# Tales from Tolstoi/The Candle

THE CANDLE: OR HOW THE GOOD MUZHIK OVERCAME THE EVIL OVERSEER.
"Ye have heard that it is written: eye for eye and tooth for tooth. But I say unto you resist not evil."—Matt. v. 38–39.
This thing happened in the days of the masters. There were masters of all sorts. There were those who were mindful of God and the hour of death, and dealt mercifully with their people, and there were curs who thought not of these things at all. But there were no worse tyrants than those who had been serfs themselves: from dirt they sprang, like Princes they sang! And living with them was the worst life of all.
An overseer of this sort was placed over the domain. There were serfs on the property. There was plenty of land there—good land—plenty of water, and of meadows and woods no lack. There was enough for all, enough for the master, and enough for the peasants, and the master set his house-serf from another estate over the whole.
​The overseer had the upper hand, and he sat on the necks of the muzhiks. He, too, was a family man; he had a wife and two married daughters, and he had earned money, and had wherewith to live upon, to live upon without sin; but he was envious and sunken in sin. He began by worrying the muzhiks on the estate till their life became a burden to them. He set on foot a brick-field, and there he ground down the muzhiks, women and all, and made them make and sell the bricks. The muzhiks went to Moscow and complained to the proprietor, but their complaint came to nought. He sent away the muzhiks unanswered, and did not withdraw his favour from the overseer. The overseer found out that the muzhiks had gone to complain of him, and he paid them out for it. The existence of the muzhiks became worse than ever. Among the muzhiks themselves, too, there were people without good faith, and they began to tell tales of their brethren and play the spy on one another. So there was a great confusion among the whole community, and the overseer raged like a madman.
And so matters went from bad to worse, and the overseer led them such a life that they began to fear him like a wild beast. If he walked about in the village they all hid themselves away as if he were a wolf, and whosoever met him dared not so much as raise their eyes to his face. And the overseer saw this and grew even more evilly disposed towards them because they feared him so. And he visited them yet more with stripes and tasks, and the muzhiks suffered many grievous plagues at his hands.
​The muzhiks at last began to talk among themselves about these evil deeds. They met together, too, in some secluded nook, and the boldest of them said: "How much longer are we going to endure our tyrant? Let us fall upon him all together; 'tis no sin to kill such an one!"
Towards Easter the muzhiks had assembled in a wood; it was a wood belonging to their lord. The overseer had ordered them to clear it; they came together at the mid-day meal and began to talk.
"How is it possible to go on living like this?" they said. "He is destroying us root and branch. He is wearing us to death with work; neither night nor day does he give us or our wives any rest. Simeon died from his violence, Anisim is tortured in prison. What more must we look for? He will come here this evening and begin again to rate and revile us. Come, now, let us tear him from his horse and beat him on the head with our axes, and there's an end to the business. We'll dig a hole somewhere and chuck him into it like a dog, and we shall hear no more about it. Only let us be agreed, let us all stand together, let us keep our own counsel!"
It was Vasily Minaev who spoke thus. He had a bitterer grudge against the overseer than any of the others. For the overseer whipped him every week, and took away his wife to make her his cook.
So the muzhiks talked about it, and in the evening came the overseer. He was on horseback, and immediately began scolding them for the way they were clearing the wood. He hit upon a group of lindens.
"I did not tell you to clip the lindens," said he. ​"Who has been clipping them down here? Speak, or I'll flog the whole lot of you!"
They began inquiring among themselves within whose portion of work the lindens fell. They pointed out Sidor. The overseer struck Sidor till his whole face was covered with blood. He also flicked Vasily with his Tatar whip because his piece of work was bad, and so went home.
