Sasha the serf, and other stories of Russian life — Background and Themes

It was towards the close of a September day. Old Gregor and his grandson Sasha were returning home through the forest with their bundles of wood, the old man stooping low under the weight of the heavier pieces he carried, while the boy dragged his great bunch of twigs and splints by a rope drawn over his shoulder. Where the trees grew thick the air was already quite gloomy, but in the open spaces they could see the sky and tell how near it was to sunset.

Both were silent, for they were tired, and it is not easy to talk and carry a heavy load at the same time. But presently something gray appeared through the trees at the foot of a low hill; it was the rock where they always rested on their way home. Old Gregor laid down his bundle there, and wiped his face on the sleeve of his brown jacket, but Sasha sprang upon the rock and began to balance himself upon one foot, as was his habit whenever he tried to think about anything.

"Grandfather," he said at last, "why should all this forest belong to the baron, and none of it to you?"

Gregor looked at him sharply for a moment before he answered.

"It was his father's and his grandfather's: it has been the property of the family for many a hundred years, and we never had any."

"I know that, grandfather," said Sasha. "But why did it come so at _first_?"

Gregor shook his head. "You might as well ask how the world was made." Then, seeing that the boy looked troubled, he added in a kinder tone, "Sasha, what put such a thought into your head?"

"Why, the forest itself!" replied the boy. "The baron lets us have the top branches and little twigs, but he takes all the great logs and trunks, and sells them for money. I know all the trees, and he does not; I can find my way in the woods anywhere, and there's many a tree that would say to me, if it could talk, 'I'd rather belong to you, Sasha, than to the baron, because I know you, and I don't know him.'"

"Ay, and the moon would say the same to you, boy, and the sun and the stars, maybe. You might as well want to own them--and you don't even belong to yourself!"

Gregor's words seemed harsh and fierce, but his voice was very sad. The boy looked at him and knew not what to say, but his heart beat violently. All at once he heard a rustle among the dead leaves, and a sound as if of footsteps approaching. The old man took hold of his grandson's arm, and made a sign for him to be silent. The sound came nearer and nearer, and presently they could distinguish some dusky object moving towards them through the trees.

"Is it a robber?" whispered the boy.

"It is not a man, unless he uses his knees for hind feet. I see his head; it is a bear. Keep quiet, boy! make no noise: take this stick, but hold it at your side as I do mine. If he comes close, look him firmly in the face; and if I tell you to strike, hit him on the end of the nose."

It was indeed a full-grown bear, marching slowly on his great flat feet. He was not more than thirty yards distant when he saw them, and stopped. Both kept their eyes fixed upon his head, but did not move. Then he came a few paces nearer, and Sasha tried hard not to show that he was trembling inwardly, more, however, from excitement than fear. The bear gazed steadily at them for what seemed a long time, and there was an expression of anger, but also of stupid bewilderment, in his eyes. Finally he gave a sniff and a grunt, tossed up his nose, and walked slowly on, stopping once or twice to turn and look back before he disappeared from view. Sasha lifted his stick and shook it at him. He felt that he should never again be much afraid of bears.

"Now, boy," said his grandfather, "you have learned how to face danger. I have been as near to a loaded cannon as to that bear, and the wind of the ball threw me upon my face: but I was up the next moment, and then the gunner went down! Our colonel saw it, and I remember what he said--ay, every word! He would have kept his promise, but we carried him from the field next day, and that was the end of the matter. It was in France that it happened."

"Grandfather," asked the boy suddenly, "are there forests in France, and do they belong to barons?"

"Pick up your faggot, boy, and come along!" said Gregor. "It will be dark before we get to the village, and the potatoes are cooked by this time."

The mention of the potatoes revived all Sasha's forgotten hunger, and he obeyed in silence. After walking for a mile as rapidly as their loads would permit them, they issued from the forest, and saw the wooden houses of the village on a green knoll, in the last gleams of sunset. The church, with its three little copper-covered domes, stood on the highest point. Next to it the priest's house and garden, and then began the broad street, lined with square log-cabins and adjoining stables, sloping down to a large pond, at the foot of which was a mill. Beyond the water there was a great stretch of grazing meadow, then long rolling fields of rye and barley, extending to the woods which bounded the view in every direction. The village was situated within a few miles of the great main highway running from Warsaw to Moscow, and the waters of the lake fed the stream which flowed into one of the branches of the river Dnieper.

The whole region, including the village and nearly all the people in it, belonged to the estate of Baron Popoff, the roofs of whose residence were just visible to the southward, on a hill overlooking the road to Moscow. The former castle had been entirely destroyed during the retreat of Bonaparte's army, and the baron's grandfather suffered so many losses at the time, that he was only able to build a large and very plain modern house; but the people continued to call it the "Castle" or "Palace," just as before.

