第 六 章 · Pougatcheff.

.

POUGATCHEFF.

Before I proceed to write a description of the strange events of which

I was a witness, I must say a few words concerning the condition of the

government of Orenburg towards the end of the year 1773.

This rich and extensive government was inhabited by horde? of

half-savage people, who had only recently acknowledged the sovereignty

of the Russian Czars. Their continual revolts, their disinclination to

a civilized life and an existence regulated by laws, their fickleness

and cruelty, demanded on the part of the government a constant

vigilance in order to keep them in subjection. Fortresses had been

erected in convenient places, and were garrisoned for the most part by

Cossacks, who had formerly held possession of the shores of the Yaik.

But these Yaikian Cossacks, whose duty it was to preserve peace and

to watch over the security of this district, had themselves for some

time past become very troublesome and dangerous to the government. In

the year 1772 an insurrection broke out in their principal city. The

causes of it were the severe measures taken by General Traubenberg to

bring the army into a state of obedience. The result was the barbarous

murder of Traubenberg, the selection of new leaders, and finally the

suppression of the revolt by grapeshot and cruel punishments.

This happened a little while before my arrival at the fortress of

Bailogorsk. All was now quiet, or at least appeared so; but the

authorities believed too easily in the pretended repentance of the

cunning rebels, who nursed their hatred in secret and only waited for a

favourable opportunity to recommence the struggle.

I now return to my narrative.

One evening (it was in the beginning of October in the year. 1773) I

was sitting indoors alone, listening to the moaning of the autumn wind,

and gazing out of the window at the clouds, as they sailed rapidly

over the face of the moon. A message was brought to me to wait upon

the Commandant. I immediately repaired to his quarters. I there found

Shvabrin, Ivan Ignatitch, and the Cossack orderly. Neither Vassilissa

Egorovna nor Maria Ivanova was in the room. The Commandant greeted

me with a pre-occupied air. He closed the door, made us all sit-down

except the orderly, who remained standing near the door, drew a paper

out of his pocket, and said to us:--

“Gentlemen, we have here important news! Hear what the general writes.”

Then he put on his spectacles and read as follows:

“To the Commandant of the Fortress of Bailogorsk, Captain Mironoff.

(_Confidential_.)

“I hereby inform you that the fugitive and schismatic Don Cossack,

Emelian Pougatcheff, after having been guilty of the unpardonable

insolence of assuming the name of the deceased Emperor Peter

III.,[1] has collected a band of evil-disposed persons, has excited

disturbances in the settlements along the banks of the Yaik, and

has already taken and destroyed several fortresses, pillaging and

murdering on every side. Therefore, on the receipt of this letter,

you, Captain, will at once take the necessary measures to repel

the above-mentioned villain and impostor, and, if possible, to

completely annihilate him, if he should turn his arms against the

fortress entrusted to your care.”

“Take the necessary measures,” said the Commandant, taking off his

spectacles and folding up the letter; “you see that it is very easy to

say that. The villain is evidently strong in numbers, whereas we have

but 130 men altogether, not counting the Cossacks, upon whom we can

place very little dependence--without intending any reproach to you,

Maximitch.” The orderly smiled. “Still, there is no help for it, but

to do the best we can, gentlemen. Let us be on our guard and establish

night patrols; in case of attack, shut the gates and assemble the

soldiers. You, Maximitch, keep a strict eye on your Cossacks. See that

the cannon be examined and thoroughly cleaned. Above all things, keep

what I have said a secret, so that nobody in the fortress may know

anything before the time.”

After giving these orders, Ivan Kouzmitch dismissed us. I walked away

with Shvabrin, reflecting upon what we had heard.

“How do you think that this will end?” I asked him.

“God knows,” he replied; “we shall see. I do not see anything to be

alarmed about at present. If, however----”

Then he began to reflect and to whistle abstractedly a French air.

In spite of all our precautions, the news of the appearance of

Pougatcheff soon spread through the fortress. Although Ivan Kouzmitch

entertained the greatest respect for his wife, he would not for

anything in the world have confided to her a secret entrusted to him

in connection with the service. After having received the general’s

letter, he contrived in a tolerably dexterous manner to get Vassilissa

Egorovna out of the way, telling her that Father Gerasim had received

some extraordinary news from Orenburg, which he kept a great secret.

Vassilissa Egorovna immediately wished to go and pay a visit to the

pope’s wife and, by the advice of Ivan Kouzmitch, she took Masha with

her, lest she should feel dull by herself.

Ivan Kouzmitch, being thus left sole master of the situation,

immediately sent for us, having locked Palashka in the pantry, so that

she might not be able to overhear what we had to say.

Vassilissa Egorovna returned home, without having succeeded in getting

anything out of the pope’s wife, and she learned that, during her

absence, a council of war had been held in Ivan Kouzmitch’s house, and

that Palashka had been under lock and key. She suspected that she had

been duped by her husband, and she began to assail him with questions.

