Iermola Part 8

It was in such important occupations that the first day of poor old Iermola's paternity was pa.s.sed.

VII.

A NEW LIFE.

The fortunes of man are often very strange. He frequently pa.s.ses through long, barren, unemployed years, awaiting the one moment which brings into relief and into activity all his faculties and all his powers; it seems as though he had slept an age in order to awaken for one hour. A new situation arouses in him unknown sentiments, enlightens his mind, opens his heart, and changes the indolent dreamer into a worker, an indefatigable athlete.

Thus it happened to Iermola, whom the mere presence of this unknown child had regenerated and revived, and who, to the great astonishment of the widow, the people of the village, and all who had formerly known him, not only acquitted himself without difficulty of the care necessary to be bestowed upon his nursling, but became quite another man. He always had been considered one of the most good-for-nothing and insignificant beings in the world, silent, humble, timid, and ignorant.

People had become accustomed to see him every day at the same hour in the vicinity of the ruined inn, and to hear the same words of greeting repeated by him every day. With his bowed head and stooping shoulders, and his eyes fixed on the ground, and leaning on a cane, he might be constantly seen, now on his way to the river sh.o.r.e, and now going toward the _dwor_; he gathered gra.s.ses, kindling-wood, and f.a.gots, and cultivated in his garden a little tobacco and a few vegetables. On fine summer evenings he repeated his chaplet sitting on his door-sill, and sometimes, when his complete isolation did not weigh too heavily upon him, he allowed several months to pa.s.s without appearing in the village. He never went to the inn, never showed himself at weddings, funerals, or baptisms; and when he went to them because he was invited, he stayed only a very short time, and was in a hurry to return to his den, where he squatted down and secluded himself as though there was some sad mystery attached to his life.

Moreover, he visited at none of the houses in the village with the exception of the widow's hut, whither he was drawn by memories of old friends.h.i.+p and also the need of a.s.sistance, for there he had his linen washed and mended, and took some of his meals. Some said that he was sulky and cross; but those who knew him best rarely spoke of him otherwise than in terms of kindest friends.h.i.+p. And indeed under his cold, rough exterior was concealed a rare heart, a heart of gold, one of those hearts to be met with among the poor and simple more often than one believes.

Nowadays a goodly number of thinkers interested in such matters, and who judge quite erroneously, have succeeded in discovering in the peasant far more bad qualities than good ones. But considering the influences to which the lower cla.s.ses are subjected, the examples they have before them, their surroundings, the poverty which enervates them, and the want of moral education which brutalizes them, one can only be astonished at the treasures of honesty which G.o.d puts into their hearts.

Under such a condition as theirs, the greatest faults are pardonable; for which of our reformers proposes to inculcate either moral or religious principles? Therefore the virtues they possess really seem miraculous. In order to know the lower cla.s.ses, it is necessary to observe them closely, and to study them, and not allow ourselves to be led astray by the prejudices and false ideas which we may have imbibed from the speeches of interested persons and from books. Virtue, with them, is the more to be respected, because it is indigenous, like pure native gold. As for us, we are inoculated with it; it is preached to us, taught us from our infancy. It is very easy for us to be honest.

Our own interest, our self-love, the aid which circ.u.mstances give us, the advantageous emulation with which the social struggle inspires us, our conception of duty,--all help to clear the way for us; and in spite of this, all are not virtuous, or at least as virtuous as they ought to be. It is not at all astonis.h.i.+ng, therefore, considering all that we have on our side, and all that makes against the lower cla.s.ses, that good, equitable, and strict judges have discerned more worth and virtue in the lower than in the higher cla.s.ses, and have invited the fortunate ones of this world to follow the example which by a sort of miracle is presented by those who enjoy fewer comforts.

We, who are in constant and active communication with our country people, do not hesitate to recognize that they are better by nature and by instinct than the people in other cla.s.ses of society, than the people of other European races, especially the Western races. Let us examine, compare, and number their vices; and we shall be astonished to find still so much morality among a populace so miserable and entirely abandoned, who must have received the strength to be virtuous simply from the air which surrounds them, from the blood which flows in their veins. It is easy for us to understand and excuse their faults if we will only be just.

Iermola was precisely one of those men, gifted with a marvellous instinct of virtue and feelings naturally affectionate and just, whose n.o.bleness servitude had not been able to stifle, possessing a heart which coa.r.s.e and imperfect civilization had not been able to make cold, and earnest moral strength which old age had not withered or destroyed.

