God Sees the Truth, But Waits

by Leo Tolstoy
God Sees the Truth, But Waits (1872), is about a man falsely convicted and serving a sentence for a
murder he did not commit; Tolstoy's parable for forgiveness. Tolstoy's story inspired Stephen King's
novella, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption (1982), adapted into the memorable 1994 film.

In the town of Vladimir lived a young merchant named Ivan Dmitrich Aksionov. He
had two shops and a house of his own.

Aksionov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full of fun, and very fond
of singing. When quite a young man he had been given to drink, and was riotous
when he had had too much; but after he married he gave up drinking, except now
and then.

One summer Aksionov was going to the Nizhny Fair, and as he bade good-bye to
his family, his wife said to him, "Ivan Dmitrich, do not start to-day; I have had a bad
dream about you."

Aksionov laughed, and said, "You are afraid that when I get to the fair I shall go on a
spree."

His wife replied: "I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is that I had a bad
dream. I dreamt you returned from the town, and when you took off your cap I saw
that your hair was quite grey."

Aksionov laughed. "That's a lucky sign," said he. "See if I don't sell out all my goods,
and bring you some presents from the fair."

So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away.

When he had travelled half-way, he met a merchant whom he knew, and they put up
at the same inn for the night. They had some tea together, and then went to bed in
adjoining rooms.
It was not Aksionov's habit to sleep late, and, wishing to travel while it was still cool,
he aroused his driver before dawn, and told him to put in the horses.

Then he made his way across to the landlord of the inn (who lived in a cottage at the
back), paid his bill, and continued his journey.

When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the horses to be fed.
Aksionov rested awhile in the passage of the inn, then he stepped out into the porch,
and, ordering a samovar to be heated, got out his guitar and began to play.

Suddenly a troika drove up with tinkling bells and an official alighted, followed by two
soldiers. He came to Aksionov and began to question him, asking him who he was
and whence he came. Aksionov answered him fully, and said, "Won't you have
some tea with me?" But the official went on cross-questioning him and asking him.
"Where did you spend last night? Were you alone, or with a fellow-merchant? Did
you see the other merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn before dawn?"

Aksionov wondered why he was asked all these questions, but he described all that
had happened, and then added, "Why do you cross-question me as if I were a thief
or a robber? I am travelling on business of my own, and there is no need to question
me."

Then the official, calling the soldiers, said, "I am the police-officer of this district, and
I question you because the merchant with whom you spent last night has been
found with his throat cut. We must search your things."

They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer unstrapped Aksionov's
luggage and searched it. Suddenly the officer drew a knife out of a bag, crying,
"Whose knife is this?"

Aksionov looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from his bag, he was
frightened.

"How is it there is blood on this knife?"

Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only stammered: "I--
don't know--not mine." Then the police-officer said: "This morning the merchant was
found in bed with his throat cut. You are the only person who could have done it.
The house was locked from inside, and no one else was there. Here is this blood-
stained knife in your bag and your face and manner betray you! Tell me how you
killed him, and how much money you stole?"

Aksionov swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant after they
had had tea together; that he had no money except eight thousand rubles of his
own, and that the knife was not his. But his voice was broken, his face pale, and he
trembled with fear as though he went guilty.

The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksionov and to put him in the cart. As
they tied his feet together and flung him into the cart, Aksionov crossed himself and
wept. His money and goods were taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest
town and imprisoned there. Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladimir. The
merchants and other inhabitants of that town said that in former days he used to
drink and waste his time, but that he was a good man. Then the trial came on: he
was charged with murdering a merchant from Ryazan, and robbing him of twenty
thousand rubles.

His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe. Her children were all quite
small; one was a baby at her breast. Taking them all with her, she went to the town
where her husband was in jail. At first she was not allowed to see him; but after
much begging, she obtained permission from the officials, and was taken to him.
When she saw her husband in prison-dress and in chains, shut up with thieves and
criminals, she fell down, and did not come to her senses for a long time. Then she
drew her children to her, and sat down near him. She told him of things at home,
and asked about what had happened to him. He told her all, and she asked, "What
can we do now?"

"We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish."
His wife told him that she had sent a petition to the Czar, but it had not been
accepted.

Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.

Then his wife said, "It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair had turned grey. You
remember? You should not have started that day." And passing her fingers through
his hair, she said: "Vanya dearest, tell your wife the truth; was it not you who did it?"

"So you, too, suspect me!" said Aksionov, and, hiding his face in his hands, he
began to weep. Then a soldier came to say that the wife and children must go away;
and Aksionov said good-bye to his family for the last time.

