A Spark Neglected Burns the house – I

This is a story by great Russian writer and thinker, Leo Tolstoy (1828-

1910). He gave up a life of wealth and pleasure in order to help poor. He

believed in love and non-violence, and taught that all forms of violence were

bad. Gandhiji was very much interested in his teachings and writings, and for

some time the two wrote letters to each other.

I

Once there lived a peasant named Ivan in a village in Russia. He had three

sons; the eldest of them was married. Ivan was quite well off because he and his

sons were hard workers. His wife and his daughter-in-law managed the home

well, besides helping in the field. They had only one idle mouth to feed; that was

Ivan’s old father who suffered from asthma and had been lying ill in his bed for

seven years. They had all they needed, and the family might have lived quite

comfortably if there had not been a quarrel between them and their next-door

neighbour, Limping Gabriel.

As long as Gabriel’s old father was

alive and Ivan’s father was still able to manage his home, the two families lived as

neighbours should. They trusted and helped each other gladly and never quarrelled over

little things. If one family needed a bucket or a plough, the other would gladly lend it;

and if a cow happened to wonder in to the neighbours yard , they just drove it out, and

never thought of quarrelling about the

matter. But when the sons became heads of the families, every thing changed.

II

A small matter started all the trouble. Ivan’s daughter-in-law had a hen that

used to lay its eggs in the cart-shed. One day, probably frightened by the children,

it flew over the fence into the neighbour’s yard and laid its egg there. Ivan’s

daughter-in-law looked for the egg in the cart-shed as usual. Taras, her youngest

brother-in-law, said, “Your hen flew over the fence and laid its egg in the

neighbour’s yard. Then it flew back across the fence again.” So Ivan’s daughter-

in-law went to Gabriel’s house.

“What do you want, young woman?” Gabriel’s mother asked her.

“One of my hens flew across the fence this morning. Did it not lay an egg

here?”

The old woman’s reply was not very polite. “We didn’t see anything of it,”

she said. “We collect our own eggs and have no need for other people’s. And we

don’t go looking for eggs in other people’s yards!”

The young woman was offended and said more than she should have done.

Gabriel’s mother answered back, and soon the woman were shouting and abusing

each other. Ivan’s wife happened to pass by, carrying a bucket of water, and she

joined in. Gabriel’s wife rushed out and they all began abusing and accusing

each other. “You are a dirty woman.” “You are starving your father-in-law.”

“Just give us back our bucket.” And so on. Then they caught hold of the bucket

and began pulling at it and pushing each other. Gabriel, coming home from the

fields, stopped there to take his wife’s part. Ivan rushed out and joined in. Ivan

was a strong fellow; he scattered the whole lot of them and pulled a handful of

hair out of Gabriel’s beard. Then their neighbours came and separated the fighters

with difficulty.

III

Gabriel wrapped the hair torn from his beard in a piece of paper and went

to court. His wife went about saying that Ivan would be condemned and sent to

Siberia as a punishment.

“I never pulled out his beard,” said Ivan; “he pulled it out himself. But his

son has torn my shirt and pulled the buttons off.” So Ivan went to law too, and the

quarrel grew. The longer they quarrelled, the harder life became for them. At

first they abused one another, and then they began to snatch anything they saw

lying about. The children followed the example of the older folk. Almost every

day there was a quarrel or a fight.

Ivan’s old father, lying in his sickbed, tried to persuade his family to make

peace.

“What are you doing?” he said. “What is the value of an egg? Why, God

sends enough for all! Suppose your neighbour did offend you by saying an impolite

or unkind word – put it right; show her how to say a better one. Stop trying to pay

back, and be reconciled with your neighbour. The more you hate, the worse it

will be for you.”

But the younger folk would not listen to him. Ivan and Gabriel kept going to

law until all the judges got disgusted with both of them. Now Gabriel got Ivan

imprisoned or fined, and then Ivan in his turn managed to get the same thing done

to Gabriel. The longer this went on, the angrier they grew.

