<h3>Chapter 29</h3>
<p>The carrying out of Levin’s plan presented many difficulties; but he
struggled on, doing his utmost, and attained a result which, though not what he
desired, was enough to enable him, without self-deception, to believe that the
attempt was worth the trouble. One of the chief difficulties was that the
process of cultivating the land was in full swing, that it was impossible to
stop everything and begin it all again from the beginning, and the machine had
to be mended while in motion.</p>
<p>When on the evening that he arrived home he informed the bailiff of his plans,
the latter with visible pleasure agreed with what he said so long as he was
pointing out that all that had been done up to that time was stupid and
useless. The bailiff said that he had said so a long while ago, but no heed had
been paid him. But as for the proposal made by Levin—to take a part as
shareholder with his laborers in each agricultural undertaking—at this
the bailiff simply expressed a profound despondency, and offered no definite
opinion, but began immediately talking of the urgent necessity of carrying the
remaining sheaves of rye the next day, and of sending the men out for the
second ploughing, so that Levin felt that this was not the time for discussing
it.</p>
<p>On beginning to talk to the peasants about it, and making a proposition to cede
them the land on new terms, he came into collision with the same great
difficulty that they were so much absorbed by the current work of the day, that
they had not time to consider the advantages and disadvantages of the proposed
scheme.</p>
<p>The simple-hearted Ivan, the cowherd, seemed completely to grasp Levin’s
proposal—that he should with his family take a share of the profits of
the cattle-yard—and he was in complete sympathy with the plan. But when
Levin hinted at the future advantages, Ivan’s face expressed alarm and
regret that he could not hear all he had to say, and he made haste to find
himself some task that would admit of no delay: he either snatched up the fork
to pitch the hay out of the pens, or ran to get water or to clear out the dung.</p>
<p>Another difficulty lay in the invincible disbelief of the peasant that a
landowner’s object could be anything else than a desire to squeeze all he
could out of them. They were firmly convinced that his real aim (whatever he
might say to them) would always be in what he did not say to them. And they
themselves, in giving their opinion, said a great deal but never said what was
their real object. Moreover (Levin felt that the irascible landowner had been
right) the peasants made their first and unalterable condition of any agreement
whatever that they should not be forced to any new methods of tillage of any
kind, nor to use new implements. They agreed that the modern plough ploughed
better, that the scarifier did the work more quickly, but they found thousands
of reasons that made it out of the question for them to use either of them; and
though he had accepted the conviction that he would have to lower the standard
of cultivation, he felt sorry to give up improved methods, the advantages of
which were so obvious. But in spite of all these difficulties he got his way,
and by autumn the system was working, or at least so it seemed to him.</p>
<p>At first Levin had thought of giving up the whole farming of the land just as
it was to the peasants, the laborers, and the bailiff on new conditions of
partnership; but he was very soon convinced that this was impossible, and
determined to divide it up. The cattle-yard, the garden, hay fields, and arable
land, divided into several parts, had to be made into separate lots. The
simple-hearted cowherd, Ivan, who, Levin fancied, understood the matter better
than any of them, collecting together a gang of workers to help him,
principally of his own family, became a partner in the cattle-yard. A distant
part of the estate, a tract of waste land that had lain fallow for eight years,
was with the help of the clever carpenter, Fyodor Ryezunov, taken by six
families of peasants on new conditions of partnership, and the peasant Shuraev
took the management of all the vegetable gardens on the same terms. The
remainder of the land was still worked on the old system, but these three
associated partnerships were the first step to a new organization of the whole,
and they completely took up Levin’s time.</p>
<p>It is true that in the cattle-yard things went no better than before, and Ivan
strenuously opposed warm housing for the cows and butter made of fresh cream,
affirming that cows require less food if kept cold, and that butter is more
profitable made from sour cream, and he asked for wages just as under the old
system, and took not the slightest interest in the fact that the money he
received was not wages but an advance out of his future share in the profits.</p>
<p>It is true that Fyodor Ryezunov’s company did not plough over the ground
twice before sowing, as had been agreed, justifying themselves on the plea that
the time was too short. It is true that the peasants of the same company,
though they had agreed to work the land on new conditions, always spoke of the
