Creatures That Once Were Men
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Maxim Gorky >> Creatures That Once Were Men
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"Do you?" said the Captain, indistinctly. "Well . . . let's have
another drink . . . It's not a long job ours, a little drink and
then . . ."
The others began to wake up, and Simtsoff shouted in a blissful
voice: "Brothers! One of you pour out a glass for the old man!"
They poured out a glass and gave it to him. Having drunk it he
tumbled down again, knocking against another man as he fell. Two
or three minutes' silence ensued, dark as the autumn night.
"What do you say?"
"I say that he was a good man . . . a quiet and good man,"
whispered a low voice.
"Yes, and he had money, too . . . and he never refused it to a
friend . . ." Again silence ensued.
"He is dying!" said Tyapa, hoarsely, from behind the Captain's
head. Aristid Fomich got up, and went with firm steps into the
dosshouse.
"Don't go!" Tyapa stopped him. "Don't go! You are drunk! It
is not right." The Captain stopped and thought.
"And what is right on this earth? Go to the Devil!" And he
pushed Tyapa aside.
On the walls of the dosshouse the shadows were creeping, seeming
to chase each other. The teacher lay on the board at full length
and snored. His eyes were wide open, his naked breast rose and
fell heavily, the corners of his mouth foamed, and on his face
was an expression as if he wished to say something very
important, but found it difficult to do so. The Captain stood
with his hands behind him, and looked at him in silence. He then
began in a silly way:
"Philip! Say something to me . . . a word of comfort to a friend
. . . come. . . . I love you, brother! . . . All men are
beasts. . . . You were the only man for me . . . though you were
a drunkard. Ah! how you did drink vodki, Philip! That was the
ruin of you! You ought to have listened to me, and controlled
yourself. . . . Did I not once say to you . . . ?"
The mysterious, all-destroying reaper, called Death, made up his
mind to finish the terrible work quickly, as if insulted by the
presence of this drunken man at the dark and solemn struggle.
The teacher sighed deeply, and quivered all over, stretched
himself out, and died. The Captain stood shaking to and fro, and
continued to talk to him.
"Do you want me to bring you vodki? But it is better that you
should not drink, Philip . . . control yourself or else drink!
Why should you really control yourself? For what reason, Philip?
For what reason?"
He took him by the foot and drew him closer to himself.
"Are you dozing, Philip? Well, then, sleep. . . . Good-night. .
. . To-morrow I shall explain all this to you, and you will
understand that it is not really necessary to deny yourself
anything. . . . But go on sleeping now . . . if you are not
dead."
He went out to his friends, followed by the deep silence, and
informed them:
"Whether he is sleeping or dead, I do not know. . . . I am a
little drunk."
Tyapa bent further forward than usual and crossed himself
respectfully. Martyanoff dropped to the ground and lay there.
Abyedok moved quietly, and said in a low and wicked tone:
"May you all go to the Devil! Dead? What of that? Why should I
care? Why should I speak about it? It will be time enough when
I come to die myself. . . . I am not worse than other people."
"That is true," said the Captain, loudly, and fell to the ground.
"The time will come when we shall all die like others. . . . Ha!
ha! How shall we live? . . . That is nothing. . . . But we
shall die like every one else, and this is the whole end of life,
take my word for it. A man lives only to die, and he dies . . .
and if this be so what does it matter how or where he died or how
he lived? Am I right, Martyanoff? Let us therefore drink . . .
whilst we still have life!"
The rain began to fall. Thick, close darkness covered the
figures that lay scattered over the ground, half drunk, half
asleep. The light in the windows of the dosshouse flickered,
paled, and suddenly disappeared. Probably the wind blew it out
or else the oil was exhausted. The drops of rain sounded
strangely on the iron roof of the dosshouse. Above the mountain
where the town lay the ringing of bells was heard, rung by the
watchers in the churches. The brazen sound coming from the
belfry rang out into the dark and died away, and before its last
indistinct note was drowned another stroke was heard and the
monotonous silence was again broken by the melancholy clang of
bells.
* * * * *
The next morning Tyapa was the first to wake up. Lying on his
back he looked up into the sky. Only in such a position did his
deformed neck permit him to see the clouds above his head.
This morning the sky was of a uniform grey. Up there hung the
damp, cold mist of dawn, almost extinguishing the sun, hiding the
unknown vastness behind and pouring despondency over the earth.