When they were gone, Aksionov recalled what had been said, and when he
remembered that his wife also had suspected him, he said to himself, "It seems that
only God can know the truth; it is to Him alone we must appeal, and from Him alone
expect mercy."

And Aksionov wrote no more petitions; gave up all hope, and only prayed to God.

Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to the mines. So he was flogged
with a knot, and when the wounds made by the knot were healed, he was driven to
Siberia with other convicts.

For twenty-six years Aksionov lived as a convict in Siberia. His hair turned white as
snow, and his beard grew long, thin, and grey. All his mirth went; he stooped; he
walked slowly, spoke little, and never laughed, but he often prayed.

In prison Aksionov learnt to make boots, and earned a little money, with which he
bought The Lives of the Saints. He read this book when there was light enough in
the prison; and on Sundays in the prison-church he read the lessons and sang in the
choir; for his voice was still good.

The prison authorities liked Aksionov for his meekness, and his fellow-prisoners
respected him: they called him "Grandfather," and "The Saint." When they wanted to
petition the prison authorities about anything, they always made Aksionov their
spokesman, and when there were quarrels among the prisoners they came to him to
put things right, and to judge the matter.

No news reached Aksionov from his home, and he did not even know if his wife and
children were still alive.

One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In the evening the old
prisoners collected round the new ones and asked them what towns or villages they
came from, and what they were sentenced for. Among the rest Aksionov sat down
near the newcomers, and listened with downcast air to what was said.

One of the new convicts, a tall, strong man of sixty, with a closely-cropped grey
beard, was telling the others what be had been arrested for.

"Well, friends," he said, "I only took a horse that was tied to a sledge, and I was
arrested and accused of stealing. I said I had only taken it to get home quicker, and
had then let it go; besides, the driver was a personal friend of mine. So I said, 'It's all
right.' 'No,' said they, 'you stole it.' But how or where I stole it they could not say. I
once really did something wrong, and ought by rights to have come here long ago,
but that time I was not found out. Now I have been sent here for nothing at all... Eh,
but it's lies I'm telling you; I've been to Siberia before, but I did not stay long."

"Where are you from?" asked some one.

"From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name is Makar, and they also call me
Semyonich."

Aksionov raised his head and said: "Tell me, Semyonich, do you know anything of
the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir? Are they still alive?"

"Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though their father is in
Siberia: a sinner like ourselves, it seems! As for you, Gran'dad, how did you come
here?"
Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He only sighed, and said, "For my
sins I have been in prison these twenty-six years."

"What sins?" asked Makar Semyonich.

But Aksionov only said, "Well, well--I must have deserved it!" He would have said no
more, but his companions told the newcomers how Aksionov came to be in Siberia;
how some one had killed a merchant, and had put the knife among Aksionov's
things, and Aksionov had been unjustly condemned.

When Makar Semyonich heard this, he looked at Aksionov, slapped his own knee,
and exclaimed, "Well, this is wonderful! Really wonderful! But how old you've grown,
Gran'dad!"

The others asked him why he was so surprised, and where he had seen Aksionov
before; but Makar Semyonich did not reply. He only said: "It's wonderful that we
should meet here, lads!"

These words made Aksionov wonder whether this man knew who had killed the
merchant; so he said, "Perhaps, Semyonich, you have heard of that affair, or maybe
you've seen me before?"

"How could I help hearing? The world's full of rumours. But it's a long time ago, and
I've forgotten what I heard."

"Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksionov.

Makar Semyonich laughed, and replied: "It must have been him in whose bag the
knife was found! If some one else hid the knife there, 'He's not a thief till he's
caught,' as the saying is. How could any one put a knife into your bag while it was
under your head? It would surely have woke you up."

When Aksionov heard these words, he felt sure this was the man who had killed the
merchant. He rose and went away. All that night Aksionov lay awake. He felt terribly
unhappy, and all sorts of images rose in his mind. There was the image of his wife
as she was when he parted from her to go to the fair. He saw her as if she were
present; her face and her eyes rose before him; he heard her speak and laugh.
Then he saw his children, quite little, as they: were at that time: one with a little cloak
on, another at his mother's breast. And then he remembered himself as he used to
be-young and merry. He remembered how he sat playing the guitar in the porch of
the inn where he was arrested, and how free from care he had been. He saw, in his
mind, the place where he was flogged, the executioner, and the people standing
around; the chains, the convicts, all the twenty-six years of his prison life, and his
premature old age. The thought of it all made him so wretched that he was ready to
kill himself.