But Ivan Kouzmitch was prepared for the attack. He was not in the least

perturbed, and boldly made answer to his inquisitive consort:

“Hark you, mother dear, our women hereabouts have taken a notion into

their heads to heat their ovens with straw, and as some misfortune

might be the outcome of it, I gave strict orders that the women should

not heat their ovens with straw, but should burn brushwood and branches

of trees instead.”

“But why did you lock up Palashka, then?” asked his wife. “Why was the

poor girl compelled to sit in the kitchen till we returned?”

Ivan Kouzmitch was not prepared for such a question; he became

confused, and stammered out something very incoherent. Vassilissa

Egorovna perceived her husband’s perfidy, but, knowing that she would

get nothing out of him just then, she abstained from asking any further

questions and turned the conversation to the subject of the pickled;

cucumbers, which Akoulina Pamphilovna knew how to prepare in such an

excellent manner. But all that night Vassilissa Egorovna could not

sleep a wink, nor could she understand what it was that was in her

husband’s head that; she was not permitted to know.

The next day, as she was returning home from mass, she saw Ivan

Ignatitch, who was busily engaged in clearing the cannon of pieces of

rag, small stones, bits of bone, and rubbish of every sort, which had

been deposited there by the little boys of the place.

“What mean these warlike preparations?” thought the Commandant’s wife.

“Can it be that they fear an attack on the part of the Kirghises? But

is it possible that Ivan Kouzmitch could conceal such a trifle from me?”

She called Ivan Ignatitch to her with the firm determination of

learning from him the secret which tormented her woman’s curiosity.

Vassillissa Egorovna began by making a few observations to him

about household matters, like a judge who commences an examination

with questions foreign to the matter in hand, in order to lull the

suspicions of the person accused. Then, after a silence of a few

moments, she heaved a deep sigh, and said, shaking her head:

“Oh, Lord God! What news! What will be the end of all this?”

“Well, well, mother!” replied Ivan Ignatitch; “God is merciful; we

have soldiers enough, plenty of powder, and I have cleaned the cannon.

Perhaps we shall be able to offer a successful resistance to this

Pougatcheff; if God will only not abandon us, we shall be safe enough

here.”

“And what sort of a man is this Pougatcheff?” asked the Commandant’s

wife.

Then Ivan Ignatitch perceived that he had said more ban he ought to

have done, and he bit his tongue. But it was now too late. Vassilissa

Egorovna compelled him to inform her of everything, having given him

her word that she would not mention the matter to anybody.

Vassilissa Egorovna kept her promise and said not a word to anybody,

except to the pope’s wife, and to her only because her cow was still

feeding upon the steppe, and might be captured by the brigands.

Soon everybody was talking about Pougatcheff. The reports concerning

him varied very much. The Commandant sent his orderly to glean as much

information as possible about him in all the neighbouring villages and

fortresses. The orderly returned after an absence of two days, and

reported that, at about sixty versts from the fortress, he had seen a

large number of fires upon the steppe, and that he had heard from the

Bashkirs that an immense force was advancing. He could not say anything

more positive, because he had feared to venture further.

An unusual agitation now began to be observed among the Cossacks of the

fortress; in all the streets they congregated in small groups, quietly

conversing among themselves, and dispersing whenever they caught

sight of a dragoon or any other soldier belonging to the garrison.

They were closely watched by spies. Youlai, a converted Calmuck, made

an important communication to the commandant. The orderly’s report,

according to Youlai, was a false one; on his return the treacherous

Cossack announced to his companions that he had been among the rebels,

and had been presented to their leader, who had given him his hand and

had conversed with him for a long time. The Commandant immediately

placed the orderly under arrest, and appointed Youlai in his place.

This change was the cause of manifest dissatisfaction among the

Cossacks. They murmured loudly, and Ivan Ignatitch, who executed the

Commandant’s instructions, with his own ears heard them say:

“Just wait a little while, you garrison rat!”

The Commandant had intended interrogating the prisoner that very same

day, but the orderly had made his escape, no doubt with the assistance

of his partisans.

A fresh event served to increase the Commandant’s uneasiness. A

Bashkir, carrying seditious letters, was seized. On this occasion the

Commandant again decided upon assembling his officers, and therefore he

wished once more to get Vassilissa Egorovna out of the way under some

plausible pretext. But as Ivan Kouzmitch was a most upright and sincere

man, he could find no other method than that employed on the previous

occasion.

“Listen, Vassilissa Egorovna,” he said to her, coughing to conceal his

embarrassment: “they say that Father Gerasim has received----”

“That’s enough, Ivan Kouzmitch,” said his wife, interrupting him: “you

wish to assemble a council of war to talk about Emelian Pougatcheff

without my being present; but you shall not deceive me this time.”

