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diff --git a/old/67882-0.txt b/old/67882-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5d36270..0000000 --- a/old/67882-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12745 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Memoirs of Alexander Herzen, Parts -I and II, by Aleexander Ivanovich Herzen - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Memoirs of Alexander Herzen, Parts I and II - -Author: Aleexander Ivanovich Herzen - -Translator: Duff J. D. - -Release Date: April 20, 2022 [eBook #67882] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Carlos Colon, Barry Abrahamsen, the University of Michigan - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images - made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MEMOIRS OF ALEXANDER -HERZEN, PARTS I AND II *** - - - - - - MEMOIRS OF - ALEXANDER HERZEN - Parts I and II - - ══════ - PUBLISHED ON THE FOUNDATION - ESTABLISHED IN MEMORY OF - THEODORE L. GLASGOW - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - THE MEMOIRS - - OF - - ALEXANDER HERZEN - - PARTS I AND II - - - TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY - - J. D. DUFF - - FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE - - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - - - NEW HAVEN - YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS - LONDON · HUMPHREY MILFORD · OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS - MCMXXIII - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS - ───── - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE THEODORE L. GLASGOW MEMORIAL - PUBLICATION FUND - - -The present volume is the seventh work published by the Yale University -Press on the Theodore L. Glasgow Memorial Publication Fund. This -foundation was established September 17, 1918, by an anonymous gift to -Yale University in memory of Flight Sub-Lieutenant Theodore L. Glasgow, -R.N. He was born in Montreal, Canada, and was educated at the University -of Toronto Schools and at the Royal Military College, Kingston. In -August, 1916, he entered the Royal Naval Air Service and in July, 1917, -went to France with the Tenth Squadron attached to the Twenty-second -Wing of the Royal Flying Corps. A month later, August 19, 1917, he was -killed in action on the Ypres front. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PART ONE—NURSERY AND UNIVERSITY - - 1812-1834 - - Chapter I. 3 - My Nurse and the _Grande Armeé_—Moscow in - Flames—My Father and Napoleon—General - Ilovaiski—A Journey with French - Prisoners—Patriotism—Calot—Property Managed in - Common—The Division—The Senator. - - Chapter II. 28 - Gossip of Nurses and Conversation of Generals—A - False Position—Boredom—The Servants’ Hall—Two - Germans—Lessons and Reading—Catechism and the - Gospel. - - Chapter III. 62 - Death of Alexander I—The Fourteenth of - December—Moral Awakening—Bouchot—My Cousin—N. - Ogaryóv. - - Chapter IV. 85 - My Friend Niko and the Sparrow Hills. - - Chapter V. 95 - Details of Home Life—Men of the Eighteenth - Century in Russia—A Day at Home—Guests and - Visitors—Sonnenberg—Servants. - - Chapter VI. 120 - The Kremlin Offices—Moscow University—The - Chemist—The Cholera—Philaret—Passek. - - Chapter VII. 173 - End of College Life—The “Schiller” - Stage—Youth—The Artistic Life—Saint—Simonianism - and N. Polevói—Polezháev. - - - - PART TWO—PRISON AND EXILE - - 1834-1838 - - Chapter I. 201 - A Prophecy—Ogaryóv’s Arrest—The Fires—A Moscow - Liberal—Mihail Orlóv—The Churchyard. - - Chapter II. 214 - Arrest—The Independent Witness—A - Police-Station—Patriarchal Justice. - - Chapter III. 222 - Under the Belfry—A Travelled Policeman—The - Incendiaries. - - Chapter IV. 235 - The Krutitski Barracks—A Policeman’s Story—The - Officers. - - Chapter V. 246 - The Enquiry—Golitsyn Senior—Golitsyn - Junior—General Staal—The Sentence—Sokolovski. - - Chapter VI. 265 - Exile—A Chief Constable—The Volga—Perm. - - Chapter VII. 283 - Vyatka—The Office and Dinner-table of His - Excellency—Tufáyev. - - Chapter VIII. 307 - Officials—Siberian Governors—A Bird of Prey—A - Gentle Judge—An Inspector Roasted—The Tatar—A - Boy of the Female Sex—The Potato Revolt—Russian - Justice. - - Chapter IX. 342 - Alexander Vitberg. - - Chapter X. 360 - The Crown Prince at Vyatka—The Fall of - Tufáyev—Transferred to Vladímir—The Inspector’s - Enquiry. - - Chapter XI. 374 - The Beginning of my Life at Vladímir. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - - I - -ALEXANDER HERZEN was born in Moscow on March 25,[1] 1812, six months -before Napoleon arrived at the gates of the city with what was left of -his Grand Army. He died in Paris on January 9, 1870. Down to his -thirty-fifth year he lived in Russia, often in places selected for his -residence by the Government; he left Russia, never to return, on January -10, 1847. - -Footnote 1: - - The dates given here are those of the Russian calendar. - -He was the elder son of Iván Yákovlev, a Russian noble, and Luise Haag, -a German girl from Stuttgart. It was a runaway match; and as the -Lutheran marriage ceremony was not supplemented in Russia, the child was -illegitimate. “Herzen” was a name invented for him by his parents. -Surnames, however, are little used in Russian society; and the boy would -generally be called, from his own Christian name and his father’s, -Alexander Ivánovich. His parents lived together in Moscow, and he lived -with them and was brought up much like other sons of rich nobles. It was -quite in Herzen’s power to lead a life of selfish ease and luxury; but -he early chose a different path and followed it to the end. Yet this -consistent champion of the poor and humble was himself a typical -aristocrat-generous, indeed, and stoical in misfortune, but bold to -rashness and proud as Lucifer. - -The story of his early life is told fully in these pages—his solitary -boyhood and romantic friendship with his cousin, Nikolai Ogaryóv; his -keen enjoyment of College life, and the beginning of his long warfare -with the police of that other aristocrat, Nicholas, Tsar of all the -Russias, who was just as much in earnest as Herzen but kept a different -object in view. - -Charged with socialistic propaganda, Herzen spent nine months of -1834-1835 in a Moscow prison and was then sent, by way of punishment, to -Vyatka. The exiles were often men of exceptional ability, and the -Government made use of their talents. So Herzen was employed for three -years in compiling statistics and organizing an exhibition at Vyatka. He -was then allowed to move to Vladímir, near Moscow, where he edited the -official gazette; and here, on May 9, 1838, he married his cousin, -Natálya Zakhárin, a natural daughter of one of his uncles. Receiving -permission in 1839 to live, under supervision of the police, where he -pleased, he spent some time in Moscow and Petersburg, but he was again -arrested on a charge of disaffection and sent off this time to Novgorod, -where he served in the Government offices for nearly three years. In -1842 he was allowed to retire from his duties and to settle with his -wife and family in Moscow. In 1846 his father’s death made him a rich -man. - -For twelve years past, Herzen, when he was not in prison, had lived the -life of a ticket-of-leave man. He was naturally anxious to get away from -Russia; but a passport was indispensable, and the Government would not -give him a passport. At last the difficulties were overcome; and in the -beginning of 1847 Herzen, with his wife and children and widowed mother, -left Russia for ever. - -Twenty-three years, almost to a day, remained for him to live. The first -part of that time was spent in France, Italy, and Switzerland; but the -suburbs of London, Putney and Primrose Hill, were his most permanent -place of residence. He was safe there from the Russian police; but he -did not like London. He spoke English very badly;[2] he made few -acquaintances there; and he writes with some asperity of the people and -their habits. - -Footnote 2: - - Herzen is mentioned in letters of Mrs. Carlyle. She notes (1) that his - English was unintelligible; and (2) that of all the exiles who came to - Cheyne Walk he was the only one who had money. - -His own family party was soon broken up by death. In November, 1851, his -mother and his little son, Nikolai (still called Kólya) were drowned in -an accident to the boat which was bringing them from Marseilles to Nice, -where Herzen and his wife were expecting them. The shock proved fatal to -his wife: she died at Nice in the spring of 1852. The three surviving -children were not of an age to be companions to him. - -For many years after the _coup d’état_ of Louis Napoleon, Herzen, who -owned a house in Paris, was forbidden to live in France. He settled in -London and was joined there by Ogaryóv, the friend of his childhood. -Together they started a printing press, in order to produce the kind of -literature which Nicholas and his police were trying to stamp out in -Russia. In 1857, after the death of the great Autocrat, they began to -issue a fortnightly paper, called Kólokol (_The Bell_); and this _Bell_, -probably inaudible in London, made an astonishing noise in Russia. Its -circulation and influence there were unexampled: it is said that the new -Tsar, Alexander, was one of its regular readers. Alexander and Herzen -had met long before, at Vyatka. February 19, 1861, when Alexander -published the edict abolishing slavery throughout his dominions, must -have been one of the brightest days in Herzen’s life. There was little -brightness in the nine years that remained. When Poland revolted in -1863, he lost his subscribers and his popularity by his courageous -refusal to echo the prevailing feeling of his countrymen; and he gave -men inferior to himself, such as Ogaryóv and Bakúnin, too much influence -over his journal. - -He was on a visit to Paris, when he died rather suddenly of inflammation -of the lungs on January 9, 1870. At Nice there is a statue of Herzen on -the grave where he and his wife are buried. - - - II - -The collected Russian edition of Herzen’s works—no edition was permitted -by the censorship till 1905—extends to seven thick volumes. These are: -one volume of fiction; one of letters addressed to his future wife; two -of memoirs; and three of what may be called political journalism. - -About 1842 he began to publish articles on scientific and social -subjects in magazines whose precarious activity was constantly -interrupted or arrested by the censorship. His chief novel, _Who Was To -Blame?_ was written in 1846. From the time when he left Russia he was -constantly writing on European politics and the shifting fortunes of the -cause which he had at heart. When he was publishing his Russian -newspapers in London, first _The Pole-Star_ and then _The Bell_, he -wrote most of the matter himself. - -To readers who are not countrymen or contemporaries of Herzen’s, the -_Memoirs_ are certainly the most interesting part of his production. -They paint for us an astonishing picture of Russian life under the grim -rule of Nicholas, the life of the rich man in Moscow, and the life of -the exile near the Ural Mountains; and they are crowded with figures and -incidents which would be incredible if one were not convinced of the -narrator’s veracity. Herzen is a supreme master of that superb -instrument, the Russian language. With a force of intellect entirely out -of Boswell’s reach, he has Boswell’s power of dramatic presentation: his -characters, from the Tsar himself to the humblest old woman, live and -move before you on the printed page. His satire is as keen as Heine’s, -and he is much more in earnest. Nor has any writer more power to wring -the heart by pictures of human suffering and endurance. The _Memoirs_ -have, indeed, one fault—that they are too discursive, and that -successive episodes are not always clearly connected or well -proportioned. But this is mainly due to the circumstances in which they -were produced. Different parts were written at considerable intervals -and published separately. The narrative is much more continuous in the -earlier parts: indeed, Part V is merely a collection of fragments. But -Herzen’s _Memoirs_ are among the noblest monuments of Russian -literature. - - - III - -The _Memoirs_, called by Herzen himself _Past and Thoughts_, are divided -into five Parts. This translation, made six years ago from the -Petersburg edition of 1913, contains Parts I and II. These were written -in London in 1852-1853, and printed in London, at 36 Regent’s Square, in -the Russian journal called _The Pole-Star_. - -Part I has not, I believe, been translated into English before. A -translation of Part II was published in London during the Crimean -war;[3] but this was evidently taken from a German version by someone -whose knowledge of German was inadequate. The German translation of the -_Memoirs_ by Dr. Buek[4] seems to me very good; but it is defective: -whole chapters of the original are omitted without warning. - -Footnote 3: - - _My Exile in Siberia_, by Alexander Herzen. (Hurst and Blackett, - London, 1855). Herzen was not responsible for the misleading title, - which caused him some annoyance. - -Footnote 4: - - _Erinnerungen von Alexander Herzen_, by Dr. Otto Buek (Berlin, 1907). - -To make the narrative easier to follow, I have divided it up into -numbered sections, which Herzen himself did not use. I have added a few -footnotes. - - -June 5, 1923. - - J. D. DUFF. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PART I - - NURSERY AND UNIVERSITY - - (1812-1834) - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER I - -My Nurse and the _Grande Armée_—Moscow in Flames—My Father - and Napoleon—General Ilovaiski—A Journey with French - Prisoners—Patriotism—Calot—Property Managed in Common—The Division—The - Senator. - - - §1 - -“OH, please, Nurse, tell me again how the French came to Moscow!” This -was a constant petition of mine, as I stretched myself out in my crib -with the cloth border to prevent my falling out, and nestled down under -the warm quilt. - -My old nurse, Vyéra Artamónovna, was just as eager to repeat her -favourite story as I was to hear it; but her regular reply was: “You’ve -heard that old story ever so often before, and besides it’s time for you -to go to sleep; you had better rise earlier to-morrow.” - -“Oh, but please tell me just a little—how you heard the news, and how it -all began.” - -“Well, it began this way. You know how your papa puts off always. The -packing went on and on till at last it was done. Everyone said it was -high time to be off; there was nothing to keep us and hardly a soul left -in Moscow. But no! He was always discussing with your uncle Paul[5] -about travelling together, and they were never both ready on the same -day. But at last our things were packed, the carriage was ready, and the -travellers had just sat down to lunch, when the head cook came into the -dining-room as white as a sheet and reported that the enemy had entered -the city at the Dragomirovsky Gate. Our hearts went down into our boots, -and we prayed that the power of the Cross might be on our side. All was -confusion, and, while we were bustling to and fro and crying out, -suddenly we saw a regiment of dragoons galloping down the street; they -wore strange helmets with horses’ tails tied on behind. They had closed -all the city gates; so there was your papa in a pretty mess, and you -with him! You were still with your foster-mother, Darya; you were very -small and weak then.” - -Footnote 5: - - Paul Ivanovitch Golochvastov, who had married my father’s youngest - sister. - -And I smiled, with pride and pleasure at the thought that I had taken a -part in the Great War. - -“At first, all went reasonably well, during the first days at least. -From time to time two or three soldiers would come into the house and -ask for something to drink; of course we gave them a glass apiece, and -then they would go away and salute quite politely as well. But then, you -see, when the fires began and got worse and worse, there was terrible -disorder, and pillage began and every sort of horror. We were living in -a wing of the Princess’s house, and the house caught fire. Then your -uncle Paul invited us to move to his house, which was built of stone and -very strong and stood far back in a court-yard. So we all set off, -masters and servants together—there was no thought of distinctions at -such a time. When we got into the boulevard, the trees on each side were -beginning to burn. At last we reached your uncle’s house, and it was -actually blazing, with the fire spouting out of every window. Your uncle -could not believe his eyes; he stood rooted to the ground. - -“Behind the house, as you know, there is a big garden, and we went -there, hoping to be safe. We sat down sadly enough on some benches there -were there, when suddenly a band of drunken soldiers came in and one of -them began to strip your uncle of a fur coat he had put on for the -journey. But the old gentleman resisted, and the soldier pulled out his -dirk and struck him in the face; and your uncle kept the scar to his -dying day. The other soldiers set upon us, and one of them snatched you -from the arms of your foster-mother, and undid your clothes, to see if -there were any notes or jewels hidden there; when he found nothing, the -mean fellow tore the clothes on purpose and then left you alone. - -“As soon as they had gone, a great misfortune happened. You remember our -servant Platon, who was sent to serve in the Army? He was always fond of -the bottle and had had too much to drink that day. He had got hold of a -sword and was walking about with it tied round his waist. The day before -the enemy came, Count Rostopchín distributed arms of all kinds to the -people at the Arsenal, and Platon had provided himself with a sword. -Towards evening, a dragoon rode into the court-yard and tried to take a -horse that was standing near the stable; but Platon flew at him, caught -hold of the bridle, and said: ‘The horse is ours; you shan’t have it.’ -The dragoon pointed a pistol at him, but it can’t have been loaded. Your -father saw what was happening and called out: ‘Leave that horse alone, -Platon! Don’t you interfere.’ But it was no good: Platon pulled out his -sword and struck the soldier over the head; the man reeled under the -blow, and Platon struck him again and again. We thought we were doomed -now; for, if his comrades saw him, they would soon kill us. When the -dragoon fell off, Platon caught hold of his legs and threw him into a -lime-pit, though the poor wretch was still breathing; the man’s horse -never moved but beat the ground with its hoof, as if it understood; our -people shut it up in the stable, and it must have been burnt to death -there. - -“We all cleared out of the court as soon as we could; the fires -everywhere grew worse and worse. Tired and hungry, we went into a house -that had not caught fire, and threw ourselves down to rest; but, before -an hour had passed, our servants in the street were calling out: ‘Come -out! come out! Fire, fire!’ I took a piece of oil-cloth off the billiard -table, to wrap you up from the night air. We got as far as the Tversky -Square, and the Frenchmen were putting out the fires there, because one -of their great generals was living in the Governor’s house in the -square; we sat down as we were on the street; there were sentries moving -all about and other soldiers on horseback. You were crying terribly; -your foster-mother had no more milk, and none of us had even a piece of -bread. But Natálya Konstantínovna was with us then, and she was afraid -of nothing. She saw some soldiers eating in a corner; she took you in -her arms and went straight off, and showed you to them. ‘The baby wants -_manger_,’ she said. At first they looked angrily at her and said, -‘_Allez, allez!_’ Then she called them every bad name she could think -of; and they did not understand a word, but they laughed heartily and -gave her some bread soaked in water for you and a crust for herself. -Early next morning an officer came and collected all the men, and your -father too, and took them off to put out the fires round about; he left -the women only, and your uncle who had been wounded. We stayed there -alone till evening; we just sat there and cried. But at dark your father -came back, and an officer with him.” - - - §2 - -But allow me to take the place of my old nurse and to continue her -story. - -When my father had finished his duties as a fireman, he met a squadron -of Italian cavalry near the Monastery of the Passion. He went up to the -officer in command, spoke to him in Italian, and explained the plight of -his family. When the Italian heard his native language—_la sua dolce -favella_—he promised to speak to the Duc de Trévise,[6] and to post a -sentinel at once, in order to prevent a repetition of the wild scenes -which had taken place in my uncle’s garden. He gave orders to this -effect to an officer, and sent him off with my father. When he heard -that none of the party had eaten any food for two days, the officer took -us all off to a grocer’s shop; it had been wrecked and the floor was -covered with choice tea and coffee, and heaps of dates, raisins, and -almonds; our servants filled their pockets, and of dessert at least we -had abundance. The sentinel proved to be of no little service: again and -again, bands of soldiers were inclined to give trouble to the wretched -party of women and servants, camping in a corner of the square; but an -order from our protector made them pass on at once. - -Footnote 6: - - Mortier (1768-1835), one of Napoleon’s marshals, bore this title. - -Mortier, who remembered having met my father in Paris, reported the -facts to Napoleon, and Napoleon ordered him to be presented the next -day. And so my father, a great stickler for propriety and the rules of -etiquette, presented himself, at the Emperor’s summons, in the -throne-room of the Kremlin, wearing an old blue shooting-jacket with -brass buttons, no wig, boots which had not been cleaned for several -days, grimy linen, and a beard of two days’ growth. - -Their conversation—how often I heard it repeated!—is reproduced -accurately enough in the French history of Baron Fain and the Russian -history of Danilevski. - -Napoleon began with those customary phrases, abrupt remarks, and laconic -aphorisms to which it was the custom for thirty-five years to attribute -some profound significance, until it was discovered that they generally -meant very little. He then abused Rostopchín for the fires, and said it -was mere vandalism; he declared, as always, that he loved peace above -all things and that he was fighting England, not Russia; he claimed -credit for having placed a guard over the Foundling Hospital and the -Uspenski Cathedral; and he complained of the Emperor Alexander. “My -desire for peace is kept from His Majesty by the people round him,” he -said. - -My father remarked that it was rather the business of the conqueror to -make proposals of peace. - -“I have done my best. I have sent messages to Kutúzov,[7] but he will -hear of no discussions whatever and does not acquaint his master with my -proposals. I am not to blame—if they want war they shall have it!” - -Footnote 7: - - The Russian commander-in-chief. - -When this play-acting was done, my father asked for a safe-conduct to -leave Moscow. - -“I have ordered that no passes be given. Why do you want to go? What are -you afraid of? I have ordered the markets to be opened.” - -Apparently the Emperor did not realise that, though open markets are a -convenience, so is a shut house, and that to live in the open street -among French soldiers was not an attractive prospect for a Russian -gentleman and his family. - -When my father pointed this out, Napoleon thought for a little and then -asked abruptly: - -“Will you undertake to hand to the Tsar a letter from me? On that -condition, I will order a pass to be made out for you and all your -family.” - -“I would accept Your Majesty’s proposal,” said my father, “but it is -difficult for me to guarantee success.” - -“Will you give me your word of honour, that you will use all possible -means to deliver my letter with your own hands?” - -“I pledge you my honour, Sir.” - -“That is enough. I shall send for you. Is there anything you need?” - -“Nothing, except a roof to shelter my family till we leave.” - -“The Duc de Trévise will do what he can.” Mortier did in fact provide a -room in the Governor’s palace, and ordered that we should be supplied -with provisions; and his _maître d’hôtel_ sent us wine as well. After -several days Mortier summoned my father at four in the morning, and sent -him off to the Kremlin. - -By this time the conflagration had spread to a frightful extent; the -atmosphere, heated red-hot and darkened by smoke, was intolerable. -Napoleon was dressed already and walking about the room, angry and -uneasy; he was beginning to realise that his withered laurels would soon -be frozen, and that a jest would not serve, as it had in Egypt, to get -him out of this embarrassment. His plan of campaign was ill-conceived, -and all except Napoleon knew it—Ney, Narbonne, Berthier, and even -officers of no mark or position; to all criticisms his reply was the -magic word “Moscow”; and, when he reached Moscow, he too discovered the -truth. - -When my father entered the room, Napoleon took a sealed letter from a -table, gave it to him, and said by way of dismissal, “I rely upon your -word of honour.” The address on the envelope ran thus: _À mon frère -l’empereur Alexandre_. - -The safe-conduct given to my father is preserved to this day; it is -signed by the Duc de Trévise and counter-signed below by Lesseps, chief -of police at Moscow. Some strangers, hearing of our good fortune, begged -my father to take them with him, under the pretext that they were -servants or relations; and they joined our party. An open carriage was -provided for my mother and nurse, and for my wounded uncle; the rest -walked. A party of cavalry escorted us; when the rear of the Russian -Army came in sight, they wished us good fortune and galloped back again -to Moscow. The strange party of refugees was surrounded a moment later -by Cossacks, who took us to head-quarters. The generals in command were -Wintzengerode and Ilovaiski. - -When the former was told of the letter, he told my father that he would -send him at once, with two dragoons, to see the Tsar at Petersburg. - -“What is to become of your party?” asked the Cossack general, Ilovaiski; -“They can’t possibly stay here, within rifle-shot of the troops; there -may be some hot fighting any day.” My father asked that we might be -sent, if possible, to his Yaroslavl estate; and he added that he was -absolutely penniless at the time. - -“That does not matter: we can settle accounts later,” said the General; -“and don’t be uneasy: I give you my promise that they shall be sent.” - -While my father was sent off to Petersburg on a courier’s cart, -Ilovaiski procured an old rattle-trap of a carriage for us, and sent us -and a party of French prisoners to the next town, under an escort of -Cossacks; he provided us with money for posting as far as Yaroslavl, -and, in general, did all that he could for us in a time of war and -confusion. - -This was my first long journey in Russia; my second was not attended by -either French cavalry or Ural Cossacks or prisoners of war; the whole -party consisted of myself and a drunk police-officer sitting beside me -in the carriage. - - - §3 - -My father was taken straight to Arakchéyev’s[8] house and detained -there. When the Minister asked for the letter, my father said that he -had given his word of honour to deliver it in person. The Minister then -promised to consult the Tsar, and informed him next day in writing, that -he himself was commissioned by the Tsar to receive the letter and -present it at once. For the letter he gave a receipt, which also has -been preserved. For about a month my father was under arrest in -Arakchéyev’s house; no friend might see him, and his only visitor was S. -Shishkóv, whom the Tsar sent to ask for details about the burning of -Moscow, the entry of the French, and the interview with Napoleon. No -eye-witness of these events had reached Petersburg except my father. At -last he was told that the Tsar ordered him to be set at liberty; he was -excused, on the ground of necessity, for having accepted a safe-conduct -from the French authorities; but he was ordered to leave Petersburg at -once, without having communication with anyone, except that he was -allowed to say good-bye to his elder brother. - -Footnote 8: - - This minister was the real ruler of Russia till the death of Alexander - in 1825. - -When he reached at nightfall the little village where we were, my father -found us in a peasant’s cottage; there was no manor-house on that -estate. I was sleeping on a settle near the window; the window would not -shut tight, and the snow, drifting through the crack, had covered part -of a stool, and lay, without melting, on the window-sill. - -All were in great distress and confusion, and especially my mother. One -morning, some days before my father arrived, the head man of the village -came hurriedly into the cottage where she was living, and made signs to -her that she was to follow him. My mother could not speak a word of -Russian at that time; she could only make out that the man was speaking -of my uncle Paul; she did not know what to think; it came into her head -that the people had murdered him or wished to murder first him and then -her. She took me in her arms and followed the head man, more dead than -alive, and shaking all over. She entered the cottage occupied by my -uncle; he was actually dead, and his body lay near a table at which he -had begun to shave; a stroke of paralysis had killed him instantly. - -My mother was only seventeen then, and her feelings may be imagined. She -was surrounded by half-savage bearded men, dressed in sheepskins and -speaking a language to her utterly incomprehensible; she was living in a -small, smoke-grimed peasant’s cottage; and it was the month of November -in the terrible winter of 1812. My uncle had been her one support, and -she spent days and nights in tears for his loss. But those “savages” -pitied her with all their heart; their simple kindness never failed her, -and their head man sent his son again and again to the town, to fetch -raisins and gingerbread, apples and biscuits, to tempt her to eat. - -Fifteen years later, this man was still living and sometimes paid us a -visit at Moscow. The little hair he had left was then white as snow. My -mother used to give him tea and talk over that winter of 1812; she -reminded him how frightened she was of him, and how the pair of them, -entirely unintelligible to one another, made the arrangements about my -uncle’s funeral. The old man continued to call my mother Yulíza Ivánovna -(her name was Luise); and he always boasted that I was quite willing to -go to him and not in the least afraid of his long beard. - -We travelled by stages to Tver and finally to Moscow, which we reached -after about a year. At the same time, a brother of my father’s returned -from Sweden and settled down in the same house with us. Formerly -ambassador in Westphalia, he had been sent on some mission to the court -of Bernadotte. - - - §4 - -I still remember dimly the traces of the great fire, which were visible -even in the early twenties—big houses with the roof gone and -window-frames burnt out, heaps of fallen masonry, empty spaces fenced -off from the street, remnants of stoves and chimneys sticking up out of -them. - -Stories of the Great Fire, the battle of Borodino, the crossing of the -Berezina, and the taking of Paris—these took the place of cradle-song -and fairy-tale to me, they were my Iliad and Odyssey. My mother and our -servants, my father and my old nurse, were never tired of going back to -that terrible time, which was still so recent and had been brought home -to them so painfully. Later, our officers began to return from foreign -service to Moscow. Men who had served in former days with my father in -the Guards and had taken a glorious part in the fierce contest of the -immediate past, were often at our house; and to them it was a relief -from their toils and dangers to tell them over again. That was indeed -the most brilliant epoch in the history of Petersburg: the consciousness -of power breathed new life into Russia; business and care were, so to -speak, put off till the sober morrow, and all the world was determined -to make merry to-day and celebrate the victory. - -At this time I heard even more than my old nurse could tell me about the -war. I liked especially to listen to the stories of Count -Milorádovitch;[9] I often lay at his back on the long sofa, while he -described and acted scenes of the campaign, and his lively narrative and -loud laugh were very attractive to me. More than once I fell asleep in -that position. - -Footnote 9: - - Michael Milorádovitch (1770-1825), a famous commander who lost his - life in suppressing the Decembrist revolution, December, 1825. - -These surroundings naturally developed my patriotic feeling to an -extreme degree, and I was resolved to enter the Army. But an exclusive -feeling of nationality is never productive of good, and it landed me in -the following scrape. One of our guests was Count Quinsonet, a French -_émigré_ and a general in the Russian army. An out-and-out royalist, he -had been present at the famous dinner where the King’s Body-Guards -trampled on the national cockade and Marie Antoinette drank confusion to -the Revolution.[10] He was now a grey-haired old man, tall and slight, a -perfect gentleman and the pink of politeness. A peerage was awaiting him -at Paris; he had been there already to congratulate Louis XVIII on his -accession, and had returned to Russia to sell his estates. As ill luck -would have it, I was present when this politest of generals in the -Russian service began to speak about the war. - -Footnote 10: - - This dinner took place at Versailles, on October 1, 1789. - -“But you, surely, were fighting against us,” I said very innocently. - -“_Non, mon petit, non! J’étais dans l’armée russe._” - -“What!” said I, “you a Frenchman and fighting on our side! That’s -impossible.” - -My father gave me a reproving look and tried to talk of something else. -But the Frenchman saved the situation nobly: he turned to my father and -said, “I like to see such patriotic feeling.” But my father did not like -to see it, and scolded me severely when our guest had gone. “You see -what comes of rushing into things which you don’t and can’t understand: -the Count served _our_ Emperor out of loyalty to _his own_ sovereign.” -That was, as my father said, beyond my powers of comprehension. - - - §5 - -My father had lived twelve years abroad, and his brother still longer; -and they tried to organise their household, to some extent, on a foreign -plan; yet it was to retain all the conveniences of Russian life and not -to cost much. This plan was not realised; perhaps their measures were -unskilful, or perhaps the old traditions of Russian country life were -too strong for habits acquired abroad. They shared their land in common -and managed it jointly, and a swarm of servants inhabited the ground -floor of their house in town; in fact, all the elements of disorder were -present. - -I was under the charge of two nurses, one Russian and the other German. -Vyéra Artamónovna and Mme. Provo were two very good-natured women, but I -got weary of watching them all day, as they knitted stockings and -wrangled together. So, whenever I could, I escaped to the part of the -house occupied by the Senator—my uncle, the former ambassador, was now a -Senator[11] and was generally called by this title—and there I found my -only friend, my uncle’s valet, Calot. - -Footnote 11: - - The Senate was not a deliberative body but a Supreme Court of Justice. - -I have seldom met so kind and gentle a creature as this man. Utterly -solitary in Russia, separated from all his own belongings, and hardly -able to speak our language, he had a woman’s tenderness for me. I spent -whole hours in his room, and, though I was often mischievous and -troublesome, he bore it all with a good-natured smile. He cut out all -kinds of marvels for me in cardboard, and carved me many toys of wood; -and how I loved him in return! In the evenings he used to take -picture-books from the library and bring them up to my nursery—_The -Travels_ of Gmelin and Pallas, and another thick book called _The World -in Pictures_, which I liked so much and looked at so long, that the -leather binding got worn out: for two hours together Calot would show me -the same pictures and repeat the same explanations for the thousandth -time. - -Before my birthday party, Calot shut himself up in his room, and I could -hear mysterious sounds of a hammer and other tools issuing from it. He -often walked quickly through the passage, carrying a glue-pot or -something wrapped up in paper, but each time he left his room locked. I -knew he was preparing some surprise for me, and my curiosity may be -imagined. I sent the servants’ children to act as spies, but Calot was -not to be caught napping. We even managed to make a small hole in the -staircase, through which we could look down into the room; but we could -see nothing but the top of the window and the portrait of Frederick the -Great, with his long nose and a large star on his breast, looking like a -sick vulture. At last the noises stopped, and the room was unlocked—but -it looked just as before, except for snippings of gilt and coloured -paper on the floor. I was devoured by curiosity; but Calot wore a -pretence of solemnity on his features and never touched the ticklish -subject. - -I was still suffering agonies of impatience when the great day arrived. -I awoke at six, to wonder what Calot had in store for me; at eight Calot -himself appeared, wearing a white tie and white waistcoat under his blue -livery, but his hands were empty! I wondered how it would all end, and -whether he had spoilt what he was making. The day went on, and the usual -presents were forthcoming: my aunt’s footman had brought me an expensive -toy wrapped up in a napkin, and my uncle, the Senator, had been generous -also, but I was too restless, in expectation of the surprise, to enjoy -my happiness. - -Then, when I was not thinking of it, after dinner or perhaps after tea, -my nurse said to me: “Go downstairs for a moment, there is someone there -asking for you.” “At last!” I thought, and down the bannisters I slid on -my arms. The drawing-room door flew open; I heard music and saw a -transparency representing my initials; then some little boys, disguised -as Turks, offered me sweets; and this was followed by a puppet-show and -parlour fireworks. Calot was very hot and very busy; he kept everything -going and was quite as excited as I was myself. - -No presents could rank with this entertainment. I never cared much for -_things_; the bump of acquisitiveness was never, at any age, highly -developed in me. The satisfaction of my curiosity, the abundance of -candles, the silver paper, the smell of gunpowder—nothing was wanting -but a companion of my own age. But I spent all my childhood in solitude -and consequently was not exacting on that score. - - - §6 - -My father had another brother, the oldest of the three; but he was not -even on speaking terms with his two juniors. In spite of this, they all -took a share in the management of the family property, which really -meant that they combined to ruin it. This triple management by owners at -variance