Tyapa crossed himself, and leaning on his elbow, looked round to
see whether there was any vodki left. The bottle was there, but
it was empty. Crossing over his companions he looked into the
glasses from which they had drunk, found one of them almost full,
emptied it, wiped his lips with his sleeve, and began to shake
the Captain.
The Captain raised his head and looked at him with sad eyes.
"We must inform the police. . . Get up!"
"Of what?" asked the Captain, sleepily and angrily.
"What, is he not dead? . . ."
"Who?"
"The learned one. . . ."
"Philip? Ye-es!"
"Did you forget? . . . Alas!" said Tyapa, hoarsely. The Captain
rose to his feet, yawned and stretched himself till all his bones
cracked.
"Well, then! Go and give information. . ."
"I will not go . . . I do not like them," said the Captain,
morosely.
"Well, then, wake up the Deacon. . . I shall go, at any rate."
"All right! . . . Deacon, get up!"
The Captain entered the dosshouse, and stood at the teacher's
feet. The dead man lay at full length, his left hand on his
breast, the right hand held as if ready to strike some one.
The Captain thought that if the teacher got up now, he would be
as tall as Paltara Taras. Then he sat by the side of the dead
man and sighed, as he remembered that they had lived together for
the last three years. Tyapa entered holding his head like a goat
which is ready to butt.
He sat down quietly and seriously on the opposite side of the
teacher's body, looked into the dark, silent face, and began to
sob.
"So . . . he is dead . . . I too shall die soon. . ."
"It is quite time for that!" said the Captain, gloomily.
"It is," Tyapa agreed. "You ought to die too. . . Anything is
better than this. . . "
"But perhaps death might be worse? How do you know?"
"It could not be worse. When you die you have only God to deal
with . . . but here you have to deal with men . . . and men--what
are they?"
"Enough! . . . Be quiet!" interrupted Kuvalda, angrily.
And in the dawn, which filled the dosshouse, a solemn stillness
reigned over all. Long and silently they sat at the feet of
their dead companion, seldom looking at him, and both plunged in
thought. Then Tyapa asked:
"Will you bury him?"
"I? No, let the police bury him!"
"You took money from Vaviloff for this petition . . . and I will
give you some if you have not enough." . . .
"Though I have his money . . . still I shall not bury him."
"That is not right. You are robbing the dead. I will tell them
all that you want to keep his money. . . ." Tyapa threatened
him.
"You are a fool, you old devil!" said Kuvalda, contemptuously.
"I am not a fool . . . but it is not right nor friendly."
"Enough! Be off!"
"How much money is there?"
"Twenty-five roubles, . . ." said Kuvalda, absently.
"So! . . . You might gain a five-rouble note. . . ."
"You old scoundrel! . . ." And looking into Tyapa's face the
Captain swore.
"Well, what? Give . . ."
"Go to the Devil! . . . I am going to spend this money in
erecting a monument to him."
"What does he want that for?"
"I will buy a stone and an anchor. I shall place the stone on
the grass, and attach the anchor to it with a very heavy chain."
"Why? You are playing tricks . . ."
"Well . . . It is no business of yours."
"Look out! I shall tell . . ." again threatened Tyapa.
Aristid Fomich looked at him sullenly and said nothing. Again
they sat there in that silence which, in the presence of the
dead, is so full of mystery.
"Listen . . . They are coming!" Tyapa got up and went out of
the dosshouse.
Then there appeared at the door the Doctor, the Police Inspector
of the district, and the examining Magistrate or Coroner. All
three came in turn, looked at the dead teacher, and then went
out, throwing suspicious glances at Kuvalda. He sat there,
without taking any notice of them, until the Police Inspector
asked him:
"Of what did he die?"
"Ask him. . . I think his evil life hastened his end."
"What?" asked the Coroner.
"I say that he died of a disease to which he had not been
accustomed . . ."
"H'm, yes. Had he been ill long?"
"Bring him over here, I cannot see him properly," said the Doctor
in a melancholy tone. "Probably there are signs of . . ."
"Now, then, ask someone here to carry him out!" the Police
Inspector ordered Kuvalda.
"Go and ask them yourself! He is not in my way here . . ." the
Captain replied, indifferently.
"Well! . . ." shouted the Inspector, making a ferocious face.
"Phew!" answered Kuvalda, without moving from his place and
gnashing his teeth restlessly.
