The Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (25+ Works with active table of contents)

by Leo Tolstoy

  "Think it over at your leisure," said the surprised Nekhludoff, again repeating his offer.

  "There is nothing to think over; as we said, so it will be," the toothless, gloomy old man said angrily.

  "I will stay here all day to-morrow. If you alter your decision, let me know."

  The peasants made no answer.

  On their return to the office the clerk explained to Nekhludoff that it was not a want of good sense that prevented their acceptance of the offer; that when gathered in assembly they always acted in that stubborn manner.

  Nekhludoff then asked him to summon for the following day several of the most intelligent peasants to whom he would explain his project at greater length.

  Immediately after the departure of the smiling clerk, Nekhludoff heard angry women's voices interrupted by the voice of the clerk. He listened.

  "I have no more strength. You want the cross on my breast," said an exasperated voice.

  "She only ran in," said another voice. "Give her up, I say. Why do you torture the beast, and keep the milk from the children?"

  Nekhludoff walked around the house where he saw two disheveled women, one of whom was evidently pregnant, standing near the staircase. On the stairs, with his hands in the pockets of his crash overcoat, stood the clerk. Seeing their master, the women became silent and began to arrange their 'kerchiefs, which had fallen from their heads, while the clerk took his hands out of his pockets and began to smile.

  The clerk explained that the peasants purposely permitted their calves, and even cows, to roam over the master's meadows. That two cows belonging to these women had been caught on the meadow and driven into an inclosure. The clerk demanded from the women thirty copecks per cow, or two days' work.

  "Time and again I told them," said the smiling clerk, looking around at Nekhludoff, as if calling him to witness, "to look out for cows when driving them to feed."

  "I just went to see to the child, and they walked away."

  "Don't leave them when you undertake to look after them."

  "And who would feed my child?"

  "If they had only grazed, at least, they would have no pains in their stomachs. But they only walked in."

  "All the meadows are spoiled," the clerk turned to Nekhludoff. "If they are not made to pay there will be no hay left."

  "Don't be sinning," cried the pregnant woman. "My cow was never caught."

  "But now that she was caught, pay for her, or work."

  "Well, then, I will work. But return me the cow; don't torture her," she cried angrily. "It is bad enough as it is; I get no rest, either day or night. Mother-in-law is sick; my husband is drunk. Single-handed I have to do all the work, and I have no strength. May you choke yourself!" she shouted and began to weep.

  Nekhludoff asked the clerk to release the cows and returned to the house, wondering why people do not see what is so plain.

  CHAPTER V.

  Whether it was because there were fewer peasants present, or because he was not occupied with himself, but with the matter in hand, Nekhludoff felt no agitation when the seven peasants chosen from the villagers responded to the summons.

  He first of all expressed his views on private ownership of land.

  "As I look upon it," he said, "land ought not to be the subject of purchase and sale, for if land can be sold, then those who have money will buy it all in and charge the landless what they please for the use of it. People will then be compelled to pay for the right to stand on the earth," he added, quoting Spencer's argument.

  "There remains to put on wings and fly," said an old man with smiling eyes and gray beard.

  "That's so," said a long-nosed peasant in a deep basso.

  "Yes, sir," said the ex-soldier.

  "The old woman took some grass for the cow. They caught her, and to jail she went," said a good-natured, lame peasant.

  "There is land for five miles around, but the rent is higher than the land can produce," said the toothless, angry old man.

  "I am of the same opinion as you," said Nekhludoff, "and that is the reason I want to give you the land."

  "Well, that would be a kind deed," said a broad-shouldered old peasant with a curly, grayish beard like that of Michael Angelo's Moses, evidently thinking that Nekhludoff intended to rent out the land.

  "That is why I came here. I do not wish to own the land any longer, but it is necessary to consider how to dispose of it."

  "You give it to the peasants--that's all," said the toothless, angry peasant.

  For a moment Nekhludoff was confused, seeing in these words doubt of the sincerity of his purpose. But he shook it off, and took advantage of the remark to say what he intended.

  "I would be only too glad to give it," he said, "but to whom and how shall I give it? Why should I give it to your community rather than to the Deminsky community?" Deminsky was a neighboring village with very little land.

  They were all silent. Only the ex-soldier said, "Yes, sir."

  "And now tell me how would you distribute the land?"

  "How? We would give each an equal share," said an oven-builder, rapidly raising and lowering his eyebrows.

  "How else? Of course divide it equally," said a good-natured, lame peasant, whose feet, instead of socks, were wound in a white strip of linen.

  This decision was acquiesced in by all as being satisfactory.

  "But how?" asked Nekhludoff, "are the domestics also to receive equal shares?"