land, not as held in partnership, but as rented for half the crop, and more
than once the peasants and Ryezunov himself said to Levin, “If you would
take a rent for the land, it would save you trouble, and we should be more
free.” Moreover the same peasants kept putting off, on various excuses,
the building of a cattleyard and barn on the land as agreed upon, and delayed
doing it till the winter.</p>
<p>It is true that Shuraev would have liked to let out the kitchen gardens he had
undertaken in small lots to the peasants. He evidently quite misunderstood, and
apparently intentionally misunderstood, the conditions upon which the land had
been given to him.</p>
<p>Often, too, talking to the peasants and explaining to them all the advantages
of the plan, Levin felt that the peasants heard nothing but the sound of his
voice, and were firmly resolved, whatever he might say, not to let themselves
be taken in. He felt this especially when he talked to the cleverest of the
peasants, Ryezunov, and detected the gleam in Ryezunov’s eyes which
showed so plainly both ironical amusement at Levin, and the firm conviction
that, if anyone were to be taken in, it would not be he, Ryezunov. But in spite
of all this Levin thought the system worked, and that by keeping accounts
strictly and insisting on his own way, he would prove to them in the future the
advantages of the arrangement, and then the system would go of itself.</p>
<p>These matters, together with the management of the land still left on his
hands, and the indoor work over his book, so engrossed Levin the whole summer
that he scarcely ever went out shooting. At the end of August he heard that the
Oblonskys had gone away to Moscow, from their servant who brought back the
side-saddle. He felt that in not answering Darya Alexandrovna’s letter he
had by his rudeness, of which he could not think without a flush of shame,
burned his ships, and that he would never go and see them again. He had been
just as rude with the Sviazhskys, leaving them without saying good-bye. But he
would never go to see them again either. He did not care about that now. The
business of reorganizing the farming of his land absorbed him as completely as
though there would never be anything else in his life. He read the books lent
him by Sviazhsky, and copying out what he had not got, he read both the
economic and socialistic books on the subject, but, as he had anticipated,
found nothing bearing on the scheme he had undertaken. In the books on
political economy—in Mill, for instance, whom he studied first with great
ardor, hoping every minute to find an answer to the questions that were
engrossing him—he found laws deduced from the condition of land culture
in Europe; but he did not see why these laws, which did not apply in Russia,
must be general. He saw just the same thing in the socialistic books: either
they were the beautiful but impracticable fantasies which had fascinated him
when he was a student, or they were attempts at improving, rectifying the
economic position in which Europe was placed, with which the system of land
tenure in Russia had nothing in common. Political economy told him that the
laws by which the wealth of Europe had been developed, and was developing, were
universal and unvarying. Socialism told him that development along these lines
leads to ruin. And neither of them gave an answer, or even a hint, in reply to
the question what he, Levin, and all the Russian peasants and landowners, were
to do with their millions of hands and millions of acres, to make them as
productive as possible for the common weal.</p>
<p>Having once taken the subject up, he read conscientiously everything bearing on
it, and intended in the autumn to go abroad to study land systems on the spot,
in order that he might not on this question be confronted with what so often
met him on various subjects. Often, just as he was beginning to understand the
idea in the mind of anyone he was talking to, and was beginning to explain his
own, he would suddenly be told: “But Kauffmann, but Jones, but Dubois,
but Michelli? You haven’t read them: they’ve thrashed that question
out thoroughly.”</p>
<p>He saw now distinctly that Kauffmann and Michelli had nothing to tell him. He
knew what he wanted. He saw that Russia has splendid land, splendid laborers,
and that in certain cases, as at the peasant’s on the way to
Sviazhsky’s, the produce raised by the laborers and the land is
great—in the majority of cases when capital is applied in the European
way the produce is small, and that this simply arises from the fact that the
laborers want to work and work well only in their own peculiar way, and that
this antagonism is not incidental but invariable, and has its roots in the
national spirit. He thought that the Russian people whose task it was to
colonize and cultivate vast tracts of unoccupied land, consciously adhered,
till all their land was occupied, to the methods suitable to their purpose, and
that their methods were by no means so bad as was generally supposed. And he
wanted to prove this theoretically in his book and practically on his land.</p>
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