In the evening the muzhiks met together again and Vasily began to speak:
"Ugh! a nice lot of people ye are! Ye are not men, but sparrows! 'We'll be ready! we'll be ready!' ye cry; the moment comes, and whew! ye are all safely beneath the thatch! Thus do the sparrows band together against the hawk. 'Don't give in! don't give in! be ready! be ready!' The hawk comes flying, and they are all behind the thistles in a twinkling, and the hawk takes what he will and is off with it. The sparrows all flit off: 'Chee-week! chee-week!' not one of them remains. 'Tis just like you. 'We won't give in! we won't give in!' Why, while he was rounding on Sidor you might have brought him to the ground and finished him: 'We won't give in! we won't give in! we'll stand firm! we'll stand firm!' He comes flying up, and immediately you are off among the bushes!"
Then they fell a-talking more and more, and the muzhiks agreed at last to put the overseer out of the way. On Good Friday the overseer ordered the muzhiks to get the land ploughed up ready for the oat-sowing by Easter Day. This seemed an abominable thing to the muzhiks, and they assembled ​together again on Good Friday in Vasily's outhouse, and again began talking the matter over.
"If he forgets God," they said, "and will do such things, it is but right and just to slay him. Let us fall upon him all at once."
Petr Mikhaev was also with them. A man of peace was the muzhik, Petr Mikhaev, and he entered not into the counsels of the muzhiks. Mikhaev came thither, heard their words, and then said:
"My brethren, ye are planning a great sin. To kill a soul 'tis a great matter. 'Tis an easy thing to destroy another's soul, but how about one's own? He does evil, then evil awaits him: Ye, my brethren, must suffer patiently."
Vasily was very wroth at these words.
"You say 'tis a sin to kill a msxi. Of course it is a sin, but what sort of a man, I ask? It is a sin to kill a good man, but such a dog as this God Himself bids us kill. A mad dog that injures people ought to be killed. It would be a greater sin not to kill him. He is always worrying people! And we are to suffer it! I suppose we ought to say 'thank you' too! What! stand gaping at him while he ill-uses us! Thy words are empty words, Mikhyeich. What! is it not a less crime to kill him than all to go out working on the feast of Christ? You surely won't go yourself!"
And Mikhyeich replied:
"Why should I not go?" said he, "I will go working and ploughing. 'Tis not my doing, but God ​knows whose is the sin: 'tis for us not to forget Him, that's all. I speak not of my own thoughts, brothers. If ye are bidden return evil for evil, remember that God has laid down a law for us which bids us do contrariwise. Thou art about to do evil, but the evil will fall back on thee. It is not wise to slay a man. His blood sticks to thy soul. Kill a man, and thy soul will be stained with blood. Thou thinkest, I am killing a bad man; thou thinkest, I am putting down evil; but look now! thou art drawing upon thyself an evil worse than that Submit to misery, and misery will submit itself to thee."
So the muzhiks came to no determination, but separated, each with his own thoughts. Some thought as Vasily had spoken, others agreed with the words of Petr, that they ought not to do evil, but to suffer.
The muzhiks were preparing to keep the first day of the week, Easter Sunday, but on the eve of the festival the starosta came with the village scribe from the manor house, and said:
"Michal Semenovich, the overseer, has ordered the peasants to set to work to-morrow, and plough up the land for the oat-sowing."
Then the starosta went his rounds with the village scribe, and bade them all go out on the morrow to plough, some by the river and some by the high road. The muzhiks fell a-weeping, but they dared not disobey; in the morning they went out with their teams and began to plough. In the church God was glorified in the early mass, the people everywhere kept ​the festival, but the peasants were ploughing all the time.
Michal Semenovich, the overseer, slept and slept, and it was no longer early when he came downstairs. The people of his household, his wife, and his widowed daughter (she had come for the festival) had tricked themselves out in their best; the day labourer had got the little wagon ready for them, they went to mass, they came back; the day labourer's wife put the samovar on the table, Michal Semenovich joined them, they drank tea together. Michal Semenovich drank his tea, lit his pipe, and sent for the starosta.
"Well," said he, "have you set the muzhiks on a-ploughing?"
"I have set them on, Michal Semenovich."
"What, did they all turn out?"
