Chapter 5 The Story of the Head Gardener

The Story of the Head Gardener Flowers are being sold in the flower house of a certain earl.There were not many buyers, just me, my neighbors - a landowner and a young wood merchant.When the workers moved out the beautiful goods we bought and loaded them on the carts, we sat down at the door of the greenhouse and chattered.It is very pleasant to sit in the garden on a warm April morning like this, and listen to the birdsong, and watch the flowers move out to bask in the open air. The plants were loaded onto the cart under the direction of the gardener Mikhail Karlovich himself, a respectable old man with a plump face and a shaven beard who wore only a leather waistcoat and no coat.He has been silent, in fact, he is listening to us, waiting for us to say something novel.He was a smart, kind, and respected man.For some reason, everyone thought he was a German, but in fact his father was of Swedish descent, and his mother was of Russian origin and believed in the Orthodox Church.He knew Russian, Swedish and German well, and he had read a great deal in these languages, and nothing would make him happier than giving him a new book to read, or, for example, talking to him about Ibsen. .

He has weaknesses, but they are insignificant weaknesses. For example, he calls himself the chief gardener, but he doesn't have any gardeners under him.His expression was remarkably dignified and haughty.He couldn't listen to rebuttals, and liked to be listened to seriously and attentively. "Let me introduce you, that guy over there is a big bad guy," my neighbor said, pointing to a workman with a swarthy gypsy face passing by on a cart full of buckets. "He was tried for robbery in the city last week, and he was released. They decided he was insane, but look at his face, he's perfectly healthy. In Russia these days, people often use the words sick and Temporarily explained everything and released the bad guys; but this kind of release, this obvious indulgence and appeasement, will not have good results. This will corrupt the morals of the masses, and everyone's sense of justice will become numb, because people see Is used to doing evil with impunity. You know, about our times, you can quote Shakespeare boldly: "In our wicked and depraved age, even virtue has to beg pardon from vice. '①""It's true, it's true," agreed the businessman." As the courts often acquitted, murders and arson were increasing.You go ask the country people. "

The gardener Mikhail Karlovich turned to us and said: "As for me, gentlemen, I always welcome acquittals with joy. I am not worried about morality, nor about justice, but on the contrary, I am happy. Even my conscience tells me that the jurors made a mistake in acquitting the prisoner, even at that time. I am glad, too. Think for yourselves, gentlemen, if judges and jurors put more faith in men than evidence, evidence, or words, does not this faith in man itself outshine any worldly opinion? Is it sublime? (It is not difficult to believe in God. Whether it is the judges of the Inquisition, or Bilon, or Arakcheyev, they all believe in God. No, you have to believe in people!) This kind of Faith is found only in the few who know and feel Christ."

"That's a good thought," I said. "It's not a new idea, however. I remember I even heard a legend about it a long time ago. It's a dear one," said the Gardener, smiling. "The legend was told to me by my late grandmother, my father's mother, who was a fine old lady. She spoke in Swedish, and Russian was not so nice and elegant. .” But we begged him to tell the story without worrying about the vulgarity of the Russian language.He was very happy, lit his pipe slowly, looked at the workers angrily, and said: "In a small town, there lived an elderly, lonely, and ugly gentleman named Thomson or Wilson. Well, well, it doesn't matter anyway.

The question is not what the last name is.His profession is noble, and he heals people.He had always been melancholy and unsociable, speaking only when his calling required him to.He didn't visit anyone's house, and his friendship with anyone was no more than a silent nod of the head.He lives frugally, like an ascetic.The problem was that he was a scholar, and in those days a scholar was different from an ordinary person.They observe day and night, read books, treat diseases, and regard everything else as vulgar, and have no time for nonsense.The townspeople were well aware of this, and took great pains not to offend him with visits and idle chatter.They were all very happy, because God finally sent them someone who was good at healing.They were proud to think that such a fine man lived in their town.

"'He knows everything,' they always say of him. "But that's not enough. One more thing:" He loves everybody! ' This learned man had a wonderful, angelic heart beating in his breast.In any case, to him, the residents of this city were outsiders after all, not relatives, but he loved them like his own children and would sacrifice his life for them.He himself suffered from tuberculosis and coughed, but whenever someone called him to see a doctor, he always forgot about his illness and never cared for himself. No matter how high the mountain was, he would still climb up it panting.He doesn't care about heat or cold, hunger or thirst.He asked for no money, and, strange to say, whenever his patients died, he always followed the coffin and wept with the relatives of the deceased.