I can find no other word than "instinct" to express that rare and powerful faculty; and I would willingly admit, if I were writing a treatise on psychology, that by the side of the coa.r.s.e, egotistical, material instinct exists a second one, n.o.ble, generous, sublime, different in every respect from the other, which elevates often to the highest plane of virtue the weakest and simplest natures. Those who possess it usually act contrary to their most evident interests; they listen only to their hearts, which never breathe the voice of violence and pa.s.sion, but rather that of pure love, which longs for perfection, and action, which reveals the need of devotion and tenderness.

The old man of whom we are speaking never had deplored the miseries of his useless and suffering life. He never had cursed his past; he neither scorned nor complained of men. He found a sufficiency in himself, suffered, was silent, and did not succ.u.mb, because he accepted everything with a humble and thankful spirit. No one ever saw him spare himself; he was always ready to help others, though he could do but little for himself. Every one knew him in the village; and strangers, as well as old friends, knew to whom to apply when they needed help or sympathy,--for poor old Iermola had nothing else to give. To watch and care for a sick person, to harvest a widow's field of barley, to take care of a houseful of children when the mother of the family was away, to collect herbs and recipes for curing wounds and diseases, were the things that Iermola knew how to do best, and that he did with most pleasure. People made use of him the more willingly because he would not accept any pay, and because he never drank brandy.

Among the lower cla.s.ses it is customary in such cases to recognize by some gift or other even the smallest service rendered; the good villagers would be offended if these slight marks of their grat.i.tude should not be accepted. They therefore slipped into Iermola's hands a few presents which he took, lest he should wound his friends; some eggs, a little b.u.t.ter, a small loaf of bread, seemed to him more than sufficient return for his services.

He bore no grudge against those of his old friends whom he had obliged, who in times of sickness and need had come to him for help, and afterward deserted and forgotten him. He never complained of their indifference, never called their neglect ingrat.i.tude or coldness of heart; he knew the villagers had but little time at their disposal in which to pay debts of affection or grat.i.tude; that generally it was not the will which was wanting, but the possibility; and their indifference was often feigned and very frequently forced. It is necessary to know thoroughly their life of labour and weariness, to feel the effect of fatigue and its consequent la.s.situde, in order to comprehend it and not be surprised by it. And if with regard to matters of the heart Iermola was superior to his neighbours, in other respects he was still a child of the village, retaining its tastes, habits, inclinations, and prejudices.

The day following that upon which the event we have related took place, nothing was talked of all over Popielnia but the baby found under the oaks by old Iermola, and the goat bought from Szmula,--for Chwedko boasted as much of this good bargain as he usually did of his famous mare.

There were a thousand conjectures concerning the inexplicable appearance of the new-born baby,--an event the like of which was unheard of and unknown in the village; this miserable act was laid to the door, not of the peasants very naturally, for they would not have been able to commit such a deed, since they had no such habits, but rather to some unknown father and mother belonging to the n.o.bility.

Suspicions fell first upon one and then another neighbouring lord; but nothing confirmed them, and they contradicted each other. Effort was made to recall exactly everything which had taken place on the two previous days; unfortunately, the tracks of the person who had brought the baby and placed it in the garden had been entirely effaced. One of the villagers had indeed seen, about nightfall, a carriage driving rapidly away in the direction of Malyczki; but this proved to have been only the _briczka_ of the young secretary, who had been to pay a visit to Horpyna and her mother. Another remembered having seen, from a distance on the river sh.o.r.e, a man on horseback, holding under his arm a bundle wrapped in a white cloth; but he learned that it was the manager Hudny, who was taking a ride, and who, on account of the cold, had wrapped a towel round his neck. Marysia, the servant at the inn, also recalled the unknown Polesian who the previous evening had snored so loudly on one of the benches at the inn, and had disappeared when the c.o.c.ks began to crow; but could he have slept so quietly if he had been the one who undertook to abandon to fate such an innocent creature?

At the inn, in the fields, in the woods, on the river sh.o.r.e, everywhere, in fact, nothing was talked of but the foundling baby; but no person knew any more about the matter than another. All were, however, astonished at Iermola's determination and laughed at the old man, shrugging their shoulders. Meanwhile, in the good man's hut the cossack's widow was preparing a bath for the little one. As she was unwrapping it from the piece of coa.r.s.e percale which was to be sent to the steward's wife, she examined the child more closely, and began to share the convictions of his adoptive father. The baby was surely the offspring of some n.o.ble family, he was so delicate, so fresh-looking, so charming. There was no mark on his clothing, but around his neck was a silk cord from which hung a small medal of gilded bra.s.s which Iermola supposed to be gold, and put carefully away. Because of this the two old people began to wonder if the baby had been baptized; and the widow told her neighbour that when there was any doubt on the subject, it was always prudent to have the infant sprinkled with the waters of holy baptism. That very evening the baby took the name of Irydion, which was that of the saint the church invokes on the day it was found.