"They all turned out I set each man his task myself."
"To set a task is one thing, to make them do it is another. Will they plough, that's the question? Go and see, and tell them I am coming after dinner. Every couple of hooked ploughs must plough up an acre, and plough it up well, too. If I find a single plot unploughed, I shall not wear festival features, I can tell you."
"I hear."
And the starosta was about to depart when Michal Semenovich made him turn back. It seemed as if he wanted to say something and did not know how. He fumbled about and he fumbled about, and at last he spoke.
​"Look here now, just you listen to me! Don't you know that those rascals are always talking about me? If anyone murmurs, and if anything is said, you must tell me all about it. I know the scoundrels; they love not work, they would lie on their sides and loll about doing nothing. Guzzle and keep festival—that's what they like, and they think nothing of shirking and scamping their work. So look you now! you just listen to all they say and bring me word about it again. I must know it. Go and look now! tell me everything and leave out nothing."
The starosta returned, mounted his nag, and went out into the field to the muzhiks.
The wife of the overseer had heard what her husband said to the starosta; she went to her husband and began to pray him be merciful. The overseer's wife was a meek woman, and her heart within her was good. When she could, she softened her husband, and stood between him and the muzhiks.
She went to her husband and began to implore him.
"Mishen'ka, my friend, for the sake of this great day, the feast of the Lord, sin not! For Christ's sake let the muzhiks go!"
Michal Semenovich paid no heed to his wife's words, he did but laugh at her.
"'Tis a long time," said he, "since the little whip played about thee, and made thee laugh on the wrong side of thy mouth—wilt thou mind thine own business?"
​"Mishen'ka, my friend, I saw an evil dream concerning thee; listen to me, let the muzhiks go!"
"I tell thee what," said he, "'tis as I have said, thou hast eaten so much of my fat things, I see, that thou hast no more thought of the flavour of the whip that stings! Look to thyself!"
And in his wrath Semenovich struck his wife in the teeth with his burning pipe-bowl, and drove her out and bade her get dinner ready.
Michal Semenovich ate like a brute; he ate pasties, cabbage soup with swine's flesh, and curd dumplings; he drank cherry brandy, then he ate sweet tarts, and then he sent for the cook and made her sit down and sing songs while he took out his guitar and played to her singing.
There sat Michal Semenovich in a merry mood; ran over the strings of the guitar and made merry with the cook. Then came the starosta, bowed to the ground, and began to report what he had seen in the field.
"Well, are they ploughing? Have they ploughed their allotted task?"
"They have already ploughed more than half of it."
"And there are no plots unploughed?"
"I saw none; they ploughed well; they are afraid."
"And is the quality of the land good?"
"The quality of the land is soft, it crumbles up like poppy seed."
And the starosta was silent.
"Well, and what say they about me; did they revile?"
​The starosta faltered, but Michal Semenovich bade him say exactly how matters stood.
"Say everything, 'tis not thy, but their words thou wilt speak. Speak the truth and I'll reward thee, but and thou hide aught or speak not openly I'll flog thee to the bone. Hie! Katyushka! give him a glass of vodka to strengthen his heart!!"
The cook came and gave the starosta a drink. The starosta toasted the overseer, drained the glass, dried his lips, and began to speak. "'Tis all one," he thought; "it is not my fault that they don't praise him. I'll speak the truth if he commands it" And the starosta took heart and began to speak.
"They murmur, Michal Semenovich, they murmur!"
"And what do they say? Speak!"
"They all say: 'He does not believe in God.'"
The overseer smiled.
"They say that, eh? Who says it?"
"Why, they all say it. They say: 'He is under the thumb of the Unclean One,' they do, indeed."
The overseer laughed.
"They say that, eh? Good. Now tell me exactly which it was that said it. Did Vassy say it?"
The starosta did not wish to tell of his people, but he had long been on ill terms with Vasily.
"Yes, Vasily does say it, he goes on worse than any of them."