with one another was the height of absurdity. Two of them were -always thwarting their senior’s plans, and he did the same for them. The -head men of the villages and the serfs were utterly bamboozled: one -landlord required carts to convey his household, the second demanded -hay, and the third, fire-wood; each of the three issued orders, and sent -his man of business to see that they were carried out. If the eldest -brother appointed a bailiff, the other two dismissed the man in a month -on some absurd pretext, and appointed another, who was promptly disowned -by their senior. As a natural result, there were spies and favourites, -to carry slanders and false reports, while, at the bottom of this -system, the wretched serfs, finding neither justice nor protection and -harassed by a diversity of masters, were worked twice as hard and found -it impossible to satisfy such unreasonable demands. - -As a consequence of this quarrel between brothers, they lost a great -lawsuit in which the law was on their side. Though their interests were -identical, they could never settle on a common course of procedure, and -their opponents naturally took advantage of this state of affairs. They -lost a large and valuable property in this way; and the Court also -condemned each brother to pay damages to the amount of 30,000 _roubles_. -This lesson opened their eyes for the first time, and they determined to -divide the family estates between them. Preliminary discussions went on -for nearly a year; the land was divided into three fairly even parts, -and chance was to decide to whom each should fall. My father and the -Senator paid a visit to their brother, whom they had not seen for -several years, in order to talk things over and be reconciled; and then -it was noised abroad that he would return the visit and the business -would be finally settled on that occasion. The report of this visit -spread uneasiness and dismay throughout our household. - - - §7 - -My uncle was one of those monsters of eccentricity which only Russia and -the conditions of Russian society can produce. A man of good natural -parts, he spent his whole life in committing follies which often rose to -the dignity of crimes. Though he was well educated after the French -fashion and had read much, his time was spent in profligacy or mere -idleness, and this went on till his death. In youth he served, like his -brothers, in the Guards and was _aide-de-camp_ in some capacity to -Potemkin;[12] next, he served on a diplomatic mission, and, on his -return to Petersburg, was appointed to a post in the Ecclesiastical -Court. But no association either with diplomatists or priests could tame -that wild character. He was dismissed from his post, for quarrelling -with the Bishops; and he was forbidden to reside in Petersburg, because -he gave, or tried to give, a box on the ear to a guest at an official -dinner given by the Governor of the city. He retired to his estate at -Tambóv; and there he was nearly murdered by his serfs for interference -with their daughters and for acts of cruelty; he owed his life to his -coachman and the speed of his horses. - -Footnote 12: - - Grigóri Potemkin (pronounce Pat-yóm-kin), b. 1736, d. 1791; minister - and favourite of the Empress Catherine. - -After this experience he settled in Moscow. Disowned by his relations -and by people in general, he lived quite alone in a large house on the -Tver Boulevard, bullying his servants in town and ruining his serfs in -the country. He collected a large library and a whole harem of country -girls, and kept both these departments under lock and key. Totally -unoccupied and inordinately vain, he sought distraction in collecting -things for which he had no use, and in litigation, which proved even -more expensive. He carried on his lawsuits with passionate eagerness. -One of these suits was about an Amati fiddle; it lasted thirty years, -and he won it in the end. He won another case for the possession of a -party-wall between two houses: it cost him extraordinary exertions, and -he gained nothing by owning the wall. After his retirement, he used to -follow in the Gazette the promotions of his contemporaries in the public -service; and, whenever one of them received an Order, he bought the star -and placed it on his table, as a painful reminder of the distinctions he -might have gained. - -His brothers and sisters feared him and had no intercourse with him of -any kind; our servants would not walk past his house, for fear of -meeting him, and turned pale at the sight of him; the women dreaded his -insolent persecution, and the domestic servants had prayer offered in -church that they might never serve him. - - - §8 - -Such was the alarming character of our expected visitor. From early -morning all the inmates of our house were keenly excited. I had never -seen the black sheep myself, though I was born in his house, which was -occupied by my father on his return from foreign parts; I was very -anxious to see him, and I was also afraid, though I don’t know what I -was afraid of. - -Other visitors came before him—my father’s oldest nephew, two intimate -friends, and a lawyer, a stout good-natured man who perspired freely. -For two hours they all sat in silent expectation, till at last the -butler came in, and, with a voice that seemed somehow unnatural, -announced the arrival of our kinsman. “Bring him in,” said the Senator, -in obvious agitation; my father began to take snuff, the nephew -straightened his tie, and the lawyer turned to one side and cleared his -throat. I was told to go upstairs, but I remained in the next room, -shaking all over. - -The uncle advanced at a slow and dignified pace, and my father and the -Senator went to meet him. He was carrying an _ikon_[13] with both arms -stretched out before him, in the way that _ikons_ are carried at -weddings and funerals; he turned towards his brothers and in a nasal -drawl addressed them as follows: - -Footnote 13: - - A sacred picture. - -“This is the _ikon_ with which our father blessed me on his deathbed, -and he then charged me and my late brother, Peter, to take his place and -care for you two. If our father could know how you have behaved to your -elder brother....” - -“Come, _mon cher frère_,” said my father, in his voice of studied -indifference, “you have little to boast about on that score yourself. -These references to the past are painful for you and for us, and we had -better drop them.” - -“What do you mean? Did you invite me here for this?” shouted the pious -brother, and he dashed the _ikon_ down with such violence that the -silver frame rang loudly on the floor. Now the Senator began, and he -shouted still louder; but at this point I rushed upstairs, just waiting -long enough to see the nephew and the lawyer, as much alarmed as I was, -beating a retreat to the balcony. - -What then took place, I cannot tell. The servants had all hid for safety -and could give no information; and neither my father nor the Senator -ever alluded to the scene in my presence. The noise grew less by -degrees, and the division of the land was carried out, but whether then -or later, I do not know. - -What fell to my father was Vasílevskoë, a large estate near Moscow. We -spent all the following summer there; and during that time the Senator -bought a house for himself in the Arbat quarter of Moscow, so that, when -we returned alone to our big house, we found it empty and dead. Soon -after, my father also bought a new house in Moscow. - -When the Senator left us, he took with him, in the first place, my -friend Calot, and, in the second place, all that gave life in our -establishment. He alone could check my father’s tendency to morbid -depression, which now had room to develop and assert itself fully. Our -new house was not cheerful: it reminded one of a prison or hospital. The -ground-floor rooms were vaulted; the thick walls made the windows look -like the embrasures of a fortress; and the house was surrounded on all -sides by a uselessly large court-yard. - -The real wonder was, not that the Senator left us, but that he was able -to stay so long under one roof with my father. I have seldom seen two -men more unlike in character. - - - §9 - -My uncle was a kind-hearted man, who loved movement and excitement. His -whole life was spent in an artificial world, a world of diplomats and -lords-in-waiting, and he never guessed that there is a different world -which comes nearer to the reality of things. And yet he was not merely a -spectator of all that happened between 1789 and 1815, but was personally -involved in that mighty drama. Count Vorontsov sent him to England, to -learn from Lord Grenville what “General Buonaparte” was up to, after he -left the army of Egypt. He was in Paris at the time of Napoleon’s -coronation. In 1811 Napoleon ordered him to be detained and arrested at -Cassel, where he was minister at the court of King Jérôme[14]—“Emperor -Jérôme,” as my father used to say when he was annoyed. In fact, he -witnessed each scene of that tremendous spectacle; but, somehow, it -seemed not to impress him in the right way. - -Footnote 14: - - Jérôme Bonaparte (1784-1860) was King of Westphalia from 1807 to 1813. - -When captain in the Guards, he was sent on a mission to London. Paul, -who was then Tsar, noticed this when he read the roster, and ordered -that he should report himself at once in Petersburg. The attaché sailed -by the first ship and appeared on parade. - -“Do you want to stay in London?” Paul asked in his hoarse voice. - -“If Your Majesty is graciously pleased to allow it,” answered the -captain. - -“Go back at once!” the hoarse voice replied; and the young officer -sailed, without even seeing his family in Moscow. - -While he served as ambassador, diplomatic questions were settled by -bayonets and cannon-balls; and his diplomatic career came to an end at -the Congress of Vienna, that great field-day for all the diplomats of -Europe. On his return to Russia, he was created a lord-in-waiting at -Moscow—a capital which has no Court. Then he was elected to the Senate, -though he knew nothing of law or Russian judicial procedure; he served -on the Widows’ and Orphans’ Board, and was a governor of hospitals and -other public institutions. All these duties he performed with a zeal -that was probably superfluous, a love of his own way that was certainly -harmful, and an integrity that passed wholly unnoticed. - -He was never to be found at home. He tired out a team of four strong -horses every morning, and another in the afternoon. He never missed a -meeting of the Senate; twice a week he attended the Widows’ Board; and -there were also his hospitals and schools. Besides all this, he was -never absent from the theatre when a French play was given, and he was -driven to the English Club on three days of every week. He had no time -to be bored—always busy with one of his many occupations, perpetually on -the way to some engagement, and his life rolled along on easy springs in -a world of files and official envelopes. - -To the age of seventy, he kept the health of youth. He was always to be -seen at every great ball or dinner; he figured at speech-days and -meetings of public bodies; whatever their objects might be—agriculture -or medicine, fire insurance or natural science—it was all one to him; -and, besides all this (perhaps because of this), he kept to old age some -measure of humanity and warmth of heart. - - - §10 - -It is impossible to conceive a greater contrast to all this than my -father. My uncle was perpetually active and perpetually cheerful, an -occasional visitor at his own house. But my father hardly ever went -out-of-doors, hated all the world of official business, and was always -hard to please and out of humour. We had our eight horses too, but our -stable was a kind of hospital for cripples; my father kept them partly -for the sake of appearance, and partly that the two coachmen and two -postilions might have some other occupation, as well as going to fetch -newspapers and arranging cock-fights, which last amusement they carried -on with much success in the space between the coach-house and the -neighbours’ yard. - -My father did not remain long in the public service. Brought up by a -French tutor in the house of a pious aunt, he entered the Guards as a -serjeant at sixteen and retired as a captain when Paul became Tsar. In -1801 he went abroad and wandered about from one foreign country to -another till the end of 1811. He returned to Russia with my mother three -months before I was born; the year after the burning of Moscow he spent -in the Government of Tver, and then settled down permanently in Moscow, -where he led by choice a solitary and monotonous life. His brother’s -lively temperament was distasteful to him. - -After the Senator had left it, the whole house assumed a more and more -gloomy aspect. The walls, the furniture, the servants—every thing and -person had a furtive and dissatisfied appearance; and of course my -father himself was more dissatisfied than anyone else. The artificial -stillness, the hushed voices and noiseless steps of the servants, were -no sign of devotion, but of repression and fear. Nothing was ever moved -in the rooms: the same books lay on the same tables, with the same -markers in them, for five or six years together. In my father’s bedroom -and study the furniture was never shifted and the windows never opened, -not once in a twelvemonth. When he went to the country, he regularly -took the key of his rooms in his pocket, lest the servants should take -it into their heads to scour the floors or to clean the walls in his -absence. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER II - -Gossip of Nurses and Conversation of Generals—A False - Position—Boredom—The Servants’ Hall—Two Germans—Lessons and - Reading—Catechism and the Gospel. - - - §1 - -UNTIL I was ten, I noticed nothing strange or peculiar in my -position.[15] To me it seemed simple and natural that I was living in my -father’s house, where I had to be quiet in the rooms inhabited by him, -though in my mother’s part of the house I could shout and make a noise -to my heart’s content. The Senator gave me toys and spoilt me; Calot was -my faithful slave; Vyéra Artamónovna bathed me, dressed me, and put me -to bed; and Mme. Provo took me out for walks and spoke German to me. All -went on with perfect regularity; and yet I began to feel puzzled. - -Footnote 15: - - Herzen’s parents were never married with the Russian rites, and he - bore throughout life a name which was not his father’s. - -My attention was caught by some casual remarks incautiously dropped. Old -Mme. Provo and the household in general were devoted to my mother, but -feared and disliked my father. The disputes which sometimes took place -between my parents were often the subject of discussion between my -nurses, and they always took my mother’s side. - -It was true that my mother’s life was no bed of roses. An exceedingly -kind-hearted woman, but not strong-willed, she was utterly crushed by my -father; and, as often happens with weak characters, she was apt to carry -on a desperate opposition in matters of no importance. Unfortunately, in -these trifles my father was almost always in the right, and so he -triumphed in the end. - -Mme. Provo would start a conversation in this style: “In her place, I -declare I would be off at once and go back to Germany. The dulness of -the life is fit to kill one; no enjoyment and nothing but grumbling and -unpleasantness.” - -“You’re quite right,” said Vyéra Artamónovna; “but she’s tied hand and -foot by someone”—and she would point her knitting-needles at me. “She -can’t take him with her, and to leave him here alone in a house like -ours would be too much even for one not his mother.” - -Children in general find out more than people think. They are easily put -off, and forget for a time, but they persist in returning to the -subject, especially if it is mysterious or alarming; and by their -questions they get at the truth with surprising perseverance and -ingenuity. - -Once my curiosity was aroused, I soon learned all the details of my -parents’ marriage—how my mother made up her mind to elope, how she was -concealed in the Russian embassy at Cassel by my uncle’s connivance, and -then crossed the frontier disguised as a boy; and all this I found out -without asking a single question. - -The first result of these discoveries was to lessen my attachment to my -father, owing to the disputes of which I have spoken already. I had -witnessed them before, but had taken them as a matter of course. The -whole household, not excluding the Senator, were afraid of my father, -and he spared no one his reproofs; and I was so accustomed to this, that -I saw nothing strange in these quarrels with my mother. But now I began -to take a different view of the matter, and the thought that I was to -some extent responsible threw a dark shadow sometimes over my childhood. - -A second thought which took root in my mind at that time was this—that I -was much less dependent on my father than most children are on their -parents; and this independence, though it existed only in my own -imagination, gave me pleasure. - - - §2 - -Two or three years after this, two old brother-officers of my father’s -were at our house one evening—General Essen, the Governor of Orenburg, -and General Bakhmétyev, who lost a leg at Borodino and was later -Lieutenant-Governor of Bessarabia. My room was next the drawing-room -where they were sitting. My father happened to mention that he had been -speaking to Prince Yusúpov with regard to my future; he wished me to -enter the Civil Service. “There’s no time to lose,” he added; “as you -know, he must serve a long time before he gets any decent post.” - -“It is a strange notion of yours,” said Essen good-humouredly, “to turn -the boy into a clerk. Leave it to me; let me enroll him in the Ural -Cossacks; he will soon get his commission, which is the main thing, and -then he can forge ahead like the rest of us.” - -But my father would not agree: he said that everything military was -distasteful to him, that he hoped in time to get me a diplomatic post in -some warm climate, where he would go himself to end his days. - -Bakhmétyev had taken little part in the conversation; but now he got up -on his crutches and said: - -“In my opinion, you ought to think twice before you reject Essen’s -advice. If you don’t fancy Orenburg, the boy can enlist here just as -well. You and I are old friends, and I always speak my mind to you. You -will do no good to the young man himself and no service to the country -by sending him to the University and on to the Civil Service. He is -clearly in a false position, and nothing but the Army can put that right -and open up a career for him from the first. Any dangerous notions will -settle down before he gets the command of a regiment. Discipline works -wonders, and his future will depend on himself. You say that he’s -clever; but you don’t suppose that all officers in the Army are fools? -Think of yourself and me and our lot generally. There is only one -possible objection—that he may have to serve some time before he gets -his commission; but that’s the very point in which we can help you.” - -This conversation was as valuable to me as the casual remarks of my -nurses. I was now thirteen; and these lessons, which I turned over and -over and pondered in my heart for weeks and months in complete solitude, -bore their fruit. I had formerly dreamt, as boys always do, of military -service and fine uniforms, and had nearly wept because my father wished -to make a civilian of me; but this conversation at once cooled my -enthusiasm, and by degrees—for it took time—I rooted out of my mind -every atom of my passion for stripes and epaulettes and aiguillettes. -There was, it is true, one relapse, when a cousin, who was at school in -Moscow and sometimes came to our house on holidays, got a commission in -a cavalry regiment. After joining his regiment, he paid a visit to -Moscow and stayed some days with us. My heart beat fast, when I saw him -in all his finery, carrying his sabre and wearing the shako held at a -becoming angle by the chin-strap. He was sixteen but not tall for his -age; and next morning I put on his uniform, sabre, shako, and all, and -looked at myself in the glass. How magnificent I seemed to myself, in -the blue jacket with scarlet facings! What a contrast between this -gorgeous finery and the plain cloth jacket and duck trousers which I -wore at home! - -My cousin’s visit weakened for a time the effect of what the generals -had said; but, before long, circumstances gave me a fresh and final -distaste for a soldier’s uniform. - -By pondering over my “false position,” I was brought to much the same -conclusions as by the talk of the two nurses. I felt less dependence on -society (of which, however, I knew nothing), and I believed that I must -rely mainly on my own efforts. I said to myself with childish arrogance -that General Bakhmétyev and his brother-officers should hear of me some -day. - -In view of all this, it may be imagined what a weary and monotonous -existence I led in the strange monastic seclusion of my home. There was -no encouragement for me, and no variety; my father, who showed no -fondness for me after I was ten, was almost always displeased with me; I -had no companions. My teachers came and went; I saw them to the door, -and then stole off to play with the servants’ children, which was -strictly forbidden. At other times I wandered about the large gloomy -rooms, where the windows were shut all day and the lights burnt dim in -the evening; I either did nothing or read any books I could lay hands -on. - -My only other occupation I found in the servants’ hall and the maids’ -room; they gave me real live pleasure. There I found perfect freedom; I -took a side in disputes; together with my friends downstairs, I -discussed their doings and gave my advice; and though I knew all their -secrets, I never once betrayed them by a slip of the tongue in the -drawing-room. - - - §3 - -This is a subject on which I must dwell for a little. I should say that -I do not in general mean to avoid digressions and disquisitions; every -conversation is full of them, and so is life itself. - -As a rule, children are attached to servants. Parents, especially -Russian parents, forbid this intimacy, but the children do not obey -orders, because they are bored in the drawing-room and happy in the -pantry. In this case, as in a thousand others, parents don’t know what -they are doing. I find it impossible to imagine that our servants’ hall -was a worse place for children than our morning-room or smoking-room. It -is true that children pick up coarse expressions and bad manners in the -company of servants; but in the drawing-room they learn coarse ideas and -bad feelings. - -The mere order to keep at a distance from people with whom the children -are in constant relations, is in itself revolting. - -Much is said in Russia about the profound immorality of servants, -especially of serfs. It is true that they are not distinguished by -exemplary strictness of conduct. Their low stage of moral development is -proved by the mere fact that they put up with so much and protest so -seldom. But that is not the question. I should like to know what class -in Russia is less depraved than the servant class. Certainly not the -nobles, nor the officials. The clergy, perhaps? - -What makes the reader laugh? - -Possibly the peasants, but no others, might have some claim to -superiority. - -The difference between the class of nobles and the class of servants is -not great. I hate, especially since the calamities of the year 1848, -democrats who flatter the mob, but I hate still more aristocrats who -slander the people. By representing those who serve them as profligate -animals, slave-owners throw dust in the eyes of others and stifle the -protests of their own consciences. In few cases are we better than the -common people, but we express our feelings with more consideration, and -we are cleverer at concealing selfish and evil passions; our desires are -not so coarse or so obvious, owing to the easiness of satisfying them -and the habitual absence of self-restraint; we are merely richer, better -fed, and therefore more difficult to please. When Count Almaviva named -to the barber of Seville all the qualifications he required in a -servant, Figaro said with a sigh, “If a servant must possess all these -merits, it will be hard to find masters who are fit for a servant’s -place.” - -In Russia in general, moral corruption is not deep. It might truly -enough be called savage, dirty, noisy, coarse, disorderly, shameless; -but it is mainly on the surface. The clergy, in the concealment of their -houses, eat and drink to excess with the merchant class. The nobles get -drunk in the light of day, gamble recklessly, strike their men-servants -and run after the maids, mismanage their affairs, and fail even worse as -husbands and fathers. The official class are as bad in a dirtier way; -they curry favour, besides, with their superiors and they are all petty -thieves. The nobles do really steal less: they take openly what does not -belong to them, though without prejudice to other methods, when -circumstances are favourable. - -All these amiable weaknesses occur in a coarser form among servants—that -class of “officials” who are beneath the fourteenth grade—those -“courtiers” who belong, not to the Tsar, but to the landowners.[16] But -how they, as a class, are worse than others, I have no idea. - -Footnote 16: - - In Russia civil-service officials (_chinóvniki_) are divided into - fourteen classes. Nobles are called _dvoryáne_, and servants attached - to a landowner’s house _dvoróvië_; Herzen plays on the likeness of the - two names. - -When I run over my recollections on the subject—and for twenty-five -years I was well acquainted, not only with our own servants, but with -those of my uncle and several neighbours—I remember nothing specially -vicious in their conduct. Petty thefts there were, no doubt; but it is -hard to pass sentence in this case, because ordinary ideas are perverted -by an unnatural status: the human chattel is on easy terms with the -chattels that are inanimate, and shows no particular respect for his -master’s property. One ought, in justice, to exclude exceptional -cases—casual favourites, either men or women, who bask in their master’s -smiles and carry tales against the rest; and besides, _their_ behaviour -is exemplary, for they never get drunk in the daytime and never pawn -their clothes at the public-house. - -The misconduct of most servants is of a simple kind and turns on -trifles—a glass of spirits or a bottle of beer, a chat over a pipe, -absence from the house without leave, quarrels which sometimes proceed -as far as blows, or deception of their master when he requires of them -more than man can perform. They are as ignorant as the peasants but more -sophisticated; and this, together with their servile condition, accounts -for much that is perverted and distorted in their character; but, in -spite of all this, they remain grown-up children, like the American -negroes. Trifles make them laugh or weep; their desires are limited and -deserve to be called simple and natural rather than vicious. - -Spirits and tea, the public-house and the tea-shop—these are the -invariable vices of a servant in Russia. For them he steals; because of -them he is poor; for their sake he endures persecution and punishment -and leaves his wife and children to beggary. Nothing is easier than to -sit, like Father Matthew,[17] in the seat of judgement and condemn -drunkenness, while you are yourself intoxicated with sobriety; nothing -simpler than to sit at your own tea-table and marvel at servants, -because they _will_ go to the tea-shop instead of drinking their tea at -home, where it would cost them less. - -Footnote 17: - - An Irish priest who preached temperance in the middle of the - nineteenth century. - -Strong drink stupefies a man and makes it possible for him to forget; it -gives him an artificial cheerfulness, an artificial excitement; and the -pleasure of this state is increased by the low level of civilisation and -the narrow empty life to which these men are confined. A servant is a -slave who may be sold, a slave condemned to perpetual service in the -pantry and perpetual poverty: how can such a man do otherwise than -drink? He drinks too much when he gets the chance, because he cannot -drink every day; this was pointed out by Senkovsky in one of his books -fifteen years ago. In Italy and the south of France, there are no -drunkards, because there is abundance of wine. And the explanation of -the savage drunkenness among English workmen is just the same. These men -are broken in a hopeless and ill-matched struggle against hunger and -beggary; after all their efforts, they have found everywhere a leaden -vault above their heads, and a sullen opposition which has cast them -down into the nether darkness of society and condemned them to a life of -endless toil—toil without an object and equally destructive of mind and -body. What wonder that such a man, after working six days as a lever or -wheel or spring or screw, breaks out on Saturday night, like a savage, -from the factory which is his prison, and drinks till he is dead drunk? -His exhaustion shortens the process, and it is complete in half an hour. -Moralists would do better to order “Scotch” or “Irish” for themselves, -and hold their tongues; or else their inhuman philanthropy may evoke -formidable replies. - -To a servant, tea drunk in a tea-shop is quite a different thing. Tea at -home is not really tea: everything there reminds him that he is a -servant—the pantry is dirty, he has to put the _samovár_[18] on the -table himself, his cup has lost its handle, his master’s bell may ring -at any moment. In the tea-shop he is a free man, a master; the table is -laid and the lamps lit for _him_; for _him_ the waiter hurries in with -the tray, the cups shine, and the teapot glitters; he gives orders, and -other people obey him; he feels happy and calls boldly for some cheap -caviare or pastry to eat with his tea. - -Footnote 18: - - An urn with a central receptacle to hold hot charcoal: tea in Russia - is regularly accompanied by a samovár. - -In all this there is more of childlike simplicity than of misconduct. -Impressions take hold of them quickly but throw out no roots; their -minds are continually occupied—if one can call it occupation—with casual -objects, trifling desires, and petty aims. A childish belief in the -marvellous turns a grown man into a coward, and the same belief consoles -him in his darkest hours. I witnessed the death of several of my -father’s servants, and I was astonished. One could see then that their -whole life had been spent, like a child’s, without fears for the future, -and that no great sins lay heavy on their souls; even if there had been -anything of the kind, a few minutes with the priest were enough to put -all to rights. - -It is on this resemblance between children and servants that their -mutual attachment is based. Children resent the indulgent superiority of -grown-up people; they are clever enough to understand that servants -treat them with more respect and take them seriously. For this reason, -they enjoy a game of bézique with the maids much more than with -visitors. Visitors play out of indulgence and to amuse the child: they -let him win, or tease him, and stop when they feel inclined; but the -maid plays just as much for her own amusement; and thus the game gains -in interest. - -Servants have a very strong attachment to children; and this is not -servility at all—it is a mutual alliance, with weakness and simplicity -on both sides. - - - §4 - -In former days there existed—it still exists in Turkey—a feudal bond of -affection between the Russian landowner and his household servants. But -the race of such servants, devoted to the family as a family, is now -extinct with us. The reason of this is obvious. The landowner has ceased -to believe in his own authority; he does not believe that he will -answer, at the dreadful Day of Judgement, for his treatment of his -people; and he abuses his power for his own advantage. The servant does -not believe in his inferiority; he endures oppression, not as a -punishment or trial inflicted by God, but merely because he is -defenceless. - -But I knew, in my young days, two or three specimens of that boundless -loyalty which old gentlemen of seventy sometimes recall with a sigh: -they speak of the wonderful zeal and devotion of their servants, but -they never mention the return which they and their fathers made to that -faithfulness. - -There was Andréi Stepánov, whom I knew as a decrepit old man, spending -his last days, on very short commons, on an estate belonging to my -uncle, the Senator. - -When my father and uncle were young men in the Army, he was their valet, -a kind, honest, sober man, who guessed what his young masters wanted—and -they wanted a good deal—by a mere look at their faces; I know this from -themselves. Later he was in charge of an estate near Moscow. The war of -1812 cut him off at once from all communications; the village was burnt -down, and he lived on there alone and without money, and finally sold -some wood, to save himself from starvation. When my uncle returned to -Russia, he went into the estate accounts and discovered the sale of -wood. Punishment followed: the man was disgraced and removed from his -office, though he was old and burdened with a family. We often passed -through the village where he lived and spent a day or two there; and the -old man, now paralysed and walking on crutches, never failed to visit -us, in order to make his bow to my father and talk to him. - -I was deeply touched by the simple devotion of his language and by his -miserable appearance; I remember the tufts of hair, between yellow and -white, which covered both sides of his bare scalp. - -“They tell me, Sir,” he said once to my father, “that your brother has -received another Order. I am getting old, _bátyushka_, and shall soon -give back my soul to God; but I wish God would suffer me to see your -brother wearing his Order; just once before I die, I would like to see -him with his ribbon and all his glory.” - -My eyes were on the old man, and everything about him showed that he was -speaking the truth—his expression as frank as a child’s, his bent -figure, his crooked face, dim eyes, and feeble voice. There was no -falsehood or flattery there: he did really wish to see, once more before -he died, the man who, for fourteen years, had never forgiven him for -that wood! Should I call him a saint or a madman? Are there any who -attain to sanctity, except madmen? - -But this form of idolatry is unknown to the rising generation; and, if -there are cases of serfs who refuse emancipation, it is due either to -mere indolence or selfish considerations. This is a worse condition of -things, I admit, but it brings us nearer the end. The serfs of to-day -may wish to see something round their master’s neck; but you may feel -sure that it is not the ribbon of any Order of Chivalry! - - - §5 - -This seems an opportunity to give some general account of the treatment -shown to servants in our household. - -Neither my father nor my uncle was specially tyrannical, at least in the -way of corporal punishment. My uncle, being hot-tempered and impatient, -was often rough and unjust to servants; but he thought so little about -them and came in contact with them so seldom, that each side knew little -of the other. My father wore them out by his fads: he could never pass -over a look or a word or a movement without improving the occasion; and -a Russian often resents this treatment more than blows or bad language. - -Corporal punishment was almost unknown with us; and the two or three -cases in which it was resorted to were so exceptional, that they formed -the subject of conversation for whole months downstairs; it should also -be said that the offences which provoked it were serious. - -A commoner form of punishment was compulsory enlistment in the Army, -which was intensely dreaded by all the young men-servants. They -preferred to remain serfs, without family or kin, rather than carry the -knapsack for twenty years. I was strongly affected by those horrible -scenes: at the summons of the landowner, a file of military police would -appear like thieves in the night and seize their victim without warning; -the bailiff would explain that the master had given orders the night -before for the man to be sent to the recruiting office; and then the -victim, through his tears, tried to strike an attitude, while the women -wept, and all the people gave him presents, and I too gave what I could, -very likely a sixpenny necktie. - -I remember too an occasion when a village elder spent some money due -from peasants to their master, and my father ordered his beard to be -shaved off, by way of punishment. This form of penalty puzzled me, but I -was impressed by the man’s appearance: he was sixty years old, and he -wept profusely, bowing to the ground and offering to repay the money and -a hundred _roubles_ more, if only he might escape the shame of losing -his beard. - -While my uncle lived with us, there were regularly about sixty servants -belonging to the house, of whom nearly half were women; but the married -women might give all their time to their own families; there were five -or six house-maids always employed, and laundry-maids, but the latter -never came upstairs. To these must be added the boys and girls who were -being taught housework, which meant that they were learning to be lazy -and tell lies and drink spirits. - -As a feature of those times, it will not, I think, be superfluous to say -something of the wages paid to servants. They got five _roubles_ a -month, afterwards raised to six, for board-wages; women got a _rouble_ -less, and children over ten half the amount. The servants clubbed -together for their food, and made no complaint of insufficiency, which -proves that food cost wonderfully little. The highest wages paid were -100 _roubles_ a year; others got fifty, and some thirty. Boys under -eighteen got no wages. Then our servants were supplied with clothes, -overcoats, shirts, sheets, coverlets, towels, and mattresses of -sail-cloth; the boys who got no wages received a sum of money for the -bath-house and to pay the priest in Lent—purification of body and soul -was thus provided for. Taking everything into account, a servant cost -about 300 _roubles_ a year; if we add his share of medical attendance -and drugs and the articles of consumption which came in carts from the -landlord’s estates in embarrassing amount, even then the figure will not -be higher than 350 _roubles_. In Paris or London a servant costs four -times as much. - -Slave-owners generally reckon “insurance” among the privileges of their -slaves, _i.e._, the wife and children are maintained by the master, and -the slave himself, in old age, will get a bare pittance in some corner -of the estate. Certainly this should be taken into account, but the -value of it is considerably lessened by the constant fear of corporal -punishment and the impossibility of rising higher in the social scale. - -My own eyes have shown me beyond all doubt, how the horrible -consciousness of their enslaved condition torments and poisons the -existence of servants in Russia, how it oppresses and stupefies their -minds. The peasants, especially those who pay _obrók_,[19] are less -conscious of personal want of freedom; it is possible for them not to -believe, to