Who Can Be Happy and Free in Russia?

  They'd never been summoned
To witness or judge
  Such peculiar proceedings.

  "And Érmil's relations
Did not beg for mercy
  And lenient treatment, 680
But rather for firmness:

  'Bring Vlásevna's son back
Or Érmil will hang himself,
  Nothing will save him!'

And then appeared Érmil
  Himself, pale and bare-foot,
With ropes bound and handcuffed,
  And bowing his head
He spoke low to the people:

  'The time was when I was 690
Your judge; and I judged you,
  In all things obeying
My conscience. But I now
  Am guiltier far
Than were you. Be my judges!'

  He bowed to our feet,
The demented one, sighing,
  Then stood up and crossed himself,
Trembling all over;

It pained us to witness 700
  How he, of a sudden,
Fell down on his knees there
  At Vlásevna's feet.

Well, all was put right soon,
  The nobles have fingers
In every small corner,
  The lad was brought back
And young Mítyenka started;

  They say that his service
Did not weigh too heavy, 710
  The prince saw to that.

And we, as a penance,
  Imposed upon Érmil
A fine, and to Vlásevna
  One part was given,
To Mítya another,
  The rest to the village
For vodka. However,
  Not quickly did Érmil
Get over his sorrow: 720

  He went like a lost one
For full a year after,
  And—though the whole district
Implored him to keep it—
  He left his position.

He rented the mill, then,
  And more than of old
Was beloved by the people.

  He took for his grinding
No more than was honest, 730
  His customers never
Kept waiting a moment,
  And all men alike:
The rich landlord, the workman.

  The master and servant,
The poorest of peasants
  Were served as their turn came;
Strict order he kept.

  Myself, I have not been
Since long in that district, 740
  But often the people
Have told me about him.

  And never could praise him
Enough. So in your place
  I'd go and ask Érmil."
"Your time would be wasted,"

  The grey-headed pope,
Who'd before interrupted,
  Remarked to the peasants,

"I knew Érmil Gírin, 750
  I chanced in that district
Some five years ago.

  I have often been shifted,
Our bishop loved vastly
  To keep us all moving,
So I was his neighbour.

  Yes, he was a peasant
Unique, I bear witness,
  And all things he owned
That can make a man happy: 760

  Peace, riches, and honour,
And that kind of honour
  Most valued and precious,
Which cannot be purchased
  By might or by money,
But only by righteousness,
  Wisdom and kindness.

But still, I repeat it,
  Your time will be wasted
In going to Érmiclass="underline" 770
  In prison he lies."

"How's that?"
  "God so willed it.
You've heard how the peasants
Of 'Log' the Pomyéshchick
  Of Province 'Affrighted,'
Of District 'Scarce-Breathing,'
  Of village 'Dumbfounded,'
Revolted 'for causes
Entirely unknown,' 780

  As they say in the papers.
(I once used to read them.)
  And so, too, in this case,
The local Ispravnik,[27]
  The Tsar's high officials,
And even the peasants,
  'Dumbfounded' themselves.

Never fathomed the reason
  Of all the disturbance.

But things became bad, 790
  And the soldiers were sent for,
The Tsar packed a messenger
  Off in a hurry
To speak to the people.

  His epaulettes rose
To his ears as he coaxed them
And cursed them together.

  But curses they're used to,
And coaxing was lost,
  For they don't understand it: 800
  'Brave orthodox peasants!'
'The Tsar—Little Father!'
  'Our dear Mother Russia!'

He bellowed and shouted
  Until he was hoarse,
While the peasants stood round him
  And listened in wonder.

  "But when he was tired
Of these peaceable measures
  Of calming the riots, 810
At length he decided
  On giving the order
Of 'Fire' to the soldiers;

  When all of a sudden
A bright thought occurred
  To the clerk of the Volost:[28]
'The people trust Gírin,
  The people will hear him!'
"'Then let him be brought!'" [29]