IV

In the seventh year, at a marriage, Ivan’s daughter-in-law accused Gabriel,

in front of everyone there, of horse-stealing. Gabriel had been drinking; he gave

the woman such a blow that she laid up for a week. She was expecting a baby at

the time.

Ivan was delighted. “Now that he has beaten a pregnant woman, I will get

rid of him!” he said to himself. But the magistrate dismissed the complaint because

the woman showed no signs of injury. Then Ivan took the case to a higher court.

He bribed the clerk and the elders of the court, and got Gabriel condemned to be

beaten publicly. Gabriel turned pale when he heard the sentence. And he turned

his face to the wall. As he went out Ivan overheard him say, “He will have my

back beaten. That will make it burn; but something of his may burn worse than

that!” Ivan complained to the judges at once. But Gabriel denied having said

anything about burning.

The old judge tried to reconcile them. “Don’t go on with this quarrel,” he

said. “Was it right on your part, Gabriel, to hit a woman who was expecting a

baby? You ought not to have done that. Think what might have happened. Why

not confess, and ask him to forgive you? If you are reconciled, we will change

the sentence.” But the judge could not persuade them to make peace.

“I shall be fifty next year,” said Gabriel. “I have never been beaten in my

life. Now that I am going to be beaten because of Ivan, am I to go and ask for his

forgiveness? Never! He shall have cause to remember me!” He went out trembling

with anger .

A Spark Neglected Burns the house – II

It was getting dark when Ivan reached home. Only his old father was there.

Ivan sat down, thinking. He remembered the look on Gabriel’s face when the

sentence was read out; he had turned pale and turned his face to the wall. Ivan

began to pity Gabriel. Then he heard his old father cough, and saw him getting up

and sitting in his bed holding on to the wall. The old man coughed again, cleared

his throat with difficulty, and said, “Well, has he been condemned?”

“Yes, to twenty strokes.” replied Ivan

“Ah! It’s a bad business. You are doing wrong, Ivan!”

“He nearly killed my daughter-in-law and is now threatening to burn our

house down. Am I to thank him for all that?”

The old man said, “You think I see nothing because I have been lying in my

bed all these years. Ah! my boy, I do see; it is you that can’t see, because hatred

has made you blind. You say he acted badly. Even if he did, there could be no

quarrel as long as you acted rightly. Who pulled the hair out of his beard? Who

dragged him to the law court? That is not the way his father and I lived. If he

happened to be short of flour one of the women would come and say, ‘We want

some flour, uncle’, ‘Take what you need.’ If he had no one to drive his horses to

pasture, I would say, ‘go, Ivan and mind his horses,’ and he would do the same

for me. But look at the way you live now. What are you teaching the women and

children? Why, the other day your son, Taras, was swearing at your neighbour

Irena and calling her names. His mother listened and laughed! “Is that right? Is

that what Christ taught us? If any one swears at you or curses you, be silent, and

his own conscience will accuse him. If some one offends you or injured you, do

not try to take revenge; forgive him, and his conscience will speak to him. That

is what Christ taught us!” Ivan sat silent and listened.

The old man paused. He coughed again, cleared his throat with difficulty,

and went on: “What have you gained from all this? Are you better off or worse

than before? You have no time to attend to your own affairs. Why did the crops

fail this year? Because the devil persuaded you to go to the law court when you

should have been ploughing the field. So that is your gain from this quarrel! Go

to the court right now and put an end to this affair once and for all. And in the

morning make it up with Gabriel, and get him to come and have tea with us.”

Ivan knew his father was right, but he did not know how to begin.

“You should put it off, Ivan,” said the old man.

“Do go and put an end to the affair now. Put out the fire before it spreads.

The sooner, the better.”

Just then the women came in from the pasture after a fresh quarrel with

Gabriel household. They began telling how Gabriel was going to take revenge

on Ivan. He was sending another petition, to the *Tsar himself this time, about

Ivan. Every thing would be there in the petition. Ivan heard they and all his

bitterness towards Gabriel returned; and he gives up the idea of making it up

with Gabriel.