"Soon he became indispensable to the town, and the inhabitants even secretly wondered how they could have survived without him before. Their gratitude knew no bounds. Adults and children, good and wicked, honorable men and commoners Scoundrel, in a word, everyone respects him and knows his worth. In this small town and the surrounding area, not only does no one allow himself to do anything that would displease him, but no one even allows himself to think of it. He never shuts the doors and windows when he is out, fully convinced that there is no thief who has the heart to bully him. He is often obliged to walk on the highway, through the woods, and over the mountains in order to perform his duties as a doctor. Many hungry tramps haunted him, but he felt that he was completely safe. One night, when he was returning from a sick man's house, he was robbed by robbers in the woods, but as soon as they recognized him, they respectfully greeted him. took off his hat, and asked him if he would like something to eat. He said he was full, and they gave him a warm cloak, and carried him all the way to the city, glad that fate gave them a chance at last, that they might eat a little. Repay this generous man.

Well, of course, Grandma said, even horses, cows, and dogs know him, and look happy when they meet him. "This man seemed to protect himself from all evil forces by his holiness, and even robbers and madmen were fond of him. But one morning, he was found beaten to death. He lay in the canyon Here, his body was covered in blood, his skull was shattered, and his pale face showed a surprised expression. Yes, when he saw the murderer in front of him, the expression that froze on his face was not fear, but surprise. Now You can imagine the grief of the residents inside and outside the city. Everyone was so discouraged that they couldn't believe their eyes. They asked themselves; who could have killed this man? The investigators and the medical examiner said: "We saw All the signs of a murder, yet since no one in the world could have killed our physician, it does not appear to be a murder, and the sum of the signs is nothing more than ordinary coincidence.It must be believed that the doctor slipped and fell into the canyon by himself in the dark, and was fatally wounded. '" The whole city agreed with this opinion. Everyone buried the doctor, and no one mentioned his violent death since then. It seems unbelievable that there are people in the world who are so despicable and vicious as to kill the doctor. You know, even There's always a limit to being vicious. Isn't there?

"But suddenly, as you can no longer imagine, the murderer was discovered by chance. A vagrant who had been tried many times and was known for his dissolute life was seen offering a snuffbox and a pocket watch for a drink in a tavern. These two things belonged to the doctor. Everyone denounced him one after another. He panicked and made up an obvious lie. They went to his house and searched, and found on his bed a shirt with blood on the sleeve, and a physician's lancet in a gilded sheath.Is there any need to look for another incriminating evidence?They sent the bad guy to prison.The residents were very angry, and said at the same time: "'This is unbelievable! There is no such thing! Be careful, don't make a mistake. Yes, sometimes the evidence is not reliable!'" In court, the murderer He refused to plead guilty to death.All the evidence was against him, and it was as easy to prove his guilt as to prove that the land was black.But the judges seemed to be out of their minds. They considered each evidence a dozen times, looked at the witnesses with distrust, blushed, and kept drinking water. ... The interrogation started early in the morning and did not end until evening.

"'Defendant!' said the presiding judge to the murderer. 'The court finds that you have committed the crime of killing such-and-such a doctor, and sentenced you...'" The presiding judge originally wanted to say 'death penalty', but he threw away the piece of paper in which the verdict was written. File, wiped off his cold sweat, and shouted: "'No! If my interrogation is unfair, then let God punish me. In short, I will swear: he is not guilty! I can't imagine that there are people in the world who dare to kill our friends and friends. Physician! One cannot fall so deep!'" 'Yes, there are no such men,' agreed the other judges.

"'Yes!' cried the crowd. 'Let him go!' "The murderer was released and completely free. No one blamed the judges for being unfair. My grandma said that even God, in this faith in man, forgave the sins of all the residents of that small town. God saw everyone I am happy to believe that man is the image of God. If everyone forgets the dignity of human beings and treats man as worse than a dog, God will be sad. Even if this acquittal verdict will bring harm to the residents of the small town, but on the other hand Well, consider what a good effect this confidence in men, which are not dead things, must have upon them. It will cultivate in us a feeling of magnanimity, and will forever prompt us to love and respect every human being. One person. Everyone! That's what matters." Mikhail Karlovich had finished.My neighbor wanted to contradict him, but the head gardener made a gesture to show that he did not like to contradict.Then, he left here and walked towards the cart, with a solemn expression on his face, and continued to do the loading of the cart. "Notes" ① Quoted from Shakespeare's tragedy "Hamlet", Act III, Scene IV. ——Russian text editor's note ②In the thirteenth century, the Catholic Church’s agency for detecting and judging “heretics” conducted secret interrogations and tortured “heretics” and those who opposed feudal forces, including progressive thinkers and natural scientists. ③ Billen (1690-1772), the leader of the German reactionary group, usurped the power of the Russian court in the 1830s. ④ Arakcheyev (1769-1834), a powerful and tyrannical favorite of Paul I and Alexander I.