some extent, in their complete slavery. But in the other -case, when a man sits all day on a dirty bench in the pantry, or stands -at a table holding a plate, there is no possible room for doubt. - -Footnote 19: - - _Obrók_ is money paid by a serf to his master in lieu of personal - service; such a serf might carry on a trade or business of his own and - was liable to no other burdens than the _obrók_. - -There are, of course, people who enjoy this life as if it were their -native element; people whose mind has never been aroused from slumber, -who have acquired a taste for their occupation, and perform its duties -with a kind of artistic satisfaction. - - - §6 - -Our old footman, Bakai, an exceedingly interesting character, was an -instance of this kind. A tall man of athletic build, with large and -dignified features, and an air of the profoundest reflexion, he lived to -old age in the belief that a footman’s place is one of singular dignity. - -This respectable old man was constantly out of temper or half-drunk, or -both together. He idealised the duties of his office and attributed to -them a solemn importance. He could lower the steps of a carriage with a -peculiarly loud rattle; when he banged a carriage-door he made more -noise than the report of a gun. He stood on the rumble surly and -straight, and, every time that a hole in the road gave him a jolt, he -called out to the coachman, “Easy there!” in a deep voice of -displeasure, though the hole was by that time five yards behind the -carriage. - -His chief occupation, other than going out with the carriage, was -self-imposed. It consisted in training the pantry-boys in the standard -of manners demanded by the servants’ hall. As long as he was sober, this -went well enough; but when he was affected by liquor, he was severe and -exacting beyond belief. I sometimes tried to protect my young friends, -but my authority had little weight with the Roman firmness of Bakai: he -would open the door that led to the drawing-room, with the words: “This -is not your place. I beg you will go, or I shall carry you out.” Not a -movement, not a word, on the part of the boys, did he let pass -unrebuked; and he often accompanied his words with a smack on the head, -or a painful fillip, which he inflicted by an ingenious and spring-like -manipulation of his finger and thumb. - -When he had at last driven the boys from the room and was left alone, he -transferred his attentions to his only friend, a large Newfoundland dog -called Macbeth, whom he fed and brushed and petted and loved. After -sitting alone for a few minutes, he would go down to the court-yard and -invite Macbeth to join him in the pantry. Then he began to talk to his -friend: “Foolish brute! What makes you sit outside in the frost, when -there’s warmth in here? Well, what are you staring at? Can’t you -answer?” and the questions were generally followed by a smack on the -head. Macbeth occasionally growled at his benefactor; and then Bakai -reproved him, with no weak fondness: “Do what you like for a dog, a dog -it still remains: it shows its teeth at you, with never a thought of who -you are. But for me, the fleas would eat you up!” And then, hurt by his -friend’s ingratitude, he would take snuff angrily and throw what was -left on his fingers at Macbeth’s nose. The dog would sneeze, make -incredibly awkward attempts to get the snuff out of his eyes with his -paw, rise in high dudgeon from the bench, and begin scratching at the -door. Bakai opened the door and dismissed the dog with a kick and a -final word of reproach. At this point the pantry-boys generally came -back, and the sound of his knuckles on their heads began again. - -We had another dog before Macbeth, a setter called Bertha. When she -became very ill, Bakai put her on his bed and nursed her for some weeks. -Early one morning I went into the servants’ hall. Bakai tried to say -something, but his voice broke and a large tear rolled down his -cheek—the dog was dead. There is another fact for the student of human -nature. I don’t at all suppose that he hated the pantry-boys either; but -he had a surly temper which was made worse by drinking bad spirits and -unconsciously affected by his surroundings. - - - §7 - -Such men as Bakai hugged their chains, but there were others: there -passes through my memory a sad procession of hopeless sufferers and -martyrs. My uncle had a cook of remarkable skill in his business, a -hard-working and sober man who made his way upwards. The Tsar had a -famous French _chef_ at the time and my uncle contrived to secure for -his servant admission to the imperial kitchens. After this instruction, -the man was engaged by the English Club at Moscow, made money, married, -and lived like a gentleman; but, with the noose of serfdom still round -his neck, he could never sleep easy or enjoy his position. - -Alexyéi—that was his name—at last plucked up courage, had prayers said -to Our Lady of Iberia, and called on my uncle and offered 5,000 -_roubles_ for his freedom. But his master was proud of the cook as his -property—he was proud of another man, a painter, for just the same -reason—and therefore he refused the money, promising the cook to give -him his freedom in his will, without any payment. - -This was a frightful blow to the man. He became depressed; the -expression of his features changed; his hair turned grey; and, being a -Russian, he took to the bottle. He became careless about his work, and -the English Club dismissed him. Then he was engaged by the Princess -Trubetskoi, and she persecuted him by her petty meanness. Alexyéi was a -lover of fine phrases; and once, when he was insulted by her beyond -bearing, he drew himself up and said in his nasal voice, “What a stormy -soul inhabits Your Serene Highness’s body!” The Princess was furious: -she dismissed the man and wrote, as a Russian great lady would, to my -uncle to complain of his servant. My uncle would rather have done -nothing, but, out of politeness to the lady, he sent for the cook and -scolded him, and told him to go and beg pardon of the Princess. - -But, instead of going there, he went to the public-house. Within a year -he was utterly ruined: all the money he had saved for his freedom was -gone, and even his last kitchen-apron. He fought with his wife, and she -with him, till at last she went into service as a nurse away from -Moscow. Nothing was heard of him for a long time. At last a policeman -brought him to our house, a wild and ragged figure. He had no place of -abode and wandered from one drink-shop to another. The police had picked -him up in the street and demanded that his master should take him in -hand. My uncle was vexed and, perhaps, repentant: he received the man -kindly enough and gave him a room to live in. Alexyéi went on drinking; -when he was drunk, he was noisy and fancied he was writing poetry; and -he really had some imaginative gift but no control over it. We were in -the country at the time, and my uncle sent the man to us, fancying that -my father would have some control over him. But the man was too far -gone. His case revealed to me the concentrated ill-feeling and hatred -which a serf cherishes in his heart against his masters: he gnashed his -teeth as he spoke, and used gestures which, especially as coming from a -cook, were ominous. My presence did not prevent him from speaking -freely; he was fond of me, and often patted my shoulder as he said, -“This is a sound branch of a rotten tree!” - -When my uncle died, my father gave Alexyéi his freedom at once. But this -was too late: it only meant washing our hands of him, and he simply -vanished from sight. - - - §8 - -There was another victim of the system whom I cannot but recall together -with Alexyéi. My uncle had a servant of thirty-five who acted as a -clerk. My father’s oldest brother, who died in 1813, intending to start -a cottage hospital, placed this man, Tolochanov, when he was a boy, with -a doctor, in order to learn the business of a dresser. The doctor got -permission for him to attend lectures at the College of Medicine; the -young man showed ability, learned Latin and German, and practised with -some success. When he was twenty-five, he fell in love with the daughter -of an officer, concealed his position from her, and married her. The -deception could not be kept up for long: my uncle died, and the wife was -horrified to discover that she, as well as her husband, was a serf. The -“Senator,” their new owner, put no pressure on them at all—he had a real -affection for young Tolochanov—but the wife could not pardon the -deception: she quarrelled with him and finally eloped with another man. -Tolochanov must have been very fond of her: he fell into a state of -depression which bordered on insanity; he spent his nights in drunken -carouses, and, having no money of his own, made free with what belonged -to his master. Then, when he saw he could not balance his accounts, he -took poison, on the last day of the year 1821. - -My uncle was away from home. I was present when Tolochanov came into the -room and told my father he had come to say good-bye; he also gave me a -message for my uncle, that he had spent the missing money. - -“You’re drunk,” said my father; “go and sleep it off.” - -“My sleep will last a long time,” said the doctor; “I only ask you not -to think ill of my memory.” - -The man’s composure frightened my father: he looked at him attentively -and asked: “What’s the matter with you? Are you wandering?” - -“No, Sir; I have only swallowed a dose of arsenic.” - -The doctor and police were summoned, milk and emetics were administered. -When the vomiting began, he tried to keep it back and said: “You stop -where you are! I did not swallow you, to bring you up again.” When the -poison began to work more strongly, I heard his groans and the agonised -voice in which he said again and again, “It burns, it burns like fire!” -Someone advised that the priest should be sent for; but he refused, and -told Calot that he knew _too much anatomy_ to believe in a life beyond -the grave. At twelve at night he spoke to the doctor: he asked the time, -in German, and then said, “Time to wish you a Happy New Year!” and then -he died. - -In the morning I went hastily to the little wing, used as a bath-house, -where Tolochanov had been taken. The body was lying on a table in the -attitude in which he died; he was wearing a coat, but the necktie had -been removed and the chest was bare; the features were terribly -distorted and even blackened. It was the first dead body I had ever -seen; and I ran out, nearly fainting. The toys and picture-book which I -had got as New Year’s presents could not comfort me: I still saw before -me the blackened features of Tolochanov, and heard his cry, “It burns -like fire!” - -To end this sad subject, I shall say only one thing more: the society of -servants had no really bad influence on me. On the contrary, it -implanted in me, in early years, a rooted hatred for slavery and -oppression in all their manifestations. When I had been naughty as a -child and my nurse, Vyéra Artamónovna, wished to be very cutting, she -used to say, “Wait a bit, and you will be exactly like the rest, when -you grow up and become a master!” I felt this to be a grievous insult. -Well, the old woman may rest in peace—whatever I became, I did not -become “exactly like the rest.” - - - §9 - -I had one other distraction, as well as the servants’ hall, and in this -I met at least with no opposition. I loved reading as much as I disliked -my lessons. Indeed, my passion for desultory reading was one of the main -difficulties in the way of serious study. For example, I detested, then -as now, the theoretical study of languages; but I was very quick in -making out the meaning more or less and acquiring the rudiments of -conversation; and there I stopped, because that was all I needed. - -My father and my uncle had a fairly large library, consisting of French -books of the eighteenth century. The books lay about in heaps in a damp -unused room on the ground-floor of the house. Calot kept the key and I -was free to rummage as much as I pleased in this literary lumber-room. I -read and read with no interruptions. My father approved for two reasons: -in the first place, I would learn French quicker; and besides I was kept -occupied, sitting quietly in a corner. I must add that I did not display -all the books I read openly on the table: some of them I kept secreted -in a cupboard. - -But what books did I read? Novels, of course, and plays. I read through -fifteen volumes, each of which contained three or four plays, French or -Russian. As well as French novels, my mother had novels by Auguste -Lafontaine and Kotzebue’s comedies; and I read them all twice over. I -cannot say that the novels had much effect on me. As boys do, I pounced -on all the ambiguous passages and disorderly scenes, but they did not -interest me specially. A far greater influence was exercised over my -mind by a play which I loved passionately and read over twenty times, -though it was in a Russian translation—_The Marriage of Figaro_. I was -in love with Cherubino and the Countess; nay more, I myself was -Cherubino; I felt strong emotion as I read it and was conscious of some -new sensation which I could not at all understand. I was charmed with -the scene where the page is dressed up as a woman, and passionately -desired to have a ribbon belonging to someone, in order to hide it in my -breast and kiss it when no one was looking. As a matter of fact, no -female society came in my way at that age. - -I only remember two school-girls who paid us occasional Sunday visits. -The younger was sixteen and strikingly beautiful. I became confused -whenever she entered the room; I never dared to address her, or to go -beyond stolen glances at her beautiful dark eyes and dark curls. I never -spoke a word of this to anyone, and my first love-pangs passed off -unknown even to her who caused them. - -When I met her years afterwards, my heart beat fast and I remembered how -I had worshipped her beauty at twelve years old. - -I forgot to say that _Werther_ interested me almost as much as _The -Marriage of Figaro_; half of the story I could not understand and -skipped, in my eagerness to reach the final catastrophe; but over that I -wept quite wildly. When I was at Vladímir in 1839, the same book -happened to come into my hands, and I told my wife how I used to cry -over it as a boy. Then I began to read the last letters to her; and when -I reached the familiar passage, the tears flowed fast and I had to stop. - -I cannot say that my father put any special pressure upon me before I -was fourteen; but the whole atmosphere of our house was stifling to a -live young creature. Side by side with complete indifference about my -moral welfare, an excessive degree of importance was attached to bodily -health; and I was terribly worried by precautions against chills and -unwholesome food, and the fuss that was made over a trifling cold in the -head. In winter I was kept indoors for weeks at a time, and, if a drive -was permitted, I had to wear warm boots, comforters, and so on. The -rooms were kept unbearably hot with stoves. This treatment must have -made me feeble and delicate, had I not inherited from my mother the -toughest of constitutions. She, on her part, shared none of these -prejudices, and in her part of the house I might do all the things which -were forbidden when I was with my father. - -Without rivalry and without encouragement or approval, my studies made -little progress. For want of proper system and supervision, I took -things easy and thought to dispense with hard work by means of memory -and a lively imagination. My teachers too, as a matter of course, were -under no supervision; when once the fees were settled, provided they -were punctual in coming to the house and leaving it, they might go on -for years, without giving any account of what they were doing. - - - §10 - -One of the queerest incidents of my early education was when a French -actor, Dalès, was invited to give me lessons in elocution. - -“People pay no attention to it nowadays,” my father said to me, “but -your brother Alexander practised _le recit de Théramène_[20] every -evening for six months with Aufraine, the actor, and never reached the -perfection which his teacher desired.” - -Footnote 20: - - From Racine’s _Phèdre_. - -So I began to learn elocution. - -“I suppose, M. Dalès,” my father once said to him, “you could give -lessons in dancing too.” - -Dalès was a stout old gentleman of over sixty; with a profound -consciousness of his own merits but an equally profound sense of -modesty, he answered that he could not judge of his own talents, but -that he often gave hints to the ballet-dancers at the Opera. - -“Just as I supposed,” remarked my father, offering him his snuff-box -open—a favour he would never have shown to a Russian or German tutor. “I -should be much obliged if you would make him dance a little after the -declamation; he is so stiff.” - -“_Monsieur le comte peut disposer de moi._” - -And then my father, who was a passionate lover of Paris, began to recall -the _foyer_ of the Opera-house as it was in 1810, the _début_ of Mlle. -George and the later years of Mlle. Mars,[21] and asked many question -about _cafés_ and theatres. - -Footnote 21: - - George (1787-1867) was the chief actress in tragedy, and Mars - (1779-1847) the chief actress in comedy, on the Paris stage of their - time. - -And now you must imagine my small room on a dismal winter evening, with -the water running down the frozen windows over the sandbags, two tallow -candles burning on the table, and us two face to face. On the stage -Dalès spoke in a fairly natural voice, but, in giving a lesson, he -thought himself bound to get away as far as possible from nature. He -recited Racine in a sing-song voice, and made a parting, like the -parting of an Englishman’s back hair, at the caesura of each line, so -that every verse came out in two pieces like a broken stick. - -Meanwhile he made the gestures of a man who has fallen into the water -and cannot swim. He made me repeat each verse several times and -constantly shook his head: “Not right at all! Listen to me! ‘_Je crains -Dieu, cher Abner_’—now came the parting; he closed his eyes, shook his -head slightly, and added, repelling the waves with a languid movement of -the arm, ‘_et n’ai point d’autre crainte_.’”[22] - -Footnote 22: - - From Racine’s _Athalie_. - -Then the old gentleman, who “feared nothing but God,” would look at his -watch, put away his books, and take hold of a chair. This chair was my -partner. - -Is it surprising that I never learned to dance? These lessons did not -last long: within a fortnight they were brought to an end by a very -tragic event. - -I was at the theatre with my uncle, and the overture was played several -times without the curtain rising. The front rows, wishing to show their -familiarity with Paris customs, began to make the noise which is made in -Paris by the back rows only. A manager came out in front of the curtain; -he bowed to the left, he bowed to the right, he bowed to the front, and -then he said: “We ask for all the indulgence of the audience; a terrible -misfortune has befallen us: Dalès, a member of our company,”—and here -the manager’s speech was interrupted by genuine tears,—“has been found -dead in his room, poisoned by the fumes from the stove.” - -Such were the forcible means by which the Russian system of ventilation -delivered me from lessons in elocution, from spouting Racine, and from -dancing a solo with the partner who boasted four legs carved in -mahogany. - - - §11 - -When I was twelve, I was transferred from the hands of women to those of -men; and, about that time, my father made two unsuccessful attempts to -put a German in charge of me. - -“A German in charge of children” is neither a tutor nor a -_dyádka_[23]—it is quite a profession by itself. He does not teach or -dress the children himself, but sees that they are dressed and taught; -he watches over their health, takes them out for walks, and talks -whatever nonsense he pleases, provided that it is in German. If there is -a tutor in the house, the German is his inferior; but he takes -precedence of the _dyádka_, if there is one. The visiting teachers, if -they come late from unforeseen causes, or leave too early owing to -circumstances beyond their control, are polite to the German; and, -though quite uneducated, he begins to think himself a man of learning. -The governesses make use of the German to do all sorts of errands for -them, but never permit any attentions on his part, unless they suffer -from positive deformity and see no prospect of any other admirers. When -boys are fourteen they go off to the German’s room to smoke on the sly, -and he allows it, because he needs powerful assistance if he is to keep -his place. Indeed, the common practice is to dismiss him at this period, -after thanking him in the presence of the boys and presenting him with a -watch. If he is tired of taking children out and receiving reprimands -when they catch cold or stain their clothes, then the “German in charge -of children” becomes a German without qualification: he starts a small -shop where he sells amber mouth-pieces, eau-de-cologne, and cigars to -his former charges, and performs secret services for them of another -kind. - -Footnote 23: - - A _dyádka_ (literally “uncle”) is a man-servant put in charge of his - young master. - -The first German attached to my person was a native of Silesia, and his -name was Iokisch; in my opinion, his name alone was a sufficient -disqualification. He was a tall, bald man, who professed a knowledge of -agriculture, and I believe that this fact induced my father to take him; -but his chief distinction was his extreme need of soap and water. I -looked with aversion at the Silesian giant, and only consented to walk -about with him in the parks and gardens on condition that he told me -improper stories, which I retailed in the servants’ hall. He did not -survive more than a year; he was guilty of some misconduct on our -country estate, and a gardener tried to kill him with a scythe; and this -made my father order him to clear out. - -His successor was Theodore Karlovitch, a soldier (probably a deserter) -from Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, who was remarkable for his beautiful -handwriting and excessive stupidity. He had filled a similar post twice -already, and had gained some experience, so that he gave himself the -airs of a tutor; also, he spoke French, mispronouncing _j_ as _sh_ and -misplacing the accents.[24] - -Footnote 24: - - The English speak French even worse than the Germans; but they merely - mutilate the language, whereas the German vulgarises it. (Author’s - note.) - -I had no kind of respect for him, but poisoned every moment of his -existence, especially after I was convinced that, in spite of all my -efforts, he was unable to understand either decimal fractions or the -rule of three. In most boys’ hearts there is a good deal that is -ruthless and even cruel; and I persecuted the Jäger of Wolfenbüttel -unmercifully with sums in proportion. I was so much interested by this, -that, though I did not often speak on such subjects to my father, I -solemnly informed him of the stupidity of Theodore Karlovitch. - -He once boasted to me of a new frock-coat, dark blue with gold buttons, -and I actually saw him once wearing it; he was going to a wedding, and -the coat, though it was too large for him, really had gold buttons. But -the boy who waited on the German informed me that the garment was -borrowed from a friend who kept a perfumer’s shop. Without the least -feeling of pity, I attacked my victim, and asked bluntly where his blue -coat was. - -“There is a great deal of moth in this house, and I have given it to a -tailor whom I know to keep it safe for me.” - -“Where does the tailor live?” - -“What business is that of yours?” - -“Why not say?” - -“People should mind their own business.” - -“Oh, very well. But my birthday is next week, and, to please me, you -might get the blue coat from the tailor for that day.” - -“No, I won’t; you don’t deserve it, after your rudeness.” - -I held up a threatening finger at him. But the final blow to the -German’s position took place as follows. He must needs boast one day, in -the presence of Bouchot, my French tutor, that he had fought at Waterloo -and that the Germans had given the French a terrible mauling. Bouchot -merely looked at him and took snuff with such a formidable air that the -conqueror of Napoleon was rather taken aback. Bouchot left the room, -leaning angrily on his knotted stick, and he never afterwards called the -man by any other name than _le soldat de Vilain-ton_.[25] I did not know -then that this pun is the property of Béranger, and I was exceedingly -delighted by Bouchot’s cleverness. - -Footnote 25: - - _I.e._, Wellington. - -At last this comrade of Blücher’s left our house, after a quarrel with -my father; and I was not troubled further with Germans. - -During the time of the warrior from Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, I sometimes -visited a family of boys, who were also under the charge of a German; -and we took long walks together. The two Germans were friends. But, when -my German departed, I was left once more in complete solitude. I -disliked it and tried hard to escape from it, but without success. As I -was powerless to overcome my father’s wishes, I should, perhaps, have -been crushed by this kind of life; but I was soon saved by a new form of -mental activity, and by two new acquaintances, of whom I shall speak in -the next chapter. I am sure that it never once occurred to my father -what sort of life he was forcing me to lead; or else he would not have -vetoed my very innocent wishes and the very natural requests which I put -to him. - -He let me go occasionally to the French Theatre with my uncle. This was -a supreme enjoyment to me. I was passionately fond of the theatre; but -even this treat cost me as much pain as pleasure. My uncle often arrived -when the play was half over; and, as he was always engaged for some -party, he often took me out before the end. The theatre was quite close -to our house; but I was strictly forbidden by my father to come home -alone. - - - §12 - -I was about fifteen when my father summoned a priest to the house to -teach me as much Divinity as was required for entrance at the -University. I had read Voltaire before I ever opened the Catechism. In -the business of education, religion is less obtrusive in Russia than in -any other country; and this is, of course, a very good thing. A priest -is always paid half the usual fee for lessons in Divinity; and, if the -same priest also teaches Latin, he actually gets more for a Latin lesson -than for instruction in the Catechism. - -My father looked upon religion as one of the indispensable attributes of -a gentleman. It was necessary to accept Holy Scripture without -discussion, because mere intellect is powerless in that department, and -the subject is only made darker by human logic. It was necessary to -submit to such rites as were required by the Church into which you were -born; but you must avoid excessive piety, which is suitable for women of -advanced age but improper for a man. Was he himself a believer? I -imagine that he believed to some extent, from habit, from a sense of -decency, and just in case—. But he never himself observed any of the -rules laid down by the Church, excusing himself on the plea of bad -health. He hardly ever admitted a priest to his presence, or asked him -to repeat a psalm while waiting in the empty drawing-room for the -five-_rouble_ note which was his fee. In winter he excused himself on -the plea that the priest and his clerk brought in so much cold air with -them that he always caught cold in consequence. In the country, he went -to church and received the priest at his house; but this was not due to -religious feeling but rather a concession to the ideas of society and -the wishes of Government. - -My mother was a Lutheran, and, as such, a degree more religious. Once or -twice a month she went on Sundays to her place of worship—her _Kirche_, -as Bakai persisted in calling it, and I, for want of occupation, went -with her. I learned there to imitate with great perfection the flowery -style of the German pastors, and I had not lost this art when I came to -manhood. - -My father always made me keep Lent. I rather dreaded confession, and -church ceremonies in general were impressive and awful to me. The -Communion Service caused me real fear; but I shall not call that -religious feeling: it was the fear which is always inspired by the -unintelligible and mysterious, especially when solemn importance is -attached to the mystery. When Easter brought the end of the Fast, I ate -all the Easter dishes—dyed eggs, currant loaf, and consecrated cakes, -and thought no more about religion for the rest of the year. - -Yet I often read the Gospel, both in Slavonic and in Luther’s -translation, and loved it. I read it without notes of any kind and could -not understand all of it, but I felt a deep and sincere reverence for -the book. In my early youth, I was often attracted by the Voltairian -point of view—mockery and irony were to my taste; but I don’t remember -ever taking up the Gospel with indifference or hostility. This has -accompanied me throughout life: at all ages and in all variety of -circumstances, I have gone back to the reading of the Gospel, and every -time its contents have brought down peace and gentleness into my heart. - -When the priest began to give me lessons, he was astonished, not merely -at my general knowledge of the Gospel but also at my power of quoting -texts accurately. “But,” he used to say, “the Lord God, who has opened -the mind, has not yet opened the heart.” My theological instructor -shrugged his shoulders and was surprised by the inconsistency he found -in me; still he was satisfied with me, because he thought I should be -able to pass my examination. - -A religion of a different kind was soon to take possession of my heart -and mind. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER III - -Death of Alexander I—The Fourteenth of December—Moral - Awakening—Bouchot—My Cousin—N. Ogaryóv. - - - §1 - -ONE winter evening my uncle came to our house at an unusual hour. He -looked anxious and walked with a quick step to my father’s study, after -signing to me to stay in the drawing-room. - -Fortunately, I was not obliged to puzzle my head long over the mystery. -The door of the servants’ hall opened a little way, and a red face, half -hidden by the wolf-fur of a livery coat, invited me to approach; it was -my uncle’s footman, and I hastened to the door. - -“Have you not heard?” he asked. - -“Heard what?” - -“The Tsar is dead. He died at Taganrog.” - -I was impressed by the news: I had never before thought of the -possibility of his death. I had been brought up in great reverence for -Alexander, and I thought with sorrow how I had seen him not long before -in Moscow. We were out walking when we met him outside the Tver Gate; he -was riding slowly, accompanied by two or three high officers, on his way -back from manœuvres. His face was attractive, the features gentle and -rounded, and his expression was weary and sad. When he caught us up, I -took off my hat; he smiled and bowed to me. - -Confused ideas were still simmering in my head; the shops were selling -pictures of the new Tsar, Constantine; notices about the oath of -allegiance were circulating; and good citizens were making haste to take -the oath—when suddenly a report spread that the Crown Prince had -abdicated. Immediately afterwards, the same footman, a great lover of -political news, with abundant opportunities for collecting it from the -servants of senators and lawyers—less lucky than the horses which rested -for half the day, he accompanied his master in his rounds from morning -till night—informed me that there was a revolution in Petersburg and -that cannon were firing in the capital. - -On the evening of the next day, Count Komarovsky, a high officer of the -police, was at our house, and told us of the band of revolutionaries in -the Cathedral Square, the cavalry charge, and the death of -Milorádovitch.[26] - -Footnote 26: - - When Nicholas became Emperor in place of his brother Constantine, the - revolt of the Decembrists took place in Petersburg on December 14, - 1825. Five of the conspirators were afterwards hanged, and over a - hundred banished to Siberia. - -Then followed the arrests—“They have taken so-and-so”; “They have caught -so-and-so”; “They have arrested so-and-so in the country.” Parents -trembled in fear for their sons; the sky was covered over with black -clouds. - -During the reign of Alexander, political persecution was rare: it is -true that he exiled Púshkin for his verses, and Labzin, the secretary of -the Academy of Fine Arts, for proposing that the imperial coachman -should be elected a member;[27] but there was no systematic persecution. -The secret police had not swollen to its later proportions: it was -merely an office, presided over by De Sanglin, a freethinking old -gentleman and a sayer of good things, in the manner of the French -writer, Etienne de Jouy. Under Nicholas, De Sanglin himself came under -police supervision and passed for a liberal, though he remained -precisely what he had always been; but this fact alone serves to mark -the difference between the two reigns. - -Footnote 27: - - The president had proposed to elect Arakchéyev, on the ground of his - nearness to the Tsar. Labzin then proposed the election of Ilyá - Baikov, the Tsar’s coachman. “He is not only near the Tsar but sits in - front of him,” he said. - -The tone of society changed visibly; and the rapid demoralisation proved -too clearly how little the feeling of personal dignity is developed -among the Russian aristocracy. Except the women, no one dared to show -sympathy or to plead earnestly in favour of relations and friends, whose -hands they had grasped yesterday but who had been arrested before -morning dawned. On the contrary, men became zealots for tyranny, some to -gain their own ends, while others were even worse, because they had -nothing to gain by subservience. - -Women alone were not guilty of this shameful denial of their dear ones. -By the Cross none but women were standing; and by the blood-stained -guillotine there were women too—a Lucile Desmoulins, that Ophelia of the -French Revolution, wandering near the fatal axe and waiting her turn, or -a George Sand holding out, even on the scaffold, the hand of sympathy -and friendship to the young fanatic, Alibaud.