Ivan went to the cattle-shed to feed the cattle. As he was returning to the

house, he overhead Gabriel from the other side of the fence cursing and swear-

ing at someone. “What the devil is he good for?” he was saying. “He is only fit to

be killed!” Taras was going to take the horses to the pasture for the night. Ivan

went out with him and saw him off with the boys from the other families. He

remembered the bitterness with which Gabriel had said, “Something of his will

burn worse than that.” And his heart grew heavy.

“Every thing is dry,” thought Ivan. “He will come up at the back some-

where, set fire to the thatch, and be off.” The thought fixed itself so firmly in his

mind that instead of going back into the house, he crept quietly along the fence.

Everything was quite. As he got near the shed, he thought he saw something

moving at the far end. He walked up quietly and saw someone lighting a handful

of straw and putting it under the thatch. Ivan stopped and held his breath. Then

something burst into bright flame. The thatch of the cattle-shed was on fire, and

in the light Gabriel’s figure was clearly visible.

Ivan rushed upon Gabriel, who stepped aside cleverly and ran. Ivan over-

took him and seized his coat. It tore right off, and Ivan fell down. He recover his

feet and ran, crying, “help! seize him! murder!” He overtook Gabriel again and

was about to catch him, when something struck him on the head and knocked him

down. Gabriel had seized a heavy wooden stick that lay near the gate and struck

out with all his might.

When Ivan came to his senses, Gabriel was no longer there. It was light

day, and he could hear a roaring sound. Turning, he saw that his house was on

fire. People came running. But it was too late to do anything.

“What is this, friends?” Ivan cried, lifting his arms and striking his knees.

“Why, all I had to do was just to snatch the straw out and stamp on it! What is

this, friends?” He tried to recover his feet and run to the house, but his legs

failed him. The neighbours were carrying their belongings out of their own houses.

After Ivan’s house Gabriel’s house caught fire. The wind rose, and the spread to

the fire other side of the street. Ivan kept repeating, “What is this, friends? I need

only have snatched it and stamped on it!” From Ivan’s house they just manage to

rescue his old father. The family escaped in the clothes they had on; every thing

except the horses was lost – the cattle, the hens, and ploughs, clothes, and their

store of grain.

The fire lasted all night and half the village was burnt down. Ivan kept

repeating, “What is this, friends? I could easily have put it out!” In the morning

the village Elder’s son came to him.

“Uncle Ivan,” he said, “your father is dying. He wants to see you. Do hurry

up.”

Ivan’s father had received some burns and had been carried to the village

Elder’s house on the other side of village. Ivan’s father was lying on the bench,

looking towards the door.

“What did I tell you, Ivan?” said the old man. “Who burnt out the village?”

“It was he, father. I caught him in the act.”

“Ivan, I am dying and you in your turn will have to die. Whose is the sin?

Before God, say whose is the sin?” Only then Ivan came to his senses and

understood.

“Mine, father,” he confessed, and fell on his knees before his father, “I have

sinned before you and before God.”

“Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,” said the old man. Again he turned to

Ivan.

“What must you do now, Ivan?”

Ivan was crying bitterly.

“I don’t know how we are going to live.” He said.

“You will manage” the old man said, “as long as you obey God’s will!” He

paused and said. “Mind, Ivan! Don’t tell who started the fire! Hide another

man’s sin and God will forgive two of yours,” A few minutes later the old man

died.

Ivan did not tell anybody and no one knew what had caused the fire. At first

Gabriel was afraid and wondered why Ivan told nobody. Then he got used to it.

Ivan and Gabriel left off quarrelling, so their families left off too. While the

houses were being rebuilt, both families lived in the same house. Although they

have could move further. They built next to each other and remained neighbours

as before. They lived as good neighbours should. Ivan remembered his old father’s

command to obey God’s law and to put out a fire at the first spark. If anyone did

him an injury, he no longer tried to take revenge, but tried to set matters right.

And Ivan prospered and soon was even better off than before. 

God Sees The Truth but waits by Leo Tolstoy

In the town of Vladimir lived a young merchant named Ivan Dmitrich Aksionov. He had two shops and a house of his own.