Ivan Kouzmitch opened his eyes.

“Well, little mother,” he said, “if you know everything, you may

remain; we shall speak in your presence.”

“Very well, my little father,” replied she; “you should not try to be

so cunning; send for the officers.”

We assembled again. Ivan Kouzmitch, in the presence of his wife,

read to us Pougatcheff’s proclamation, drawn up probably by some

half-educated Cossack. The robber announced therein his intention of

immediately marching upon our fortress; he invited the Cossacks and

soldiers to join him, and advised the superior officers not to offer

any resistance, threatening them with death in the event of their doing

so. The proclamation was couched in coarse but vigorous language, and

could not but produce a powerful impression upon the minds of simple

people.

“What a rascal!” exclaimed the Commandant’s wife; “that he should

propose such a thing to us. To go out to meet him and lay our flags at

his feet! Ah! the son of a dog! He does not know then that we have been

forty years in the service, and that, thanks to God, we have seen a

good deal during that time. Is it possible that there are commandants

who would be cowardly enough to yield to a robber like him?”

“There ought not to be,” replied Ivan Kouzmitch; “but it is reported

that the scoundrel has already taken several fortresses.”

“He seems to have great power,” observed Shvabrin.

“We shall soon find out the real extent of his power,” said the

Commandant. “Vassilissa Egorovna, give me the key of the loft. Ivan

Ignatitch, bring hither the Bashkir, and tell Youlai to fetch a whip.”

“Wait a moment, Ivan Kouzmitch,” said his wife, rising from her seat.

“Let me take Masha somewhere out of the house; otherwise she will hear

the cries and will feel frightened. And I myself, to tell the truth, am

no lover of inquisitions. So good-bye for the present.”

Torture, in former times, was so rooted in our judicial proceedings,

that the benevolent ukase[2] ordering its abolition remained for a

long time a dead letter. It was thought that the confession of the

criminal was indispensable for his full conviction--an idea not only

unreasonable, but even contrary to common sense from a jurisprudential

point of view; for if the denial of the accused person be not accepted

as proof of his innocence, the confession that has been wrung from

him ought still less to be accepted as a proof of his guilt. Even in

our days I sometimes hear old judges regretting the abolition of the

barbarous custom. But in those days nobody had any doubt about the

necessity of torture, neither the judges nor even the accused persons

themselves. Therefore it was that the Commandant’s order did not

astonish or alarm any of us. Ivan Ignatitch went to fetch the Bashkir,

who was confined in the loft, under lock and key, and a few minutes

afterwards he was led prisoner into the ante-room. The Commandant

ordered the captive to be brought before him.--

The Bashkir stepped with difficulty across the threshold (for his feet

were in fetters) and, taking off his high cap, remained standing near

the door. I glanced at him and shuddered. Never shall I forget that

man. He appeared to be about seventy years of age, and had neither nose

nor ears. His head was shaved, and instead of a beard he had a few grey

hairs upon his chin; he was of short stature, thin and bent; but his

small eyes still flashed fire.

“Ah, ah!” said the Commandant, recognizing by these dreadful marks one

of the rebels punished in the year 1741, “I see you are an old wolf;

you have already been caught in our traps. It is not the first time

that you have rebelled, since your head is planed so smoothly. Come

nearer; speak, who sent you here?”

The old Bashkir remained silent and gazed at the Commandant with an air

of complete stolidity.

“Why do you not answer?” continued Ivan Kouzmitch. “Don’t you

understand Russian? Youlai, ask him in your language, who sent him to

our fortress.”

Youlai repeated the Commandant’s question in the Tartar language. But

the Bashkir looked at him with the same expression and answered not a

word.

“By heaven!” exclaimed the Commandant, “you shall answer me. My lads!

take off that ridiculous striped gown of his, and tickle his back.

Youlai, see that it is carried out properly.”

Two soldiers began to undress the Bashkir. The face of the unhappy man

assumed an expression of uneasiness. He looked round on every side,

like a poor little animal f that has been captured by children. But

when one of the soldiers seized his hands to twine them round his neck,

and raised the old man upon his shoulders, and Youlai grasped the whip

and began to flourish it round his head, then the Bashkir uttered

a feeble groan, and, raising his head, opened his mouth, in which,

instead of a tongue, moved a short stump.

When I reflect that this happened during my lifetime, and that I now

live under the mild government of the Emperor Alexander, I cannot

but feel astonished at the rapid progress of civilization, and the

diffusion of humane ideas. Young man! if these lines of mine should

fall into your hands, remember that those changes which proceed from an

amelioration of manners and customs are much better and more lasting

than those which are the outcome of acts of violence.

We were all horror-stricken.

“Well,” said the Commandant, “it is evident that we shall get nothing

out of him. Youlai, lead the Bashkir back to the loft; and let us,

gentlemen, have a little further talk about the matter.”