  "No, sir," said the ex-soldier, assuming a cheerful mood. But the sober-minded tall peasant disagreed with him.

  "If it is to be divided, everybody is to get an equal share," after considering awhile, he said in a deep basso.

  "That is impossible," said Nekhludoff, who was already prepared with his objection. "If everyone was to get an equal share, then those who do not themselves work would sell their shares to the rich. Thus the land would again get into the hands of the rich. Again, the people that worked their own shares would multiply, and the landlords would again get the landless into their power."

  "Yes, sir," the ex-soldier hastily assented.

  "The selling of land should be prohibited; only those that cultivate it themselves should be allowed to own it," said the oven-builder, angrily interrupting the soldier.

  To this Nekhludoff answered that it would be difficult to determine whether one cultivated the land for himself or for others.

  Then the sober-minded old man suggested that the land should be given to them as an association, and that only those that took part in cultivating it should get their share.

  Nekhludoff was ready with arguments against this communistic scheme, and he retorted that in such case it would be necessary that all should have plows, that each should have the same number of horses, and that none should lag behind, or that everything should belong to society, for which the consent of every one was necessary.

  "Our people will never agree," said the angry old man.

  "There will be incessant fighting among them," said the white-bearded peasant with the shining eyes. "The women will scratch each other's eyes out."

  "The next important question is," said Nekhludoff, "how to divide the land according to quality. You cannot give black soil to some and clay and sand to others."

  "Let each have a part of both," said the oven-builder.

  To this Nekhludoff answered that it was not a question of dividing the land in one community, but of the division of land generally among all the communities. If the land is to be given gratis to the peasants, then why should some get good land, and others poor land? There would be a rush for the good land.

  "Yes, sir," said the ex-soldier.

  The others were silent.

  "You see, it is not as simple as it appears at first sight," said Nekhludoff. "We are not the only ones, there are other people thinking of the same thing. And now, there is an American, named George, who devised the following scheme, and I agree with him."

  "What is that to you? You are the master; you
distribute the land, and there is an end to it," said the angry peasant.

  This interruption somewhat confused Nekhludoff, but he was glad to see that others were also dissatisfied with this interruption.

  "Hold on, Uncle Semen; let him finish," said the old man in an impressive basso.

  This encouraged Nekhludoff, and he proceeded to explain the single-tax theory of Henry George.

  "The land belongs to no one--it belongs to the Creator."

  "That's so!"

  "Yes, sir."

  "The land belongs to all in common. Every one has an equal right to it. But there is good land, and there is poor land. And the question is, how to divide the land equally. The answer to this is, that those who own the better land should pay to those who own the poorer the value of the better land. But as it is difficult to determine how much anyone should pay, and to whom, and as society needs money for common utilities, let every land owner pay to society the full value of his land--less, if it is poorer; more, if it is better. And those who do not wish to own land will have their taxes paid by the land owners."

  "That's correct," said the oven-builder. "Let the owner of the better land pay more."

  "What a head that Jhorga had on him!" said the portly old peasant with the curls.

  "If only the payments were reasonable," said the tall peasant, evidently understanding what it was leading to.

  "The payments should be such that it would be neither too cheap nor too dear. If too dear, it would be unprofitable; if too cheap, people would begin to deal in land. This is the arrangement I would like you to make."

  Voices of approval showed that the peasants understood him perfectly.

  "What a head!" repeated the broad-shouldered peasant with the curls, meaning "Jhorga."

  "And what if I should choose to take land?" said the clerk, smiling.

  "If there is an unoccupied section, take and cultivate it," said Nekhludoff.

  "What do you want land for? You are not hungering without land," said the old man with the smiling eyes.

  Here the conference ended.

  Nekhludoff repeated his offer, telling the peasants to consult the wish of the community, before giving their answer.

  The peasants said that they would do so, took leave of Nekhludoff and departed in a state of excitement. For a long time their loud voices were heard, and finally died away about midnight.

  * * * * *

  The peasants did not work the following day, but discussed their master's proposition. The community was divided into two factions. One declared the proposition profitable and safe; the other saw in the proposition a plot which it feared the more because it could not understand it. On the third day, however, the proposition was accepted, the fears of the peasants having been allayed by an old woman who explained the master's action by the suggestion that he began to think of saving his soul. This explanation was confirmed by the large amount of money Nekhludoff had distributed while he remained in Panov. These money gifts were called forth by the fact that here, for the first time, he learned to what poverty the peasants had been reduced and though he knew that it was unwise, he could not help distributing such money as he had, which was considerable.

  As soon as it became known that the master was distributing money, large crowds of people from the entire surrounding country came to him asking to be helped. He had no means of determining the respective needs of the individuals, and yet he could not help giving these evidently poor people money. Again, to distribute money indiscriminately was absurd. His only way out of the difficulty was to depart, which he hastened to do.