Aksionov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full of fun, and very fond of singing. When quite a young man he had been given to drink, and was riotous when he had had too much; but after he married he gave up drinking, except now and then.

One summer Aksionov was going to the Nizhny Fair, and as he bade good-bye to his family, his wife said to him, "Ivan Dmitrich, do not start to-day; I have had a bad dream about you."

Aksionov laughed, and said, "You are afraid that when I get to the fair I shall go on a spree."

His wife replied: "I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you returned from the town, and when you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite grey."

Aksionov laughed. "That's a lucky sign," said he. "See if I don't sell out all my goods, and bring you some presents from the fair."

So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away.

When he had travelled half-way, he met a merchant whom he knew, and they put up at the same inn for the night. They had some tea together, and then went to bed in adjoining rooms.

It was not Aksionov's habit to sleep late, and, wishing to travel while it was still cool, he aroused his driver before dawn, and told him to put in the horses.

Then he made his way across to the landlord of the inn (who lived in a cottage at the back), paid his bill, and continued his journey.

When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the horses to be fed. Aksionov rested awhile in the passage of the inn, then he stepped out into the porch, and, ordering a samovar to be heated, got out his guitar and began to play.

Suddenly a troika drove up with tinkling bells and an official alighted, followed by two soldiers. He came to Aksionov and began to question him, asking him who he was and whence he came. 

Aksionov answered him fully, and said, "Won't you have some tea with me?" But the official went on cross-questioning him and asking him. "Where did you spend last night? Were you alone, or with a fellow-merchant? Did you see the other merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn before dawn?"

Aksionov wondered why he was asked all these questions, but he described all that had happened, and then added, "Why do you cross-question me as if I were a thief or a robber? I am travelling on business of my own, and there is no need to question me."

Then the official, calling the soldiers, said, "I am the police-officer of this district, and I question you because the merchant with whom you spent last night has been found with his throat cut. We must search your things."

They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer unstrapped Aksionov's luggage and searched it. Suddenly the officer drew a knife out of a bag, crying, "Whose knife is this?"

Aksionov looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from his bag, he was frightened.

"How is it there is blood on this knife?"

Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only stammered: "I--don't know--not mine." Then the police-officer said: "This morning the merchant was found in bed with his throat cut. You are the only person who could have done it. The house was locked from inside, and no one else was there. Here is this blood-stained knife in your bag and your face and manner betray you! Tell me how you killed him, and how much money you stole?"

Aksionov swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant after they had had tea together; that he had no money except eight thousand rubles of his own, and that the knife was not his. But his voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled with fear as though he went guilty.

The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksionov and to put him in the cart. As they tied his feet together and flung him into the cart, Aksionov crossed himself and wept. His money and goods were taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest town and imprisoned there. Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladimir. The merchants and other inhabitants of that town said that in former days he used to drink and waste his time, but that he was a good man. Then the trial came on: he was charged with murdering a merchant from Ryazan, and robbing him of twenty thousand rubles.

His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe. Her children were all quite small; one was a baby at her breast. Taking them all with her, she went to the town where her husband was in jail. At first she was not allowed to see him; but after much begging, she obtained permission from the officials, and was taken to him. When she saw her husband in prison-dress and in chains, shut up with thieves and criminals, she fell down, and did not come to her senses for a long time. Then she drew her children to her, and sat down near him. She told him of things at home, and asked about what had happened to him. He told her all, and she asked, "What can we do now?"

"We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish."

His wife told him that she had sent a petition to the Czar, but it had not been accepted.

Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.

Then his wife said, "It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair had turned grey. You remember? You should not have started that day." And passing her fingers through his hair, she said: "Vanya dearest, tell your wife the truth; was it not you who did it?"

"So you, too, suspect me!" said Aksionov, and, hiding his face in his hands, he began to weep. Then a soldier came to say that the wife and children must go away; and Aksionov said good-bye to his family for the last time.

When they were gone, Aksionov recalled what had been said, and when he remembered that his wife also had suspected him, he said to himself, "It seems that only God can know the truth; it is to Him alone we must appeal, and from Him alone expect mercy."