We were yet considering our position, when Vassilissa Egorovna suddenly

rushed into the room, panting for breath, and beside herself with

excitement.

“What has happened to you?” asked the astonished Commandant.

“I have to inform you of a great misfortune!” replied Vassilissa

Egorovna. “Nijniosern was taken this morning. Father Gerasim’s servant

has just returned from there. He saw how they took it. The Commandant

and all the officers are hanged, and all the soldiers are taken

prisoners. In a little while the villains will be here.”

This unexpected intelligence produced a deep impression upon me. The

Commandant of the fortress of Nijniosem, a quiet and modest young

man, was an acquaintance of mine; two months before he had visited

our fortress when on his way from Orenburg along with his young wife,

and had stopped for a little while in the house of Ivan Kouzmitch.

Nijniosern was about twenty-five versts from our fortress. We might

therefore expect to be attacked by Pougatcheff at any moment. The fate

in store for Maria Ivanovna presented itself vividly to my imagination,

and my heart sank within me.

“Listen, Ivan Kouzmitch,” said I to the Commandant; “our duty is to

defend the fortress to the last gasp; there is no question about that.

But we must think about the safety of the women. Send them on to

Orenburg, if the road be still open, or to some safer and more distant

fortress where these villains will not be able to make their way.”

Ivan Kouzmitch turned round to his wife and said to her:

“Listen, mother; would it not be just as well if we sent you away to

some place farther off until we have settled matters with these rebels?”

“What nonsense!” said the Commandant’s wife. “Where is there a fortress

that would be safe from bullets? Why is Bailogorsk not safe? Thank God,

we have lived in it for two-and-twenty years! We have seen Bashkirs and

Kirghises; perhaps we shall also escape the clutches of Pougatcheff.”

“Well, mother,” replied Ivan Kouzmitch, “stay if you like, if you have

such confidence in our fortress. But what shall we do with Masha? All

well and good if we offer a successful resistance, or can hold out till

we obtain help; but what if the villains should take the fortress?”

“Why, then----”

But at this juncture Vassilissa Egorovna began to stammer and then

remained silent, evidently agitated by deep emotion.

“No, Vassilissa Egorovna,” continued the Commandant, observing that his

words had produced an impression upon her, perhaps for the first time

in his life, “Masha must not remain here. Let us send her to Orenburg,

to her godmother; there are plenty of soldiers and cannon there, and

the walls are of stone. And I would advise you to go there with her;

for although you are an old woman, think what might happen to you if

the fortress should be taken by storm.”

“Very well,” replied the Commandant’s wife; “let it be so: we will send

Masha away. As for me, you need not trouble yourself about asking me

to go; I will remain here. Nothing shall make me part from you in my

old age to go and seek a lonely grave in a strange country. Together we

have lived, together we will die.”

“Well, you are right,” said the Commandant; “but let us not delay any

longer. Go and get Masha ready for the journey. She must set out at

daybreak to-morrow, and we shall let her have an escort, although we

have not too many men in the fortress to be able to spare any of them.

But where is Masha?”

“Along with Akoulina Pamphilovna,” replied the Commandant’s wife. “She

fainted away when she heard of the capture of Nijniosern; I am afraid

that she will be ill. Lord God of heaven, what have we lived to see!”

Vassilissa Egorovna went to prepare for her daughter’s departure.

The consultation with the Commandant was then continued; but I no

longer took any part in it, nor did I listen to anything that was

said. Maria Ivanovna appeared at supper, her face pale and her eyes

red with weeping. We supped in silence, and rose from the table sooner

than usual; then taking leave of the family, we all returned to our

respective quarters. But I intentionally forgot my sword, and went

back for it: I had a presentiment that I should find Maria alone. True

enough I met her in the doorway, and she handed me my sword.

“Farewell, Peter Andreitch!” she said to me, with tears in her eyes;

“they are going to send me to Orenburg. May you be well and happy.

God may be pleased to ordain that we should see each other again; if

not----”

Here she burst out sobbing. I clasped her in my arms.

“Farewell, my angel!” said I. “Farewell, my darling, my heart’s desire!

Whatever may happen to me, rest assured that my last thought and last

prayer shall be for you.”

Masha still continued to weep, resting her head upon my breast. I

kissed her fervently, and hastily quitted the room.

[Footnote 1: Husband of the Empress Catherine II. The latter, whom

the Emperor had threatened to divorce, having won over to her side a

considerable portion of the army, had compelled her unpopular consort

to sign an act of abdication in 1762. Having been removed as a prisoner

to Ropscha, it was shortly afterwards announced that He had died of

colic, though the truth was, he had been strangled to death by Alexis

Orloff, one of Catherine’s numerous admirers.]

[Footnote 2: Torture was abolished in 1768 by an edict of Catherine

II.]