The Picture Page #2

"The Picture" is a poignant short story by Russian author Aleksandr Kuprin that explores themes of art, beauty, and the complex relationships between individuals. The narrative centers around a painting that captivates the protagonist, leading him to reflect on his own experiences and emotions. Through vivid descriptions and deep psychological insight, Kuprin delves into the power of art to evoke memory and desire, ultimately illuminating the profound connection between life and artistic expression. The story serves as a meditation on the nature of human perception and the lasting impact of aesthetic encounters.

• Novel

								

had given up the idea, or he had become idle. Now he was living on his
estate at Pneestcheva, he called to mind his former occupation and took
to painting pictures again. He painted the river, the mill, an ikon of
St. Nicholas for the church--and painted them very well.

Besides this occupation the prince had one other diversion--bear
hunting. In our neighbourhood there were a fearful number of these
animals. He always went as a mouzhik, with hunting pole and knife, and
only took with him the village hunter Nikita Dranny. They called him
Dranny because on one occasion a bear had torn a portion of his scalp
from his skull, and his head had remained ragged ever since.[1]

[1] "Dranny," means torn or ragged.

With the peasants the prince was quite simple and friendly. He was
so easy to approach that if a man wanted wood for his cottage, or if
his horse had had an accident, all he had to do was to go straight to
the prince and ask for what he wanted. He knew that he would not be
refused. The only things the prince could not stand were servility and
lying. He never forgave a lie.

And, moreover, the serfs loved him because he made no scandals with
their women folk. The maids of our countryside had a name for their
good looks, and there were landowners in those days who lived worse
than Turks, with a harem for themselves and for their friends. But
with us, no--no, nothing of that sort. That is, of course, nothing
scandalous. There were occasions, as there always must be, man being so
weak, but these were quiet and gentle affairs of the heart, and no one
was offended.

But though Prince Andrey was simple and friendly towards his inferiors,
he was proud and insolent in his bearing towards his equals and
to those in authority, even needlessly so. He especially disliked
officials. Sometimes an official would come to our estate to see about
the farming arrangements, or in connection with the police or with
the excise department--at that time the nobility reckoned any kind of
service, except military service, as a degradation--and he would act
as a person new to office sometimes does: he would strut about with
an air of importance, and ask "Why aren't things so and so?" The
steward would inform him politely that everything was in accordance
with the prince's orders and mustn't be altered. That meant, of
course--You take your regulation bribe and be off with you. But the
official would not be daunted. "And what's your prince to me?" he would
say. "I'm the representative of the law here." And he would order the
steward to take him at once to the prince. My father would warn him out
of pity. "Our prince," he would say, "has rather a heavy hand." But
the official would not listen. "Where is the prince?" he would cry.
And he would rush into the prince's presence exclaiming, "Mercy on us,
what's all this disorder on your estate! Where else can one see such
a state of things? I ... we ..." The prince would let him go on, and
say nothing, then suddenly his face would become purple and his eyes
would flash--he was terrible to look at when he was angry. "Take the
scoundrel to the stables!" he would cry. And then the official would
naturally receive a flogging. At that time many landowners approved of
this, and for some reason or other the floggings always took place in
the stables, according to the custom of their ancestors. But after two
or three days the prince would secretly send my father into the town
with a packet of bank-notes for the official who had been chastised. I
used to dare to say to him sometimes, "You know, prince, the official
will complain about you, and you'll have to answer for your doings."
And he would say: "Well, how can that be? Let me be brought to account
before God and my Emperor, but I'm bound to punish impudence."

But better than this, if you please, was his behaviour towards the
Governor at one time. One day a workman from the ferry came running up
to him to tell him that the Governor was on the other side of the river.

"Well, what of it?" said the prince.

"He wants the ferry-boat, your Excellency," said the peasant. He was a
sensible man, and knew the prince's character.

"How did he ask for it?" said the prince.

"The captain of the police sent to say that the ferry-boat was wanted
immediately."

The prince at once gave the order:

"Don't let him have it."

And he didn't. Then the Governor guessed what had happened, and he
wrote a little note and sent it, asking dear Andrey Lvovitch--they were
really distant cousins--to be so kind as to let him use the ferry, and
signing the note simply with his Christian and surname. On this the
prince himself kindly went down to the river to meet the Governor,
and gave him such a feast in welcome that he couldn't get away from
Pneestcheva for a whole week.

To people of his own class, even to the most impoverished of them,
the prince never refused to "give satisfaction" in cases where a
misunderstanding had arisen. But people were generally on their guard,
knowing his indomitable character and that he had fought in his time
eighteen duels. Duels among the aristocracy were very common at that
time.

IV

The prince lived in this way on his estate at Pneestcheva for more than
two years. Then the Tsar sent out his manifesto granting freedom to
the serfs, and there commenced a time of alarm and disturbance among
the landowners. Many of them were not at all pleased about it, and sat
at home on their far-away estates and took to writing reports on the
matter. Others, more avaricious and far-sighted, were on the watch with
the freed peasants, trying to turn everything to their own advantage.
And some were very much afraid of a rising of the peasants, and applied
to the authorities for any kind of troops to defend their estates.

When the manifesto arrived, Prince Andrey called his peasants together
and explained the matter to them in very simple words, without any
insinuations. "You," he said, "are now free, as free as I am. And this
is a good thing to have happened. But don't use your freedom to do
wrong, because the authorities will always keep an eye on you. And,
remember, that as I have helped you in the past I shall continue to do
so. And take as much land as you can cultivate for your ransom."

Then he suddenly left the place and went off to Petersburg.

I think you know very well what happened at that time, gentlemen, both
in Moscow and in Petersburg. The aristocracy turned up immediately,
with piles of money, and went on the spree. The farmers and the holders
of concessions and the bankers had amazed all Russia, but they were
only as children or puppies in comparison with the landowners. It's
terrible to think what took place. Many a time a man's whole fortune
was thrown to the winds for one supper.

Prince Andrey fell into this very whirlpool, and began to whirl about.
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