2. Infamous for his noyades at Nantes ; guillotined in 1 794·
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Profligate in his life, naturally coarse, impatient of all opposition, his influence was extremely harmful. He did not take bribes ; and yet, as appeared after his death, he amassed a considerable fortune. He was strict with his subordinates and punished severly those whom he detected in dishonesty ; but they stole more under his rule than ever before or since. He carried the misuse of influence to an extraordinary pitch ; for instance, when despatching an official to hold an enquiry, he would say, if he had a personal interest in the matter, 'You will probably find out so-and-so to be the case,' and woe to the official if he did not find out what the Governor foretold.
Perm, when I was there, was still full of Tyufyayev's glory, and his partisans were hostile to his successor, who, as a matter of course, surrounded himself with supporters of his own.
3
But on the other hand, there were people at Perm who hated him.
One of these was Chebotarev, a doctor employed at one of the factories and a remarkable product of Russian life. He warned me specially against Tyufyayev. He was a clever and very excitable man, who had made an unfortunate marriage soon after taking his degree ; then he had drifted to Yekaterinburg 3 and �ank with no experience into the slough of provincial life. Though his position here was fairly independent, his career was wrecked, and his chief employment was to mock at the Government officials. He jeered at them in their presence and said the most insulting things to their faces. But, as he spared nobody, nobody felt particular resentment at his flouts and jeers. His bitter tongue assured him a certain ascendancy over a society where fixed principles were rare, and he forced them to submit to the lash which he was never weary of applying.
I was told beforehand that, though he was a good doctor, he was crack-brained and excessively rude.
But his way of talking and jesting seemed to me neither offensive, nor trivial ; on the contrary, it was full of humour and concentrated bile. This was the poetry of his life, his revenge, his cry of resentment and, perhaps, in part, of despair also. Both as a 3· A town in the Ural district, now polluted by a horrible crime.
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student of human nature and a s a physician, h e had placed these officials under his microscope; he knew all their petty hidden vices ; and, encouraged by their dullness and cowardice, he observed no limits in his way of addressing them.
He constantly repeated the same phrase - 'It does not matter twopence' or 'It won't cost you twopence.' I once laughed at him for this, and he said : 'What are you surprised at ? The object of all speech is to persuade, and I only add to my statements the strongest proof that exists in the world. Once convince a man that it won't cost him twopence to kill his own father and he'll kill him sure enough.'
He was always willing to lend moderate sums, as much as a hundred or two hundred roubles. Whenever he was appealed to for a loan, he pulled out his pocket-book and asked for a date by which the money would be repaid.
'Now,' he said, 'I will bet a rouble that you will not pay the money on that day.'
'My dear Sir, who do you take me for ? ' the borrower would say.
'My opinion of you does not matter twopence,' was the reply;
'but the fact is that I have kept an account for six years, and not a single debtor has ever paid me on the day, and very few after it.'
When the time had expired, the doctor asked with a grave face for the payment of his bet.
A rich merchant at Perm had a travelling carriage for sale. The doctor called on them and delivered the following speech all in a breath. 'You are selling a carriage, I need one. Because you are rich and a millionaire, everyone respects you, and I have come to testify my respect for the same reason. Owing to your wealth, it does not matter twopence to you whether you sell the carriage or not ; but I need it, and I am poor. You will want to squeeze me and take advantage of my necessity ; therefore you will ask 1 ,500
roubles for it. I shall offer 700 roubles; I shall come every day to haggle over the price, and after a week you will let me have it for 750 or 8oo. Might we not as well begin at once at that point ?
I am prepared to pay that sum.' The merchant was so astonished that he let the doctor have the carriage at his own figure.
But there was no end to the stories of Chebotarev's eccentricity. I shall add two more.
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I was present once when a lady, a rather clever and cultivated woman, asked him if he believed in mesmerism. 'What do you mean by mesmerism ?' he asked. The lady talked the usual nonsense in reply. 'It does not matter twopence to you,' he said, 'to know whether I believe in mesmerism or not ; but if you like, I will tell you what I have seen in that way.' 'Please do.' 'Yes ; but you must listen attentively,' and then he began to describe some experiments made by a friend of his, a doctor at Kharkov ; his description was very lively, clever, and interesting.
While he was talking, a servant brought in some refreshments on a tray, and was leaving the room when the lady said, 'You have forgotten the mustard.' Chebotarev stopped dead. 'Go on, go on,' said the lady, a little frightened already. 'I'm listening to you.' 'Pray, Madam, has he remembered the salt ? ' 'I see you are angry with me,' said the lady, blushing. 'Not in the least, I assure you. I know that you were listening attentively ; but I also know that no woman, however intelligent she may be and whatever may be the subject under discussion, can ever soar higher than the kitchen. How then could I venture to be angry with you in particular ? '
Another story about him. Being employed a s a doctor at the factories of a Countess Polier, he took a fancy to a boy he saw there, and wished to have him for a servant. The boy was willing, but the steward said that the consent of the Countess must first be obtained. The doctor wrote to .her, and she replied that he might have the boy, on condition of paying down a sum equal to the payments due to her from the boy during the next five years. The doctor wrote at once to express his willingness, but he asked her to answer this question : 'As Encke's comet may be expected to pass through the orbit of the earth in three years and a half from now, who will be responsible for repaying the money I have advanced, in case the comet drives the earth out of its orbit ?'
5
On the day I left for Vyatka, the doctor turned up at my house early in the morning. He began with this witticism. 'You are like Horace : he sang once and people have been translating him
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ever since, and s o you are translated 4 from place to place for that song you sang.' Then he pulled out his purse and asked if I needed money for the journey. I thanked him and declined his offer. 'Why don't you take it ? It won't cost you twopence.' 'I have money. 'A bad sign,' he said ; 'the end of the world is coming.'
Then he opened his notebook and made this entry. 'For the first time in fifteen years' practice I have met a man who refused money, and that man was on the eve of departure.'