"And it's all that villain's doing!" thought Aksionov. And his anger was so great
against Makar Semyonich that he longed for vengeance, even if he himself should
perish for it. He kept repeating prayers all night, but could get no peace. During the
day he did not go near Makar Semyonich, nor even look at him.

A fortnight passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep at night, and was so
miserable that he did not know what to do.

One night as he was walking about the prison he noticed some earth that came
rolling out from under one of the shelves on which the prisoners slept. He stopped to
see what it was. Suddenly Makar Semyonich crept out from under the shelf, and
looked up at Aksionov with frightened face. Aksionov tried to pass without looking at
him, but Makar seized his hand and told him that he had dug a hole under the wall,
getting rid of the earth by putting it into his high-boots, and emptying it out every day
on the road when the prisoners were driven to their work.

"Just you keep quiet, old man, and you shall get out too. If you blab, they'll flog the
life out of me, but I will kill you first."

Aksionov trembled with anger as he looked at his enemy. He drew his hand away,
saying, "I have no wish to escape, and you have no need to kill me; you killed me
long ago! As to telling of you--I may do so or not, as God shall direct."
Next day, when the convicts were led out to work, the convoy soldiers noticed that
one or other of the prisoners emptied some earth out of his boots. The prison was
searched and the tunnel found. The Governor came and questioned all the prisoners
to find out who had dug the hole. They all denied any knowledge of it. Those who
knew would not betray Makar Semyonich, knowing he would be flogged almost to
death. At last the Governor turned to Aksionov whom he knew to be a just man, and
said:

"You are a truthful old man; tell me, before God, who dug the hole?"

Makar Semyonich stood as if he were quite unconcerned, looking at the Governor

and not so much as glancing at Aksionov. Aksionov's lips and hands trembled, and
for a long time he could not utter a word. He thought, "Why should I screen him who
ruined my life? Let him pay for what I have suffered. But if I tell, they will probably
flog the life out of him, and maybe I suspect him wrongly. And, after all, what good
would it be to me?"

"Well, old man," repeated the Governor, "tell me the truth: who has been digging
under the wall?"

Aksionov glanced at Makar Semyonich, and said, "I cannot say, your honour. It is
not God's will that I should tell! Do what you like with me; I am your hands."

However much the Governor! tried, Aksionov would say no more, and so the matter
had to be left.

That night, when Aksionov was lying on his bed and just beginning to doze, some
one came quietly and sat down on his bed. He peered through the darkness and
recognised Makar.

"What more do you want of me?" asked Aksionov. "Why have you come here?"

Makar Semyonich was silent. So Aksionov sat up and said, "What do you want? Go
away, or I will call the guard!"
Makar Semyonich bent close over Aksionov, and whispered, "Ivan Dmitrich, forgive
me!"

"What for?" asked Aksionov.

"It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife among your things. I meant to kill
you too, but I heard a noise outside, so I hid the knife in your bag and escaped out
of the window."

Aksionov was silent, and did not know what to say. Makar Semyonich slid off the
bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground. "Ivan Dmitrich," said he, "forgive me! For the
love of God, forgive me! I will confess that it was I who killed the merchant, and you
will be released and can go to your home."

"It is easy for you to talk," said Aksionov, "but I have suffered for you these twenty-
six years. Where could I go to now?... My wife is dead, and my children have
forgotten me. I have nowhere to go..."

Makar Semyonich did not rise, but beat his head on the floor. "Ivan Dmitrich, forgive
me!" he cried. "When they flogged me with the knot it was not so hard to bear as it is
to see you now ... yet you had pity on me, and did not tell. For Christ's sake forgive
me, wretch that I am!" And he began to sob.

When Aksionov heard him sobbing he, too, began to weep. "God will forgive you!"
said he. "Maybe I am a hundred times worse than you." And at these words his
heart grew light, and the longing for home left him. He no longer had any desire to
leave the prison, but only hoped for his last hour to come.

In spite of what Aksionov had said, Makar Semyonich confessed, his guilt. But when
the order for his release came, Aksionov was already dead.
Premarital Sex Is Nearly Universal
Among Americans, And Has Been For
Decades

The vast majority of Americans have sex before marriage, including those who
abstained from sex during their teenage years, according to “Trends in Premarital
Sex in the United States, 1954–2003,” by Lawrence B. Finer, published in the
January/February 2007 issue of Public Health Reports. Further, contrary to the
public perception that premarital sex is much more common now than in the past,
the study shows that even among women who were born in the 1940s, nearly nine
in 10 had sex before marriage.