And Aksionov wrote no more petitions; gave up all hope, and only prayed to God.

Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to the mines. So he was flogged with a knot, and when the wounds made by the knot were healed, he was driven to Siberia with other convicts.

For twenty-six years Aksionov lived as a convict in Siberia. His hair turned white as snow, and his beard grew long, thin, and grey. All his mirth went; he stooped; he walked slowly, spoke little, and never laughed, but he often prayed.

In prison Aksionov learnt to make boots, and earned a little money, with which he bought The Lives of the Saints. He read this book when there was light enough in the prison; and on Sundays in the prison-church he read the lessons and sang in the choir; for his voice was still good.

The prison authorities liked Aksionov for his meekness, and his fellow-prisoners respected him: they called him "Grandfather," and "The Saint." When they wanted to petition the prison authorities about anything, they always made Aksionov their spokesman, and when there were quarrels among the prisoners they came to him to put things right, and to judge the matter.

No news reached Aksionov from his home, and he did not even know if his wife and children were still alive.

One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In the evening the old prisoners collected round the new ones and asked them what towns or villages they came from, and what they were sentenced for. Among the rest Aksionov sat down near the newcomers, and listened with downcast air to what was said.

One of the new convicts, a tall, strong man of sixty, with a closely-cropped grey beard, was telling the others what be had been arrested for.

"Well, friends," he said, "I only took a horse that was tied to a sledge, and I was arrested and accused of stealing. I said I had only taken it to get home quicker, and had then let it go; besides, the driver was a personal friend of mine. So I said, 'It's all right.' 'No,' said they, 'you stole it.' But how or where I stole it they could not say. I once really did something wrong, and ought by rights to have come here long ago, but that time I was not found out. Now I have been sent here for nothing at all... Eh, but it's lies I'm telling you; I've been to Siberia before, but I did not stay long."

"Where are you from?" asked some one.

"From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name is Makar, and they also call me Semyonich."

Aksionov raised his head and said: "Tell me, Semyonich, do you know anything of the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir? Are they still alive?"

"Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though their father is in Siberia: a sinner like ourselves, it seems! As for you, Gran'dad, how did you come here?"

Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He only sighed, and said, "For my sins I have been in prison these twenty-six years."

"What sins?" asked Makar Semyonich.

But Aksionov only said, "Well, well--I must have deserved it!" He would have said no more, but his companions told the newcomers how Aksionov came to be in Siberia; how some one had killed a merchant, and had put the knife among Aksionov's things, and Aksionov had been unjustly condemned.

When Makar Semyonich heard this, he looked at Aksionov, slapped his own knee, and exclaimed, "Well, this is wonderful! Really wonderful! But how old you've grown, Gran'dad!"

The others asked him why he was so surprised, and where he had seen Aksionov before; but Makar Semyonich did not reply. He only said: "It's wonderful that we should meet here, lads!"

These words made Aksionov wonder whether this man knew who had killed the merchant; so he said, "Perhaps, Semyonich, you have heard of that affair, or maybe you've seen me before?"

"How could I help hearing? The world's full of rumours. But it's a long time ago, and I've forgotten what I heard."

"Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksionov.

Makar Semyonich laughed, and replied: "It must have been him in whose bag the knife was found! If some one else hid the knife there, 'He's not a thief till he's caught,' as the saying is. How could any one put a knife into your bag while it was under your head? It would surely have woke you up."

When Aksionov heard these words, he felt sure this was the man who had killed the merchant. He rose and went away. All that night Aksionov lay awake. He felt terribly unhappy, and all sorts of images rose in his mind. There was the image of his wife as she was when he parted from her to go to the fair. He saw her as if she were present; her face and her eyes rose before him; he heard her speak and laugh. Then he saw his children, quite little, as they: were at that time: one with a little cloak on, another at his mother's breast. And then he remembered himself as he used to be-young and merry. 