In the dialect of the lower cla.s.s, this name a.s.sumes a Slavic sound, and is transformed into Radion or Radiwon; the little one was therefore called Radionek, as a sort of pet name. Iermola wept with joy as he took him in his arms and covered him with caresses, saying over and over a hundred times that at last he had a son, and that this son would make him so happy.

Our good man got a little tipsy for the first time in his life, on the occasion of the baptism. He treated Chwedko and the widow to bountiful drinks, embraced them both, pressed their hands, and showered affectionate words upon them. As for the unfortunate goat, who regarded all these joyful demonstrations with angry eyes, he shook his fist at her threateningly.

"Listen, wretched Jewess," said he to her, as he stood before her with flaming eyes and uplifted hand. "Listen, vile descendant of a horned and bearded race: if you are not gentle and obedient, if you are not willing to be an honest and affectionate nurse for this dear little baby, I will immediately find another to take your place. But as for you, I will cut you in two with a wood-saw, as truly as there is a G.o.d in heaven."

To these menacing words the goat replied by stamping her feet, shaking and throwing her head up proudly, and all the people present burst into peals of laughter; but it was observed that from that time forth she conducted herself with much more gentleness and docility, as though Iermola's violent harangue had finally triumphed over her indomitable obstinacy.

VIII.

HAPPY DAYS.

Such was the beginning of this self-imposed paternity; in spite of the difficulties at the outset, the good man was so successful that at the expiration of three months he had become perfectly acquainted with all the duties and requirements of his new occupation. The village people never tired of seeing the old man with the baby in his arms, walking with him in the fields or on the river sh.o.r.e; they would immediately surround the pair so strangely but so entirely united, and overwhelm Iermola with questions and the baby with caresses.

What may not love, will, and patience overcome? The old goat, which had shown such obstinacy of character in the first days after her separation from Szmula at last grew so attached to her new master that she followed the old man and the baby everywhere. At first she ran away several times and went back to the inn. Szmula had even given secret orders to have her killed, intending to put her four quarters into the pot, but Iermola, divining his intentions even at that distance, gave the baby for a few moments to the widow, and found the goat concealed behind a pile of straw in the pig-sty; whereupon he, by his cries and threats, frightened Szmula so terribly that the Jew never again had any desire to face such an adversary. As a finis.h.i.+ng stroke to his misfortunes, Szmula was obliged to bestow gratuitous drinks upon the village men who had been attracted to the inn by Iermola's cries and uproar, and whom he naturally wished to get rid of as soon as possible.

Finally, the goat, well cared for and well fed, began to understand that she could henceforth expect no good from Szmula. She therefore regarded him with supreme indifference; and serving her new owner with fidelity, she would not even turn her head when she happened to pa.s.s by the inn. Consequently she became a great favourite with Iermola, the thing he loved best in the world, except the well-beloved baby, of course; and as the child jabbered to her constantly, and she was always with him, she became not only his nourisher, but almost his nurse. The baby knew well her black fierce eyes and her long beard, which he pulled with his little fingers; the Jewess would come at his slightest call and stand over his cradle with wonderful intelligence and precaution. She became, in fact, one of the family; and Iermola, rendering her full justice, was utterly astonished that he had not been able at first to recognize her excellent qualities.

But the satisfaction which the old goat gave him--and he would not now have given her up at any price--was nothing in comparison with the infinite and ever-increasing joy the baby was to him, as he grew and developed day by day. Little Radionek had a peculiarly gentle disposition and uncommon strength and health, as is usually the case with poor little orphans.

It seems as though G.o.d in His providence bestows earlier and more abundantly upon those who have no mother the faculties and forces necessary to existence. But however lovely and well-developed Radionek may have been, Iermola doubtless saw in him many more virtues and charms than he really possessed. The widow rallied him on the subject, but this did no good, and only irritated him; he called her wicked, jealous, and blind, and would go away, low-spirited, carrying his treasure with him. The old woman, however, was also sincerely attached to the child, who certainly owed much to her. Indeed, without her counsels and a.s.sistance, the adoptive father would have found it very difficult to acquit himself in his new, strange, and hard position. All his neighbours were good to him, and helped him in time of need, for the baby became the pet, the darling, and the wonder of the village.

