When my grandfather had settled down at New Bagrovo, he set to work, with all his natural activity and energy, to grow corn and breed stock. The peasants caught the contagion of his enthusiasm and worked so hard and steadily that they were soon as well set up and provided for as if they had been old inhabitants. After a few years, their stackyards took up thrice as much room as the village-street; and their drove of stout horses, their herds and flocks and pigs, would have done honour to a large and prosperous settlement.
After the success of Stepan Mihailovitch, migration to Ufa or Orenburg became more fashionable every year. Native tribes came streaming from every quarter--Mordvinians, Choovashes, Tatars, and Meshchers, and plenty of Russian settlers too--Crown-tenants from different districts, and landowners, large and small. My grandfather began to have neighbours. His brother-in-law, Ivan Nyeklyoodoff, bought land within twelve versts of Bagrovo, transferred his serfs there, built a wooden church, named his estate Nyeklyoodovo, and came to live there with his family. This afforded no gratification to my grandfather, who had a strong dislike to
all his wife's relations--all "Nyeklyoodovdom," as he used to call them. Then a landowner called Bakmetyeff bought land still closer,
about ten versts from Bagrovo, on the upper waters of the Sovrusha, which runs to the south-west like the Boogoorooslan. On the other side, twelve versts along the river Nasyagai, another settlement was planted, Polibino, which now belongs to the Karamzin fam-ily. The Nasyagai is a larger and finer river than the Boogoorooslan, with more water and more fish in it, and birds still breed there much more freely. On the road to Polibino, and eight versts from Bagrovo, a number of Mordvinians settled in a large village called Noikino, and built a mill on the streamlet of Bokla. Close to the mill, the Bokla runs into the Nasyagai, which rolls its swift strong current straight to the south-west, and is reinforced by the Boogoorooslan not far from the town of that name. Then the Nasyagai unites with the Great Kinel, and loses thenceforth its sounding and significant13 name.
The latest arrivals were some Mordvinian colonists, a detachment from the larger settlement at Mordovsky Boogoorooslan, nine versts from Bagrovo. This smaller settlement, called Kivatsky, was within two versts of my grandfather, down the river; and he made a wry face at first; for it reminded him of old times in Simbirsk. But the result was quite different. They were good-tempered, quiet people, who respected my grandfather as much as the official in charge of them.
Before many years had passed, Stepan Mihailovitch had gained the deep respect and love too of the whole district. He was a real benefactor to his neighbours, near or far, old or new, and especially to the latter, owing to their ignorance of the place and lack of supplies, and the various difficulties which always befall settlers. Too often people start off on this difficult job without due preparation, without even providing themselves with bread and corn or the means to buy them. My grandfather's full granaries were always open to such people. "Take what you want, and pay me back next harvest, if you can; and if you can't--well, never mind!"--with such words as these he used to distribute with a generous hand corn seed and flour. And more than this: he was so sensible, so considerate towards petitioners, and so inflexibly strict in the keeping of his word, that he soon became quite an oracle in that newly settled corner of the spacious district of Orenburg. Not only did he help his neighbours by his generosity, but he taught them how to behave. To speak the truth was the only key to his favour: a man who had once lied to him and deceived him was ill advised if
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he came again to Bagrovo: he would be certain to depart with empty hands, and might think himself lucky if he came off with a whole skin. My grandfather settled many family disputes and smothered many lawsuits at their first birth. People travelled from every quarter to seek his advice and hear his decision; and both were punctiliously followed. I have known grandsons and great-grandsons of that generation and heard them speak of Stepan Mihailovitch; and the figure of the strict master but kind benefactor is still unforgotten. I have often heard striking facts told about him by simple people, who shed tears and crossed themselves as they ejaculated
a prayer for his soul's rest. It is not surprising that his peasants loved so excellent a master; but he was loved also by his personal servants who had often to endure the terrible storms of his furious rage. Many of his younger servants spent their last days under my roof; and in their old age they liked to talk of their late master--of his strict discipline and passionate temper, and also of his goodness and justice; and they never spoke of him with dry eyes.
Yet this kind, helpful, and even considerate man was subject at times to fearful explosions of anger which utterly defaced the image of humanity in him and made him capable, for the time, of repulsive and ferocious actions. I once saw him in this state when I
was a child--it was many years after the time I am writing about--and the fear that I felt has left a lively impression on my mind to this day. I seem to see him before me now. He was angry with one of his daughters; I believe she had told him a lie and persisted
in it. It was impossible to recognise his former self. He was trembling all over and supported on each side by a servant; his face was convulsed, and a fierce fire shot from his eyes which were clouded and darkened with fury. "Let me get at her!"--he called out in a strangled voice. (So far, my recollection is clear; and the rest I have often heard others tell.) My grandmother tried to throw herself at his feet, to intercede for the culprit; but in an instant her kerchief and cap flew to a distance, and Stepan Mihailovitch was dragging his wife though she was now old and stout, over the floor by her hair. Meantime, not only the offender, but all her sisters, and even their brother with his young wife and little son,14 had fled out of doors and sought concealment in the wood that grew round the house. The rest of them spent the whole night there; but the daughter-in-law, fearing that her child would catch cold, went back and passed the night in a servant's cottage. For a long time my grandfather raged at large through the deserted house. At last, when he
was weary of dragging his wife about by the hair, and weary of striking his servants, Mazan and Tanaichonok, he dropped upon his bed utterly exhausted and soon fell into a deep sleep which lasted till the following morning.
At dawn Stepan Mihailovitch woke up. His face was bright and clear, and his voice cheerful as he hailed his wife. She hurried in at once from the next room, looking as if nothing had happened the day before. "I want my tea! Where are the children, and Alexyei and his wife? I want to see Seryozha"--thus spoke the madman on his waking, and all the family appeared, composed and cheerful, in his presence. But there was one exception. His daughter-in-law was a woman of strong character herself, and no entreaties could induce her to smile so soon upon the wild beast of the day before; and her little son kept constantly saying, "I won't go to grandfather! I'm frightened!" She really did not feel well and excused herself on that ground; and she kept her child in her room. The family were horrified and expected a renewal of the storm. But the wild beast of yesterday had wakened up as a human being. He talked playfully over his tea and then went himself to visit the invalid. She was really unwell and was lying in bed, looking thin and altered. The old man sat down beside her, kissed her, said kind things to her, and caressed his grandson; then he left the room, saying that
he would find the day long "without his dear daughter-in-law." Half an hour later she entered his room, wearing a pretty dress which
he used to say especially became her, and holding her son by the hand. My grandfather welcomed her almost in tears: "Just see!" he said fondly; "though she was not well, she got up and dressed, regardless of herself, and came to cheer up an old man." His wife and daughters bit their lips and looked down; for they all disliked his favourite; but she answered his affectionate greeting with cheerful respect, and looked proudly and triumphantly at her ill-wishers.
But I will say no