He remembered how he sat playing the guitar in the porch of the inn where he was arrested, and how free from care he had been. He saw, in his mind, the place where he was flogged, the executioner, and the people standing around; the chains, the convicts, all the twenty-six years of his prison life, and his premature old age. The thought of it all made him so wretched that he was ready to kill himself.

"And it's all that villain's doing!" thought Aksionov. And his anger was so great against Makar Semyonich that he longed for vengeance, even if he himself should perish for it. He kept repeating prayers all night, but could get no peace. During the day he did not go near Makar Semyonich, nor even look at him.

A fortnight passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep at night, and was so miserable that he did not know what to do.

One night as he was walking about the prison he noticed some earth that came rolling out from under one of the shelves on which the prisoners slept. He stopped to see what it was. Suddenly Makar Semyonich crept out from under the shelf, and looked up at Aksionov with frightened face. Aksionov tried to pass without looking at him, but Makar seized his hand and told him that he had dug a hole under the wall, getting rid of the earth by putting it into his high-boots, and emptying it out every day on the road when the prisoners were driven to their work.

"Just you keep quiet, old man, and you shall get out too. If you blab, they'll flog the life out of me, but I will kill you first."

Aksionov trembled with anger as he looked at his enemy. He drew his hand away, saying, "I have no wish to escape, and you have no need to kill me; you killed me long ago! As to telling of you--I may do so or not, as God shall direct."

Next day, when the convicts were led out to work, the convoy soldiers noticed that one or other of the prisoners emptied some earth out of his boots. The prison was searched and the tunnel found. The Governor came and questioned all the prisoners to find out who had dug the hole. They all denied any knowledge of it. Those who knew would not betray Makar Semyonich, knowing he would be flogged almost to death. At last the Governor turned to Aksionov whom he knew to be a just man, and said:

"You are a truthful old man; tell me, before God, who dug the hole?"

Makar Semyonich stood as if he were quite unconcerned, looking at the Governor and not so much as glancing at Aksionov. Aksionov's lips and hands trembled, and for a long time he could not utter a word. He thought, "Why should I screen him who ruined my life? Let him pay for what I have suffered. But if I tell, they will probably flog the life out of him, and maybe I suspect him wrongly. And, after all, what good would it be to me?"

"Well, old man," repeated the Governor, "tell me the truth: who has been digging under the wall?"

Aksionov glanced at Makar Semyonich, and said, "I cannot say, your honour. It is not God's will that I should tell! Do what you like with me; I am your hands."

However much the Governor! tried, Aksionov would say no more, and so the matter had to be left.

That night, when Aksionov was lying on his bed and just beginning to doze, some one came quietly and sat down on his bed. He peered through the darkness and recognised Makar.

"What more do you want of me?" asked Aksionov. "Why have you come here?"

Makar Semyonich was silent. So Aksionov sat up and said, "What do you want? Go away, or I will call the guard!"

Makar Semyonich bent close over Aksionov, and whispered, "Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!"

"What for?" asked Aksionov.

"It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife among your things. I meant to kill you too, but I heard a noise outside, so I hid the knife in your bag and escaped out of the window."

Aksionov was silent, and did not know what to say. Makar Semyonich slid off the bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground. "Ivan Dmitrich," said he, "forgive me! For the love of God, forgive me! I will confess that it was I who killed the merchant, and you will be released and can go to your home."

"It is easy for you to talk," said Aksionov, "but I have suffered for you these twenty-six years. Where could I go to now?... My wife is dead, and my children have forgotten me. I have nowhere to go..."

Makar Semyonich did not rise, but beat his head on the floor. "Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!" he cried. "When they flogged me with the knot it was not so hard to bear as it is to see you now ... yet you had pity on me, and did not tell. For Christ's sake forgive me, wretch that I am!" And he began to sob.

When Aksionov heard him sobbing he, too, began to weep. "God will forgive you!" said he. "Maybe I am a hundred times worse than you." And at these words his heart grew light, and the longing for home left him. He no longer had any desire to leave the prison, but only hoped for his last hour to come.

In spite of what Aksionov had said, Makar Semyonich confessed, his guilt. But when the order for his release came, Aksionov was already dead.

Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910)