The new study uses data from several rounds of the federal National Survey of
Family Growth to examine sexual behavior before marriage, and how it has changed
over time. According to the analysis, by age 44, 99% of respondents had had sex,
and 95% had done so before marriage. Even among those who abstained from sex
until age 20 or older, 81% had had premarital sex by age 44.

“This is reality-check research. Premarital sex is normal behavior for the vast
majority of Americans, and has been for decades,” says study author Lawrence
Finer, director of domestic research at the Guttmacher Institute. “The data clearly
show that the majority of older teens and adults have already had sex before
marriage, which calls into question the federal government’s funding of abstinence-
only-until-marriage programs for 12–29-year-olds. It would be more effective to
provide young people with the skills and information they need to be safe once they
become sexually active—which nearly everyone eventually will.”

Indeed, while the likelihood that Americans will have sex before marriage has
remained virtually unchanged since the 1950s, people now wait longer to get
married, so they are sexually active and unmarried for much longer than in the past.
During this period, Dr. Finer concludes, young adults have an especially great need
for accurate information about how to protect themselves against unintended
pregnancies and sexually transmitted infections.

https://www.guttmacher.org/news-release/2006/premarital-sex-nearly-universal-
among-americans-and-has-been-decades
Makaryev's Fair ( Nizhny Novgorod Fair later) was the
greatest Trade Fair in Imperial Russia.

Makaryev's Trade Fair (Makarevskaya Jarmarka) was the Greatest Trade Fair in Russia
held annually every July near Makaryev Monastery on the left bank of the Volga River
from the mid-16th century to 1816. Following a massive fire in 1816, it was moved to
Nizhny Novgorod, but for some decades thereafter it still was commonly referred to as
Makariev Trade Fair. It attracted many foreign merchants all over the World.

This is SketchUp model of the main building of NNTF.

The Nizhny Novgorod (former Makarevchkaya)Trade Fair (NNTF) (1824).

I will quote below what was written about Nizhny Novgorod Fair in 19th century by
well-known American writer Suzanne Massie in her remarkable book “ Land of Firebird -
The Beauty of Old Russia”. Mr. Irwin Well wrote about this book in Chicago Tribune “ It
stuns the reader with the richness, variety, and beauty of East Slavic creativity.”
“The greatest Fair of all, the largest in Europe and, indeed, the world, was the huge fair at
Nizhny Novgorod, which took place from July 15 to September 10 every year.
During the two month of the fair, the population of the city Nizhny Novgorod swelled
from 40,000 to 200,000 – the daily count of additional visitors was calculated from the
amount of bread sold.
The equivalent of 200 million dollars’ worth of goods was sold or exchanged in six
weeks”.

The map of Nizhny Novgorod Trade Fair (1890th).

In 1872 one of the visitors of Nizhny Novgorod Fair was an enterprising American, Mrs.
Edna Dean Proctor, who wrote a detailed account of her visit to the Fair.
“ From the station, we drove at once to the “Hotel Russia”….
The first floor opened to the street, where a throng of vehicles of all sorts was constantly
arriving and departing. The next floor was given up to dining rooms in which you might
see all the costumes and hear all languages of Europe….
Tanks of running water bordered by growing ferns and flowers were filled with the
famous starlet of the Volga river, swimming at ease and ready to be served up at any
moment to the epicurean guest….”
 The Nizhny Novgorod Trade Fair (1870th).

The "Chinese Rows" at the Nizhny Novgorod TradeFair.

The Main Building of the Nizhny Novgorod Trade Fair (`1890).

 The Main Building of the Nizhny Novgorod Trade Fair (`1900).

The interior of the Main Building of the Nizhny Novgorod Trade Fair (`1910).

Samokatskaya Square at the NNTF (1915).

The stalls near Samokatskaya Square at the NNTF (1915).

 Warehouses of Siberean wharves

The Machines Department

The first Russian automobile designed by E.A. Yakovlev and P.A. Freze
 Exposition of F. Vigand's engineering works producion boilers

Еhe general view of the NNTF from the Nizhny Novgorod Kremlin (1910).

The Main Building of the Nizhny Novgorod Trade Fair now (June 2012).

This information is taken from the diary of Adrian Fedorovich Timofeev (1882-1954) – the
mathematician, socialist, revolutionary, financier and banker.

http://adriantimofeev.blogspot.com/2012/07/makaryevs-fair-nizhny-novgorod-fair.html?m=1