After several months of watchfulness and continual care, Iermola at last found time to ask himself what he would do in the future, and even spoke frequently of the projects he had formed for himself and the baby. Ah, he had so many dreams, and built so many castles in the air!

First of all, he did not wish the child to be a simple villager; he desired for him a better condition and more brilliant and n.o.ble career.

But the choice of a career seemed very difficult to him; for his dear Radionek everything seemed too humble and too pitiful. What he would have liked best would have been to buy an estate and see him some day manage it as he chose; but poor as they were, it was foolish even to think of that. He was of course obliged to think of something else.

During his long seasons of thought Iermola reviewed a number of trades and different occupations; but he always found some fault with them.

The shoemaker from sitting so constantly must have bent limbs and stooping shoulders; the miller was obliged to stand all day; the blacksmith was exposed to being burned by his hot fire; the mason was tired with carrying tiles and climbing ladders and suffering from the cold and the wind and the heat. Iermola did not wish to expose his dear child to any of these dangers and troubles.

He always firmly intended to have his dear Radionek learn to read and write, but it was necessary to wait a few years before doing that; and the chorister in the church, the only man in the village who had dived into the mysteries of the alphabet, and who would have been able to take charge of his pupil's education, was already very old. If he should die, would his successor be as accommodating or as learned as he? This was a sadly perplexing subject for the old man. He conceived the idea of settling the matter by asking the chorister to teach him, so that when the time came he would be able to teach the child to read and write without any one's a.s.sistance. With this intention he bought a primer from a Jew pedler; and soon every day the old man might be seen with the baby in his arms and the goat following him, going along the one street of the village on his way to the farther end of it, where he took his daily lesson from old Andrej Prosforowiez. It was beautiful to see the old man perspiring and growing red in the face, studying and working over the pages of his primer, holding the baby with one hand, and with the other the iron needle which he used to point to his letters. One consoling idea sustained him through all this hard task.

At least, in this way the old chorister, who was not very patient, would not be made to torment Radionek, whom he would doubtless have caused to pa.s.s some unhappy half-hours. Iermola knew very well that when he should undertake the task of paternal education, he would succeed by means of gentleness and perseverance in imparting all he knew to his child, without either trouble or contention.

But truly it is no easy matter to undertake to learn the alphabet when one is almost sixty years old; to sit quietly with fixed attention for long hours; to keep eyes still which have been accustomed to wander freely; to take an interest in those black, irregular, and excessively small characters. It is an enormous undertaking, a real torment, which can be endured only by remarkable perseverance, will, and strength of affection. Iermola, indeed, groaned and was weary more than once; but he did not abandon the task which he had so bravely begun, and at last the time came when he could read. Fortunately, his sight was still good, which helped him very much in his work; and he found less difficulty, after all, than the chorister had feared. The old instructor received as his pay a half-roll of linen containing fifty yards, and very wide, which had been kept a long time, with a s.h.i.+ny silver rouble in addition.

As for the care bestowed upon the baby, the old man acquitted himself as if he had been a foster-father all his life. The cradle was placed beside his bed; the goat slept in a corner near by. At the slightest sound from the baby, the father was on his feet to see what the innocent creature needed. He slept but little; but he never had needed a great deal of sleep. During the day he took the little one in his arms and wandered with him along the sh.o.r.e, in the woods, in the fields, under the oaks; and when he grew weary he sat down on the door-sill. This sight, which at first had appeared so strange and ridiculous to the villagers, at last seemed pleasant and interesting.

They smiled at the orphan, and admired the perseverance and tenderness of the foster-father; and on Sundays, a few old companions came out to the ruined inn to see the baby and talk with their old neighbour.

Iermola was charmed when he found himself surrounded by this little circle of friends, in whose presence he could show off the attractions of his darling pet; and by his earnest praise and repeated recitals he at last succeeded in persuading his neighbours that the pretty boy he had found promised to be really an extraordinary child. What was indeed very strange in all this was that in spite of his various cares and constant fatigue Iermola grew visibly younger. His figure was more erect than before, his step lighter, his countenance more smiling, fresh, and fair; work, want of sleep, and fatigue did not overcome him so much as hope soothed and strengthened him. It might really be said that from the moment when he had found a hope and an aim he had begun a new existence, a sweeter life. Nevertheless, his existence, as may well be imagined, was not a succession of joys and ever-renewed delights; the presence of the child, while sensibly increasing his wants and expenses, forced upon him a formidable undertaking, a constant labour, for henceforth he must supply not only the bread for to-day, but that for the morrow also.

The poor usually require very little to satisfy their daily wants.