[28] - -Footnote 28: - - Camille Desmoulins was guillotined, with Danton, April 5, 1794; his - wife, Lucile, soon followed him. Alibaud was executed July 11, 1836, - for an attempt on the life of Louis Philippe. - -The wives of the exiles were deprived of all civil rights; abandoning -their wealth and position in society, they faced a whole lifetime of -slavery in Eastern Siberia, where the terrible climate was less -formidable than the Siberian police. Sisters, who were not permitted to -accompany their condemned brothers, absented themselves from Court, and -many of them left Russia; almost all of them retained in their hearts a -lively feeling of affection for the sufferers. But this was not so among -the men: fear devoured this feeling in their hearts, and none of them -dared to open their lips about “the unfortunate.” - -As I have touched on this subject, I cannot refrain from giving some -account of one of these heroic women, whose history is known to very -few. - - - §2 - -In the ancient family of the Ivashevs a French girl was living as a -governess. The only son of the house wished to marry her. All his -relations were driven wild by the idea; there was a great commotion, -tears, and entreaties. They succeeded in inducing the girl to leave -Petersburg and the young man to delay his intention for a season. Young -Ivashev was one of the most active conspirators, and was condemned to -penal servitude for life. For this was a form of _mésalliance_ from -which his relations did not protect him. As soon as the terrible news -reached the young girl in Paris, she started for Petersburg, and asked -permission to travel to the Government of Irkutsk, in order to join her -future husband. Benkendorf tried to deter her from this criminal -purpose; when he failed, he reported the case to Nicholas. The Tsar -ordered that the position of women who had remained faithful to their -exiled husbands should be explained to her. “I don’t keep her back,” he -added; “but she ought to realise that if wives, who have accompanied -their husbands out of loyalty, deserve some indulgence, she has no claim -whatever to such treatment, when she intends to marry one whom she knows -to be a criminal.” - -In Siberia nothing was known of this permission. When she had found her -way there, the poor girl was forced to wait while a correspondence went -on with Petersburg. She lived in a miserable settlement peopled with -released criminals of all kinds, unable to get any news of her lover or -to inform him of her whereabouts. - -By degrees she made acquaintances among her strange companions. One of -these was a highwayman who was now employed in the prison, and she told -him all her story. Next day he brought her a note from Ivashev; and soon -he offered to carry messages between them. All day he worked in the -prison; at nightfall he got a scrap of writing from Ivashev and started -off, undeterred by weariness or stormy weather, and returned to his -daily work before dawn. - -At last permission came for their marriage. A few years later, penal -servitude was commuted to penal settlement, and their condition was -improved to some extent. But their strength was exhausted, and the wife -was the first to sink under the burden of all she had undergone. She -faded away, as a flower from southern climes was bound to fade in the -snows of Siberia. Ivashev could not survive her long: just a year later -he too died. But he had ceased to live before his death: his letters -(which impressed even the inquisitors who read them) were evidence not -only of intense sorrow, but of a distracted brain; they were full of a -gloomy poetry and a crazy piety; after her death he never really lived, -and the process of his death was slow and solemn. - -This history does not end with their deaths. Ivashev’s father, after his -son’s exile, transferred his property to an illegitimate son, begging -him not to forget his unfortunate brother but to do what he could. The -young pair were survived by two children, two nameless infants, with a -future prospect of the roughest labour in Siberia—without friends, -without rights, without parents. Ivashev’s brother got permission to -adopt the children. A few years later he ventured on another request: he -used influence, that their father’s name might be restored to them, and -this also was granted. - - - §3 - -I was strongly impressed by stories of the rebels and I their fate, and -by the horror which reigned in Moscow. These events revealed to me a new -world, which became more and more the centre of my whole inner life; I -don’t know how it came to pass; but, though I understood very dimly what -it was all about, I felt that the side that possessed the cannons and -held the upper hand was not my side. The execution of Pestel[29] and his -companions finally awakened me from the dreams of childhood. - -Footnote 29: - - One of the Decembrists. - -Though political ideas occupied my mind day and night, my notions on the -subject were not very enlightened: indeed they were so wide of the mark -that I believed one of the objects of the Petersburg insurrection to -consist in placing Constantine on the throne as a constitutional -monarch. - -It will easily be understood that solitude was a greater burden to me -than ever: I needed someone, in order to impart to him my thoughts and -ideals, to verify them, and to hear them confirmed. Proud of my own -“disaffection,” I was unwilling either to conceal it or to speak of it -to people in general. - -My choice fell first on Iván Protopópov, my Russian tutor. - -This man was full of that respectable indefinite liberalism, which, -though it often disappears with the first grey hair, marriage, and -professional success, does nevertheless raise a man’s character. He was -touched by what I said, and embraced me on leaving the house. “Heaven -grant,” he said, “that those feelings of your youth may ripen and grow -strong!” His sympathy was a great comfort to me. After this time he -began to bring me manuscript copies, in very small writing and very much -frayed, of Púshkin’s poems—_Ode to Freedom_, _The Dagger_, and of -Ryléev’s _Thoughts_. These I used to copy out in secret; and now I print -them as openly as I please! - -As a matter of course, my reading also changed. Politics for me in -future, and, above all, the history of the French Revolution, which I -knew only as described by Mme. Provo. Among the books in our cellar I -unearthed a history of the period, written by a royalist; it was so -unfair that, even at fourteen, I could not believe it. I had chanced to -hear old Bouchot say that he was in Paris during the Revolution; and I -was very anxious to question him. But Bouchot was a surly, taciturn man, -with spectacles over a large nose; he never indulged in any needless -conversation with me: he conjugated French verbs, dictated examples, -scolded me, and then took his departure, leaning on his thick knotted -stick. - -The old man did not like me: he thought me a mere idler, because I -prepared my lessons badly; and he often said, “You will come to no -good.” But when he discovered my sympathy with his political views, he -softened down entirely, pardoned my mistakes, and told me stories of the -year ’93, and of his departure from France when “profligates and cheats” -got the upper hand. He never smiled; he ended our lesson with the same -dignity as before, but now he said indulgently, “I really thought you -would come to no good, but your feelings do you credit, and they will -save you.” - - - §4 - -To this encouragement and approval from my teachers there was soon added -a still warmer sympathy which had a profound influence upon me. - -In a little town of the Government of Tver lived a granddaughter of my -father’s eldest brother. Her name was Tatyana Kuchin. I had known her -from childhood, but we seldom met: once a year, at Christmas or -Shrovetide, she came to pay a visit to her aunt at Moscow. But we had -become close friends. Though five years my senior, she was short for her -age and looked no older than myself. My chief reason for getting to like -her was that she was the first person to talk to me in a reasonable way: -I mean, she did not constantly express surprise at my growth; she did -not ask what lessons I did and whether I did them well; whether I -intended to enter the Army, and, if so, what regiment; but she talked to -me as most sensible people talk to one another, though she kept the -little airs of superiority which all girls like to show to boys a little -younger than themselves. - -We corresponded, especially after the events of 1824; but letters mean -paper and pen and recall the school-room table with its ink-stains and -decorations carved with a penknife. I wanted to see her and to discuss -our new ideas; and it may be imagined with what delight I heard that my -cousin was to come in February (of 1826) and to spend several months -with us. I scratched a calendar on my desk and struck off the days as -they passed, sometimes abstaining for a day or two, just to have the -satisfaction of striking out more at one time. In spite of this, the -time seemed very long; and when it came to an end, her visit was -postponed more than once; such is the way of things. - -One evening I was sitting in the school-room with Protopópov. Over each -item of instruction he took, as usual, a sip of sour broth; he was -explaining the hexameter metre, ruthlessly hashing, with voice and hand, -each verse of Gnyéditch’s translation of the Iliad into its separate -feet. Suddenly, a sound unlike that of town sledges came from the snow -outside; I heard the faint tinkle of harness-bells and the sound of -voices out-of-doors. I flushed up, lost all interest in the hashing -process and the wrath of Achilles, and rushed headlong to the front -hall. There was my cousin from Tver, wrapped up in furs, shawls, and -comforters, and wearing a hood and white fur boots. Blushing red with -frost and, perhaps, also with joy, she ran into my arms. - - - §5 - -Most people speak of their early youth, its joys and sorrows, with a -slightly condescending smile, as if they wished to say, like the -affected lady in Griboyédov’s play, “How childish!” Children, when a few -years are past, are ashamed of their toys, and this is right enough: -they want to be men and women, they grow so fast and change so much, as -they see by their jackets and the pages of their lesson-books. But -adults might surely realise that childhood and the two or three years of -youth are the fullest part of life, the fairest, and the most truly our -own; and indeed they are possibly the most important part, because they -fix all that follows, though we are not aware of it. - -So long as a man moves modestly forwards, never stopping and never -reflecting, and until he comes to the edge of a precipice or breaks his -neck, he continues to believe that his life lies ahead of him; and -therefore he looks down upon his past and is unable to appreciate the -present. But when experience has laid low the flowers of spring and -chilled the glow of summer—when he discovers that life is practically -over, and all that remains a mere continuance of the past, then he feels -differently towards the brightness and warmth and beauty of early -recollections. - -Nature deceives us all with her endless tricks and devices: she makes us -a gift of youth, and then, when we are grown up, asserts her mastery and -snares us in a web of relations, domestic and public, most of which we -are powerless to control; and, though we impart our personal character -to our actions, we do not possess our souls in the same degree; the -lyric element of personality is weaker, and, with it, our feelings and -capacity for enjoyment—all, indeed, is weaker, except intelligence and -will. - - - §6 - -My cousin’s life was no bed of roses. She lost her mother in childhood; -her father was a passionate gambler, who, like all men who have gambling -in their blood, was constantly rich and poor by turns and ended by -ruining himself. What was left of his fortune he devoted to his stud, -which now became the object of all his thoughts and desires. His only -son, a good-natured cavalry officer, was taking the shortest road to -ruin: at the age of nineteen, he was a more desperate gambler than his -father. - -When the father was fifty, he married, for no obvious reason, an old -maid who was a teacher in the Smolny Convent. She was the most typical -specimen of a Petersburg governess whom I had ever happened to meet: -thin, blonde, and very shortsighted, she looked the teacher and the -moralist all over. By no means stupid, she was full of an icy enthusiasm -in her talk, she abounded in commonplaces about virtue and devotion, she -knew history and geography by heart, spoke French with repulsive -correctness, and concealed a high opinion of herself under an artificial -and Jesuitical humility. These traits are common to all pedants in -petticoats; but she had others peculiar to the capital or the convent. -Thus she raised tearful eyes to heaven, when speaking of the visit of -“the mother of us all” (the Empress, Márya Fyódorovna[30]); she was in -love with Tsar Alexander, and carried a locket or ring containing a -fragment of a letter from the Empress Elizabeth[31]—“_il a repris son -sourire de bienveillance_!” - -Footnote 30: - - The wife of Paul and mother of Alexander I and Nicholas. - -Footnote 31: - - Elizabeth, daughter of Peter the Great, reigned from 1741 to 1762. - Probably _il_ refers to her father. - -It is easy to imagine the harmonious trio that made up this household: a -card-playing father, passionately devoted to horses and racing and noisy -carouses in disreputable company; a daughter brought up in complete -independence and accustomed to do as she pleased in the house; and a -middle-aged blue-stocking suddenly converted into a bride. As a matter -of course, no love was lost between the stepmother and stepdaughter. In -general, real friendship between a woman of thirty-five and a girl of -seventeen is impossible, unless the former is sufficiently unselfish to -renounce all claim to sex. - -The common hostility between stepmothers and step-daughters does not -surprise me in the least: it is natural and even moral. A new member of -the household, who usurps their mother’s place, provokes repulsion on -the part of the children. To them the second marriage is a second -funeral. The child’s love is revealed in this feeling, and whispers to -the orphan, “Your father’s wife is not your mother.” At one time the -Church understood that a second marriage is inconsistent with the -Christian conception of marriage and the Christian dogma of immortality; -but she made constant concessions to the world, and went too far, till -she came up against the logic of facts—the simple heart of the child who -revolts against the absurdity and refuses the name of mother to his -father’s second choice. - -The woman too is in an awkward situation when she comes away from the -altar to find a family of children ready-made: she has nothing to do -with them, and has to force feelings which she cannot possess; she is -bound to convince herself and the world, that other people’s children -are just as attractive to her as her own. - -Consequently, I don’t blame either the convent-lady or my cousin for -their mutual dislike; but I understand how a young girl unaccustomed to -control was eager to go wherever she could be free. Her father was now -getting old and more submissive to his learned wife; her brother, the -officer, was behaving worse and worse; in fact, the atmosphere at home -was oppressive, and she finally induced her stepmother to let her go on -a visit to us, for some months or possibly for a year. - - - §7 - -The day after her arrival, my cousin turned my usual routine, with the -exception of my lessons, upside down. With a high hand she fixed hours -for us to read together, advised me to stop reading novels, and -recommended Ségur’s _General History_ and _The Travels of -Anacharsis_.[32] From the ascetic point of view she opposed my strong -inclination to smoke on the sly—cigarettes were then unknown, and I -rolled the tobacco in paper myself: in general, she liked to preach to -me, and I listened meekly to her sermons, if I did not profit by them. -Fortunately, she was not consistent: quite forgetting her own -arrangements, she read with me for amusement rather than instruction, -and often sent out a secret messenger in the shape of a pantry-boy to -buy buckwheat cakes in winter or gooseberries in summer. - -Footnote 32: - - _Voyage du jeune Anacharsis_, by the Abbé Barthélemy, published in - 1779. Ségur was a French historian (1753-1830). - -I believe that her influence on me was very good. She brought into my -monastic life an element of warmth, and this may have served to keep -alive the enthusiasms that were beginning to stir in my mind, when they -might easily have been smothered by my father’s ironical tone. I learned -to be attentive, to be nettled by a single word, to care for a friend, -and to feel affection; I learned also to talk about feelings. In her I -found support for my political ideas; she prophesied a remarkable future -and reputation for me, and I, with a child’s vanity, believed her when -she said I would one day be a Brutus or Fabricius. - -To me alone she confided the secret of her love for a cavalry officer in -a black jacket and dolman. It was really a secret; for the officer, as -he rode at the head of his squadron, never suspected the pure little -flame that burnt for him in the breast of this young lady of eighteen. -Whether I envied him, I can’t say; probably I did, a little; but I was -proud of being chosen as her confidant, and I imagined (under the -influence of _Werther_) that this was a tragic passion, fated to end in -some great catastrophe involving suicide by poison or the dagger. I even -thought at times of calling on the officer and telling him the whole -story. - -My cousin brought shuttlecocks with her from home. One of them had a pin -stuck into it, and she always used it in playing; if anyone else -happened to get hold of it, she took it away and said that no other -suited her as well. But the demon of mischief, which was always -whispering its temptations in my ear, tempted me to take out this pin -and stick it into another shuttlecock. The trick was entirely -successful: my cousin always chose the shuttlecock with the pin in it. -After a fortnight I told her what I had done: she changed colour, burst -out crying, and ran to her own room. I was frightened and distressed; -after waiting half an hour I went to find her. Her door was locked, and -I asked her to open it. She refused, saying that she was not well, and -that I was an unkind, heartless boy. Then I wrote a note in which I -begged her to forgive me, and after tea we made it up: I kissed her -hand, and she embraced me and explained the full importance of the -incident. A year before, the officer had dined at their house and played -battledore with her afterwards; and the marked shuttlecock had been used -by him. I felt very remorseful, as if I had committed a real act of -sacrilege. - -My cousin stayed with us till October, when her father summoned her -home, promising to let her spend the next summer with us in the country. -We looked forward with horror to the separation; and soon there came an -autumn day when a carriage arrived to fetch her, and her maid carried -down baskets and band-boxes, while our servants put in provisions of all -kinds, to last a week, and crowded to the steps to say their good-byes. -We exchanged a close embrace, and both shed tears; the carriage drove -out into the street, turned into a side-street close to the very shop -where we used to buy the buckwheat cakes, and disappeared. I took a turn -in the court-yard, but it seemed cold and unfriendly; my own room, where -I went next, seemed empty and cold too. I began to prepare a lesson for -Protopópov, and all the time I was thinking, “Where is the carriage now? -has it passed the gates or not?” - -I had one comfort: we should spend next June together in the country. - - - §8 - -I had a passionate love for the country, and our visits there gave me -new life. Forests, fields, and perfect freedom—all this was a complete -change to me, who had grown up wrapped in cotton-wool, behind stone -walls, never daring to leave the house on any pretext without asking -leave, or without the escort of a footman. - -From spring onwards, I was always much exercised by one question—shall -we go to the country this year or not? Every year my father said that he -wished to see the leaves open and would make an early start; but he was -never ready before July. One year he put off so long that we never went -at all. He sent orders every winter that the country-house was to be -prepared and heated, but this was merely a deep device, that the head -man and ground-officer, fearing our speedy arrival, might pay more -attention to their duties. - -It seemed that we were to go. My father said to my uncle, that he should -enjoy a rest in the country and must see what was doing on the land; but -still weeks went by. - -The prospect became brighter by degrees. Food supplies were sent off—tea -and sugar, grain of different kinds and wine; then came another delay; -but at last the head man was ordered to send a certain number of -peasants’ horses on a fixed day. Joy! Joy! we are to go! - -At that time I never thought of the trouble caused to the peasants by -the loss of four or five days at the busiest time of the year. I was -completely happy and made haste to pack up my books and notebooks. The -horses came, and I listened with inward satisfaction to the sound of -their munching and snorting in the court. I took a lively interest in -the bustle of the drivers and the wrangles of the servants, as they -disputed where each should sit and accommodate his belongings. Lights -burnt all night in the servants’ quarters: all were busy packing, or -dragging about boxes and bags, or putting on special clothes for the -journey, though it was not more than eighty _versts_. My father’s valet -was the most excited of the party: he realised all the importance of -packing, pulled out in fury all that others had put in, tore his hair -with vexation, and was quite impossible to approach. - -On the day itself my father got up no earlier than usual—indeed, it -seemed later—and took just as long over his coffee; it was eleven -o’clock before he gave the order to put to the horses. First came a -coach to hold four, drawn by six of our own horses; this was followed by -three or sometimes four equipages—an open carriage, a britzka, and -either a large waggon or two carts; all these were filled by the -servants and their baggage, in addition to the carts which had preceded -us; and yet there was such a squeeze that no one could sit in comfort. - - - §9 - -We stopped half-way, to dine and feed the horses, at a large village, -whose name of Perkhushkov may be found in Napoleon’s bulletins. It -belonged to a son of the uncle, of whom I spoke in describing the -division of the property. The neglected manor-house stood near the high -road, which had dull flat fields on each side of it; but to me even this -dusty landscape was delightful after the confinement of a town. The -floors of the house were uneven, and the steps of the staircase shook; -our tread sounded loud, and the walls echoed the noise, as if surprised -by visitors. The old furniture, prized as a rarity by its former owner, -was now spending its last days in banishment here. I wandered, with -eager curiosity, from room to room, upstairs and downstairs, and finally -into the kitchen. Our cook was preparing a hasty meal for us, and looked -discontented and scornful; the bailiff was generally sitting in the -kitchen, a grey-haired man with a lump on his head. When the cook turned -to him and complained of the kitchen-range, the bailiff listened and -said from time to time, “Well, perhaps you’re right”; he looked uneasily -at all the stir in the house and clearly hoped we should soon go away. - -Dinner was served on special plates, made of tin or Britannia metal, and -bought for the purpose. Meanwhile the horses were put to; and the hall -was filled with those who wished to pay their respects—former footmen, -spending their last days in pure air but on short commons, and old women -who had been pretty house-maids thirty years ago, all the creeping and -hopping population of great houses, who, like the real locusts, devour -the peasants’ toil by no fault of their own. They brought with them -flaxen-haired children with bare feet and soiled clothes; the children -kept pushing forward, and the old women kept pulling them back, and both -made plenty of noise. The women caught hold of me when they could and -expressed surprise at my growth in the same terms every year. My father -spoke a few words to them; some tried to kiss his hand, but he never -permitted it; others made their bow; and then we went away. - -By the edge of a wood our bailiff was waiting for us, and he rode in -front of us the last part of the way. A long lime avenue led up to our -house from the vicarage; at the house we were met by the priest and his -wife, the sexton, the servants, and some peasants. An idiot, called -Pronka, was there too, the only self-respecting person; for he kept on -his dirty old hat, stood a little apart and grinned, and started away -whenever any of the newcomers tried to approach him. - - - §10 - -I have seen few more charming spots than this estate of Vasílevskoë. On -one side, where the ground slopes, there is a large village with a -church and an old manor-house; on the other side, where there is a hill -and a smaller village, was a new house built by my father. From our -windows there was a view for many miles: the endless corn-fields spread -like lakes, ruffled by the breeze; manor-houses and villages with white -churches were visible here and there; forests of varying hues made a -semicircular frame for the picture; and the ribbon of the Moscow River -shone blue outside it. In the early morning I used to push up my window -as high as it would go, and look, and listen, and drink in the air. - -Yet I had a tenderness for the old manor-house too, perhaps because it -gave me my first taste of the country; I had a passion for the long -shady avenue which led up to it, and the neglected garden. The house was -falling down, and a slender shapely birch-tree was growing out of a -crack in the hall floor. A willow avenue went to the left, followed by -reed-beds and white sand, all the way to the river; about my twelfth -year, I used to play the whole morning on this sand and among the reeds. -An old gardener, bent and decrepit, was generally sitting in front of -the house, boiling fruit or straining mint-wine; and he used to give me -peas and beans to eat on the sly. There were a number of rooks in the -garden; they nested in the tree-tops and flew round and round, cawing; -sometimes, especially towards evening, they rose up in hundreds at a -time, rousing others by their noise; sometimes a single bird would fly -quickly from tree to tree, amid general silence. When night came on, -some distant owl would cry like a child or burst out laughing; and, -though I feared those wild plaintive noises, yet I went and listened. - -The years when we did not stay at Vasílevskoë were few and far between. -On leaving, I always marked my height on the wall near the balcony, and -my first business on arriving was to find out how much I had grown. But -I could measure more than mere bodily growth by this place: the regular -recurrence to the same surroundings enabled me to detect the development -of my mind. Different books and different objects engaged my attention. -In 1823 I was still quite a child and took childish books with me; and -even these I left unread, taking more interest in a hare and a squirrel -that lived in a garret near my room. My father allowed me, once every -evening, to fire off a small cannon, and this was one of my chief -delights. Of course, all the servants bore a hand in this occupation, -and grey-haired men of fifty were no less excited than I was. In 1827 my -books were Plutarch and Schiller; early in the morning I sought the -remotest part of the wood, lay down under a tree, and read aloud, -fancying myself in the forests of Bohemia. Yet, all the same, I paid -much attention to a dyke which I and another boy were making across a -small stream, and I ran there ten times a day to look at it and repair -it. In 1829 and the next year, I was writing a “philosophical” review of -Schiller’s _Wallenstein_, and the cannon was the only one of my old -amusements that still maintained its attraction. - -But I had another pleasure as well as firing off the cannon—the evenings -in the country haunted me like a passion, and I feel them still to be -times of piety and peace and poetry.... One of the last bright hours of -my life also recalls to me an evening in the country. I was in Italy, -and _she_ was with me. The sun was setting, solemn and bright, in an -ocean of fire, and melting into it. Suddenly the rich crimson gave place -to a sombre blue, and smoke-coloured vapour covered all the sky; for in -Italy darkness comes on fast. We mounted our mules; riding from Frascati -to Rome, we had to pass through a small village; lights were twinkling -already here and there, all was peace, the hoofs of the mules rang out -on the stone, a fresh dampish wind blew from the Apennines. At the end -of the village there was a small Madonna in a niche, with a lamp burning -before her; the village girls, coming home from work with white -kerchiefs over their heads, knelt down and sang a hymn, and some begging -_pifferari_ who were passing by added their voices. I was profoundly -impressed and much moved by the scene. We looked at each other, and rode -slowly on to the inn where our carriage was waiting. When we got home, I -described the evenings I had spent at Vasílevskoë. What was it I -described? - -The shepherd cracks his long whip and plays on his birch-bark pipe. I -hear the lowing and bleating of the returning animals, and the stamping -of their feet on the bridge. A barking dog scurries after a straggling -sheep, and the sheep breaks into a kind of wooden-legged gallop. Then -the voices of the girls, singing on their way from the fields, come -nearer and nearer; but the path takes a turn to the right, and the sound -dies away again. House-doors open with creaking of the hinges, and the -children come out to meet their cows and sheep. Work is over. Children -play in the street or by the river, and their voices come penetrating -and clear over the water through the evening glow. The smell of burning -passes from the corn-kilns through the air; the soaking dew begins to -spread like smoke over the earth, the wind seems to walk audibly over -the trees, the sunset glow sends a last faint light over the world—and -Vyéra Artamónovna finds me under a lime-tree, and scolds me, though she -is not seriously angry. - -“What’s the meaning of this? Tea has long been served, and everyone is -there. I have looked and looked for you everywhere till I’m tired out. -I’m too old for all this running. And what _do_ you mean by lying on the -wet grass? You’ll have a cold to-morrow, I feel sure.” - -“Never mind, never mind,” I would answer laughing; “I shan’t have a -cold, and I want no tea; but you must steal me some cream, and mind you -skim off the top of the jug!” - -“Really, I can’t find it in my heart to be angry with you! But how -dainty you are! I’ve got cream ready for you, without your asking. Look -how red the sky is! That’s a sign of a good harvest.” - -And then I made off home, jumping and whistling as I went. - - - §11 - -We never went back to Vasílevskoë after 1832, and my father sold it -during my banishment. In 1843 we were staying in the country within -twenty _versts_ of the old home and I could not resist paying it a -visit. We drove along the familiar road, past the pine-wood and the hill -covered with nut bushes, till we came to the ford which had given me -such delight twenty years ago—I remembered the splashing water, the -crunching sound of the pebbles, the coachmen shouting at the jibbing -horses. At last we reached the village and the priest’s house; there was -the bench where the priest used to sit, wearing his brown cassock—a -simple kindly man who was always chewing something and always in a -perspiration; and then the estate-office where Vassíli Epifánov made out -his accounts; never quite sober, he sat crouching over the paper, -holding his pen very low down and tucking his third finger away behind -it. The priest was dead, and Vassíli Epifánov, not sober yet, was making -out accounts somewhere else. The village head man was in the fields, but -we found his wife at their cottage. - -Changes had taken place in the interval. A new manor-house had been -built on the hill, and a new garden laid out round it. Returning past -the church and churchyard, we met a poor deformed object, creeping, as -it seemed, on all-fours. It signed to me, and I went close to it. It was -an old woman, bent, paralysed, and half-crazy; she used to live on -charity and work in the old priest’s garden; she was now about seventy, -and her, of all people, death had spared! She knew me and shed tears, -shaking her head and saying: “How old you have grown! I only knew you by -your walk. And me—but there’s no use talking about me.” - -As we drove home, I saw the head man, the same as in our time, standing -in a field some way off. He did not recognise me at first; but when we -were past, he made out who I was, took off his hat, and bowed low. A -little further on, I turned round, and Grigóri Gorski—that was the head -man’s name—was standing on the same spot and watching our carriage. That -tall bearded figure, bowing in the harvest field, was a link with the -past; but Vasílevskoë had ceased to be ours. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - My Friend Niko and the Sparrow Hills. - - - §1 - -SOME time in the year 1824 I was walking one day with my father along -the Moscow River, on the far side of the Sparrow Hills; and there we met -a French tutor whom we knew. He had nothing on but his shirt, was -obviously in great alarm, and was calling out, “Help! Help!” Before our -friend had time to pull off his shirt or pull on his trousers, a Cossack -ran down from the Sparrow Hills, hurled himself into the water, and -disappeared. In another moment he reappeared, grasping a miserable -little object, whose head and hands shook like clothes hung out to dry; -he placed this burden on the bank and said, “A shaking will soon bring -him round.” - -The bystanders collected fifty _roubles_ for the rescuer. The Cossack -made no pretences but said very honestly, “It’s a sin to take money for -a thing like that; for he gave me no trouble, no more than a cat, to -pull him out. But,” he added, “though I don’t ask for money, if I’m -offered it, I may as well take it. I’m a poor man. So thank you kindly.” -Then he tied up the money in his handkerchief and went back to his -horses grazing on the hill. - -My father asked the man’s name and wrote next day to tell his commanding -officer of his gallantry; and the Cossack was promoted to be a corporal. -A few months later the Cossack appeared at our house and brought a -companion, a German with a fair curling wig, pock-marked, and scented. -This was the drowning man, who had come to return thanks on behalf of -the Cossack; and he visited us afterwards from time to time. - -Karl Sonnenberg had taught boys German in several families, and was now -employed by a distant relation of my father’s, who had confided to him -the bodily health and German pronunciation of his son. This boy, Nikolai -Ogaryóv, whom Sonnenberg always called Niko, attracted me. There was -something kind, gentle, and thoughtful about him; he was quite unlike -the other boys whom I was in the way of seeing. Yet our intimacy ripened -slowly: he was silent and thoughtful, I was lively and feared to trouble -him by my liveliness. - -Niko had lost his mother in infancy, and his grandmother died about the -time when my cousin Tatyana left us and went home. Their household was -in confusion, and Sonnenberg, who had really nothing to do, made out -that he was terribly busy; so he brought the boy to our house in the -morning and asked if we would keep him for the whole day. Niko was -frightened and sad; I suppose he loved his grandmother. - -After sitting together for some time, I proposed that we should read -Schiller. I was soon astonished by the similarity of our tastes: he knew -by heart much more than I did, and my favourite passages were those he -knew best; we soon shut the book, and each began to explore the other’s -mind for common interests. - -He too was familiar with the unprinted poems of Púshkin and Ryléev;[33] -the difference from the empty-headed boys whom I sometimes met was -surprising. His heart beat to the same tune as mine; he too had cut the -painter that bound him to the sullen old shore of conservatism; our -business was to push off with a will; and we decided, perhaps on that -very first day, to act in support of the Crown Prince Constantine! - -Footnote 33: - - One of the five Decembrists who were hanged when the revolt was - suppressed. - -This was our first long conversation. Sonnenberg was always in our way, -persistent as a fly in autumn and spoiling all our talk by his presence. -He was constantly interfering, criticising without understanding, -putting the collar of Niko’s shirt to rights, or in a hurry to go home; -in short, he was thoroughly objectionable. But, before a month was over, -it was impossible for my friend and me to pass two days without meeting -or writing; I, who was naturally impulsive, became more and more -attached to Niko, and he had a less demonstrative but deep love for me. - -From the very first, our friendship was bound to take a serious turn. I -cannot remember that we thought much of amusement, especially when we -were alone. I don’t mean that we sat still always; after all, we were -boys, and we laughed and played the fool and teased Sonnenberg and shot -with a bow in our court-yard. But our friendship was not founded on mere -idle companionship: we were united, not only by equality of age and -“chemical” affinity, but by a common religion. Nothing in the world has -more power to purify and elevate that time of life, nothing preserves it -better, than a strong interest in humanity at large. We respected, in -ourselves, our own future; we regarded one another as chosen vessels, -with a fixed task before us. - -We often took walks into the country; our favourite haunts were the -Sparrow Hills, and the fields outside the Dragomirovsky Gate. -Accompanied by Sonnenberg, he used to come for me at six or seven in the -morning; and if I was still asleep, he used to throw sand or pebbles at -my window. I woke up joyfully and hastened to join him. - -These morning walks had been started by the activity of Sonnenberg. My -friend had been brought up under a _dyádka_,[34] in the manner -traditional in noble Russian families, till Sonnenberg came. The -influence of the _dyádka_ waned at once, and the oligarchy of the -servants’ hall had to grin and bear it: they realised that they were no -match for the “accursed German” who was permitted to dine with the -family. Sonnenberg’s reforms were radical: the _dyádka_ even wept when -the German took his young master in person to a shop to buy ready-made -boots. Just like the reforms of Peter the Great, Sonnenberg’s reforms -bore a military character even in matters of the least warlike nature. -It does not follow from this that Sonnenberg’s narrow shoulders were -ever covered by epaulettes, plain or laced—nature has constructed the -German on such a plan, that, unless he is a philologer or theologian and -therefore utterly indifferent to personal neatness, he is invariably -military, whatever civilian sphere he may adorn. Hence Sonnenberg liked -tight clothes, closely buttoned and belted in at the waist; and hence he -was a strict observer of rules approved by himself. He had made it a -rule to get up at six in the morning; therefore he made his pupil get up -one minute before six or, at latest, one minute after it, and took him -out into the fresh air every morning. - -Footnote 34: - - See note to p. 55. - - - §2 - -The Sparrow Hills, at the foot of which Sonnenberg had been so nearly -drowned, soon became to us a Holy Place. - -One day after dinner, my father proposed to take a drive into the -country, and, as Niko was in the house, invited him and Sonnenberg to -join us. These drives were no joke. Though the carriage was made by -Iochim, most famous of coachmakers, it had been used, if not severely, -for fifteen years till it had become old and ugly, and it weighed more -than a siege mortar, so that we took an hour or more to get outside the -city-gates. Our four horses, ill-matched both in size and colour, -underworked and overfed, were covered with sweat and lather in a quarter -of an hour; and the coachman, knowing that this was forbidden, had to -keep them at a walk. However hot it was, the windows were generally kept -shut. To all this you must add the steady pressure of my father’s eye -and Sonnenberg’s perpetual fussy interference; and yet we boys were glad -to endure it all, in order that we might be together. - -We crossed the Moscow River by a ferry at the very place where the -Cossack pulled Sonnenberg out of the water. My father walked along with -gloomy aspect and stooping figure, as always, while Sonnenberg trotted -at his side and tried to amuse him with scandal and gossip. We two -walked on in front till we had got a good lead; then we ran off to the -site of Vitberg’s cathedral[35] on the Sparrow Hills. - -Footnote 35: - - See part II, chap. IX. - -Panting and flushed, we stood there and wiped our brows. The sun was -setting, the cupolas of Moscow glittered in his rays, the city at the -foot of the hill spread beyond our vision, a fresh breeze fanned our -cheeks. We stood there leaning against each other; then suddenly we -embraced and, as we looked down upon the great city, swore to devote our -lives to the struggle we had undertaken. - -Such an action may seem very affected and theatrical on our part; but -when I recall it, twenty-six years after, it affects me to tears. That -it was absolutely sincere has been proved by the whole course of our -lives. But all vows taken on that spot are evidently doomed to the same -fate: the Emperor Alexander also acted sincerely when he laid the first -stone of the cathedral there, but the first stone was also the last. - -We did not know the full power of our adversary, but still we threw down -the glove. Power dealt us many a shrewd blow, but we never surrendered -to it, and it was not power that crushed us. The scars inflicted by -power are honourable; the strained thigh of Jacob was a sign that he had -wrestled with God in the night. - -From that day the Sparrow Hills became a place of pilgrimage for us: -once or twice a year we walked there, and always by ourselves. There, -five years later, Ogaryóv asked me with a modest diffidence whether I -believed in his poetic gift. And in 1833 he wrote to me from the -country: - -“Since I left Moscow, I have felt sad, sadder than I ever was in my -life. I am always thinking of the Sparrow Hills. I long kept my -transports hidden in my heart; shyness or some other feeling prevented -me from speaking of them. But on the Sparrow Hills these transports were -not lessened by solitude: you shared them with me, and those moments are -unforgettable; like recollections of bygone happiness, they pursued me -on my journey, though I passed no hills but only forests.” - -“Tell the world,” he ended, “how our lives (yours and mine) took shape -on the Sparrow Hills.” - -Five more years passed, and I was far from those Hills, but their -Prometheus, Alexander Vitberg, was near me, a sorrowful and gloomy -figure. After my return to Moscow, I visited the place again in 1842; -again I stood by the foundation-stone and surveyed the same scene; and a -companion was with me—but it was not my friend. - - - §3 - -After 1827 we two were inseparable. In every recollection of that time, -whether detailed or general, _he_ is always prominent, with the face of -opening manhood, with his love for me. He was early marked with that -sign of consecration which is given to few, and which, for weal or for -woe, separates a man from the crowd. A large oil-painting of Ogaryóv was -made about that time and long remained in his father’s house. I often -stopped in front of it and looked long at it. He was painted with a -loose open collar: the artist has caught successfully the luxuriant -chestnut hair, the fleeting beauty of youth on the irregular features, -and the somewhat swarthy complexion. The canvas preserves the serious -aspect which precedes hard intellectual work. The vague sorrow and -extreme gentleness which shine from the large grey eyes, give promise of -great power of sympathy; and that promise was fulfilled. The portrait -was given to me. A lady, not related to Ogaryóv, afterwards got hold of -it; perhaps she will see these lines and restore it to me. - -I do not know why people dwell exclusively on recollections of first -love and say nothing about memories of youthful friendship. First love -is so fragrant, just because it forgets difference of sex, because it is -passionate friendship. Friendship between young men has all the fervour -of love and all its characteristics—the same shy reluctance to profane -its feeling by speech, the same diffidence and absolute devotion, the -same pangs at parting, and the same exclusive desire to stand alone -without a rival. - -I had loved Niko long and passionately before I dared to call him -“friend”; and, when we were apart in summer, I wrote in a postscript, -“whether I am your friend or not, I don’t know yet.” He was the first to -use “thou” in writing to me; and he called me Damon before I called him -Pythias. - -Smile, if you please, but let it be a kindly smile, such as men smile -when recalling their own fifteenth year. Perhaps it would be better to -ask, “Was I like that in my prime?” and to thank your stars, if you ever -_had_ a prime, and to thank them doubly, if you had a friend to share -it. - -The language of that time seems to us affected and bookish. We have -travelled far from its passing enthusiasms and one-sided partisanships, -which suddenly give place to feeble sentimentality or childish laughter. -In a man of thirty it would be absurd, like the famous _Bettina will -schlafen_;[36] but, in its own season, this language of adolescence, -this _jargon de la puberté_, this breaking of the soul’s voice—all this -is quite sincere, and even its bookish flavour is natural to the age -which knows theory and is ignorant of practice. - -Footnote 36: - - This must refer to Bettina von Arnim’s first interview with Goethe at - Weimar in April, 1807. She writes that she sprang into Goethe’s arms - and slept there. The poet was then 58, and Bettina had ceased to be a - child. - -Schiller remained our favourite; the characters in his plays were real -for us; we discussed them and loved or hated them as living beings and -not as people in a book. And more than that—we identified ourselves with -them. I was rather distressed that Niko was too fond of Fiesco, and -wrote to say that behind every Fiesco stands a Verina. My own ideal was -Karl Moor, but I soon deserted him and adopted the Marquis Posa instead. - - - §4 - -Thus it was that Ogaryóv and I entered upon life hand in hand. We walked -in confidence and pride; without counting the cost, we answered every -summons and surrendered ourselves sincerely to each generous impulse. -The path we chose was not easy; but we never once left it; wounded and -broken, we still went on, and no one out-stripped us on the way. I have -reached, not our goal but the place where the road turns downhill, and I -seek instinctively for your arm, my friend, that I may press it and say -with a sad smile as we go down together, “So this is all!” - -Meanwhile, in the wearisome leisure to which I am condemned by -circumstances, as I find in myself neither strength nor vigour for fresh -toil, I am recording _our_ recollections.