"The Devil take it!" shouted the Inspector, so madly that the
blood rushed to his face. "I'll make you pay for this! I'll--"
"Good morning, gentlemen!" said the merchant Petunikoff, with a
sweet smile, making his appearance in the doorway.
He looked round, trembled, took off his cap and crossed himself.
Then a pompous, wicked smile crossed his face, and, looking at
the Captain, he inquired respectfully:
"What has happened? Has there been a murder here?"
"Yes, something of that sort," replied the Coroner.
Petunikoff sighed deeply, crossed himself again, and spoke in an
angry tone.
"By God! It is just as I feared. It always ends in your having
to come here. . . Ay, ay, ay! God save everyone. Times without
number have I refused to lease this house to this man, and he has
always won me over, and I was afraid. You know. . . They are
such awful people . . . better give it them, I thought, or else .
. ."
He covered his face with his hands, tugged at his beard, and
sighed again.
"They are very dangerous men, and this man here is their leader .
. . the attaman of the robbers."
"But we will make him smart!" promised the Inspector, looking at
the Captain with revengeful eyes.
"Yes, brother, we are old friends of yours . . ." said Kuvalda in
a familiar tone. "How many times have I paid you to be quiet?"
"Gentlemen!" shouted the Inspector, "did you hear him? I want
you to bear witness to this. Aha, I shall make short work of
you, my friend, remember!"
"Don't count your chickens before they are hatched . . . my
friend," said Aristid Fomich.
The Doctor, a young man with eye-glasses, looked at him
curiously, the Coroner with an attention that boded him no good,
Petunikoff with triumph, while the Inspector could hardly
restrain himself from throwing himself upon him.
The dark figure of Martyanoff appeared at the door of the
dosshouse. He entered quietly, and stood behind Petunikoff, so
that his chin was on a level with the merchant's head. Behind
him stood the Deacon, opening his small, swollen, red eyes.
"Let us be doing something, gentlemen," suggested the Doctor.
Martyanoff made an awful grimace, and suddenly sneezed on
Petunikoff's head. The latter gave a yell, sat down hurriedly,
and then jumped aside, almost knocking down the Inspector, into
whose open arms he fell.
"Do you see," said the frightened merchant, pointing to
Martyanoff, "do you see what kind of men they are?"
Kuvalda burst out laughing. The Doctor and the Coroner smiled
too, and at the door of the dosshouse the group of figures was
increasing . . . sleepy figures, with swollen faces, red,
inflamed eyes, and dishevelled hair, staring rudely at the
Doctor, the Coroner, and the Inspector.
"Where are you going?" said the policeman on guard at the door,
catching hold of their tatters and pushing them aside. But he
was one against many, and, without taking any notice, they all
entered and stood there, reeking of vodki, silent and
evil-looking.
Kuvalda glanced at them, then at the authorities, who were angry
at the intrusion of these ragamuffins, and said, smilingly,
"Gentlemen, perhaps you would like to make the acquaintance of my
lodgers and friends? Would you? But, whether you wish it or
not, you will have to make their acquaintance sooner or later in
the course of your duties."
The Doctor smiled in an embarrassed way. The Coroner pressed his
lips together, and the Inspector saw that it was time to go.
Therefore, he shouted:
"Sideroff! Whistle! Tell them to bring a cart here."
"I will go," said Petunikoff, coming forward from a corner. "You
had better take it away to-day, sir, I want to pull down this
hole. Go away! or else I shall apply to the police!"
The policeman's whistle echoed through the courtyard. At the
door of the dosshouse its inhabitants stood in a group, yawning,
and scratching themselves.
"And so you do not wish to be introduced? That is rude of you!"
laughed Aristid Fomich.
Petunikoff took his purse from his pocket, took out two
five-kopeck pieces, put them at the feet of the dead man, and
crossed himself.
"God have mercy . . . on the burial of the sinful . . ."
"What!" yelled the Captain, "you give for the burial? Take them
away, I say, you scoundrel! How dare you give your stolen
kopecks for the burial of an honest man? I will tear you limb
from limb!"
"Your Honour!" cried the terrified merchant to the Inspector,
seizing him by the elbow. The Doctor and the Coroner jumped
aside. The Inspector shouted:
"Sideroff, come here!"