Iermola was particularly temperate and sober; he could easily do without this or that thing when necessary, and he had never, up to the moment when, by G.o.d's providence, the new-comer had appeared in his cabin, suffered from hunger. He had indeed no certain income; but he never begged, and he managed, by doing his best, to pay very regularly a rent of twenty florins a year for his little garden and poor cottage.

It is very hard for us, who have been accustomed to a better style of living, to understand how the poor can sustain themselves, and be content upon so little. Old Iermola had saved up during his long years of service only a few pieces of cloth, which he had laid by, one at a time, together with about twenty roubles and some worthless rags. He could have obtained for these enough to pay his rent in advance and buy his daily food; but if he had not added to this little sum by his daily earnings, it would soon have been exhausted. Iermola, it is true, spent very little upon himself, for he got his meals at first one place and then another in the village; the cossack's widow fed him oftenest, and was not willing to receive anything from him in return. Moreover, he was always content with a little bread and bacon and some potatoes; he took great care of his old clothes, which fortunately had not yet given out. But there was that dreadful rent, which had to be paid from the profits of his garden, which formed the sole income of the good man.

This square bit of ground, surrounded by a paling of laths and situated close to the old house, was almost as large as an ordinary peasant's garden; besides this, there was, a few rods from the inn, about an acre of good land on which oaks and pines grew. There Iermola sowed some tobacco in the spots he thought most fertile; farther on he planted potatoes, cabbages at the end of his garden, beets, peas, and other vegetables in the rest of the enclosure. Sometimes his little crop turned out well, and then, besides getting from his garden all that he needed for his own subsistence, he sold enough to bring him the twenty florins necessary to pay his rent. At other times the vegetables were a failure; and the poor man was obliged to resort to other means of procuring the sum.

Under such circ.u.mstances, the woods and the river were a great resource for the peasants; and as the inhabitants of Popielnia were not forbidden access to them, they all found there some means of existence.

So long as Iermola had lived alone, he had engaged in fis.h.i.+ng; for this purpose he stretched nets and set weirs. In fis.h.i.+ng at night with a lance he was at times not unsuccessful, and he sold the fruit of his labour at the neighbouring _dwor_ or in the town. In addition to this, he gathered and dried mushrooms, which were a still more profitable commodity, as the price of them had for some time been going up. But after he had little Radionek almost constantly in his arms, these two employments became impossible. He could not leave the child alone, and spend the night fis.h.i.+ng or pa.s.s the day in the woods.

And meantime the expenses increased; the small supply of money had been used at first to buy the goat and several trifles the baby was obliged to have. It was necessary for the poor man to do something new.

Formerly he had worked gratis in the fields of his friends and the poor; now his time became dear and precious to him. He resolved to work for hire. Soon he might be seen, like those women who at times when work is pressing join the reapers in the fields, starting out every day with the goat, the baby, three stakes, a basket, and a tent. He put the baby in the basket between two furrows under the shade of the piece of coa.r.s.e linen, stretched on top of the stakes; the old goat watched the little one, and he meantime cut down, gathered, and bound the wheat. In this way he earned his food and about twenty coppers a day in addition; for it is rare that a labourer is paid more than that in Polesia. He had to work three days, and work hard too, in order to earn two florins, which elsewhere is given for sixty sheaves. He had to cut sixty sheaves of thin, scattering wheat, and stoop over them, sweating and breathless, then carry them; and they make them heavy in Polesia, although in order to form them, one has to gather the straws one by one.

Often, returning to his deserted home from the distant harvest field, carrying the basket and the baby, the old man felt overcome with the weight of his years and the heat of the day, worn out and sleepy and almost sad; but one single glance at little Radionek, who was always smiling, sufficed to restore his strength, and the night's sleep refreshed him and prepared him for the next day's work. In fact, Iermola never had worked so hard or been so fatigued before; the villagers regarded with respect his perseverance, his earnestness, and his faithful devotion. Not daring to touch the gold found in the baby's clothes, because he considered it the orphan's property, he undertook to supply everything himself; and this became more and more difficult, for he scarcely had time to work his garden. He bravely devoted all his mornings and evenings to this work; the rest of the day he occupied himself in working in the fields.

But the heart can conceive and work out miracles as soon as it is warmed and animated by a ray of affection. It is a unique and sovereign talisman. Without it everything is full of thorns, everything is difficult; with it all obstacles melt away, and dangers disappear.

At the end of a few months of brave and constant effort, field labour began to be unsatisfactory to Iermola. The baby grew, and the earnings were very small; besides, the chorister had charged a rouble for his lessons, and G.o.d knows how much time the study-hours occupied each day.