think they are right…. It’s the time to take in ideas. Only this is the pity of it; the young are too theoretical. They treat the peasant like a doll; they turn him this way and that way; twist him about and throw him away. And their bailiff, a serf, or some overseer
