Part Two: Chapter 13

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Levin put on his big boots, and, for the first time, a clothjacket, instead of his fur cloak, and went out to look after hisfarm, stepping over streams of water that flashed in the sunshineand dazzled his eyes, and treading one minute on ice and the nextinto sticky mud.

　　Spring is the time of plans and projects. And, as he came outinto the farmyard, Levin, like a tree in spring that knows notwhat form will be taken by the young shoots and twigs imprisonedin its swelling buds, hardly knew what undertakings he was goingto begin upon now in the farm work that was so dear to him. Buthe felt that he was full of the most splendid plans and projects.First of all he went to the cattle. The cows had been let outinto their paddock, and their smooth sides were already shiningwith their new, sleek, spring coats; they basked in the sunshineand lowed to go to the meadow. Levin gazed admiringly at thecows he knew so intimately to the minutest detail of theircondition, and gave orders for them to be driven out into themeadow, and the calves to be let into the paddock. The herdsmanran gaily to get ready for the meadow. The cowherd girls,picking up their petticoats, ran splashing through the mud withbare legs, still white, not yet brown from the sun, waving brushwood in their hands, chasing the calves that frolicked in themirth of spring.

　　After admiring the young ones of that year, who were particularlyfine--the early calves were the size of a peasant's cow, andPava's daughter, at three months old, was a big as a yearling--Levin gave orders for a trough to be brought out and for them tobe fed in the paddock. But it appeared that as the paddock hadnot been used during the winter, the hurdles made in the autumnfor it were broken. He sent for the carpenter, who, according tohis orders, ought to have been at work at the thrashing machine.But it appeared that the carpenter was repairing the harrows,which ought to have been repaired before Lent. This was veryannoying to Levin. It was annoying to come upon that everlastingslovenliness in the farm work against which he had been strivingwith all his might for so many years. The hurdles, as heascertained, being not wanted in winter, had been carried tothe cart-horses' stable; and there broken, as they were of lightconstruction, only meant for folding calves. Moreover, it wasapparent also that the harrows and all the agriculturalimplements, which he had directed to be looked over and repairedin the winter, for which very purpose he had hired threecarpenters, had not been put into repair, and the harrows werebeing repaired when they ought to have been harrowing the field.Levin sent for his bailiff, but immediately went off himself tolook for him. The bailiff, beaming all over, like everyone thatday, in a sheepskin bordered with astrachan, came out of thebarn, twisting a bit of straw in his hands.

　　"Why isn't the carpenter at the thrashing machine?"

　　"Oh, I meant to tell you yesterday, the harrows want repairing.Here it's time they got to work in the fields."

　　"But what were they doing in the winter, then?"

　　"But what did you want the carpenter for?"

　　"Where are the hurdles for the calves' paddock?"

　　"I ordered them to be got ready. What would you have with thosepeasants!" said the bailiff, with a wave of his hand.

　　"It's not those peasants but this bailiff!" said Levin, gettingangry. "Why, what do I keep you for?" he cried. But, bethinkinghimself that this would not help matters, he stopped short in themiddle of a sentence, and merely sighed. "Well, what do you say?Can sowing begin?" he asked, after a pause.

　　"Behind Turkin tomorrow or the next day they might begin."

　　"And the clover?"

　　"I've sent Vassily and Mishka; they're sowing. Only I don't knowif they'll manage to get through; it's so slushy."

　　"How many acres?"

　　"About fifteen."

　　"Why not sow all?" cried Levin.

　　That they were only sowing the clover on fifteen acres, not onall the forty-five, was still more annoying to him. Clover, ashe knew, both from books and from his own experience, never didwell except when it was sown as early as possible, almost in thesnow. And yet Levin could never get this done.

　　"There's no one to send. What would you have with such a set ofpeasants? Three haven't turned up. And there's Semyon..."

　　"Well, you should have taken some men from the thatching."

　　"And so I have, as it is."

　　"Where are the peasants, then?"

　　"Five are making compote (which meant compost), "four areshifting the oats for fear of a touch of mildew, KonstantinDmitrievitch."

　　Levin knew very well that "a touch of mildew" meant that hisEnglish seed oats were already ruined. Again they had not doneas he had ordered.