[37] Much of what bound us so -closely has found a place in these pages, and I give them to you. For -you they have a double meaning, the meaning of epitaphs, on which we -meet with familiar names. - -Footnote 37: - - This was written in 1853. - -But it is surely an odd reflection, that, if Sonnenberg had learned to -swim or been drowned when he fell into the river, or if he had been -pulled out by some ordinary private and not by that Cossack, we should -never have met; or, if we had, it would have been at a later time and in -a different way—not in the little room of our old house where we smoked -our first cigars, and where we drew strength from one another for our -first long step on the path of life. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER V - -Details of Home Life—Men of the Eighteenth Century in Russia—A Day at - Home—Guests and Visitors—Sonnenberg—Servants. - - - §1 - -THE dulness and monotony of our house became more intolerable with every -year. But for the prospect of University life, my new friendship, my -interest in politics, and my lively turn of character, I must either -have run away or died of the life. - -My father was seldom cheerful; as a rule he was dissatisfied with -everyone and everything. He was a man of unusual intelligence and powers -of observation, who had seen and heard a great deal and remembered it; -he was a finished man of the world and could be exceedingly pleasant and -interesting; but he did not choose to be so, and sank deeper and deeper -into a state of morbid solitude. - -What precisely it was that infused so much bile and bitterness into his -blood, it is hard to say. No period of passion, of great misfortunes, -mistakes, and losses, had ever taken place in his life. I could never -fully understand the source of that bitter scorn and irritation which -filled his heart, of his distrust and avoidance of mankind, and of the -disgust that preyed upon him. Perhaps he took with him to the grave some -recollection which he never confided to any ear; perhaps it was merely -due to the combination of two things so incongruous as the eighteenth -century and Russian life; and there was a third factor, the traditional -idleness of his class, which had a terrible power of producing -unreasonable tempers. - - - §2 - -In Europe, especially in France, the eighteenth century produced an -extraordinary type of man, which combined all the weaknesses of the -Regency with all the strength of Spartans or Romans. Half like Faublas -and half like Regulus, these men opened wide the doors of revolution and -were the first to rush into it, jostling one another in their haste to -pass out by the “window” of the guillotine. Our age has ceased to -produce those strong, complete natures; but last century evoked them -everywhere, even in countries where they were not needed and where their -development was bound to be distorted. In Russia, men who were exposed -to the influence of this powerful European current, did not make -history, but they became unlike other men. Foreigners at home and -foreigners abroad, spoilt for Russia by European prejudices and for -Europe by Russian habits, they were a living contradiction in terms and -sank into an artificial life of sensual enjoyment and monstrous egoism. - -Such was the most conspicuous figure at Moscow in those days, Prince -Yusúpov, a Tatar prince, a _grand seigneur_ of European reputation, and -a Russian grandee of brilliant intellect and great fortune. He was -surrounded by a whole pleiad of grey-haired Don Juans and -freethinkers—such men as Masalski, Santi, and the rest. They were all -men of considerable mental development and culture; but they had nothing -to do, and they rushed after pleasure, loved and petted their precious -selves, genially gave themselves absolution for all transgressions, -exalted the love of eating to the height of a Platonic passion, and -lowered love for women into a kind of gluttonous epicureanism. - -Old Yusúpov was a sceptic and a _bon-vivant_; he had been the friend of -Voltaire and Beaumarchais, of Diderot and Casti; and his artistic taste -was beyond question. You may convince yourself of this by a single visit -to his palace outside Moscow and a glance at his pictures, if his heir -has not sold them yet by auction. At eighty, this luminary was setting -in splendour, surrounded by beauty in marble and colour, and also in -flesh and blood. Púshkin, who dedicated a noble Epistle to him,[38] used -to converse with Yusúpov in his country-house; and Gonzaga, to whom -Yusúpov dedicated his theatre, used to paint there. - -Footnote 38: - - _To a Great Man_ (1830). - - - §3 - -By his education and service in the Guards, by his birth and connexions, -my father belonged to the same circle; but neither temperament nor -health allowed him to lead a life of dissipation to the age of seventy, -and he went to the opposite extreme. He determined to secure a life of -solitude, and found it intensely tedious—all the more tedious because he -had sought it merely for his own sake. A strong will was degraded into -stubborn wilfulness, and unused powers spoilt his temper and made it -difficult. - -At the time of his education European civilisation was so new in Russia -that a man of culture necessarily became less of a Russian. To the end -of his life he wrote French with more ease and correctness than Russian, -and he literally never read a Russian book, not even the Bible. The -Bible, indeed, he did not read even in other languages; he knew, by -hearsay and from extracts, the matter of Holy Scripture in general, and -felt no curiosity to examine further. He did respect Derzhávin and -Krylóv, the first because he had written an ode on the death of his -uncle, Prince Meshcherski, and the latter, because they had acted -together as seconds in a duel. When my father heard that the Emperor -Alexander was reading Karamzín’s _History of the Russian Empire_, he -tried it himself but soon laid it aside: “Nothing but old Slavonic -names! Who can take an interest in all that?”—such was his disparaging -criticism. - -His contempt for mankind was unconcealed and without exceptions. Never, -under any circumstances, did he rely on anyone, and I don’t remember -that he ever preferred a considerable request in any quarter; and he -never did anything to oblige other people. All he asked of others was to -maintain appearances: _les apparences, les convenances_—his moral code -consisted of these alone. He excused much, or rather shut his eyes to -much: but any breach of decent forms enraged him to such a degree that -he became incapable of the least indulgence or sympathy. I puzzled so -long over this unfairness that I ended by understanding it: he was -convinced beforehand that any man is capable of any bad action, and -refrains from it only because it does not pay, or for want of -opportunity; but in any breach of politeness he found personal offence, -and disrespect to himself, or “middle-class breeding,” which, in his -opinion, excluded a man from all decent society. - -“The heart of man,” he used to say, “is hidden, and nobody knows what -another man feels. I have too much business of my own to attend to other -people, let alone judging their motives. But I cannot live in the same -room with an ill-bred man: he offends me, _il me froisse_. Otherwise he -may be the best man in the world; if so, he will go to Heaven; but I -have no use for him. The most important thing in life, more important -than soaring intellect or erudition, is _savoir vivre_, to do the right -thing always, never to thrust yourself forward, to be perfectly polite -to everyone and familiar with nobody.” - -All impulsiveness and frankness my father disliked and called -familiarity; and all display of feeling passed with him for -sentimentality. He regularly represented himself as superior to all such -trivialities; but what that higher object was, for the sake of which he -sacrificed his feelings, I have no idea. And when this proud old man, -with his clear understanding and sincere contempt of mankind, played -this part of a passionless judge, whom did he mean to impress by the -performance? A woman whose will he had broken, though she never tried to -oppose him; a boy whom his own treatment drove from mere naughtiness to -positive disobedience; and a score of footmen whom he did not reckon as -human beings! - -And how much strength and endurance was spent for this object, how much -persistence! How surprising the consistency with which the part was -played to the very end, in spite of old age and disease! The heart of -man is indeed hidden. - -At the time of my arrest, and later when I was going into exile, I saw -that the old man’s heart was much more open than I supposed to love and -even to tenderness. But I never thanked him for this; for I did not know -how he would have taken my thanks. - -As a matter of course, he was not happy. Always on his guard, -discontented with everyone, he suffered when he saw the feelings he -inspired in every member of the household. Smiles died away and talk -stopped whenever he came into the room. He spoke of this with mockery -and resented it; but he made no concession whatever and went his own way -with steady perseverance. Stinging mockery and cool contemptuous irony -were the weapons which he could wield with the skill of an artist, and -he used them equally against us and against the servants. There are few -things that a growing boy resents more; and, in fact, up to the time of -my imprisonment I was on bad terms with my father and carried on a petty -warfare against him, with the men and maids for my allies. - - - §4 - -For the rest, he had convinced himself that he was dangerously ill, and -was constantly under treatment. He had a doctor resident in the house -and was visited by two or three other physicians; and at least three -consultations took place each year. His sour looks and constant -complaints of his health (which was not really so bad) soon reduced the -number of our visitors. He resented this; yet he never remonstrated or -invited any friend to the house. An air of terrible boredom reigned in -our house, especially in the endless winter evenings. The whole suite of -drawing-rooms was lit up by a single pair of lamps; and there the old -man walked up and down, a stooping figure with his hands behind his -back; he wore cloth boots, a velvet skull-cap, and a warm jacket of -white lamb-skin; he never spoke a word, and three or four brown dogs -walked up and down with him. - -As melancholy grew on him, so did his wish to save, but it was entirely -misapplied. His management of his land was not beneficial either to -himself or to his serfs. The head man and his underlings robbed both -their master and the peasants. In certain matters there was strict -economy: candle-ends were saved and light French wine was replaced by -sour wine from the Crimea; on the other hand, a whole forest was felled -without his knowledge on one estate, and he paid the market price for -his own oats on another. There were men whom he permitted to steal; thus -a peasant, whom he made collector of the _obrók_ at Moscow, and who was -sent every summer to the country, to report on the head man and the -farm-work, the garden and the timber, grew rich enough to buy a house in -Moscow after ten years’ service. From childhood I hated this factotum: I -was present once when he thrashed an old peasant in our court-yard; in -my fury I caught him by the beard and nearly fainted myself. From that -time I could never bear the sight of him. He died in 1845. Several times -I asked my father where this man got the money to buy a house. - -“The result of sober habits,” he said; “that man never took a drop in -his life.” - - - §5 - -Every year about Shrovetide our peasants from the Government of Penza -brought their payments in kind to Moscow. It was a fortnight’s journey -for the carts, laden with carcasses of pork, sucking-pigs, geese, -chickens, rye, eggs, butter, and even linen. The arrival of the peasants -was a regular field-day for all our servants, who robbed and cheated the -visitors right and left, without any right to do so. The coachman -charged for the water their horses drank, and the women charged for a -warm place by the fire, while the aristocrats of the servants’ hall -expected each to get a sucking-pig and a piece of cloth, or a goose and -some pounds of butter. While the peasants remained in the court-yard, -the servants feasted continuously: soup was always boiling and -sucking-pigs roasting, and the servants’ hall reeked perpetually of -onions, burning fat, and bad whiskey. During the last two days Bakai -never came into the hall, but sat in the kitchen-passage, dressed in an -old livery overcoat, without jacket or waistcoat underneath it; and -other servants grew older visibly and darker in complexion. All this my -father endured calmly enough, knowing that it must be so and that reform -was impossible. - -These provisions always arrived in a frozen condition, and thereupon my -father summoned his cook Spiridon and sent him to the markets to enquire -about prices. The cook reported astonishingly low figures, lower by half -than was actually offered. My father called him a fool and sent for his -factotum and a dealer in fruit named Slepushkin. Both expressed horror -at the cook’s figures, made enquiries, and quoted prices a little -higher. Finally Slepushkin offered to take the whole in a lump—eggs, -sucking-pigs, butter, rye, and all,—“to save you, _bátyushka_, from -further worry.” The price he offered was of course a trifle higher than -the cook had mentioned. My father consented: to celebrate the occasion, -Slepushkin presented him with some oranges and gingerbread, and the cook -with a note for 200 _roubles_. And the most extraordinary part of this -transaction was that it was repeated exactly every year. - -Slepushkin enjoyed my father’s favour and often borrowed money of him; -and the strange way in which he did it showed his profound knowledge of -my father’s character. - -He would borrow 500 _roubles_ for two months, and two days before -payment was due, he would present himself at our house, carrying a -currant-loaf on a dish and 500 _roubles_ on the top of the loaf. My -father took the money, and the borrower bowed low and begged, though -unsuccessfully, to kiss his benefactor’s hand. But Slepushkin would turn -up again a week later and ask for a loan of 1,500 _roubles_. He got it -and again paid his debt on the nail; and my father considered him a -pattern of honesty. A week later, Slepushkin would borrow a still larger -sum. Thus in the course of a year he secured 5,000 _roubles_ in ready -money to use in his business; and for this he paid, by way of interest, -a couple of currant-loaves, a few pounds of figs and walnuts, and -perhaps a hundred oranges and Crimean apples. - - - §6 - -I shall end this subject by relating how my father lost nearly a -thousand acres of valuable timber on one of the estates which had come -to him from his brother, the Senator. - -In the forties Count Orlóv, wishing to buy land for his sons, offered a -price for this estate, which was in the Government of Tver. The parties -came to terms, and it seemed that the transaction was complete. But when -the Count went to examine his purchase, he wrote to my father that a -forest marked upon the plan of the estate had simply disappeared. - -“There!” said my father, “Orlóv is a clever man of course; he was -involved in the conspiracy too.[39] He has written a book on finance; -but when it comes to business, he is clearly no good. Necker[40] over -again! I shall send a friend of my own to look at the place, not a -conspirator but an honest man who understands business.” - -Footnote 39: - - See p. 207. - -Footnote 40: - - Jacques Necker (1732-1804), Minister of Finance under Louis XVI; the - husband of Gibbon’s first love, and the father of Mme. de Staël. - -But alas! the honest man came back and reported that the forest had -disappeared; all that remained was a fringe of trees, which made it -impossible to detect the truth from the high road or from the -manor-house. After the division between the brothers, my uncle had paid -five visits to the place, but had seen nothing! - - - §7 - -That our way of life may be thoroughly understood, I shall describe a -whole day from the beginning. They were all alike, and this very -monotony was the most killing part of it all. Our life went on like an -English clock with the regulator put back—with a slow and steady -movement and a loud tick for each second. - -At ten in the morning, the valet who sat in the room next the bedroom, -informed Vyéra Artamónovna, formerly my nurse, that the master was -getting up; and she went off to prepare coffee, which my father drank -alone in his study. The house now assumed a different aspect: the -servants began to clean the rooms or at least to make a pretence of -doing something. The servants’ hall, empty till then, began to fill up; -and even Macbeth, the big Newfoundland dog, sat down before the stove -and stared unwinkingly at the fire. - -Over his coffee my father read the _Moscow Gazette_ and the _Journal de -St. Petersburg_. It may be worth mentioning that the newspapers were -warmed to save his hands from contact with the damp sheets, and that he -read the political news in the French version, finding it clearer than -the Russian. For some time he took in the _Hamburg Gazette_, but could -not pardon the Germans for using German print; he often pointed out to -me the difference between French and German type, and said that the -curly tails of the Gothic letters tried his eyes. Then he ordered the -_Journal de Francfort_ for a time, but finally contented himself with -the native product. - -When he had read the newspaper, he noticed for the first time the -presence of Sonnenberg in the room. When Niko reached the age of -fifteen, Sonnenberg professed to start a shop; but having nothing to -sell and no customers, he gave it up, when he had spent such savings as -he had in this useful form of commerce; yet he still called himself “a -commercial agent.” He was then much over forty, and at that pleasant age -he lived like the fowls of the air or a boy of fourteen; he never knew -to-day where he would sleep or how he would secure a dinner to-morrow. -He enjoyed my father’s favour to a certain extent: what that amounted -to, we shall see presently. - - - §8 - -In 1840 my father bought the house next to ours, a larger and better -house, with a garden, which had belonged to Countess Rostopchín, wife of -the famous governor of Moscow. We moved into it. Then he bought a third -house, for no reason except that it was adjacent. Two of these houses -stood empty; they were never let because tenants would give trouble and -might cause fires—both houses were insured, by the way—and they were -never repaired, so that both were in a fair way to fall down. Sonnenberg -was permitted to lodge in one of these houses, but on conditions: (1) he -must never open the yard-gates after 10 p.m. (as the gates were never -shut, this was an easy condition); (2) he was to provide fire-wood at -his own expense (he did in fact buy it of our coachman); and (3) he was -to serve my father as a kind of private secretary, coming in the morning -to ask for orders, dining with us, and returning in the evening, when -there was no company, to entertain his employer with conversation and -the news. - -The duties of his place may seem simple enough; but my father contrived -to make it so bitter that even Sonnenberg could not stand it -continuously, though he was familiar with all the privations that can -befall a man with no money and no sense, with a feeble body, a -pock-marked face, and German nationality. Every two years or so, the -secretary declared that his patience was at an end. He packed up his -traps, got together by purchase or barter some odds and ends of -disputable value and doubtful quality, and started off for the Caucasus. -Misfortune dogged him relentlessly. Either his horse—he drove his own -horse as far as Tiflis and Redut-Kale—came down with him in dangerous -places inhabited by Don Cossacks; or half his wares were stolen; or his -two-wheeled cart broke down and his French scent-bottles wasted their -sweetness on the broken wheel at the foot of Mount Elbruz; he was always -losing something, and when he had nothing else to lose, he lost his -passport. Nearly a year would pass, and then Sonnenberg, older, more -unkempt, and poorer than before, with fewer teeth and less hair than -ever, would turn up humbly at our house, with a stock of Persian powder -against fleas and bugs, faded silk for dressing-gowns, and rusty -Circassian daggers; and down he settled once more in the empty house, to -buy his own fire-wood and run errands by way of rent. - - - §9 - -As soon as he noticed Sonnenberg, my father began a little campaign at -once. He acknowledged by a bow enquiries as to his health; then he -thought a little, and asked (this just as an example of his methods), -“Where do you buy your hair-oil?” - -I should say that Sonnenberg, though the plainest of men, thought -himself a regular Don Juan: he was careful about his clothes and wore a -curling wig of a golden-yellow colour. - -“I buy it of Buis, on the Kuznetsky Bridge,” he answered abruptly, -rather nettled; and then he placed one foot on the other, like a man -prepared to defend himself. - -“What do you call that scent?” - -“Night-violet,” was the answer. - -“The man is cheating you. Violet is a delicate scent, but this stuff is -strong and unpleasant, the sort of thing embalmers use for dead bodies. -In the weak condition of my nerves, it makes me feel ill. Please tell -them to bring me some eau-de-cologne.” - -Sonnenberg made off himself to fetch the bottle. - -“Oh, no! you’d better call someone. If you come nearer me yourself, I -shall faint.” Sonnenberg, who counted on his hair-oil to captivate the -maids, was deeply injured. - -When he had sprinkled the room with eau-de-cologne, my father set about -inventing errands: there was French snuff and English magnesia to be -ordered, and a carriage advertised for sale to be looked at—not that my -father ever bought anything. Then Sonnenberg bowed and disappeared till -dinner-time, heartily glad to get away. - - - §10 - -The next to appear on the scene was the cook. Whatever he had bought or -put on the slate, my father always objected to the price. - -“Dear, dear! how high prices are! Is nothing coming in from the -country?” - -“No, indeed, Sir,” answered the cook; “the roads are very bad just now.” - -“Well, you and I must buy less, until they’re mended.” - -Next he sat down at his writing table, where he wrote orders for his -bailiff or examined his accounts, and scolded me in the intervals of -business. He consulted his doctor also; but his chief occupation was to -quarrel with his valet, Nikíta. Nikíta was a perfect martyr. He was a -short, red-faced man with a hot temper, and might have been created on -purpose to annoy my father and draw down reproofs upon himself. The -scenes that took place between the two every day might have furnished -material for a comedy, but it was all serious to them. Knowing that the -man was indispensable to him, my father often put up with his rudeness; -yet, in spite of thirty years of complete failure, he still persisted in -lecturing him for his faults. The valet would have found the life -unendurable, if he had not possessed one means of relief: he was -generally tipsy by dinner-time. My father, though this did not escape -him, did not go beyond indirect allusions to the subject: for instance, -he would say that a piece of brown bread and salt prevented a man from -smelling of spirits. When Nikita had taken too much, he shuffled his -feet in a peculiar way while handing the dishes; and my father, on -noticing this, used to invent a message for him at once; for instance, -he would send him to the barber’s to ask if he had changed his address. -Then he would say to me in French: “I know he won’t go; but he’s not -sober; he might drop a soup plate and stain the cloth and give me a -start. Let him take a turn; the fresh air will do him good.” - -On these occasions, the valet generally made some reply, or, if not, -muttered to himself as he left the room. Then the master called him back -with unruffled composure, and asked him, “What did you say to me?” - -“I said nothing at all to you.” - -“Then who are you talking to? Except you and me, there is nobody in this -room or the next.” - -“I was talking to myself.” - -“A very dangerous thing: madness often begins in that way.” - -The valet went off in a fury to his room, which was next to his master’s -bedroom. There he read the _Moscow Gazette_ and made wigs for sale. -Probably to relieve his feelings, he took snuff furiously, and the snuff -was so strong or the membrane of his nose so weak, that he always -sneezed six or seven times after a pinch. - -The master’s bell rang and the valet threw down the hair in his hands -and answered the bell. - -“Is that you sneezing?” - -“Yes, Sir.” - -“Then, bless you!”—and a motion of the hand dismissed the valet. - - - §11 - -On the eve of each Ash Wednesday all the servants came, according to the -old custom, to ask pardon of their master for offences; and on these -solemn occasions my father came into the drawing-room accompanied by his -valet. He always pretended that he could not recognise some of the -people. - -“Who is that decent old man, standing in that corner?” he would ask the -valet. - -“Danilo, the coachman,” was the impatient answer; for Nikita knew this -was all play-acting. - -“Dear, dear! how changed he is! I really believe it is drinking too much -that ages them so fast. What does he do now?” - -“He drives fire-wood.” - -My father made a face as if he were suffering severe pain. “Drives wood? -What do you mean? Wood is not driven, it is conveyed in a cart. Thirty -years might have taught you to speak better.... Well, Danilo, God in His -mercy has permitted me to meet you yet another year. I pardon you all -your offences throughout the year, your waste of my oats and your -neglect of my horses; and you must pardon me. Go on with your work while -strength lasts; and now that Lent is beginning, I advise you to take -rather less spirits: at our years it is bad for the health, and the -Church forbids it.” This was the kind of way in which he spoke to them -all on this occasion. - - - §12 - -We dined at four: the dinner lasted a long time and was very tiresome. -Spiridon was an excellent cook; but his parsimony as well as my father’s -made the meal rather unsatisfying, though there were a number of -courses. My father used to put bits for the dogs in a red jar that stood -beside his place; he also fed them off his fork, a proceeding which was -deeply resented by the servants and therefore by myself also; but I do -not know why. - -Visitors, rare in general, were especially rare at dinner. I only -remember one, whose appearance at the table had power at times to -smoothe the frown from my father’s face, General Nikolai Bakhmétyev. He -had given up active service long ago; but he and my father had been gay -young subalterns together in the Guards, in the time of Catherine; and, -while her son was on the throne, both had been court-martialled, -Bakhmétyev for fighting a duel, and my father for acting as a second. -Later, the one had gone off to foreign parts as a tourist, the other to -Ufá as Governor. Bakhmétyev was a big man, healthy and handsome even in -old age: he enjoyed his dinner and his glass of wine, he enjoyed -cheerful conversation, and other things as well. He boasted that in his -day he had eaten a hundred meat patties at a sitting; and, at sixty, he -could eat a dozen buckwheat cakes swimming in a pool of butter, with no -fear of consequences. I witnessed his feats of this kind more than once. - -He had some faint influence over my father and could control him to some -extent. When he saw that his friend was in too bad a temper, he would -put on his hat and march away. “I’m off for the present,” he would say; -“you’re not well, and dull to-night. I meant to dine with you but I -can’t stand sour faces at my dinner. _Gehorsamer Diener!_” Then my -father would say to me, by way of explanation: “What life there is in -that old man yet! He may thank God for his good health; he can’t feel -for poor sufferers like me; in this awful frost he rushes about in his -sledge and thinks nothing of it, at this season; but I thank my Creator -every morning for waking up with the breath still in my body. There is -truth in the proverb—it’s ill talking between a full man and a fasting.” -More indulgence than this it was impossible to expect from my father. - -Family dinners were given occasionally to near relations, but these -entertainments proceeded rather from deep design than from mere warmth -of heart. Thus my uncle, the Senator, was always invited to a party at -our house for his birthday, February 20, and we were invited by him for -St. John’s Day, June 24, which was my father’s birthday; this -arrangement not only set an edifying example of brotherly love, but also -saved each of them from giving a much larger entertainment at his own -house. - -There were some regular guests as well. Sonnenberg appeared at dinner -_ex officio_; he had prepared himself by a bumper of brandy and a -sardine eaten beforehand, and declined the tiny glass of stale brandy -offered him. My last French tutor was an occasional guest—an old miser -and scandal-monger, with an impudent face. M. Thirié constantly made the -mistake of filling his glass with wine instead of beer. My father would -say to him, “If you remember that the wine is on your right, you will -not make the mistake in future”: and Thirié crammed a great pinch of -snuff into his large and crooked nose, and spilt the snuff over his -plate. - - - §13 - -One of these visitors was an exceedingly comic figure, a short, bald old -man, who always wore a short, tight tail-coat, and a waistcoat which -ended where a modern waistcoat begins. His name was Dmitri Pimyónov, and -he always looked twenty years out of date, reminding you of 1810 in -1830, and of 1820 in 1840. He was interested in literature, but his -natural capacity was small, and he had been brought up on the -sentimental phrases of Karamzín, or Marmontel and Marivaux. Dmítriev was -his master in poetry; and he had been tempted to make some experiments -of his own on that slippery track which is trod by Russian authors—his -first publication was a translation of La Rochefoucauld’s _Pensées_, and -his second a treatise on _Female Beauty and Charm_. But his chief -distinction was, not that he had once published books which nobody ever -read, but that, if he once began to laugh, he could not stop, but went -on till he crowed convulsively like a child with whooping-cough. He was -aware of this, and therefore took his precautions when he felt it coming -on: he pulled out his handkerchief, looked at his watch, buttoned up his -coat, and covered his face with both hands; then, when the paroxysm was -imminent, he got up, turned his face to the wall, and stood in that -position suffering torments, for half an hour or longer; at last, red in -the face and worn out by his exertions, he sat down again and mopped his -bald head; and for a long time an occasional sob heaved his body. - -He was a kindly man, but awkward and poor and a man of letters. -Consequently my father attached no importance to him and considered him -as “below the salt” in all respects; but he was well aware of this -tendency to convulsive laughter, and used to make his guest laugh to -such an extent that other people could not help laughing too in an -uncomfortable fashion. Then the author of all this merriment, with a -slight smile on his own lips, used to look at us as a man looks at -puppies when they are rioting. - -My father sometimes played dreadful tricks on this unlucky admirer of -_Female Beauty and Charm_. - -A Colonel of Engineers was announced by the servant one day. “Bring him -in,” said my father, and then he turned to Pimyónov and said, “Please be -careful before him: he is unfortunate enough to have a very peculiar -stammer”—here he gave a very successful imitation of the Colonel—“I know -you are easily amused, but please restrain yourself.” - -That was quite enough: before the officer had spoken three words, -Pimyónov pulled out his handkerchief, made an umbrella out of his hand, -and finally sprang to his feet. - -The officer looked on in surprise, while my father said to me with -perfect composure: “What can be the matter with our friend? He is -suffering from spasms of some kind: order a glass of cold water for him -at once, and bring eau-de-cologne.” - -But in these cases Pimyónov clutched his hat and vanished. Home he went, -shouting with laughter for a mile or so, stopping at the crossings, and -leaning against the lamp-posts. - -For several years he dined at our house every second Sunday, with few -exceptions; and my father was equally vexed, whether he came or failed -to come. He was not kind to Pimyónov, but the worthy man took the long -walk, in spite of that, until he died. There was nothing laughable about -his death: he was a solitary old bachelor, and, when his long illness -was nearing the end, he looked on while his housekeeper robbed him of -the very sheets upon his bed and then left him without attendance. - - - §14 - -But the real martyrs of our dinner-table were certain old and feeble -ladies, who held a humble and uncertain position in the household of -Princess Khovanski, my father’s sister. For the sake of change, or to -get information about our domestic affairs—whether the heads of the -family had quarrelled, whether the cook had beaten his wife and been -detected by his master, whether a maid had slipped from the path of -virtue—these old people sometimes came on a saint’s day to spend the -day. I ought to mention that these old widows had known my father forty -or fifty years earlier in the house of the Princess Meshcherski, where -they were brought up for charity. During this interval between their -precarious youth and unsettled old age, they had quarrelled for twenty -years with husbands, tried to keep them sober, nursed them when -paralysed, and buried them. One had fought the battle of life in -Bessarabia with a husband on half-pay and a swarm of children; another, -together with her husband, had been a defendant for years in the -criminal courts; and all these experiences had left on them the traces -of life in provincial towns—a dread of those who have power in this -world, a spirit of humility and also of blind fanaticism. - -Their presence often gave rise to astonishing scenes. - -“Are you not well, that you are eating nothing, Anna Yakimovna?” my -father would ask. - -Then Anna Yakimovna, the widow of some obscure official, an old woman -with a worn faded face and a perpetual smell of camphor, apologised with -eyes and fingers as she answered: “Excuse me, _bátyushka_—I am really -quite ashamed; but, you know, by old custom to-day is a Fast-day.” - -“What a nuisance! You are too scrupulous, _mátushka_: ‘not that which -entereth into a man defileth a man but that which cometh out’: whatever -you eat, the end is the same. But we ought to watch ‘what cometh out of -the mouth,’ and that means scandal against our neighbours. I think you -should dine at home on such days. Suppose a Turk were to turn up, he -might want pilaus; but my house is not a hotel where each can order what -he wants.” This terrified the old woman who had intended to ask for some -milk pudding; but she now attacked the _kvass_ and the salad, and made a -pretence of eating enormously. - -But if she, or any of them, began to eat meat on a Fast-day, then my -father (who never fasted himself) would shake his head sorrowfully and -say: “Do you really think it worth while, Anna Yakimovna, to give up the -ancient custom, when you have so few years still to live? I, poor -sinner, don’t fast myself, because I have many diseases; but you may -thank God for your health, considering your age, and you have kept the -fasts all your life; and now all of a sudden—think what an example to -_them_—” pointing to the servants. And the poor old woman once more fell -upon the _kvass_ and the salad. - -These scenes filled me with disgust, and I sometimes ventured to defend -the victim by pointing out the desire of conformity which he expressed -at other times. Then it was my father’s custom to get up and take off -his velvet skull-cap by the tassel: holding it over his head, he would -thank me for my lecture and beg me to excuse his forgetfulness. Then he -would say to the old lady: “These are terrible times! Little wonder that -you neglect the Fast, when children teach their parents! What are we -coming to? It is an awful prospect; but fortunately you and I will not -live to see it.” - - - §15 - -After dinner my father generally lay down for an hour and a half, and -the servants at once made off to the taverns and tea-shops. Tea was -served at seven, and we sometimes had a visitor at that hour, especially -my uncle, the Senator. This was a respite for us; for he generally -brought a budget of news with him and produced it with much vivacity. -Meanwhile my father put on an air of absolute indifference, keeping -perfectly grave over the most comic stories, and questioning the -narrator, as if he could not see the point, when he was told of any -striking fact. - -The Senator came off much worse, when he occasionally contradicted or -disagreed with his younger brother, and sometimes even without -contradicting him, if my father happened to be specially out of humour. -In these serio-comic scenes, the most comic feature was the contrast -between my uncle’s natural vehemence and my father’s artificial -composure. “Oh, you’re not well to-day,” my uncle would say at last, and -then snatch his hat and go off in a hurry. One day he was unable in his -anger to open the door. “Damn that door!” he said, and kicked it with -all his might. My father walked slowly up to the door, opened it, and -said with perfect calmness, “The door works perfectly: but it opens -outwards, and you try to open it inwards and get angry with it.” I may -mention that the Senator, being two years older than my father, always -addressed him as “thou,” while my father said “you” as a mark of respect -for seniority. - -When my uncle had gone, my father went to his bedroom; but first he -always enquired whether the gates of the court were shut, and expressed -some doubt when he was told they were, though he never took any steps to -ascertain the facts. And now began the long business of undressing: face -and hands were washed, fomentations applied and medicines swallowed; the -valet placed on the table near the bed a whole arsenal of phials, -nightlights, and pill-boxes. For about an hour the old man read memoirs -of some kind, very often Bourrienne’s _Memorial de St. Hélène_. And so -the day ended. - - - §16 - -Such was the life I left in 1834, and such I found it in 1840, and such -it remained down to my father’s death in 1846. When I returned from -exile at the age of thirty, I realised that my father was right in many -respects, and that he, to his misfortune, knew the world only too well. -But did I deserve that he should preach even the truth in a manner so -repulsive to the heart of youth? His intelligence, chilled by a long -life spent in a corrupt society, made him suspicious of all the world; -his feelings were not warm and did not crave for reconciliation; and -therefore he remained at enmity with all his fellow-creatures. - -In 1839, and still more in 1842, found him feeble and suffering from -symptoms which were not imaginary. My uncle’s death had left him more -solitary than ever; even his old valet had gone, but he was just the -same; his bodily strength had failed him, but his cruel wit and his -memory were unaffected; he still carried on the same petty tyranny, and -the same old Sonnenberg still pitched his camp in our old house and ran -errands as before. - -For the first time, I realised the sadness of that life and watched with -an aching heart that solitary deserted existence, fading away in the -parched and stony desert which he had created around him by his own -actions, but was powerless to change. He knew his powerlessness, and he -saw death approaching, and held out jealously and stubbornly. I felt -intense pity for the old man, but I could do nothing—he was -inaccessible. - -I sometimes walked past his study and saw him sitting in his deep -armchair, a hard, uncomfortable seat; he had his dogs round him and was -playing with my three-year-old son, just the two together. It seemed to -me that the sight of this child relaxed the clutching fingers and -stiffening nerves of old age, and that, when his dying hand touched the -cradle of infancy, he could rest from the anxiety and irritable strife -in which his whole life had been spent. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VI - -The Kremlin Offices—Moscow University—The Chemist—The - Cholera—Philaret—Passek. - - - §1 - -IN spite of the ominous prognostications of the one-legged general, my -father entered my name for service at the Government offices in the -Kremlin, under Prince Yusúpov. I signed some document, and there the -matter ended. I never heard anything more about my office, except once, -three years later, when a man was sent to our house by Yusúpov, to -inform me that I had gained the first step of official promotion; this -messenger was the court architect, and he always shouted as if he were -standing on the roof of a five-storeyed house and giving orders from -there to workmen in the cellar. I may remark in passing, that all this -hocus-pocus was useless: when I passed my final examination at the -University, this gave me at once the promotion earned by service; and -the loss of a year or two of seniority was not serious. On the other -hand, this pretence of office-work nearly prevented me from -matriculating; for, when the University authorities found that I was -reckoned as a Government clerk, they refused me permission to take the -examination. - -For the clerks in public offices there were special afternoon lectures, -of an elementary kind, which gave the right of admission to a special -examination. Rich idlers, young gentlemen whose education had been -neglected, men who wished to avoid military service and to get the rank -of _assessor_ as soon as possible—such were the candidates for this -examination; and it served as a kind of gold-mine to the senior -professors, who gave private instruction at twenty _roubles_ a lesson. - -To pass through these Caudine Forks to knowledge was entirely -inconsistent with my views, and I told my father decidedly that unless -he found some other method I should retire from the Civil Service. - -He was angry: he said that my wilfulness prevented him from settling my -future, and blamed my teachers for filling my head with this nonsense; -but when he saw that all this had little effect upon me, he determined -to wait on Prince Yusúpov. - -The Prince settled the matter in no time; there was no shillyshallying -about his methods. He sent for his secretary and told him to make out -leave of absence for me—for three years. The secretary hummed and hawed -and respectfully submitted to his chief that four months was the longest -period for which leave could be granted without the imperial sanction. - -“Rubbish, my friend!” said the Prince; “the thing is perfectly simple: -if he can’t have leave of absence, then say that I order him to go -through the University course and complete his studies.” - -The secretary obeyed orders, and next day found me sitting in the -lecture-theatre of the Faculty of Mathematics and Physics. - -The University of Moscow and the High School of Tsárskoë Seló[41] play -an important part in the history of Russian education and in the life of -the last two generations. - -Footnote 41: - - Tsárskoë Seló = The Tsar’s Village, near Petersburg. Púshkin was at - this school. - - - §2 - -After the year 1812, Moscow University and Moscow itself rose in -importance. Degraded from her position as an imperial capital by Peter -the Great, the city was promoted by Napoleon, partly by his wish but -mainly against it, to be the capital of the Russian nation. The people -discovered the ties of blood that bound them to Moscow by the pain they -felt on hearing of her capture by the enemy. For her it was the -beginning of a new epoch; and her University became more and more the -centre of Russian education, uniting as it did everything to favour its -development—historical importance and geographical position. - -There was a vigorous outburst of intellectual activity in Petersburg -after the death of the Emperor Paul; but this died away in the darkness -that followed the fourteenth of December, 1825. - -All was reversed, the blood flowed back to the heart, and all activity -was forced to ferment and burrow underground. But Moscow University -stood firm and was the first visible object to emerge from the universal -fog. - -The University soon grew in influence. All the youth and strength of -Russia came together there in one common meeting-place, from all parts -of the country and all sections of society; there they cast off the -prejudices they had acquired at home, reached a common level, formed -ties of brotherhood with one another, and then went back to every part -of Russia and penetrated every class. - -Down to 1848 the constitution of our universities was purely democratic. -Their doors were open to everyone who could pass the examination, -provided he was not a serf, or a peasant detained by the village -community. The Emperor Nicholas limited the number of freshmen and -increased the charges to pensioners, permitting poor nobles only to -escape from this burden. But all this belongs to the class of measures -that will disappear together with the passport system, religious -intolerance, and so on. - -A motley assemblage of young men, from high to low, from North and -South, soon blended into a compact body united by ties of friendship. -Among us social distinctions had none of that offensive influence which -one sees in English schools and regiments—to say nothing of English -universities which exist solely for the rich and well-born. If any -student among us had begun to boast of his family or his money, he would -have been tormented and sent to Coventry by the rest. - -The external distinctions among us were not deep and proceeded from -other sources. For instance, the Medical School was across the park and -somewhat removed from the other faculties; besides, most of the medical -students were Germans or came from theological seminaries. The Germans -kept somewhat apart, and the bourgeois spirit of Western Europe was -strong in them. The whole education of the divinity students and all -their ideas were different from ours; we spoke different languages; they -had grown up under the yoke of monastic control and been crammed with -rhetoric and theology; they envied our freedom, and we resented their -Christian humility. - -Though I joined the Faculty of Mathematics and Physics, I never had any -great turn or much liking for mathematics. Niko and I were taught the -subject by the same teacher, whom we liked because he told us stories; -he was very entertaining, but I doubt if he could have developed a -special passion in any pupil for his branch of science. He knew as far -as Conic Sections, _i.e._, just what was required from schoolboys -entering the University; a true philosopher, he had never had the -curiosity to glance at the “University branches” of mathematics. It was -specially remarkable that he taught for ten years continuously out of a -single book—Francœur’s treatise—and always stopped at the same page, -having no ambition to go beyond the required minimum. - -I chose that Faculty, because it included the subject of natural -science, in which I then took a specially strong interest; and this -interest was due to a rather odd meeting. - - - §3 - -I have described already the remarkable division of the family property -in 1822. When it was over, my oldest uncle went to live in Petersburg, -and nothing was heard of him for a long time. At last a report got -abroad that he intended to marry. He was then over sixty, and it was -well known that he had other children as well as a grown-up son. He did, -in fact, marry the mother of his eldest son and so made the son -legitimate. He might as well have legitimised the other children; but -the chief object of these proceedings was well known—he wished to -disinherit his brothers; and he fully attained that object by the -acknowledgement of his son. In the famous inundation of 1824, the water -flooded the carriage in which he was driving. The old man caught cold, -took to his bed, and died in the beginning of 1825. - -About the son there were strange reports: it was said that he was -unsociable and had no friends; he was interested in chemistry and spent -his life over the microscope; he read even at meals and disliked women’s -society. - -His uncles transferred to him the grievance they had felt against his -father. They always called him “The Chemist,” using this as a term of -contempt, and giving it to be understood that chemistry was a quite -impossible occupation for a gentleman. - -He had suffered horrible treatment from his father, who kept a harem in -the house and not only insulted him by the spectacle of shameless senile -profligacy but was actually jealous of his son’s rivalry. From this -dishonourable existence The Chemist tried to escape by means of -laudanum; but a friend who worked at chemistry with him saved his life -by a mere chance. This frightened the father, and he treated his son -better afterwards. - -When his father died, The Chemist set free the fair captives of the -harem, reduced by half the heavy dues levied by his father on the -peasants, forgave all arrears, and gave away for nothing the exemptions -which his father used to sell, excusing household servants from service -in the Army. - -When he came to Moscow eighteen months later, I was anxious to see him; -for I was inclined to like him for his treatment of his peasants, and -also for the dislike which his uncles unjustly felt for him. - -He called on my father one morning—a shortish man, with a large nose and -half his hair gone; he wore gold spectacles, and his fingers were -stained with chemicals. My father’s reception was cold and cutting, but -the nephew gave just as good as he got; when they had taken each other’s -measure, they talked on casual topics with a show of indifference and -parted politely, but a strong feeling of dislike was concealed on both -sides. My father saw that his antagonist would never give way. - -They never came closer afterwards. The Chemist very rarely visited his -uncles; the last time he and my father met was after the Senator’s -death—he came to ask a loan of 30,000 _roubles_, in order to buy land. -My father refused to lend it; The Chemist was angry, but he rubbed his -nose and said with a smile: “What possible risk is there? My estate is -entailed, and I want the money for improvements. I have no children, so -that you are the heir to my land as I am to yours.”[42] My father, who -was then seventy-five, never forgave his nephew this sally. - -Footnote 42: - - Herzen himself was excluded from succession by his birth. - - - §4 - -I began to visit him from time to time. His was a singular existence. He -had a large house on the Tver Boulevard, where he lived in one very -small room and used another as a laboratory. His old mother occupied -another small room at the end of the passage; and the rest of the house -was unused, and left exactly as it was when his father migrated to -Petersburg. Tarnished chandeliers, valuable furniture, rarities of all -kinds, grandfather’s clocks supposed to have been bought by Peter the -Great in Amsterdam, armchairs supposed to have belonged to Stanislas -Leshchinski,[43] empty frames, and pictures turned to the wall—all -these, in complete disorder, filled three large drawing-rooms which were -neither heated nor lighted. In the outer hall the servants were -generally playing the banjo and smoking—in the very room where formerly -they hardly dared to breathe or say their prayers. One of them lit a -candle and escorted me through the long museum; and he never failed to -advise me to keep on my overcoat, because it was very cold in the -drawing-rooms. Thick layers of dust covered all the projections of the -furniture, and the contents of the rooms were reflected in the carved -mirrors and seemed to move with the candle; straw, left over from -packing, lay comfortably here and there, together with scraps of paper -and bits of string. - -Footnote 43: - - King of Poland and father-in-law of Louis XV. - -After passing through these rooms, you came at last to a curtained door -which led into the study. The heat in this room was terrific; and here -The Chemist was always to be found, wearing a stained dressing-gown -trimmed with squirrel-fur, sitting behind a rampart of books, and -surrounded by bottles, retorts, crucibles, and other apparatus. A few -years earlier, this room had been the scene of shocking vice and -cruelty; now it smelt of chlorine and was ruled by the microscope; and -in this very room I was born! When my father returned from foreign -parts, he had not yet quarrelled with his brother, and spent some months -under his roof. Here too my wife was born in the year 1817. After two -years The Chemist sold the house, and I spent many evenings there, -arguing about Pan-Slavism and losing my temper with Homyakóv,[44] though -nothing could make him lose his. The chief rooms were altered then, but -the outside steps, front hall, and staircase were unchanged; and the -little study was left as before. - -Footnote 44: - - Alexyéi Homyakóv (1804-1860), poet, theologian, and a leader of the - Slavophile party. - -The Chemist’s household arrangements, simple at all times, were even -simpler when his mother went to the country in summer and took the cook -with her. At four in the afternoon, his valet brought a coffee-pot, made -some strong broth in it, and placed it by the fire of the chemical -furnace, where all sorts of poisons were brewing; then he fetched half a -chicken and a loaf from an eating-house; and that was his master’s -dinner. When it was eaten, the valet washed the coffee-pot and restored -it to its proper functions. The man came again in the evening: he -removed from the sofa a heap of books and a tiger-skin which The Chemist -had inherited from his father; and when he had spread out a sheet and -fetched pillows and a coverlet, the study, which had served as kitchen -and drawing-room, was converted just as easily into a bedroom. - - - §5 - -At the very beginning of our acquaintance, The Chemist perceived that I -was no mere idler; and he urged me to give up literature and -politics—the former was mere trifling and the latter not only fruitless -but dangerous—and take to natural science. He gave me Cuvier’s _Essay on -Geological Changes_ and _Candolle’s Botanical Geography_, and, seeing -that I profited by the reading, he placed at my disposal his own -excellent collections and preparations, and even offered to direct my -studies himself. On his own ground he was very interesting—exceedingly -learned, acute, and even amiable, within certain limits. As far as the -monkeys, he was at your service: from the inorganic kingdom up to the -orang-outang, nothing came amiss to him; but he did not willingly -venture farther, and philosophy, in particular, he avoided as mere -moonshine. He was no enemy to reform, nor Rip van Winkle: he simply -disbelieved in human nature—he believed that selfishness is the one and -only motive of our actions, and is limited only by stupidity in some -cases and by ignorance in others. - -His materialism shocked me. It was quite unlike the superficial and -half-hearted scepticism of a previous generation. His views were -deliberate, consistent, and definite—one thought of Lalande’s famous -answer to Napoleon. “Kant accepts the hypothesis of a deity,” said -Napoleon. “Sir,” answered the astronomer, “in the course of my studies I -have never found it necessary to make use of that hypothesis.” - -The Chemist’s scepticism did not refer merely to theology. Geoffroy -Saint-Hilaire he called a mystic, and Oken a mere lunatic. He felt for -the works of natural philosophers the contempt my father had expressed -for Karamzín—“They first invent spiritual forces and First Causes, and -then they are surprised that they cannot prove them or understand them.” -In fact, it was my father over again, but differently educated and -belonging to a different generation. - -His views on social questions were even more disquieting. He believed -that men are no more responsible for their actions, good or bad, than -beasts: it was all a matter of constitution and circumstances and -depended mainly on the state of the nervous system, from which, as he -said, people expect more than it is able to give. He disliked family -life, spoke with horror of marriage, and confessed frankly that, at -thirty years of age, he had never once been in love. This hard -temperament had, however, one tender side which showed itself in his -conduct towards his mother. Both had suffered much from his father, and -common suffering had united them closely. It was touching to see how he -did what he could to surround her solitary and sickly old age with -security and attention. - -He never tried to make converts to his views, except on chemistry: they -came out casually or were elicited by my questions. He was even -unwilling to answer the objections I urged from an idealistic point of -view; his answers were brief, and he smiled as he spoke, showing the -kind of considerateness that an old mastiff will show to a lapdog whom -he allows to snap at him and only pushes gently from him with his paw. -But I resented this more than anything else and returned unwearied to -the attack, though I never gained a single inch of ground. In later -years I often called to mind what The Chemist had said, just as I -recalled my father’s utterances; and, of course, he was right in -three-fourths of the points in dispute. But, all the same, I was right -too. There are truths which, like political rights, cannot be conveyed -from one man to another before a certain age. - - - §6 - -It was The Chemist’s influence that made me choose the Faculty of -Mathematics and Physics. Perhaps I should have done better to take up -medicine; but it did me no great harm to acquire a partial knowledge of -differential and integral equations, and then to lose it absolutely. - -Without a knowledge of natural science, there is no salvation for the -modern man. This wholesome food, this strict training of the mind by -facts, this proximity to the life that surrounds ours, and this -acknowledgement of its independence—without these there lurks somewhere -in the soul a monastic cell, and this contains a germ of mysticism which -may cover like a dark cloud the whole intellect. - -Before I had gone through College, The Chemist had moved to Petersburg, -and I did not meet him again till my return from exile. A few months -after my marriage I paid a half-secret visit of a few days to my father, -who was living near Moscow. He was still displeased at my marriage, and -the purpose of my journey was to make peace between us once for all. I -broke my journey at the village of Perkhushkov, the place where we had -so often stayed in my youth. The Chemist was expecting me there; he even -had dinner ready for me, and two bottles of champagne. Four or five -years had made no change in him, except that he looked a little older. -Before dinner he said to me quite seriously: “Please tell me frankly how -marriage and domestic life strike you. Do you find it to your taste, or -only passable?” I laughed, and he went on: “I am astonished at your -boldness; no man in a normal condition could ever decide on so awful a -step. More than one good match has been suggested to me; but when I -think that a woman would do as she liked in my room, arranging -everything in what she thinks order, forbidding me to smoke possibly, -making a noise and talking nonsense, I feel such terror of the prospect -that I prefer to die in solitude.” - -“Shall I stop the night here or go on to my father’s?” I asked him after -dinner. - -“There is room enough in the house,” he answered, “but for your own sake -I advise you to go on; you will get there by ten o’clock. Of course you -know he’s still angry with you. Well, old people’s nerves are generally -less active at night, before they get to sleep, and you will probably -get a much better reception to-night than to-morrow morning; by then his -spurs will be sharp for the fray.” - -“Ha! ha! ha!” I laughed, “there is my old instructor in physiology and -materialism! You remind me of those blissful days, when I used to come -to you, like Wagner in _Faust_, to bore you with my idealism and to -suffer, with some impatience, the cold water you threw on it.” - -He laughed too and replied, “You have lived long enough, since then, to -find out that all human actions depend merely on the nerves and chemical -combination.” - -Later, we somehow drifted apart; probably we were both to blame. -Nevertheless, he wrote me a letter in 1846. I had published the first -part of _Whose Fault Is It?_[45] and was beginning to be the fashion. He -wrote that he was sorry to see me wasting my powers on trivial objects. -“I made it up with you because of your letters on the study of Nature, -in which you made me understand (as far as it is intelligible to the -mind of man) the German philosophy. But why, instead of going on with -serious work, do you write fairy tales?” I sent a few friendly words in -reply, and there our relations ended. - -Footnote 45: - - A novel. - -If these lines happen to fall under The Chemist’s eyes, I beg that he -will read them before going to bed, when the nerves are less active; and -I am convinced that he will be able then to pardon this friendly gossip, -and all the more because I cherish a real regard for him. - - - §7 - -And so, at last, the doors of my prison were opened, and I was free. The -solitude of my smallish room and the quiet half-secret interviews with -my one friend, Ogaryóv, were now exchanged for a noisy family of six -hundred members. In a fortnight, I was more at home there than I had -ever been, from the day I was born, in my father’s house. - -But even here my father’s house pursued me, in the shape of a footman -whom my father sent with me to the University, especially when I walked -there. I spent a whole term in trying to dodge this escort, and was -formally excused from it at last. I say “formally,” because my valet -Peter, who was entrusted with this duty, very soon realised, first, that -I disliked being escorted, and secondly, that he himself would be much -better off in various places of amusement than in the entrance-hall of -my lecture-room, where he had no occupation except to exchange gossip -and pinches of snuff with the two porters. What was the motive of this -precaution? Was it possible that Peter, who had been liable all his life -to drinking-bouts that lasted for days, could keep me straight? I don’t -suppose my father believed that; but, for his own peace of mind, he took -measures—ineffective, indeed, but still measures—much in the way that -freethinkers keep Lent. This is a characteristic feature of the old -system of education in Russia. Till I was seven, I was not allowed to -come downstairs alone—the flight was rather steep; and Vyéra Artamónovna -went on bathing me till I was eleven. It was of a piece with this system -that I should have a servant walking behind me to College, and should -not be allowed, before I was twenty-one, to be out later than half-past -ten. I was never really free and independent till I was banished; but -for that incident, the system would probably have gone on till I was -twenty-five or thirty-five. - - - §8 - -Like most energetic boys who have been brought up alone, I rushed into -the arms of my companions with such frank eagerness, made proselytes -with such sublime confidence, and was myself so fond of everyone, that I -could not but kindle a corresponding warmth in my hearers, who were -mostly of the same age as myself. I was then seventeen. - -The process of making friends was hastened partly by the advice which -worldly wisdom gave me—to be polite to all and intimate with none, to -confide in nobody; and there was also the belief which we all took with -us to College, the belief that here our dreams would be realised, that -here we should sow the seed of a future harvest and lay the foundations -of a permanent alliance. - -The young men of my time were admirable. It was just the time when -ideals were stirring more and more in Russia. The formalism of -theological training and Polish indolence had alike disappeared, and had -not yet given place to German utilitarianism, which applies culture to -the mind, like manure to a field, in the hope of a heavier crop. The -best students had ceased to consider learning as a tiresome but -indispensable byway to official promotion; and the questions which we -discussed had nothing to do with advancement in the Civil Service. - -On the other hand, the pursuit of knowledge had not yet become divorced -from realities, and did not distract our attention from the suffering -humanity around us; and this sympathy heightened the _social_ morality -of the students. My friends and I said openly in the lecture-room -whatever came into our heads; copies of forbidden poems were freely -circulated, and forbidden books were read aloud and commented on; and -yet I cannot recall a single instance of information given by a traitor -to the authorities. There were timid spirits who held aloof and shut -their eyes; but even they held their tongues. - -One foolish boy made some disclosures to his mother, when she questioned -him, under threat of the rod, about the Málov affair. The fond -mother—she was a Princess and a leader in society—rushed to the Rector -and communicated her son’s disclosures, in order to prove his -repentance. We found this out, and tormented him so, that he left before -his time was up. - -But this episode, which led to my confinement within the walls of the -University prison, is worth telling. - - - §9 - -Málov, though a professor in the University, was a stupid, rude, -ill-educated man, an object of contempt and derision to the students. -One of them, when asked by a Visitor, how many professors there were in -their department, replied that there were nine, not counting Málov.[46] -And this man, who could be spoken of in this way, began to treat his -class with more and more rudeness, till they determined to turn him out -of the lecture-room. When their plan was made, they sent two spokesmen -to our department, and invited me to bring reinforcements. I raised the -fiery cross against the foe at once, and was joined by some adherents. -When we entered Málov’s lecture-room, he was there and saw us. - -Footnote 46: - - There is here an untranslatable play on words. - -One fear only was depicted on the faces of all the audience—that he -might refrain for once from rude remarks. But that fear soon passed off. -The tightly packed lecture-room was in a fever and gave vent to a low -suppressed noise. Málov made some objection, and a scraping of feet -began. “You are like horses, expressing your thoughts with your feet,” -said the professor, imagining, I suppose, that horses think by gallop -and trot. Then the storm broke, with hisses and yells. “Turn him out! -turn him out! _Pereat!_” Málov turned white as a sheet and made a -desperate effort to control the noise, but failed; the students jumped -up on the benches. Málov slowly left his chair, hunched himself up, and -made his way to the door. The students followed him through the court to -the street outside, and threw his goloshes out after him. The last -detail was important: if once it reached the street, the proceeding -became much more serious; but what lads of seventeen or eighteen would -ever take that into account? - -The University Council took fright and induced the Visitor to represent -the affair as settled, and, with that object, to consign the guilty -persons or someone, at least, to the University prison. That was rather -ingenious on their part. Otherwise, it was likely enough that the -Emperor would send an _aide-de-camp_, and that the _aide-de-camp_, in -order to earn a cross, would have magnified the affair into conspiracy -and rebellion; then he would have advised penal servitude for all the -offenders, and the Emperor, in his mercy, would have sent them to the -colours instead. But seeing vice punished and virtue triumphant, the -Emperor merely confirmed the action of the students by dismissing the -professor. Though we drove Málov as far as the University gates, it was -Nicholas who drove him out of them. - -So the fat was in the fire. On the following afternoon, one of the -porters hobbled up to me, a white-haired old man who was normally in a -state more drunk than sober, and produced from the lining of his -overcoat a note from the Rector for me: I was ordered to call on him at -seven in the evening. The porter was soon followed by a student, a baron -from the Baltic Provinces, who was one of the unfortunate victims -enticed by me, and had received an invitation similar to mine. He looked -pale and frightened and began by heaping reproaches on me; then he asked -me what I advised him to say. - -“Lie desperately,” I answered; “deny everything, except that there was a -row and you were present.” - -“But if the Rector asks why I was in the wrong lecture-room?” - -“That’s easy. Say of course that our lecturer did not turn up, and that -you, not wishing to waste your time, went to hear someone else.” - -“He won’t believe me.” - -“That’s his affair.” - -When we entered the University yard, I looked at my baron: his plump -cheeks were very pale, and he was obviously feeling uncomfortable. -“Listen to me,” I said; “you may be sure that the Rector will deal with -me first. Say what I say, with variations; you really took no special -part in the affair. But remember one thing: for making a row and for -telling lies about it, they will, at most, put you in the prison; but, -if you are not careful and involve any other student, I shall tell the -rest and we shall poison your existence.” The baron promised, and kept -his word like a gentleman. - - - §10 - -The Rector at that time was Dvigubski, a survival and a typical specimen -of the antediluvian professor—but, for flood I should substitute fire, -the Great Fire of 1812. - -They are extinct now: the patriarchal epoch of Moscow University ends -with the appointment of Prince Obolenski as Visitor. In those days the -Government left the University alone: the professors lectured or not, -the students attended or not, just as they pleased, and the latter, -instead of the kind of cavalry uniform they have now, wore mufti of -varying degrees of eccentricity, and very small caps which would hardly -stick on over their virgin locks. Of professors there were two classes -or camps, which carried on a bloodless warfare against each other—one -composed exclusively of Germans, the other of non-Germans. The Germans -included some worthy and learned men, such as Loder, Fischer, -Hildebrandt, and Heim; but they were distinguished as a rule for their -ignorance and dislike of the Russian language, their want of sympathy -with the students, their unlimited consumption of tobacco, and the large -number of stars and orders which they always wore. The non-Germans, on -their side, knew no modern language but Russian; they had the -ill-breeding of the theological school and the servile temper of their -nation; they were mostly overworked, and they made up for abstention -from tobacco by an excessive indulgence in strong drinks. Most of the -Germans came from Göttingen, and most of the non-Germans were sons of -priests. - -Dvigubski belonged to the latter class. He looked so much the -ecclesiastic that one of the students—he had been brought up at a -priests’ school—asked for his blessing and regularly addressed him as -“Your Reverence” in the course of an examination. But he was also -startlingly like an owl wearing the Order of St. Anne; and as such he -was caricatured by another student who had come less under church -influences. He came occasionally to our lecture-room, and brought with -him the dean, Chumakov, or Kotelnitski, who had charge of a cupboard -labelled _Materia Medica_, and kept, for some unknown reason, in the -mathematical class-room; or Reiss, who had been imported from Germany -because his uncle knew chemistry, and lectured in French with such a -pronunciation that _poisson_ took the place of _poison_ in his mouth, -and some quite innocent words sounded unprintable. When these old -gentlemen appeared, we stared at them: to us they were a party of -“dug-outs,” the Last of the Mohicans, representatives of a different -age, quite remote from ours—of the time when Knyazhnín and Cheraskov -were read, the time of good-natured Professor Dilthey, who had two dogs -which he named _Babil_ and _Bijou_, because one never stopped barking -and the other was always silent. - - - §11 - -But Dvigubski was by no means a good-natured professor: his reception of -us was exceedingly abrupt and discourteous; I talked terrible nonsense -and was rude, and the baron played second fiddle to me. Dvigubski was -provoked and ordered us to appear before the Council next morning. The -Council settled our business in half an hour: they questioned, -condemned, and sentenced us, and referred the sentence, for -confirmation, to Prince Golitsyn. - -I had hardly had time to give half a dozen performances in the -lecture-room, representing the proceedings of the University Court, when -the beginning of the lecture was interrupted by the appearance of a -party, consisting of our inspector, an army major, a French -dancing-master, and a corporal, who carried an order for my arrest and -incarceration. Some students escorted me, and there were many more in -the court-yard, who waved their hands or caps. Clearly I was not the -first victim. The University police tried in vain to push them back. - -I found two captives already immured in the dirty cellar which served as -a prison, and there were two more in another room; six was the total -number of those who suffered for this affair. We were sentenced to a -diet of bread and water, and, though we declined some soup which the -Rector sent us, we did not suffer; for when the College emptied at -nightfall, our friends brought us cheese, game, cigars, wine, and -_liqueurs_. The sentry grumbled and scolded, but he took a small bribe, -and introduced the supplies. After midnight, he moved to some distance -and allowed several of our friends to join us. And so we spent our time, -feasting by night and sleeping by day. - -A certain Panin, a brother of the Minister of Justice and employed under -our Visitor, mindful of Army traditions, took it into his head one night -to go the rounds and inspect our cellar-prison. We had just lit a -candle, keeping it under a chair to betray no light, and were attacking -our midnight meal, when a knocking was heard at the outer door, not the -meek sound that begs for admittance and fears to be heard more than not -to be heard, but a knock of power and authority. The sentry turned -rigid, we hid the bottles and our guests in a cupboard, blew out the -light, and dropped on our pallet-beds. Panin came in. “You appear to be -smoking,” he said—the smoke was so thick that Panin and the inspector -who were carrying a lantern were hardly visible. “Where do they get a -light from? From you?” he asked the sentry. The man swore he was -innocent, and we said that we had got tinder of our own. The inspector -promised to take it and our cigars away; and Panin went off, without -ever noticing that there were twice as many caps in the room as heads. - -On Saturday evening the inspector appeared and announced that I and one -other might go home; the rest were to stay till Monday. I resented this -proposal and asked him whether I might stay. He fell back a step, looked -at me with that expression of dignified wrath which is worn by -ballet-dancers when representing angry kings or heroes, and said, “By -all means, if you want to!” Then he left us; and this sally on my part -brought down more paternal wrath on me than any other part of the -affair. - -Thus the first nights which I spent away from home were spent in prison. -I was soon to experience a prison of another kind, and there I spent, -not eight days, but nine months; and when these had passed, instead of -going home, I went into exile. But much happened before that. - -From this time I was a popular hero in the lecture-room. Till then I was -considered “all right” by the rest; but, after the Málov affair, I -became, like the lady in Gógol, all right in the fullest sense of that -term. - - - §12 - -But did we learn anything, meanwhile, and was study possible under such -circumstances? I think we did. The instruction was more limited in -quantity and scope than in the forties. But a university is not bound to -complete scientific education: its business is rather to put a man in a -position to walk by himself; it should raise problems and teach a man to -ask questions. And this is exactly what was done by such professors as -Pávlov and Kachenovsky, each in his own way. But the collision of young -minds, the exchange of ideas, and the discussion of books—all this did -more than professors or lectures to develop and ripen the student. -Moscow University was a successful institution; and the professors who -contributed by their lectures to the development of Lérmontov, -Byelínski, Turgénev, Kavélin, and Pirógov, may play cards with an easy -conscience, or, with a still easier conscience, rest in their graves. - -And what astonishing people some of them were! There was Chumakov, who -treated the formulae of Poinsot’s _Algebra_ like so many serfs—adding -letters and subtracting them, mixing up square numbers and their roots, -and treating x as the known quantity. There was Myágkov, who, in spite -of his name,[47] lectured on the harshest of sciences, the science of -tactics. The constant study of this noble subject had actually given a -martial air to the professor; and as he stood there buttoned up to the -throat and erect behind his stock, his lectures sounded more like words -of command than mere conversation. “Gentlemen, artillery!” he would cry -out. It sounded like the field of battle, but it only meant that this -was the heading of his next discourse. And there was Reiss, who lectured -on chemistry but never ventured further than hydrogen—Reiss, who was -elected to the Chair for no knowledge of his own but because his uncle -had once studied the science. The latter was invited to come to Russia -towards the end of Catherine’s reign; but the old man did not want to -move, and sent his nephew instead. - -Footnote 47: - - _Myágki_ is the Russian for “mild.” - -My University course lasted four years, the additional year being due to -the fact that a whole session was lost owing to the cholera. The most -remarkable events of that time were the cholera itself, and the visits -of Humboldt and Uvárov. - - - §13 - -When Humboldt[48] was on his way back from the Ural Mountains, he was -welcomed to Moscow at a formal meeting of the Society for the Pursuit of -Natural Science, most of whose members were state functionaries of some -kind, not at all interested in science, either natural or unnatural. But -the glory of Humboldt—a Privy Councillor of the Prussian King, a man on -whom the Tsar had graciously conferred the Order of St. Anne, with -instructions that the recipient was to be put to no expense in the -matter—was a fact of which even they were not ignorant; and they were -determined to show themselves to advantage before a man who had climbed -Chimborazo and who lived at Sans-Souci.