  On the third day of his visit to Panov, Nekhludoff, while looking over the things in the house, in one of the drawers of his aunt's chiffonnier, found a picture representing a group of Sophia Ivanovna, Catherine Ivanovna, himself, as student, and Katiousha--neat, fresh, beautiful and full of life. Of all the things in the house Nekhludoff removed this picture and the letters. The rest he sold to the miller for a tenth part of its value.

  Recalling now the feeling of pity over the loss of his property which he had experienced in Kusminskoie, Nekhludoff wondered how he could have done so. Now he experienced the gladness of release and the feeling of novelty akin to that experienced by an explorer who discovers new lands.

  CHAPTER VI.

  It was evening when Nekhludoff arrived in the city, and as he drove through the gas-lit streets to his house, it looked to him like a new city. The odor of camphor still hung in the air through all the rooms, and Agrippina, Petrovna and Kornei seemed tired out and dissatisfied, and even quarreled about the packing of the things, the use of which seemed to consist chiefly in being hung out, dried and packed away again. His room was not occupied, but was not arranged for his coming, and the trunks blocked all the passages, so that his coming interfered with those affairs which, by some strange inertia, were taking place in this house. This evident foolishness, to which he had once been a party, seemed so unpleasant to Nekhludoff, after the impressions he had gained of the want in the villages, that he decided to move to a hotel the very next day, leaving the packing to Agrippina until the arrival of his sister.

  He left the house in the morning, hired two modest and not over-clean furnished rooms near the prison, and went to his lawyer.

  After the storms and rains came those cold, piercing winds that usually occur in the fall. Protected only by a light overcoat, Nekhludoff was chilled to the bone. He walked quickly in order to warm himself.

  The village scenes came to his mind--the women, children and old men, whose poverty and exhaustion he had noticed as if for the first time, especially that oldish child which twisted its little calfless legs--and he involuntarily compared them with the city folks. Passing by the butcher, fish and clothing shops, he was struck, as if it was the first time he looked upon them--by the physical evidences of the well-being of such a large number of clean, well-fed shopkeepers which was not to be seen anywhere in the villages. Equally well fed were the drivers in quilted coats and buttons on their backs, porters, servant girls, etc. In all these people he now involuntarily saw those same village folks whom privation had driven to the city. Some of them were able to take advantage of the conditions in the city and became happy proprietors themselves; others were reduced to even greater straits and became even more wretched. Such wretchedness Nekhludoff saw in a number of shoemakers that he saw working near the window of a basement; in the lean, pale, disheveled washerwomen ironing with bare hands before open windows from which soap-laden steam poured out; in two painters, aproned and bare-footed, who were covered with paint from temple to heel. In their sunburnt, sinewy, weak hands, bared above the elbows, they carried a bucket of paint and incessantly cursed each other. Their faces were wearied and angry. The same expression of weariness and anger he saw in the dusty faces of the truck drivers; on the swollen and tattered men, women and children who stood begging on the street corners. Similar faces were seen in the windows of the tea-houses which Nekhludoff passed. Around the dirty tables, loaded with bottles and tea services, perspiring men with red, stupefied faces sat shouting and singing, and white-aproned servants flitted to and fro.

  "Why have they all gathered here?" thought Nekhludoff, involuntarily inhaling, together with the dust, the odor of rancid oil spread by the fresh paint.

  On one of the streets he suddenly heard his name called above the rattling of the trucks. It was Shenbok, with curled and stiffened mustache and radiant face. Nekhludoff had lost sight of him long ago, but heard that on leaving his regiment and joining the cavalry, notwithstanding his debts he managed to hold his own in rich society.

  "I am glad I met you. There is not a soul in the city. How old you have grown, my boy! I only recognized you by your walk. Well, shall we have dinner together? Where can we get a good meal here?"

  "I hardly think I will have the time," answered Nekhludoff, who wished to get rid of his friend without offending him. "What brings you here?" he asked.

  "Business, my boy. Guardian
ship affairs. I am a guardian, you know. I have charge of Samanoff's business--the rich Samanoff, you know. He is a spendthrift, and there are fifty-four thousand acres of land!" he said with particular pride, as if he had himself made all these acres. "The affairs were fearfully neglected. The land was rented to the peasants, who did not pay anything and were eighty thousand rubles in arrears. In one year I changed everything, and realized seventy per cent. more for the estate. Eh?" he asked, with pride.

  Nekhludoff recalled a rumor that for the very reason that Shenbok squandered his own wealth and was inextricably in debt, he was appointed guardian over a rich old spendthrift, and was now evidently obtaining an income from the guardianship.