　　"Why, but I told you during Lent to put in pipes," he cried.

　　"Don't put yourself out; we shall get it all done in time."

　　Levin waved his hand angrily, went into the granary to glance atthe oats, and then to the stable. The oats were not yet spoiled.But the peasants were carrying the oats in spaces when they mightsimply let the slide down into the lower granary; and arrangingfor this to be done, and taking two workmen from there for sowingclover, Levin got over his vexation with the bailiff. Indeed, itwas such a lovely day that one could not be angry.

　　"Ignat!" he called to the coachman, who, with his sleeves tuckedup, was washing the carriage wheels, "saddle me..."

　　"Which, sir?"

　　"Well, let it be Kolpik."

　　"Yes, sir."

　　While they were saddling his horse, Levin again called up thebailiff, who was handing about in sight, to make it up with him,and began talking to him about the spring operations before them,and his plans for the farm.

　　The wagons were to begin carting manure earlier, so as to get alldone before the early mowing. And the ploughing of the furtherland to go on without a break so as to let it ripen lying fallow.And the mowing to be all done by hired labor, not onhalf-profits. The bailiff listened attentively, and obviouslymade an effort to approve of his employer's projects. But stillhe had that look Levin knew so well that always irritated him, alook of hopelessness and despondency. That look said: "That'sall very well, but as God wills."

　　Nothing mortified Levin so much as that tone. But it was thetone common to all the bailiffs he had ever had. They had alltaken up that attitude to his plans, and so now he was notangered by it, but mortified, and felt all the more roused tostruggle against this, as it seemed, elemental force continuallyranged against him, for which he could find no other expressionthan "as God wills."

　　"If we can manage it, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," said the bailiff.

　　"Why ever shouldn't you manage it?"

　　"We positively must have another fifteen laborers. And theydon't turn up. There were some here today asking seventy roublesfor the summer."

　　Levin was silent. Again he was brought face to face with thatopposing force. He knew that however much they tried, they couldnot hire more than forty--thirty-seven perhaps or thirty-eight--laborers for a reasonable sum. Some forty had been taken on, andthere were no more. But still he could not help strugglingagainst it.

　　"Send to Sury, to Tchefirovka; if they don't come we must lookfor them."

　　"Oh, I'll send, to be sure," said Vassily Fedorovitchdespondently. "But there are the horses, too, they're not goodfor much."

　　"We'll get some more. I know, of course," Levin added laughing,"you always want to do with as little and as poor quality aspossible; but this year I'm not going to let you have things yourown way. I'll see to everything myself."

　　"Why, I don't think you take much rest as it is. It cheers us upto work under the master's eye..."

　　"So they're sowing clover behind the Birch Dale? I'll go andhave a look at them," he said, getting on to the little bay cob,Kolpik, who was let up by the coachman.

　　"You can't get across the streams, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," thecoachman shouted.

　　"All right, I'll go by the forest."

　　And Levin rode through the slush of the farmyard to the gate andout into the open country, his good little horse, after his longinactivity, stepping out gallantly, snorting over the pools, andasking, as it were, for guidance. If Levin had felt happy beforein the cattle pens and farmyard, he felt happier yet in the opencountry. Swaying rhythmically with the ambling paces of his goodlittle cob, drinking in the warm yet fresh scent of the snow andthe air, as he rode through his forest over the crumbling, wastedsnow, still left in parts, and covered with dissolving tracks, herejoiced over every tree, with the moss reviving on its bark andthe buds swelling on its shoots. When he came out of the forest,in the immense plain before him, his grass fields stretched in anunbroken carpet of green, without one bare place or swamp, onlyspotted here and there in the hollows with patches of meltingsnow. He was not put out of temper even by the sight of thepeasants' horses and colts trampling down his young grass (hetold a peasant he met to drive them out), nor by the sarcasticand stupid reply of the peasant Ipat, whom he met on the way, andasked, "Well, Ipat, shall we soon be sowing?" "We must get theploughing done first, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," answered Ipat.The further he rode, the happier he became, and plans for theland rose to his mind each better than the last; to plant all hisfields with hedges along the southern borders, so that the snowshould not lie under them; to divide them up into six fields ofarable and three of pasture and hay; to build a cattle yard atthe further end of the estate, and to dig a pond and to constructmovable pens for the cattle as a means of manuring the land. Andthen eight hundred acres of wheat, three hundred of potatoes, andfour hundred of clover, and not one acre exhausted.