Although the baron sold every year great quantities of timber, grain, hemp and wool from his estates, he always seemed to be in want of money. The servants who went with him every year to St. Petersburg were very discreet, and said little about their master's habits of life; but the people understood, somehow, that he often lost large sums by gambling. This gave them a good deal of uneasiness, for if he should be obliged to part with the estate, they would all be transferred with it to a new owner--and this might be one who had other estates in a different part of the country, to which he could send them if he was so minded.

At the time of which we are writing twenty-two millions of the Russian people were serfs. Their labour, even their property, belonged to the owner of the land upon which they lived. The latter had not the power to sell them to another, as was formerly the case in the Southern States of America, but he could remove them from one estate to another if he had several. Baron Popoff was a haughty and indifferent master, but not a cruel one; the people of the village had belonged to his family for several generations, and were accustomed to their condition. At least, they saw no way of changing it, except by a change of masters, which was more likely to be a misfortune than a benefit.

It was nearly dark when old Gregor and his grandson threw down their loads and entered the house. The supper was already waiting, for Sasha's sister, little Minka, had been up to the church door to see whether they were coming. In one corner of the room a tiny lamp was burning before a picture of the Virgin Mary and Child Jesus, all covered with gilded brass except the hands and faces, which were nearly black, partly from the smoke, and partly because the common Russian people imagine that the Hebrews were a very dark-skinned race. Sasha's father, Ivan, had also lighted a long pine-splint, and the room looked very cheerful. The boiled potatoes were smoking in a great wooden bowl, beside which stood a dish of salt, another of melted fat, and a loaf of black bread. They had neither plates, knives nor forks, only some coarse wooden spoons, and all ate out of the bowl, after the salt had been sprinkled and the fat poured over the potatoes. For drink there was an earthen pitcher of quass, a kind of thin and rather sour beer.

Old Gregor sat on one side of the table, and his son Ivan with Anna, his wife, opposite. There were five children, the eldest being Alexander (whom we know by his nickname "Sasha," which is the Russian for "Aleck" or "Sandy"), then Minka, Peter, Waska, and Sergius. Sasha was about thirteen years old, rather small for his age, and hardly to be called a handsome boy. Only there was something very pleasant in his large gray eyes, and his long, thick flaxen hair shone almost like silver when the sun fell upon it. However, he never thought about his looks. When he went to the village bath-house, on a Saturday evening, to take his steam-bath with the rest, the men would sometimes say, after examining his joints and muscles, "You are going to be strong, Sasha!"--and that was as much as he cared to know about himself.

The boy was burning with desire to tell the adventure with the bear, but he did not like to speak before his grandfather, and there was something in the latter's eye which made him feel that he was watching him. Gregor first lighted his pipe, and then, in the coolest manner possible--as if it were something that happened every day--related the story.

"Pity I hadn't your gun with me, Ivan," he said at the close; "what with the meat, the fat, and the skin, we should have had thirty roubles."

The children were quite noisy with excitement. Little Peter said, "What for did you let him go, Sasha? I'd have killed him, and carried him home!" Then all laughed so heartily that Peter began to cry, and was soon packed into a box in the corner, where he was soon as fast asleep as ever was the proverbial door-nail.

"Take the gun with you to-morrow, father." said Ivan.

"It's too much with my load of wood," answered the old man. "The old hunting-knife is all I want. Sasha will stand by me with a club: I don't think he'll be afraid next time."

Sasha was about to exclaim, "I was not afraid the first time!" but before he spoke it flashed across his mind that he did tremble a little; but he consoled himself a little that it was not from fear.

By this time it was dark outside. Two pine-splints had burned out, one after the other, and only the little lamp before the shrine enabled those present to see each other. The old people went to bed in their narrow rooms, which were hardly better than closets; and Sasha, spreading a coarse sack of straw on the floor, lay down, covering himself with his sheepskin coat, and in five minutes was so sound asleep that he might have been dragged about by the heels without being awakened.

Next day in the forest old Gregor worked more rapidly than usual. He spoke very little, in spite of Sasha's eagerness to talk, and kept the boy so busy that all the wood was gathered up and made into bundles two or three hours before the usual time.

They were in a partially cleared spot, near the top of some rising ground. The old man looked at the sky, nodded his head, and said with a satisfied air, "We have plenty of time left for ourselves, Sasha; come with me, and I'll show you something."

Gregor then set out in a direction opposite from home, and the boy, who expected nothing less than the finding of another bear, seized a tough straight club, and followed him. They went for nearly a mile over rolling ground through the forest, and then descended into a narrow glen, at the foot of which ran a rapid stream. Very soon rocks began to appear on both sides, and the glen became a chasm where there was barely room to walk. It was a cold, gloomy, strange place; Sasha had never seen anything like it. He felt a singular creeping of the flesh, but not for the world would he have turned back.

The path ceased, and there was a waterfall in front filling up the whole chasm. Gregor pulled off his boots and stepped into the stream, which reached nearly to his knees; he gave his hand to Sasha, who could hardly have walked alone against the force of the current. They reached the foot of the fall, the spray of which was whirled into their faces. Then Gregor turned suddenly to the left, passed through the thin edge of the falling water, and Sasha, pulled after him, found himself in a low arched vault of rock, into which the light shone down from another opening. They crawled upwards on hands and knees, and came out into a great circular hole, like a kettle, through the middle of which ran the stream. There was no other way of getting into it, for the rocks leaned inward as they rose, making the bottom considerably wider than the top.