"The creatures that once were men" stood along the wall, looking
and listening with an interest, which put new life into their
broken-down bodies.
Kuvalda, shaking his fist at Petunikoff's head, roared and rolled
his eyes like a wild beast.
"Scoundrel and thief! Take back your money! Dirty worm! Take
it back, I say . . . or else I shall cram it down your throat. .
. . Take your five-kopeck pieces!"
Petunikoff put out his trembling hand towards his mite, and
protecting his head from Kuvalda's fist with the other hand,
said:
"You are my witnesses, Sir Inspector, and you good people!"
"We are not good people, merchant!" said the voice of Abyedok,
trembling with anger.
The Inspector whistled impatiently, with his other hand
protecting Petunikoff, who was stooping in front of him as if
trying to enter his belly.
"You dirty toad! I shall compel you to kiss the feet of the dead
man. How would you like that?" And catching Petunikoff by the
neck, Kuvalda hurled him against the door, as if he had been a
cat.
The "creatures that once were men" sprang aside quickly to let
the merchant fall. And down he fell at their feet, crying
wildly:
"Murder! Help! Murder!"
Martyanoff slowly raised his foot, and brought it down heavily on
the merchant's head. Abyedok spat in his face with a grin. The
merchant, creeping on all-fours, threw himself into the
courtyard, at which everyone laughed. But by this time the two
policemen had arrived, and pointing to Kuvalda, the Inspector
said, pompously:
"Arrest him, and bind him hand and foot!"
"You dare not! . . . I shall not run away. . . I will go
wherever you wish, . ." said Kuvalda, freeing himself from the
policemen at his side.
The "creatures that once were men" disappeared one after the
other. A cart entered the yard. Some ragged wretches brought
out the dead man's body.
"I'll teach you! You just wait!" thundered the Inspector at
Kuvalda.
"How now, attaman?" asked Petunikoff, maliciously, excited and
pleased at the sight of his enemy in bonds. "What, you fell into
the trap? Eh? You just wait . . ."
But Kuvalda was quiet now. He stood strangely straight and
silent between the two policemen, watching the teacher's body
being placed in the cart. The man who was holding the head of
the corpse was very short, and could not manage to place it on
the cart at the same time as the legs. For a moment the body
hung as if it would fall to the ground, and hide itself beneath
the earth, away from these foolish and wicked disturbers of its
peace.
"Take him away!" ordered the Inspector, pointing to the Captain.
Kuvalda silently moved forward without protestation, passing the
cart on which was the teacher's body. He bowed his head before
it without looking. Martyanoff, with his strong face, followed
him. The courtyard of the merchant Petunikoff emptied quickly.
"Now then, go on!" called the driver, striking the horses with
the whip. The cart moved off over the rough surface of the
courtyard. The teacher was covered with a heap of rags, and his
belly projected from beneath them. It seemed as if he were
laughing quietly at the prospect of leaving the dosshouse, never,
never to return. Petunikoff, who was following him with his
eyes, crossed himself, and then began to shake the dust and
rubbish off his clothes, and the more he shook himself the more
pleased and self satisfied did he feel. He saw the tall figure
of Aristid Fomich Kuvalda, in a grey cap with a red band, with
his arms bound behind his back, being led away.
Petunikoff smiled the smile of the conqueror, and went back into
the dosshouse, but suddenly he stopped and trembled. At the door
facing him stood an old man with a stick in his hand and a large
bag on his back, a horrible old man in rags and tatters, which
covered his bony figure. He bent under the weight of his burden,
and lowered his head on his breast, as if he wished to attack the
merchant.
"What are you? Who are you?" shouted Petunikoff.
"A man . . ." he answered in a hoarse voice. This hoarseness
pleased and tranquillised Petunikoff, he even smiled.
"A man! And are there really men like you?" Stepping aside he
let the old man pass. He went, saying slowly:
"Men are of various kinds . . . as God wills. . . There are
worse than me . . . still worse . . . Yes . . ."
The cloudy sky hung silently over the dirty yard and over the
cleanly-dressed man with the pointed beard, who was walking about
there, measuring distances with his steps and with his sharp
eyes. On the roof of the old house a crow perched and croaked,
thrusting its head now backwards, now forwards. In the lowering
grey clouds, which hid the sky, there was something hard and
merciless, as if they had gathered together to wash all the dirt
off the face of this unfortunate, suffering, and sorrowful earth.
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