　　Absorbed in such dreams, carefully keeping his horse by thehedges, so as not to trample his young crops, he rode up to thelaborers who had been sent to sow clover. A cart with the seedin it was standing, not at the edge, but in the middle of thecrop, and the winter corn had been torn up by the wheels andtrampled by the horse. Both the laborers were sitting in thehedge, probably smoking a pipe together. The earth in the cart,with which the seed was mixed, was not crushed to powder, butcrusted together or adhering in clods. Seeing the master, thelaborer, Vassily, went towards the cart, while Mishka set to worksowing. This was not as it should be, but with the laborersLevin seldom lost his temper. When Vassily came up, Levin toldhim to lead the horse to the hedge.

　　"It's all right, sir, it'll spring up again," responded Vassily.

　　"Please don't argue," said Levin, "but do as you're told."

　　"Yes, sir," answered Vassily, and he took the horse's head."What a sowing, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," he said, hesitating;"first rate. Only it's a work to get about! You drag a ton ofearth on your shoes."

　　"Why is it you have earth that's not sifted?" said Levin.

　　"Well, we crumble it up," answered Vassily, taking up some seedand rolling the earth in his palms.

　　Vassily was not to blame for their having filled up his cart withunsifted earth, but still it was annoying.

　　Levin had more than once already tried a way he knew for stiflinghis anger, and turning all that seemed dark right again, and hetried that way now. He watched how Mishka strode along, swingingthe huge clods of earth that clung to each foot; and getting offhis horse, he took the sieve from Vassily and started sowinghimself.

　　"Where did you stop?"

　　Vassily pointed to the mark with his foot, and Levin went forwardas best he could, scattering the seed on the land. Walking was adifficult as on a bog, and by the time Levin had ended the row hewas in a great heat, and he stopped and gave up the sieve toVassily.

　　"Well, master, when summer's here, mind you don't scold me forthese rows," said Vassily.

　　"Eh?" said Levin cheerily, already feeling the effect of hismethod.

　　"Why, you'll see in the summer time. It'll look different. Lookyou where I sowed last spring. How I did work at it! I do mybest, Konstantin Dmitrievitch, d'ye see, as I would for my ownfather. I don't like bad work myself, nor would I let anotherman do it. What's good for the master's good for us too. Tolook out yonder now," said Vassily, pointing, "it does one'sheart good."

　　"It's a lovely spring, Vassily."

　　"Why, it's a spring such as the old men don't remember the likeof. I was up home; an old man up there has sown wheat too, aboutan acre of it. He was saying you wouldn't know it from rye."

　　"Have yo been sowing wheat long?"

　　"Why, sir, it was you taught us the year before last. You gaveme two measures. We sold about eight bushels and sowed a rood."

　　"Well, mind you crumble up the clods," said Levin, going towardshis horse, "and keep an eye on Mishka. And if there's a goodcrop you shall have half a rouble for every acre."

　　"Humbly thankful. We are very well content, sir, as it is."

　　Levin got on his horse and rode towards the field where was lastyear's clover, and the one which was ploughed ready for thespring corn.

　　The crop of clover coming up in the stubble was magnificent. Ithad survived everything, and stood up vividly green through thebroken stalks of last year's wheat. The horse sank in up tothe pasterns, and he drew each hoof with a sucking sound out ofthe half-thawed ground. Over the ploughland riding was utterlyimpossible; the horse could only keep a foothold where there wasice, and in the thawing furrows he sank deep in at each step.The ploughland was in splendid condition; in a couple of days itwould be fit for harrowing and sowing. Everything was capital,everything was cheering. Levin rode back across the streams,hoping the water would have gone down. And he did in fact getacross, and startled two ducks. "There must be snipe too," hethought, and just as he reached the turning homewards he met theforest keeper, who confirmed his theory about the snipe.

　　Levin went home at a trot, so as to have time to eat his dinnerand get his gun ready for the evening.