Anna Karenina - Part 3

The night spent by Levin on the haycock did not pass without

result for him. The way in which he had been managing his land

revolted him and had lost all attraction for him. In spite of

the magnificent harvest, never had there been, or, at least,

never it seemed to him, had there been so many hindrances and so

many quarrels between him and the peasants as that year, and the

origin of these failures and this hostility was now perfectly

comprehensible to him. The delight he had experienced in the

work itself, and the consequent greater intimacy with the

peasants, the envy he felt of them, of their life, the desire to

adopt that life, which had been to him that night not a dream but

an intention, the execution of which he had thought out in detail

--all this had so transformed his view of the farming of the land

as he had managed it, that he could not take his former interest

in it, and could not help seeing that unpleasant relation between

him and the workpeople which was the foundation of it all. The

herd of improved cows such as Pava, the whole land ploughed over

and enriched, the nine level fields surrounded with hedges, the

two hundred and forty acres heavily manured, the seed sown in

drills, and all the rest of it--it was all splendid if only the

work had been done for themselves, or for themselves and comrades

--people in sympathy with them. But he saw clearly now (his work

on a book of agriculture, in which the chief element in husbandry

was to have been the laborer, greatly assisted him in this) that

the sort of farming he was carrying on was nothing but a cruel

and stubborn struggle between him and the laborers, in which

there was on one side--his side--a continual intense effort to

change everything to a pattern he considered better; on the other

side, the natural order of things. And in this struggle he saw

that with immense expenditure of force on his side, and with no

effort or even intention on the other side, all that was attained

was that the work did not go to the liking of either side, and

that splendid tools, splendid cattle and land were spoiled with

no good to anyone. Worst of all, the energy expended on this

work was not simply wasted. He could not help feeling now, since

the meaning of this system had become clear to him, that the aim

of his energy was a most unworthy one. In reality, what was the

struggle about? He was struggling for every farthing of his

share (and he could not help it, for he had only to relax his

efforts, and he would not have had the money to pay his laborers'

wages), while they were only struggling to be able to do their

work easily and agreeably, that is to say, as they were used to

doing it. It was for his interests that every laborer should

work as hard as possible, and that while doing so he should keep

his wits about him, so as to try not to break the winnowing

machines, the horse rakes, the thrashing machines, that he should

attend to what he was doing. What the laborer wanted was to work

as pleasantly as possible, with rests, and above all, carelessly

and heedlessly, without thinking. That summer Levin saw this at

every step. He sent the men to mow some clover for hay, picking

out the worst patches where the clover was overgrown with grass

and weeds and of no use for seed; again and again they mowed the

best acres of clover, justifying themselves by the pretense that

the bailiff had told them to, and trying to pacify him with the

assurance that it would be splendid hay; but he knew that it was

owing to those acres being so much easier to mow. He sent out a

hay machine for pitching the hay--it was broken at the first row

because it was dull work for a peasant to sit on the seat in

front with the great wings waving above him. And he was told,

"Don't trouble, your honor, sure, the womenfolks will pitch it

quick enough." The ploughs were practically useless, because it

never occurred to the laborer to raise the share when he turned

the plough, and forcing it round, he strained the horses and tore

up the ground, and Levin was begged not to mind about it. The

horses were allowed to stray into the wheat because not a single

laborer would consent to be night-watchman, and in spite of

orders to the contrary, the laborers insisted on taking turns for

night duty, and Ivan, after working all day long, fell asleep,

and was very penitent for his fault, saying, "Do what you will to

me, your honor."