"Well, what did he say? Come, tell me!"
"He says dreadful things. ''Tis not to be put up with,' he says: 'violent death to him!'"
​"Oh, ho! young man! he says that, eh? So he spits out threats, eh? He won't kill, though, his arms are not long enough for that! Very well, Vassy, we'll reckon up with thee presently! Well, and that Tishka, what of him? He's a dog, too, I know!"
"Yes, they all speak evil. . . . ."
Michal Semenovich was delighted, he even laughed.
"We'll see to this. Who came out with it first? Who was it? Tishka?"
"Well, not one of them has a good word to say, they all murmur, they all curse."
"Well, and Petrushka Mikhaev? What does he say? He's a sneak; I know he cursed, too; now didn't he?"
"No, Michal Semenovich, Petr did not curse."
"Well, what did he do?"
"He was the only one of the muzhiks who said nothing. And he is a strange man. I don't know what to make of Petr Mikhaev."
"How so?"
"I mean the way he goes about things. All the muzhiks are puzzled about him."
"What way, then, does he go about things?"
"Well, I don't know how; but he is a strange man. I went up to him. He was ploughing the top acre on the tongue of land near Tarkin. I was going up to him, I say, I heard him singing something or other in a small, soft voice, and in the middle of the plough-shaft something was burning."
"Well?"
​"It shone just like a tiny fire. I went nearer. I see what it is: a five-kopeck wax candle fixed on to the cross-piece is burning, and the wind does not put it out. And he is walking along in a new shirt, and ploughing, and singing Easter hymns. He turns round and rattles off the other way, and the light does not go out. He rattles by me, turns the ploughshare round, and still the light does not go out, but keeps on burning."
"Did he say anything?"
"No, he said nothing, only when he saw me he gave me the Easter kiss, and then went on singing."
"And did you say aught to him?"
"I said nothing, but now the muzhiks came up and began laughing at him. 'Go along with thee, Mikhyeich,' they said, 'thou wilt never pray away the sin of ploughing on Easter Day.'"
"And what did he say?"
"He only said, 'Peace on earth, good-will among men.' Then he fell to ploughing again, whipped up the horses, and sang with a soft voice, and the light burns all the time, and does not go out."
The overseer ceased to laugh; he put aside the guitar, bent down his head, and fell a-thinking.
He sat and sat, he drove away the cook and the starosta, went behind the curtains, lay down on his bed, and began to sigh—began to groan like a cart groaning beneath a load of sheaves. His wife came and began to speak to him; he gave her no answer. All he said was: "He has overcome me, it is my turn now."
His wife began to reason with him. "Go now," ​said she, "and let them go. Perhaps it is nothing. Whatsoever things thou didst heretofore, thou didst them and feared not, and now thou art sorely afraid."
"I have fallen," he said, "he has overcome me. Go away, there is naught amiss with thee; this does not prick thy soul."
So he would not get up.
In the morning he arose and went about his business as before, but it was plain that his heart was pricked. He fell a-fretting, and nothing prospered to his hands. He always sat at home now. He did not reign very long after this. His master came. He sent for his overseer—the overseer was ill, they said; he sent again—ill. Then the master found out that he drank, and dismissed him from his overseership. Michal Semenovich stood there now without a means of livelihood. And now he grieved still more, pawned all he had, and drank it away; then he sank so low that he stole the clothes from his wife's back, and carried them to the pot-house. The very muzhiks had pity on him, and gave him to drink. After that he did not live a year. He died of drink.
* ↑ Translated from the popular Moscow edition of 1886.
* ↑ i.e. Before the emancipation of the serfs.
* ↑ Russian equivalent of "Put a beggar on horseback," &c.
* ↑ Familiar diminutive.
* ↑ The eldest of the peasants, who supervised the rest.
* ↑ Dear little Mike.
* ↑ Katie.
* ↑ A very usual term in Russian for Satan.
* ↑ A somewbat crude passage is here omitted.
* ↑ Peterkin.