On one side, under the middle of the rocky arch, stood a square black stone about five feet high, with a circle of seven smaller stones resembling seats around it. Sasha was dumb with surprise at finding himself in such a wonderful spot.

But old Gregor made the sign of the cross, and muttered something which seemed to be like a prayer. Then he went to the black stone, and put his hand upon it.

"Sasha," he said, "this is one of the places where the old Russian people came many thousand years ago, before ever the name of Christ was heard of. They were dreadful heathens in those days, and this place was what served them for a church. A black stone had to be the altar, because they had a black god, who was never satisfied unless they fed him with human flesh."

"Where is the black god now?" asked Sasha.

"They say he has turned into an evil spirit, and is hiding somewhere in the wilderness; but I cannot say for the truth of it. His name was Perun. Most men do not care to say it, but I have the courage, because I've been a soldier and have an honest conscience. Are you afraid to stand here?" asked Gregor inquiringly.

"Not if you are not, grandfather," answered Sasha, bravely but respectfully.

"If your heart were bad and false, Sasha, you would have reason to be afraid; but as I know it is not, you can come here without fear of danger."

Sasha obeyed. The old man opened the boy's coarse shirt and laid his hand upon his heart; then he made him do the same to himself, so that the heart of each beat directly against the hand of the other.

"Now, boy," said Gregor, after a pause, "I am going to trust you, and if you say a word you do not mean, or think otherwise than you speak, I shall feel it in the motion of your heart. Do you know the difference between a serf and a free-man? Would you rather live like your father, having nothing that he can call his own, or would you live like the Baron Popoff, with wealth, and houses, and lands, and forests, and people, that no one could take from you, except, perhaps, the emperor?"

Sasha's heart gave a great thump before he could open his mouth. The old man smiled, and he said to himself, "I was right." Then he continued: "I should be a free man now, if our colonel had lived. Your father had not wit and courage enough to try, but you can do it, Sasha, if you think of nothing else and work for nothing else. I will help you all I can; but you must begin at once. Will you?"

"Yes, grandfather, yes!" exclaimed Sasha eagerly.

"Promise me that you will say nothing to any living person; that you will obey me and remember all I say to you while I live, and be none the less faithful to the purpose when I am dead!"

Sasha promised everything at once. After a moment's silence Gregor took his hand from the boy's breast, and said:

"Yes, you truly mean it. The people of old used to say that if any one broke a promise made before this stone, the black heathen god would have power over him."

"Perhaps the bear was the black god," suggested Sasha.

"Perhaps he was. Look him in the face, as you did yesterday, remember your promise, and he can't harm you."

As they walked back slowly through the forest Gregor began to talk, and the boy kept close beside him, listening eagerly to every word.

"The first thing, Sasha," said he, "is to get knowledge. You must learn, somehow, to read and write, and count figures. I must tell you all I know, about everything in the world, but that's very little; and it is so mixed up in my head that I don't rightly know where to begin. It's a blessing I have not forgotten much; what I picked up I held on to, and now I see the reason why. There's nothing you can't use, if you wait long enough."

"Tell me about France!" cried Sasha.

"France and Germany too! I was two or three years, off and on, in those foreign parts, and I could talk smartly in the speech of both--_Allez! Sortez! Donnez moi du vin!_"

Gregor stopped and straightened his bent back; his eyes flashed, and he laughed long and heartily.

"_Allez! Sortez! Donnez moi du vin!_" repeated Sasha.

Gregor caught up the boy in his arms and kissed him.

"The very thing, Sasha!" he cried. "I'll teach you both tongues,--and all about the strange habits of the people, their houses, and churches, and which way the battle went, and what queer harness they have on their horses, and a talking bird I once saw, and a man that kept a bottle full of lightning in his room, and--"

So his tongue ran on. It was a great delight to him to recall his memories of more than thirty years, and he was constantly surprised to find how many little things that seemed forgotten came back to his mind. Sasha's breath came quick as he listened; his whole body felt warm and nimble, and it suddenly seemed to him possible to learn anything and everything. Before reaching home he had fixed twenty or thirty French words in his memory. There they were, hard and tight; he knew he should never forget them.

From that day began a new life for both. Old Gregor's method of instruction would simply have confused a pupil less ignorant and eager to be taught; but Sasha was so sure that knowledge would in some way help him to become a free man, that he seized upon everything he heard. In a few months he knew as much German and French as his grandfather, and when they were alone they always spoke, as much as possible, in one or the other language. But the boy's greatest desire was to learn how to read. During the following winter he made himself useful to the priest in various ways, and finally succeeded in getting from him the letters of the alphabet and learning how to put them together. Of course he could not keep secret all that he did; it was enough that no one guessed his object in doing it.