[49] - -Footnote 48: - - Alexander Humboldt (1769-1859), born at Berlin, a famous writer on - natural science. - -Footnote 49: - - The Prussian palace, near Potsdam. - - - §14 - -Our attitude towards Europe and Europeans is still that of provincials -towards the dwellers in a capital: we are servile and apologetic, take -every difference for a defect, blush for our peculiarities and try to -hide them, and confess our inferiority by imitation. The fact is that we -are intimidated: we have never got over the sneers of Peter the Great -and his coadjutors, or the superior airs of French tutors and Germans in -our Civil Service. Western nations talk of our duplicity and cunning; -they believe we want to deceive them, when we are only trying to make a -creditable appearance and pass muster. A Russian will express quite -different political views in talking to different persons, without any -ulterior object, and merely from a wish to please: the bump of -complaisance is highly developed in our skulls. - -“Prince Dmitri Golitsyn,” said Lord Durham on one occasion, “is a true -Whig, a Whig at heart.” Prince Golitsyn was a worthy Russian gentleman, -but I do not understand in what sense he was a Whig. It is clear enough -that the Prince in his old age wished to be polite to Lord Durham and -put on the Whig for that purpose. - - - §15 - -Humboldt’s reception in Moscow and at the University was a tremendous -affair. Everyone came to meet him—the Governor of the city, -functionaries military and civil, and the judges of the Supreme Court; -and the professors were there wearing full uniform and their Orders, -looking most martial with swords and three-cornered hats tucked under -their arms. Unaware of all this, Humboldt arrived in a blue coat with -gilt buttons and was naturally taken aback. His way was barricaded at -every point between the entrance and the great hall: first the Rector -stopped him, then the Dean, now a budding professor, and now a veteran -who was just ending his career and therefore spoke very slowly; each of -them delivered a speech of welcome in Latin or German or French, and all -this went on in those terrible stone funnels miscalled passages, where -you stopped for a minute at the risk of catching cold for a month. -Humboldt listened bare-headed to them all and replied to them all. I -feel convinced that none of the savages, either red-skinned or -copper-coloured, whom he had met in his travels, made him so -uncomfortable as his reception at Moscow. - -When he reached the hall at last and could sit down, he had to get up -again. Our Visitor, Pisarev, thought it necessary to set forth in a few -powerful Russian sentences the merits of His Excellency, the famous -traveller; and then a poet, Glinka, in a deep hoarse voice recited a -poem of his own which began— - - “Humboldt, Prometheus of our time!” - -What Humboldt wanted was to discuss his observations on the magnetic -pole, and to compare the meteorological records he had taken in the Ural -Mountains with those at Moscow; but the Rector preferred to show him -some relic plaited out of the hair of Peter the Great. It was with -difficulty that Ehrenberg and Rose found an opportunity to tell him -something of their discoveries.[50] - -Footnote 50: - - Odd views were taken in Russia of Humboldt’s travels. There was a - Cossack at Perm who liked describing how he escorted “a mad Prussian - prince called Gumplot.” When asked what Gumplot did, he said: “He was - quite childish, picking grasses and gazing at sand. At one place he - told me through the interpreter to wade into a pool and fish out what - was at the bottom—there was nothing but what there is at the bottom of - every pool. Then he asked if the water at the bottom was very cold. - You won’t catch me that way, thought I; so I saluted and said, ‘The - rules of the service require it, Your Excellency.’” [Author’s Note.] - -Even in unofficial circles, we don’t do things much better in Russia. -Liszt was received in just the same way by Moscow society ten years ago. -There was folly enough over him in Germany; but that was quite a -different thing—old-maidish gush and sentimentality and strewing of -roses, whereas in Russia there was servile acknowledgement of power and -prim formality of a strictly official type. And Liszt’s reputation as a -Don Juan was mixed up in an unpleasant way with it all: the ladies -swarmed around him, just as boys in out-of-the-way places swarm round a -traveller when he is changing horses and stare at him or his carriage or -his hat. Every ear was turned to Liszt, every word and every reply was -addressed to him alone. I remember one evening when Homyakóv, in his -disgust with the company, appealed to me to start a dispute with him on -any subject, that Liszt might discover there were some people in the -room who were not exclusively taken up with him. I can only say one -thing to console our ladies—that Englishwomen treated other celebrities, -Kossuth, Garibaldi, and others, in just the same way, crowding and -jostling round the object of worship; but woe to him who seeks to learn -good manners from Englishwomen, or their husbands! - - - §16 - -Our other distinguished visitor was also “a Prometheus of our time” in a -certain sense; only, instead of stealing fire from Zeus, he stole it -from mankind. This Prometheus, whose fame was sung, not by Glinka but by -Púshkin himself in his _Epistle to Lucullus_, was Uvárov, the Minister -of Education.[51] He astonished us by the number of languages he spoke -and by the amount of his miscellaneous knowledge; he was a real shopman -behind the counter of learning and kept samples of all the sciences, the -elements chiefly, in his head. In Alexander’s reign, he wrote reform -pamphlets in French; then he had a German correspondence with Goethe on -Greek matters. After becoming minister, he discoursed on Slavonic poetry -of the fourth century, which made Kachenovsky remark to him that our -ancestors were much busier in fighting bears than in hymning their gods -and kings. As a kind of patent of nobility, he carried about in his -pocket a letter from Goethe, in which Goethe paid him a very odd -compliment: “You have no reason to apologise for your style: you have -succeeded in doing what I could never do—forgetting German grammar.” - -Footnote 51: - - Serghéi Uvárov (1786-1855) was both Minister of Education and - President of the Academy of Sciences. He used his power to tighten the - censorship and suppressed _The Moscow Telegraph_, edited by Polevoi, - which was the most independent of Russian journals; in this way he - “stole fire from mankind.” The reference to Púshkin is malicious: what - Púshkin wrote about Uvárov in that poem was the reverse of - complimentary. “Lucullus” was Count Sheremétyev and Uvárov was his - heir. - -This highly placed Admirable Crichton invented a new kind of torture for -our benefit. He gave directions that the best students should be -selected, and that each of them should deliver a lecture in his own -department of study, in place of the professor. The Deans of course -chose the readiest of the students to perform. - -These lectures went on for a whole week. The students had to get up all -the branches of their subject, and the Dean drew a lot to determine the -theme and the speaker. Uvárov invited all the rank and fashion of -Moscow. Ecclesiastics and judges, the Governor of the city, and the old -poet, Dmítriev—everyone was there. - - - §17 - -It fell to me to lecture on a mineralogical subject. Our professor, -Lovetski,—he is now dead,—was a tall man with a clumsy figure and -awkward gait, a large mouth and a large and entirely expressionless -face. He wore a pea-green overcoat, adorned in the fashion of the First -Consulate with a variety of capes; and while taking off this garment in -the passage outside the lecture-room, he always began in an even and -wooden voice which seemed to suit his subject, “In our last lecture we -dealt fully with silicon dioxide”—then he took his seat and went on, “We -proceed to aluminium ...” In the definition of each metal, he followed -an absolutely identical formula, so that some of them had to be defined -by negatives, in this way: “Crystallisation: this metal does not -crystallise”; “Use: this metal is never used”; “Service to man: this -substance does nothing but harm to the human organism.” - -Still he did not avoid poetical illustration or edifying comment: -whenever he showed us counterfeit gems and explained how they were made, -he never failed to add, “Gentlemen, this is dishonest.” When alluding to -farming, he found _moral_ worth in a cock that was fond of crowing and -courting his hens, and blue blood in a ram if he had “bald knees.” He -had also a touching story about some flies which ran over the bark of a -tree on a fine summer day till they were caught in the resin which had -turned to amber; and this always ended with the words, “Gentlemen, these -things are an allegory.” - -When I was summoned forth by the Dean, the audience was somewhat weary: -two lectures on mathematics had had a depressing effect upon hearers who -did not understand a word of the subject. Uvárov called for something -more lively and a speaker with a ready tongue; and I was chosen to meet -the situation. - -While I was mounting to the desk, Lovetski sat there motionless, with -his hands on his knees, looking like Memnon or Osiris. I whispered to -him, “Never fear! I shan’t give you away!”—and the worthy professor, -without looking at me and hardly moving his lips, formed the words, -“Boast not, when girding on thine armour!” I nearly laughed aloud, but -when I looked in front of me, the whole room swam before my eyes, I felt -that I was losing colour, and my mouth grew strangely dry. It was my -first speech in public; the lecture-room was full of students, who -relied upon me; at a table just below me sat the dignitaries and all the -professors of our faculty. I took the paper and read out in a voice that -sounded strange to myself, “Crystallisation: its conditions, laws, and -forms.” - -While I was considering how I should begin, a consoling thought came -into my head—that, if I did make mistakes, the professors might perhaps -detect them but would certainly not speak of them, while the rest of the -audience would be quite in the dark, and the students would be quite -satisfied if I managed not to break down; for I was a favourite with -them. So I delivered my lecture and ended up with some speculative -observations, addressing myself throughout to my companions and not to -the minister. Students and professors shook me by the hand and expressed -their thanks. Uvárov presented me to Prince Golitsyn, who said -something, but I could not understand it, as the Prince used vowels only -and no consonants. Uvárov promised me a book as a souvenir of the -occasion; but I never got it. - -My second and third appearances on a public stage were very different. -In 1836 I took a chief part in amateur theatricals before the Governor -and _beau monde_ of Vyatka. Though we had been rehearsing for a month, -my heart beat furiously and my hands trembled; when the overture came to -an end, dead silence followed, and the curtain slowly rose with an awful -twitching. The leading lady and I were in the green-room; and she was so -sorry for me, or so afraid that I would break down and spoil the piece, -that she administered a full bumper of champagne; but even this was -hardly able to restore me to my senses. - -This preliminary experience saved me from all nervous symptoms and -self-consciousness when I made my third public appearance, which was at -a Polish meeting held in London and presided over by the ex-Minister -Ledru-Rollin. - - - §18 - -But perhaps I have dwelt long enough on College memories. I fear it may -be a sign of senility to linger so long over them; and I shall only add -a few details on the cholera of 1831. - -The word “cholera,” so familiar now in Europe and especially in Russia, -was heard in the North for the first time in 1831. The dread contagion -caused general terror, as it spread up the course of the Volga towards -Moscow. Exaggerated rumours filled men’s minds with horror. The epidemic -took a capricious course, sometimes pausing, and sometimes passing over -a district; it was believed that it had gone round Moscow, when suddenly -the terrible tidings spread like wildfire, “The cholera is in the city.” - -A student who was taken ill one morning died in the University hospital -on the evening of the next day. We went to look at the body. It was -emaciated as if by long illness, the eyes were sunk in their sockets, -and the features were distorted. Near him lay his attendant who had -caught the infection during the night. - -We were told that the University was to be closed. The notice was read -in our faculty by Denísov, the professor of technology; he was depressed -and perhaps frightened; before the end of the next day he too was dead. - -All the students collected in the great court of the University. There -was something touching in that crowd of young men forced asunder by the -fear of infection. All were excited, and there were many pale faces; -many were thinking of relations and friends; we said good-bye to the -scholars who were to remain behind in quarantine, and dispersed in small -groups to our homes. There we were greeted by the stench of chloride of -lime and vinegar, and submitted to a diet which, of itself and without -chloride or cholera, was quite enough to cause an illness. - -It is a strange fact, but this sad time is more solemn than sad in my -recollection of it. - -The aspect of Moscow was entirely changed. The city was animated beyond -its wont by the feeling of a common life. There were fewer carriages in -the streets; crowds stood at the crossings and spoke darkly of -poisoners; ambulances, conveying the sick, moved along at a footpace, -escorted by police; and people turned aside as the hearses went by. -Bulletins were published twice a day. The city was surrounded by troops, -and an unfortunate beadle was shot while trying to cross the river. -These measures caused much excitement, and fear of disease conquered the -fear of authority; the inhabitants protested; and meanwhile tidings -followed tidings—that so-and-so had sickened and so-and-so was dead. - -The Archbishop, Philaret, ordained a Day of Humiliation. At the same -hour on the same day all the priests went in procession with banners -round their parishes, while the terrified inhabitants came out of their -houses and fell on their knees, weeping and praying that their sins -might be forgiven; even the priests were moved by the solemnity of the -occasion. Some of them marched to the Kremlin, where the Archbishop, -surrounded by clerical dignitaries, knelt in the open air and prayed, -“May this cup pass from us!” - - - §19 - -Philaret carried on a kind of opposition to Government, but why he did -so I never could understand, unless it was to assert his own -personality. He was an able and learned man, and a perfect master of the -Russian language, which he spoke with a happy flavouring of -Church-Slavonic; but all this gave him no right to be in opposition. The -people disliked him and called him a freemason, because he was intimate -with Prince A. N. Golitsyn and preached in Petersburg just when the -Bible Society was in vogue there. The Synod forbade the use of his -Catechism in the schools. But the clergy who were under his rule -trembled before him. - -Philaret knew how to put down the secular powers with great ingenuity -and dexterity; his sermons breathed that vague Christian socialism to -which Lacordaire and other far-sighted Roman Catholics owed their -reputation. From the height of his episcopal pulpit, Philaret used to -say that no man could be legally the mere instrument of another, and -that an exchange of services was the only proper relation between human -beings; and this he said in a country where half the population were -slaves. - -Speaking to a body of convicts who were leaving Moscow on their way to -Siberia, he said, “Human law has condemned you and driven you forth; but -the Church will not let you go; she wishes to address you once more, to -pray for you once again, and to bless you before your journey.” Then, to -comfort them, he added, “You, by your punishment, have got rid of your -past, and a new life awaits you; but, among others” (and there were -probably no others present except officials) “there are even greater -sinners than you”; and he spoke of the penitent thief at the Crucifixion -as an example for them. - -But Philaret’s sermon on the Day of Humiliation left all his previous -utterances in the shade. He took as his text the passage where the angel -suffered David to choose between war, famine, and pestilence as the -punishment for his sin, and David chose the pestilence. The Tsar came to -Moscow in a furious rage, and sent a high Court official to reprove the -Archbishop; he even threatened to send him to Georgia to exercise his -functions there. Philaret submitted meekly to the reproof; and then he -sent round a new rescript to all the churches, explaining that it was a -mistake to suppose that he had meant David to represent the Tsar: we -ourselves were David, sunk like him in the mire of sin. In this way, the -meaning of the original sermon was explained even to those who had -failed to grasp its meaning at first. - -Such was the way in which the Archbishop of Moscow played at opposition. - -The Day of Humiliation was as ineffectual as the chloride of lime; and -the plague grew worse and worse. - - - §20 - -I witnessed the whole course of the frightful epidemic of cholera at -Paris in 1849. The violence of the disease was increased by the hot June -weather; the poor died like flies; of the middle classes some fled to -the country, and the rest locked themselves up in their houses. The -Government, exclusively occupied by the struggle against the -revolutionists, never thought of taking any active steps. Large private -subscriptions failed to meet the requirements of the situation. The -working class were left to take their chance; the hospitals could not -supply all the beds, nor the police all the coffins, that were required; -and corpses remained for forty-eight hours in living-rooms crowded with -a number of different families. - -In Moscow things were different. - -Prince Dmitri Golitsyn was Governor of the city, not a strong man, but -honourable, cultured, and highly respected. He gave the line to Moscow -society, and everything was arranged by the citizens themselves without -much interference on the part of Government. A committee was formed of -the chief residents—rich landowners and merchants. Each member of the -committee undertook one of the districts of Moscow. In a few days twenty -hospitals were opened, all supported by voluntary contributions and not -costing one penny to the State. The merchants supplied all that was -required in the hospitals—bedding, linen, and warm clothing, and this -last might be kept by convalescents. Young people acted gratuitously as -inspectors in the hospitals, to see that the free-will offerings of the -merchants were not stolen by the orderlies and nurses. - -The University too played its part. The whole medical school, both -teachers and students, put themselves at the disposal of the committee. -They were distributed among the hospitals and worked there incessantly -until the infection was over. For three or four months these young men -did fine work in the hospitals, as assistant physicians, dressers, -nurses, or clerks, and all this for no pecuniary reward and at a time -when the fear of infection was intense. I remember one Little Russian -student who was trying to get an _exeat_ on urgent private affairs when -the cholera began. It was difficult to get an _exeat_ in term-time, but -he got it at last and was just preparing to start when the other -students were entering the hospitals. He put his _exeat_ in his pocket -and joined them. When he left the hospital, his leave of absence had -long expired, and he was the first to laugh heartily at the form his -trip had taken. - -Moscow has the appearance of being sleepy and slack, of caring for -nothing but gossip and piety and fashionable intelligence; but she -invariably wakes up and rises to the occasion when the hour strikes and -when the thunder-storm breaks over Russia. - -She was wedded to Russia in blood in 1612, and she was welded to Russia -in the fire of 1812. - -She bent her head before Peter, because he was the wild beast whose paw -contained the whole future of Russia. - -Frowning and pouting out his lips, Napoleon sat outside the gates, -waiting for the keys of Moscow; impatiently he pulled at his bridle and -twitched his glove. He was not accustomed to be alone when he entered -foreign capitals. - -“But other thoughts had Moscow mine,” as Púshkin wrote, and she set fire -to herself. - -The cholera appeared, and once again the people’s capital showed itself -full of feeling and power! - - - §21 - -In August of 1830 we went to stay at Vasílevskoë, and broke our journey -as usual at Perkhushkov, where our house looked like a castle in a novel -of Mrs. Radcliffe’s. After taking a meal and feeding the horses, we were -preparing to resume our journey, and Bakai, with a towel round his -waist, was just calling out to the coachman, “All right!” when a mounted -messenger signed to us to stop. This was a groom belonging to my uncle, -the Senator. Covered with dust and sweat, he jumped off his horse and -delivered a packet to my father. The packet contained the _Revolution of -July_! Two pages of the _Journal des Débats_, which he brought with him -as well as a letter, I read over a hundred times till I knew them by -heart; and for the first time I found the country tiresome. - -It was a glorious time and events moved quickly. The spare figure of -Charles X had hardly disappeared into the fogs of Holyrood, when Belgium -burst into flame and the throne of the citizen-king began to totter. The -revolutionary spirit began to work in men’s mouths and in literature: -novels, plays, and poetry entered the arena and preached the good cause. - -We knew nothing then of the theatrical element which is part of all -revolutionary movements in France, and we believed sincerely in all we -heard. - -If anyone wishes to know how powerfully the news of the July revolution -worked on the rising generation, let him read what Heine wrote, when he -heard in Heligoland that “the great Pan, the pagan god, was dead.” There -is no sham enthusiasm there: Heine at thirty was just as much carried -away, just as childishly excited, as we were at eighteen. - -We followed every word and every incident with close attention—bold -questions and sharp replies, General Lafayette and General Lamarque. Not -only did we know all about the chief actors—on the radical side, of -course—but we were warmly attached to them, and cherished their -portraits, from Manuel and Benjamin Constant to Dupont de l’Eure and -Armand Carrel. - - - §22 - -Our special group consisted of five to begin with, and then we fell in -with a sixth, Vadim Passek. - -There was much that was new to us in Vadim. We five had all been brought -up in very much the same way: we knew no places but Moscow and the -surrounding country; we had read the same books and taken lessons from -the same teachers; we had been educated either at home or in the -boarding-school connected with the University. But Vadim was born in -Siberia, during his father’s exile, and had suffered poverty and -privation. His father was his teacher, and he was one of a large family, -who grew up familiar with want but free from all other restraints. -Siberia has a stamp of its own, quite unlike the stamp of provincial -Russia; those who bear it have more health and more elasticity. Compared -to Vadim we were tame. His courage was of a different kind, heroic and -at times overbearing; the high distinction of suffering had developed in -him a special kind of pride, but he had also a generous warmth of heart. -He was bold, and even imprudent to excess; but a man born in Siberia and -belonging to a family of exiles has this advantage over others, that -Siberia has for him no terrors. - -As soon as we met, Vadim rushed into our arms. Very soon we became -intimate. It should be said that there was nothing of the nature of -ceremony or prudent precaution in our little coterie of those days. - -“Would you like to know Ketcher, of whom you have heard so much?” Vadim -once asked me. - -“Of course I should.” - -“Well, come at seven to-morrow evening, and don’t be late; he will be at -our house.” - -When I arrived, Vadim was out. A tall man with an expressive face was -waiting for him and shot a glance, half good-natured and half -formidable, at me from under his spectacles. I took up a book, and he -followed my example. - -“I say,” he began, as he opened the book, “are you Herzen?” - -And so conversation began and soon grew fast and furious. Ketcher soon -interrupted me with no ceremony: “Excuse me! I should be obliged if you -would address me as ‘thou.’” - -“By all means!” said I. And from that minute—perhaps it was the -beginning of 1831—we were inseparable friends; and from that minute -Ketcher’s friendly laugh or fierce shout became a part of my life at all -its stages. - -The acquaintance with Vadim brought a new and gentler element into our -camp. - -As before, our chief meeting-place was Ogaryóv’s house. His invalid -father had gone to live in the country, and he lived alone on the -ground-floor of their Moscow house, which was near the University and -had a great attraction for us all. Ogaryóv had that magnetic power which -forms the first point of crystallisation in any medley of disordered -atoms, provided the necessary affinity exists. Though scattered in all -directions, they become imperceptibly the heart of an organism. In his -bright cheerful room with its red and gold wall-paper, amid the -perpetual smell of tobacco and punch and other—I was going to say, -eatables and drinkables, but now I remember that there was seldom -anything to eat but cheese—we often spent the time from dark till dawn -in heated argument and sometimes in noisy merriment. But, side by side -with that hospitable students’ room, there grew more and more dear to us -another house, in which we learned—I might say, for the first -time—respect for family life. - -Vadim often deserted our discussions and went off home: when he had not -seen his mother and sisters for some time, he became restless. To us our -little club was the centre of the world, and we thought it strange that -he should prefer the society of his family; were not we a family too? - -Then he introduced us to his family. They had lately returned from -Siberia; they were ruined, yet they bore that stamp of dignity which -calamity engraves, not on every sufferer, but on those who have borne -misfortune with courage. - - - §23 - -Their father was arrested in Paul’s reign, having been informed against -for revolutionary designs. He was thrown into prison at Schlüsselburg -and then banished to Siberia. When Alexander restored thousands of his -father’s exiles, Passek was _forgotten_. He was a nephew of the Passek -who became Governor of Poland, and might have claimed a share of the -fortune which had now passed into other hands. - -While detained at Schlüsselburg, Passek had married the daughter of an -officer of the garrison. The young girl knew that exile would be his -fate, but she was not deterred by that prospect. In Siberia they made a -shift at first to get on, by selling their last belongings, but the -pressure of poverty grew steadily worse and worse, and the process was -hastened by their increasing family. Yet neither destitution nor manual -toil, nor the absence of warm clothing and sometimes of daily -food—nothing prevented them from rearing a whole family of lion-cubs, -who inherited from their father his dauntless pride and self-confidence. -He educated them by his example, and they were taught by their mother’s -self-sacrifice and bitter tears. The girls were not inferior to the boys -in heroic constancy. Why shrink from using the right word?—they were a -family of heroes. No one would believe what they endured and did for one -another; and they held their heads high through it all. - -When they were in Siberia, the three sisters had at one time a single -pair of shoes between them; and they kept it to walk out in, in order to -hide their need from the public eye. - -At the beginning of the year 1826 Passek was permitted to return to -Russia. It was winter weather, and it was a terrible business for so -large a family to travel from Tobolsk without furs and without money; -but exile becomes most unbearable when it is over, and they were longing -to be gone. They contrived it somehow. The foster-mother of one of the -children, a peasant woman, brought them her poor savings as a -contribution, and only asked that they would take her too; the post-boys -brought them as far as the Russian frontier for little payment or none -at all; the children took turns in driving or walking; and so they -completed the long winter journey from the Ural ridge to Moscow. Moscow -was their dream and their hope; and at Moscow they found starvation -waiting for them. - -When the authorities pardoned Passek, they never thought of restoring to -him any part of his property. On his arrival, worn out by exertions and -privations, he fell ill; and the family did not know where they were to -get to-morrow’s dinner. - -The father could bear no more; he died. The widow and children got on as -best they could from day to day. The greater the need, the harder the -sons worked; three of them took their degree at the University with -brilliant success. The two eldest, both excellent mathematicians, went -to Petersburg; one served in the Navy and the other in the Engineers, -and both contrived to give lessons in mathematics as well. They -practised strict self-denial and sent home all the money they earned. - -I have a vivid recollection of their old mother in her dark jacket and -white cap. Her thin pale face was covered with wrinkles, and she looked -much older than she was; the eyes alone still lived and revealed such a -fund of gentleness and love, and such a past of anxiety and tears. She -was in love with her children; they were wealth and distinction and -youth to her; she used to read us their letters, and spoke of them with -a sacred depth of feeling, while her feeble voice sometimes broke and -trembled with unshed tears. - -Sometimes there was a family gathering of them all at Moscow, and then -the mother’s joy was beyond description. When they sat down to their -modest meal, she would move round the table and arrange things, looking -with such joy and pride at her young ones, and sometimes mutely -appealing to me for sympathy and admiration. They were really, in point -of good looks also, an exceptional family. At such times I longed to -kiss her hand and fall upon her neck. - -She was happy then; it would have been well if she had died at one of -those meetings. - -In the space of two years she lost her three eldest sons. Diomid died -gloriously, honoured by the foe, in the arms of victory, though he laid -down his life in a quarrel that was not his. As a young general, he was -killed in action against Circassians. But laurels cannot mend a mother’s -broken heart. The other two were less fortunate: the weight of Russian -life lay heavy upon them and crushed them at last. - -Alas! poor mother! - - - §24 - -Vadim died in February of 1843. I was present at his death; it was the -first time I had witnessed the death of one dear to me, and I realised -the unrelieved horror, the senseless irrationality, and the stupid -injustice of the tragedy. - -Ten years earlier Vadim had married my cousin Tatyana, and I was best -man at the wedding. Family life and change of conditions parted us to -some extent. He was happy in his quiet life, but outward circumstances -were unfavourable and his enterprises were unsuccessful. Shortly before -I and my friends were arrested, he went to Khárkov, where he had been -promised a professor’s chair in the University. This trip saved him from -prison; but his name had come to the ears of the police, and the -University refused to appoint him. An official admitted to him that a -document had been received forbidding his appointment, because the -Government knew that he was connected with _disaffected persons_. - -So Vadim remained without employment, _i.e._ without bread to eat. That -was his form of punishment. - -We were banished. Relations with us were dangerous. Black years of want -began for him; for seven years he struggled to earn a bare living, -suffering from contact with rough manners and hard hearts, and unable to -exchange messages with his friends in their distant place of exile; and -the struggle proved too hard even for his powerful frame. - -“One day we had spent all our money to the last penny;”—his wife told me -this story later—“I had tried to borrow ten _roubles_ the day before, -but I failed, because I had borrowed already in every possible quarter. -The shops refused to give us any further credit, and our one thought -was—what will the children get to eat to-morrow? Vadim sat in sorrow -near the window; then he got up, took his hat, and said he meant to take -a walk. I saw that he was very low, and I felt frightened; and yet I was -glad that he should have something to divert his thoughts. When he went -out, I threw myself upon the bed and wept bitter tears, and then I began -to think what was to be done. Everything of any value, rings and spoons, -had been pawned long ago. I could see no resource but one—to go to our -relations and beg their cold charity, their bitter alms. Meanwhile Vadim -was walking aimlessly about the streets till he came to the Petrovsky -Boulevard. As he passed a bookseller’s shop there, it occurred to him to -ask whether a single copy of his book had been sold. Five days earlier -he had enquired, with no result; and he was full of apprehension when he -entered the shop. ‘Very glad to see you,’ said the man; ‘I have heard -from my Petersburg agent that he has sold 300 _roubles’_ worth of your -books. Would you like payment now?’ And the man there and then counted -out fifteen gold pieces. Vadim’s joy was so great that he was -bewildered. He hurried to the nearest eating-house, bought food, fruit, -and a bottle of wine, hired a cab, and drove home in triumph. I was -adding water to some remnants of soup, to feed the children, and I meant -to give him a little, pretending that I had eaten something already; and -then suddenly he came in, carrying his parcel and the bottle of wine, -and looking as happy and cheerful as in times past.” - -Then she burst out sobbing and could not utter another word. - -After my return from banishment I saw him occasionally in Petersburg and -found him much changed. He kept his old convictions, but he kept them as -a warrior, feeling that he is mortally wounded, still grasps his sword. -He was exhausted and depressed, and looked forward without hope. And -such I found him in Moscow in 1842; his circumstances were improved to -some extent, and his works were appreciated, but all this came too late. - -Then consumption—that terrible disease which I was fated to watch once -again[52]—declared itself in the autumn of 1842, and Vadim wasted away. - -Footnote 52: - - Herzen’s wife died of consumption at Nice in 1852. - -A month before he died, I noticed with horror that his powers of mind -were failing and growing dim like a flickering candle; the atmosphere of -the sick-room grew darker steadily. Soon it cost him a laborious effort -to find words for incoherent speech, and he confused words of similar -sound; at last, he hardly spoke except to express anxiety about his -medicines and the hours for taking them. - -At three o’clock one February morning, his wife sent for me. The sick -man was in distress and asking for me. I went up to his bed and touched -his hand; his wife named me, and he looked long and wearily at me but -failed to recognise me and shut his eyes again. Then the children were -brought, and he looked at them, but I do not think he recognised them -either. His breathing became more difficult; there were intervals of -quiet followed by long gasps. Just then the bells of a neighbouring -church rang out; Vadim listened and then said, “That’s for early Mass,” -and those were his last words. His wife sobbed on her knees beside the -body; a young college friend, who had shown them much kindness during -the last illness, moved about the room, pushing away the table with the -medicine-bottles and drawing up the blinds. I left the house; it was -frosty and bright out of doors, and the rising sun glittered on the -snow, just as if all was right with the world. My errand was to order a -coffin. - -When I returned, the silence of death reigned in the little house. In -accordance with Russian custom, the dead man was lying on the table in -the drawing-room, and an artist-friend, seated at a little distance, was -drawing, through his tears, a portrait of the lifeless features. Near -the body stood a tall female figure, with folded arms and an expression -of infinite sorrow; she stood silent, and no sculptor could have carved -a nobler or more impressive embodiment of grief. She was not young, but -still retained the traces of a severe and stately beauty; wrapped up in -a long mantle of black velvet trimmed with ermine, she stood there like -a statue. - -I remained standing at the door. - -The silence went on for several minutes; but suddenly she bent forward, -pressed a kiss on the cold forehead, and said, “Good-bye, good-bye, dear -Vadim”; then she walked with a steady step into an inner room. The -painter went on with his work; he nodded to me, and I sat down by the -window in silence; we felt no wish to talk. - -The lady was Mme. Chertkóv, the sister of Count Zachar Chernyshev, one -of the exiled Decembrists. - -Melchizedek, the Abbot of St. Peter’s Monastery, himself offered that -Vadim should be buried within the convent walls. He knew Vadim and -respected him for his researches into the history of Moscow. He had once -been a simple carpenter and a furious dissenter; but he was converted to -Orthodoxy, became a monk, and rose to be Prior and finally Abbot. Yet he -always kept the broad shoulders, fine ruddy face, and simple heart of -the carpenter. - -When the body appeared before the monastery gates, Melchizedek and all -his monks came out to meet the martyr’s poor coffin, and escorted it to -the grave, singing the funeral music. Not far from his grave rests the -dust of another who was dear to us, Venevitínov, and his epitaph runs— - - “He knew life well but left it soon”— - -and Vadim knew it as well. - -But Fortune was not content even with his death. Why indeed did his -mother live to be so old? When the period of exile came to an end, and -when she had seen her children in their youth and beauty and fine -promise for the future, life had nothing more to give her. Any man who -values happiness should seek to die young. Permanent happiness is no -more possible than ice that will not melt. - -Vadim’s eldest brother died a few months after Diomid, the soldier, fell -in Circassia: a neglected cold proved fatal to his enfeebled -constitution. He was the oldest of the family, and he was hardly forty. - -Long and black are the shadows thrown back by these three coffins of -three dear friends; the last months of my youth are veiled from me by -funeral crape and the incense of thuribles. - - * * * * * - - - §25 - -After dragging on for a year, the affair of Sungurov and our other -friends who had been arrested came to an end. The charge, as in our case -and in that of Petrashev’s group, was that they _intended_ to form a -secret society and had held treasonable conversations. Their punishment -was to be sent to Orenburg, to join the colours. - -And now our turn came. Our names were already entered on the black list -of the secret police. The cat dealt her first playful blow at the mouse -in the following way. - -When our friends, after their sentence, were starting on their long -march to Orenburg without warm enough clothing, Ogaryóv and Kiréevski -each started a subscription for them, as none of them had money. -Kiréevski took the proceeds to Staal, the commandant, a very -kind-hearted old soldier, of whom more will be said hereafter. Staal -promised to transmit the money, and then said: - -“What papers are those you have?” - -“The subscribers’ names,” said Kiréevski, “and a list of subscriptions.” - -“Do you trust me to pay over the money?” the old man asked. - -“Of course I do.” - -“And I fancy the subscribers will trust you. Well, then, what’s the use -of our keeping these names?” and Staal threw the list into the fire; and -I need hardly say that was a very kind action. - -Ogaryóv took the money he had collected to the prison himself, and no -difficulty was raised. But the prisoners took it into their heads to -send a message of thanks from Orenburg, and asked some functionary who -was travelling to Moscow to take a letter which they dared not trust to -the post. The functionary did not fail to profit by such an excellent -opportunity of proving his loyalty to his country: he laid the letter -before the head of the police at Moscow. - -Volkov, who had held this office, had gone mad, his delusion being that -the Poles wished to elect him as their king, and Lisovski had succeeded -to the position. Lisovski was a Pole himself; he was not a cruel man or -a bad man; but he had spent his fortune, thanks to gambling and a French -actress, and, like a true philosopher, he preferred the situation of -chief of the police at Moscow to a situation in the slums of that city. - -He summoned Ogaryóv, Ketcher, Satin, Vadim, Obolenski, and others, and -charged them with having relations with political prisoners. Ogaryóv -replied that he had written to none of them and had received no letter; -if one of them had written to him, he could not be responsible for that. -Lisovski then said: - -“You raised a subscription for them, which is even worse. The Tsar is -merciful enough to pardon you for once; but I warn you, gentlemen, that -you will be strictly watched, and you had better be careful.” - -He looked meaningly at all the party and his eye fell on Ketcher, who -was older and taller than the rest, and was lifting his eyebrows and -looking rather fierce. He added, “I wonder that you, Sir, considering -your position in society, are not ashamed to behave so.” Ketcher was -only a country doctor; but, from Lisovski’s words, he might have been -Chancellor of the imperial Orders of Knighthood. - -I was not summoned; it is probable that the letter did not contain my -name. - -This threat we regarded as a promotion, a consecration, a powerful -incentive. Lisovski’s warning was oil on the flames; and, as if to make -it easier for the police, we all took to velvet caps of the Karl -Sand[53] fashion and tricolor neckties. - -Footnote 53: - - The German student who shot Kotzebue. - -Colonel Shubinski now climbed up with the velvet tread of a cat into -Lisovski’s place, and soon marked his predecessor’s weakness in dealing -with us: our business was to serve as one of the steps in his official -career, and we did what was wanted. - - - §26 - -But first I shall add a few words about the fate of Sungurov and his -companions. - -Kolreif returned to Moscow, where he died in the arms of his -grief-stricken father. - -Kostenetski and Antonovitch both distinguished themselves as private -soldiers in the Caucasus and received commissions. - -The fate of the unhappy Sungurov was far more tragic. On reaching the -first stage of their journey from Moscow, he asked permission of the -officer, a young man of twenty, to leave the stifling cottage crammed -with convicts for the fresh air. The officer walked out with him. -Sungurov watched for an opportunity, sprang off the road, and -disappeared. He must have known the district well, for he eluded the -officer; but the police got upon his tracks next day. When he saw that -escape was impossible, he cut his throat. He was carried back to Moscow, -unconscious and bleeding profusely. The unlucky officer was deprived of -his commission. - -Sungurov did not die. He was tried again, not for a political offence -but for trying to escape. Half his head was shaved; and to this outward -ignominy the court added a _single stroke_ of the whip to be inflicted -inside the prison. Whether this was actually carried out, I do not know. -He was then sent off to work in the mines at Nerchinsk. - -His name came to my ears just once again and then vanished for ever. - -When I was at Vyatka, I happened to meet in the street a young doctor, a -college friend; and we spoke about old times and common acquaintances. - -“Good God!” said the doctor, “do you know whom I saw on my way here? I -was waiting at a post-house for fresh horses. The weather was -abominable. An officer in command of a party of convicts came in to warm -himself. We began to talk; and hearing that I was a doctor, he asked me -to take a look at one of the prisoners on march; I could tell him -whether the man was shamming or really very bad. I consented: of course, -I intended in any case to back up the convict. There were eighteen -convicts, as well as women and children, in one smallish barrack-room; -some of the men had their heads shaved, and some had not; but they were -all fettered. They opened out to let the officer pass; and we saw a -figure wrapped in a convict’s overcoat and lying on some straw in a -corner of the dirty room. - -“‘There’s your patient,’ said the officer. No fibs on my part were -necessary: the man was in a high fever. He was a horrible sight: he was -thin and worn out by prison and marching; half his head was shaved, and -his beard was growing; he was rolling his eyes in delirium and -constantly calling for water. - -“‘Are you feeling bad, my man?’ I said to the patient, and then I told -the officer that he was quite unable to march. - -“The man fixed his eyes on me and then muttered, ‘Is that you?’ He -addressed me by name and added, in a voice that went through me like a -knife, ‘You won’t know me again.’ - -“‘Excuse me,’ I said; ‘I have forgotten your name,’ and I took his hot -dry hand in my own. - -“‘I am Sungurov,’ he answered. Poor fellow!” repeated the doctor, -shaking his head. - -“Well, did they leave him there?” I asked. - -“No: a cart was got for him.” - -After writing the preceding narrative, I learned that Sungurov died at -Nerchinsk. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VII - -End of College Life—The “Schiller” Stage—Youth—The Artistic - Life—Saint-Simonianism and N. Polevói—Polezháev. - - - §1 - -THE storm had not yet burst over our heads when my college course came -to an end. My experience of the final stage of education was exactly -like that of everyone else—constant worry and sleepless nights for the -sake of a painful and useless test of the memory, superficial cramming, -and all real interest in learning crowded out by the nightmare of -examination. I wrote an astronomical dissertation for the gold medal, -and the silver medal was awarded me. I am sure that I should not be able -now to understand what I wrote then, and that it was worth its -weight—_in silver_. - -I have sometimes dreamt since that I was a student preparing for -examination; I thought with horror how much I had forgotten and how -certain I was to fail, and then I woke up, to rejoice with all my heart -that the sea and much else lay between me and my University, and that no -one would ever examine me again or venture to place me at the bottom of -the list. My professors would really be astonished, if they could -discover how much I have gone backward in the interval. - -When the examinations were over, the professors shut themselves up to -count the marks, and we walked up and down the passage and the -vestibule, the prey of hopes and fears. Whenever anyone left the -meeting, we rushed to him, eager to learn our fate; but the decision -took a long time. At last Heiman came out and said to me, “I -congratulate you; you have passed.” “Who else? who else?” I asked; and -some names were mentioned. I felt both sad and pleased. As I walked out -of the college gates, I felt that I was leaving the place otherwise than -yesterday or ever before, and becoming a stranger to that great family -party in which I had spent four years of youth and happiness. On the -other hand, I was pleased by the feeling that I was now admittedly grown -up, and also—I may as well confess it—by the fact that I had got my -degree at the first time of asking. - -I owe so much to my _Alma Mater_ and I continued so long after my degree -to live her life and near her, that I cannot recall the place without -love and reverence. She will not accuse me of ingratitude. In this case -at least it is easy to be grateful; for gratitude is inseparable from -love and bright memories of youthful development. Writing in a distant -foreign land, I send her my blessing! - - - §2 - -The year which we spent after leaving College formed a triumphant -conclusion to the first period of our youth. It was one long festival of -friendship, of high spirits, of inspiration and exchange of ideas. - -We were a small group of college friends who kept together after our -course was over, and continued to share the same views and the same -ideals. Not one of us thought of his future career or financial -position. I should not praise this attitude in grown-up people, but I -value it highly in a young man. Except where it is dried up by the -corrupting influence of vulgar respectability, youth is everywhere -unpractical, and is especially bound to be so in a young country which -has many ideals and has realised few of them. Besides, the unpractical -sphere is not always a fool’s paradise: every aspiration for the future -involves some degree of imagination; and, but for unpractical people, -practical life would never get beyond a tiresome repetition of the old -routine. - -Enthusiasm of some kind is a better safeguard against real degradation -than any sermon. I can remember youthful follies, when high spirits -carried us sometimes into excesses; but I do not remember a single -disgraceful incident among our set, nothing that a man need be really -ashamed of or seek to forget and cover up. Bad things are done in -secret; and there was nothing secret in our way of life. Half our -thoughts—more than half—were not directed towards that region where idle -sensuality and morbid selfishness are concentrated on impure designs and -make vice thrice as vicious. - - - §3 - -I have a sincere pity for any nation where old heads grow on young -shoulders; youth is a matter, not only of years, but of temperament. The -German student, in the height of his eccentricity, is a hundred times -better than the young Frenchman or Englishman with his dull grown-up -airs; as to American boys who are men at fifteen—I find them simply -repulsive. - -In old France the young nobles were really young and fine; and later, -such men as Saint Just and Hoche, Marceau and Desmoulins, heroic -children reared on Rousseau’s dark gospel, were young too, in the true -sense of the word. The Revolution was the work of young men: neither -Danton nor Robespierre, nor Louis XVI himself survived his thirty-fifth -year. Under Napoleon, the young men all became subalterns; the -Restoration, the “resurrection of old age,” had no use for young men; -and everybody became grown-up, business-like, and dull. - -The last really young Frenchmen were the followers of Saint Simon.[54] A -few exceptions only prove the fact that their young men have no -liveliness or poetry in their disposition. Escousse and Lebras blew -their brains out, just because they were young men in a society where -all were old. Others struggled like fish jerked out of the water upon a -muddy bank, till some of them got caught on the barricades and others on -the Jesuits’ hook. - -Footnote 54: - - Claude Henri, Comte de Saint-Simon (1760-1825), founded at Paris a - society which was called by his name. His views were socialistic. - -Still youth must assert itself somehow, and therefore most young -Frenchmen go through an “artistic” period: that is, those who have no -money spend their time in humble cafés of the Latin quarter with humble -grisettes, and those who have money resort to large cafés and more -expensive ladies. They have no “Schiller” stage; but they have what may -be called a “Paul de Kock” stage, which soon consumes in poor enough -fashion all the strength and vigour of youth, and turns out a man quite -fit to be a commercial traveller. The “artistic” stage leaves at the -bottom of the soul one passion only—the thirst for money, which excludes -all other interests and determines all the rest of life; these practical -men laugh at abstract questions and despise women—this is the result of -repeated conquests over those whose profession it is to be defeated. -Most young men, when going through this stage, find a guide and -philosopher in some hoary sinner, an extinct celebrity who lives by -sponging on his young friends—an actor who has lost his voice, or an -artist whose hand has begun to shake. Telemachus imitates his Mentor’s -pronunciation and his drinks, and especially his contempt for social -problems and profound knowledge of gastronomy. - -In England this stage takes a different form. There young men go through -a stormy period of amiable eccentricity, which consists in silly -practical jokes, absurd extravagance, heavy pleasantries, systematic but -carefully concealed profligacy, and useless expeditions to the ends of -the earth. Then there are horses, dogs, races, dull dinners; next comes -the wife with an incredible number of fat, red-cheeked babies, business -in the City, the _Times_, parliament, and old port which finally clips -the Englishman’s wings. - -We too did foolish things and were riotous at times, but the prevailing -tone was different and the atmosphere purer. Folly and noise were never -an object in themselves. We believed in our mission; and though we may -have made mistakes, yet we respected ourselves and one another as the -instruments of a common purpose. - - - §4 - -But what were these revels of ours like? It would suddenly occur to one -of us that this was the fourth of December and that the sixth was St. -Nicholas’ Day. Many of us were named after the Saint, Ogaryóv himself -and at least three more. “Well, who shall give a dinner on the day?” “I -will—I will.” “I’ll give one on the seventh.” “Pooh! what’s the seventh? -We must contribute and all give it together; and that will be a grand -feed.” - -“All right. Where shall we meet?” - -“So-and-so is ill. Clearly we must go to him.” - -Then followed plans and calculations which gave a surprising amount of -occupation to both hosts and guests at the coming banquet. One Nikolai -went off to a restaurant to order the supper, another elsewhere to order -cheese and savouries; our wine invariably came from the famous shop of -Deprez. We were no connoisseurs and never soared above champagne; -indeed, our youthful palates deserted even champagne in favour of a -brand called _Rivesaltes Mousseux_. I once noticed this name on the card -of a Paris restaurant, and called for a bottle of it, in memory of 1833. -But alas! not even sentiment could induce me to swallow more than one -glass. - -The wine had to be tasted before the feast, and as the samples evidently -gave great satisfaction, it was necessary to send more than one mission -for this purpose. - - - §5 - -In this connexion I cannot refrain from recording something that -happened to our friend Sokolovski. He could never keep money and spent -at once whatever he got. A year before his arrest, he paid a visit to -Moscow. As he had been successful in selling the manuscript of a poem, -he determined to give a dinner and to ask not only us but such bigwigs -as Polevói, Maximovitch, and others. On the day before, he went out with -Polezháev, who was in Moscow with his regiment, to make his purchases; -he bought all kinds of needless things, cups and even a _samovár_, and -finally wine and eatables, such as stuffed turkeys, patties, and so on. -Five of us went that evening to his rooms, and he proposed to open a -single bottle for our benefit. A second followed, and at the end of the -evening, or rather, at dawn of the next day, it appeared that the wine -was all drunk and that Sokolovski had no more money. After paying some -small debts, he had spent all his money on the dinner. He was much -distressed, but, after long reflexion, plucked up courage and wrote to -all the bigwigs that he was seriously ill and must put off his party. - - - §6 - -For our “feast of the four birthdays” I wrote out a regular programme, -which was honoured by the special attention of Golitsyn, one of the -Commissioners at our trial, who asked me if the programme had been -carried out exactly. - -“_À la lettre!_” I replied. He shrugged his shoulders, as if his own -life had been a succession of Good Fridays spent in a monastery. - -Our suppers were generally followed by a lively discussion over a -question of the first importance, which was this—how ought the punch to -be made? Up to this point, the eating and drinking went on usually in -perfect harmony, like a bill in parliament which is carried _nem. con._ -But over the punch everyone had his own view; and the previous meal -enlivened the discussion. Was the punch to be set on fire now, or to be -set on fire later? How was it to be set on fire? Was champagne or -sauterne to be used to put it out? Was the pineapple to be put in while -it was still alight, or not? - -“While it’s burning, of course! Then all the flavour will pass into the -punch.” - -“Nonsense! The pineapple floats and will get burnt. That will simply -spoil it.” - -“That is all rubbish,” cries Ketcher, high above the rest; “but I’ll -tell you what does matter—we must put out the candles.” - -When the candles were out, all faces looked blue in the flickering light -of the punch. The room was not large, and the burning rum soon raised -the temperature to a tropical height. All were thirsty, but the punch -was not ready. But Joseph, a French waiter sent from the restaurant, -rose to the occasion: he brewed a kind of antithesis to the punch—an -iced drink compounded of various wines with a foundation of brandy; and -as he poured in the French wine, he explained, like a true son of the -_grande nation_, that the wine owed its excellence to having twice -crossed the equator—“_Oui, oui, messieurs, deux fois l’équateur, -messieurs!_” - -Joseph’s cup was as cold as the North Pole. When it was finished, there -was no need of any further liquid; but Ketcher now called out, “Time to -put out the punch!” He was stirring a fiery lake in a soup-tureen, while -the last lumps of sugar hissed and bubbled as they melted. - -In goes the champagne, and the flame turns red and careers over the -surface of the punch, looking somehow angry and menacing. - -Then a desperate shout: “My good man, are you mad? The wax is dropping -straight off the bottle into the punch!” - -“Well, just you try yourself, in this heat, to hold the bottle so that -the wax won’t melt!” - -“You should knock it off first, of course,” continues the critic. - -“The cups, the cups—have we enough to go round? How many are we—ten, -twelve, fourteen? That’s right.” - -“We’ve not got fourteen cups.” - -“Then the rest must take glasses.” - -“The glasses will crack.” - -“Not a bit of it, if you put the spoon in.” - -The candles are re-lit, the last little tongue of flame darts to the -centre of the bowl, twirls round, and disappears. - -And all admit that the punch is a success, a splendid success. - - - §7 - -Next day I awake with a headache, clearly due to the punch. That comes -of mixing liquors. Punch is poison; I vow never to touch it in future. - -My servant, Peter, comes in. “You came in last night, Sir, wearing -someone else’s hat, not so good a hat as your own.” - -“The deuce take my hat!” - -“Perhaps I had better go where you dined last night and enquire?” - -“Do you suppose, my good man, that one of the party went home -bare-headed?” - -“It can do no harm—just in case.” - -Now it dawns upon me that the hat is a pretext, and that Peter has been -invited to the scene of last night’s revelry. - -“All right, you can go. But first tell the cook to send me up some -pickled cabbage.” - -“I suppose, Sir, the birthday party went off well last night?” - -“I should rather think so! There never was such a party in all my time -at College.” - -“I suppose you won’t want me to go to the University with you to-day?” - -I feel remorse and make no reply. - -“Your papa asked me why you were not up yet. But I was a match for him. -‘He has a headache,’ I said, ‘and complained when I called him; so I -left the blinds down.’ And your papa said I was right.” - -“For goodness sake, let me go to sleep! You wanted to go, so be off with -you!” - -“In a minute, Sir; I’ll just order the cabbage first.” - -Heavy sleep again seals my eyelids, and I wake in two hours’ time, -feeling a good deal fresher. I wonder what my friends are doing. Ketcher -and Ogaryóv were to spend the night where we dined. I must admit that -the punch was very good; but its effect on the head is annoying. To -drink it out of a tumbler is a mistake; I am quite determined in future -to drink it always out of a _liqueur_-glass. - -Meanwhile my father has read the papers and interviewed the cook as -usual. - -“Have you a headache to-day?” he asks. - -“Yes, a bad one.” - -“Perhaps you’ve been working too hard.” - -But the way he asked the question showed he did not believe that. - -“Oh, I forgot: you were dining with your friends last night, eh?” - -“Yes, I was.” - -“A birthday party? And they treated you handsomely, I’ve no doubt. Did -you have soup made with Madeira? That sort of thing is not to my taste. -I know one of your young friends is too often at the bottle; but I can’t -imagine where he gets the taste from. His poor father used to give a -dinner on his birthday, the twenty-ninth of June, and ask all his -relations; but it was always a very modest, decent affair. But this -modern fashion of champagne and sardines _à l’huile_—I don’t like to see -it. Your other friend, that unfortunate young Ogaryóv, is even worse. -Here he is, left to himself in Moscow, with his pockets full of money. -He is constantly sending his coachman, Jeremy, for wine; and the -coachman has no objection, because the dealer gives him a present.” - -“Well, I did have lunch with Ogaryóv. But I don’t think my headache can -be due to that. I think I will take a turn in the open air; that always -does me good.” - -“By all means, but I hope you will dine at home.” - -“Certainly; I shan’t be long.” - - - §8 - -But I must explain the allusion to Madeira in the soup. A year or more -before the grand birthday party, I went out for a walk with Ogaryóv one -day in Easter week, and, in order to escape dinner at home, I said that -I had been invited to dine at their house by Ogaryóv’s father. - -My father did not care for my friends in general and used to call them -by wrong names, though he always made the same mistake in addressing any -of them; and Ogaryóv was less of a favourite than any, both because he -wore his hair long and because he smoked without being asked to do so. -But on the other hand, my father could hardly mutilate his own -grandnephew’s surname; and also Ogaryóv’s father, both by birth and -fortune, belonged to the select circle of people whom my father -recognised. Hence he was pleased to see me going often to their house, -but he would have been still better pleased if the house had contained -no son. - -He thought it proper therefore for me to accept the invitation. But -Ogaryóv and I did not repair to his father’s respectable dining-room. We -went first to Price’s place of entertainment. Price was an acrobat, whom -I was delighted to meet later with his accomplished family in both -Geneva and London. He had a little daughter, whom we admired greatly and -had christened Mignon.[55] When we had seen Mignon perform and decided -to come back for the evening performance, we went to dine at the best -restaurant in Moscow. I had one gold piece in my pocket, and Ogaryóv had -about the same sum. At that time we had no experience in ordering -dinners. After long consultation we ordered fish-soup made with -champagne, a bottle of Rhine wine, and a tiny portion of game. The -result was that we paid a terrific bill and left the restaurant feeling -exceedingly hungry. Then we went back to see Mignon a second time. - -Footnote 55: - - After the character in Goethe’s _Wilhelm Meister_. The Prices were - evidently English. - -When I was saying good-night to my father, he said, “Surely you smell of -wine.” - -“That is probably because there was Madeira in the soup at dinner,” I -replied. - -“Madeira? That must be a notion of M. Ogaryóv’s son-in-law; no one but a -guardsman would think of such a thing.” - -And from that time until my banishment, whenever my father thought that -I had been drinking wine and that my face was flushed, he invariably -attributed it to Madeira in the soup I had taken. - - - §9 - -On the present occasion, I hurried off to the scene of our revelry and -found Ogaryóv and Ketcher still there. The latter looked rather the -worse for wear; he was finding fault with some of last night’s -arrangements and was severely critical. Ogaryóv was trying a hair of the -dog that bit him, though there was little left to drink after the party, -and that little was now diminished by the descent of my man Peter, who -was by this time in full glory, singing a song and drumming on the -kitchen table downstairs. - - - §10 - -When I recall those days, I cannot remember a single incident among our -set such as might weigh upon a man’s conscience and cause shame in -recollection; and this is true of every one of the group without a -single exception. - -Of course, there were Platonic lovers among us, and disenchanted youths -of sixteen. Vadim even wrote a play, in order to set forth the “terrible -experience of a broken heart.” The play began thus—_A garden, with a -house in the distance; there are lights in the windows. The stage is -empty. A storm is blowing. The garden gate clinks and bangs in the -wind._ - -“Are the garden and the gate your only _dramatis personae_?” I asked -him. He was rather offended. “What nonsense you talk!” he said; “it is -no joking matter but an actual experience. But if you take it so, I -won’t read any more.” But he did, none the less. - -There were also love affairs which were by no means Platonic, but there -were none of those low intrigues which ruin the woman concerned and -debase the man; there were no “kept mistresses”; that disgusting phrase -did not even exist. Cool, safe, prosaic profligacy of the bourgeois -fashion, profligacy by contract, was unknown to our group. - -If it is said that I approve of the worst form of profligacy, in which a -woman sells herself for the occasion, I say that it is you, not I, who -approve of it—not you in particular but people in general. That custom -rests so securely on the present constitution of society that it needs -no patronage of mine. - -Our interest in general questions and our social ideals saved us; and a -keen interest in scientific and artistic matters helped us too. These -preoccupations had a purifying effect, just as lighted paper makes -grease-spots vanish. I have kept some of Ogaryóv’s letters written at -that time; and they give a good idea of what was mostly in our minds. -For example, he writes to me on June 7, 1833: - -“I think we know one another well enough to speak frankly. You won’t -show my letter to anyone. Well, for some time past I have been so -filled—crushed, I might say—with feelings and ideas, that I think—but -‘think’ is too weak: I have an indelible impression—that I was born to -be a poet, whether writer of verse or composer of music, never mind -which. I feel it impossible to part from this belief; I have a kind of -intuition that I am a poet. Granting that I still write badly, still -this inward fire and this abundance of feeling make me hope that some -day I shall write decently—please excuse the triviality of the phrase. -Tell me, my dear friend, whether I can believe in my vocation. Perhaps -you know better than I do myself, and you will not be misled.” - -He writes again on August 18: - -“So you answer that I am a poet, a true poet. Is it possible that you -understand the full significance of your words? If you are right, my -feelings do not deceive me, and the object and aspiration of my whole -life is not a mere dream. Are you right, I wonder? I feel sure that I am -not merely raving. No one knows me better than you do—of that I am sure. -Yes! that high vocation is not mere raving, no mere illusion; it is too -high for deception, it is real, I live by virtue of it and cannot -imagine a different life for myself. If only I could compose, what a -symphony would take wing from my brain just now! First a majestic -_adagio_; but it has not power to express all; I need a _presto_, a wild -stormy _presto_. _Adagio_ and _presto_ are the two extremes. A fig for -your _andante_ and _allegro moderato_! They are mere mediocrities who -can only lisp, incapable alike of strong speech or strong feeling.” - -To us this strain of youthful enthusiasm sounds strange, from long -disuse; but these few lines of a youth under twenty show clearly enough -that the writer is insured against commonplace vice and commonplace -virtue, and that, though he may stumble into the mire, he will come out -of it undefiled. - -There is no want of self-confidence in the letter; but the believer has -doubts and a passionate desire for confirmation and a word of sympathy, -though that hardly needed to be spoken. It is the restlessness of -creative activity, the uneasy looking about of a pregnant soul. - -“As yet,” he writes in the same letter, “I can’t catch the sounds that -my brain hears; a physical incapacity limits my fancy. But never mind! A -poet I am, and poetry whispers to me truth which I could never have -discovered by cold logic. Such is my theory of revelation.” - -Thus ends the first part of our youth, and the second begins with -prison. But before starting on that episode, I must record the ideas -towards which we were tending when the prison-doors closed on us. - - - §11 - -The period that followed the suppression of the Polish revolt in 1830 -was a period of rapid enlightenment. We soon perceived with inward -horror that things were going badly in Europe and especially in -France—France to which we looked for a political creed and a banner; and -we began to distrust our own theories. - -The simple liberalism of 1826, which by degrees took, in France, the -form sung by Béranger and preached by men like La Fayette and Benjamin -Constant, lost its magic power over us after the destruction of Poland. - -It was then that some young Russians, including Vadim, took refuge in -the profound study of Russian history, while others took to German -philosophy. - -But Ogaryóv and I did not join either of these groups. Certain ideals -had become so much a part of us that we could not lightly give them up. -Our belief in the sort of dinner-table revolution dear to Béranger was -shaken; but we sought something different, which we could not find -either in Nestor’s _Chronicle_[56] or in the transcendentalism of -Schelling. - -Footnote 56: - - The earliest piece of literature in Russian. - - - §12 - -During this period of ferment and surmise and endeavour to understand -the doubts that frightened us, there came into our hands the pamphlets -and sermons of the Saint-Simonians, and the report of their trial. We -were much impressed by them. - -Superficial and unsuperficial critics alike have had their laugh at _Le -Père Enfantin_[57] and his apostles; but a time is coming when a -different reception will be given to those forerunners of socialism. - -Footnote 57: - - Barthèlemy Enfantin (1796-1864) carried on the work of Saint-Simon in - Paris. - -Though these young enthusiasts wore long beards and high waistcoats, yet -their appearance in a prosaic world was both romantic and serious. They -proclaimed a new belief, they had something to say—a principle by virtue -of which they summoned before their judgement-seat the old order of -things, which wished to try them by the _code Napoléon_ and the religion -of the House of Orleans. - -First, they proclaimed the emancipation of women—summoning them to a -common task, giving them control of their own destiny, and making an -alliance with them on terms of equality. - -Their second dogma was the restoration of the body to credit—_la -réhabilitation de la chair_. - -These mighty watchwords comprise a whole world of new relations between -human beings—a world of health and spirit and beauty, a world of natural -and therefore pure morality. Many mocked at the “freedom of women” and -the “recognition of the rights of the flesh,” attributing a low and -unclean meaning to these phrases; for our minds, corrupted by -monasticism, fear the flesh and fear women. A religion of life had come -to replace the religion of death, a religion of beauty to replace the -religion of penance and emaciation, of fasting and prayer. The crucified -body had risen in its turn and was no longer abashed. Man had reached a -harmonious unity: he had discovered that he is a single being, not made, -like a pendulum, of two different metals that check each other; he -realised that the foe in his members had ceased to exist. - -It required no little courage to preach such a message to all France, -and to attack those beliefs which are so strongly held by all Frenchmen -and so entirely powerless to influence their conduct. - -To the old world, mocked by Voltaire and shattered by the Revolution, -and then patched and cobbled for their own use by the middle classes, -this was an entirely new experience. It tried to judge these dissenters, -but its own hypocritical pretences were brought to light by them in open -court. When the Saint-Simonians were charged with religious apostasy, -they pointed to the crucifix in the court which had been veiled since -the revolution of 1830; and when they were accused of justifying -sensuality, they asked their judge if he himself led a chaste life. - -A new world was knocking at the door, and our hearts and minds flew open -to welcome it. The socialism of Saint Simon became the foundation of our -beliefs and has remained an essential part of them. - -With the impressibility and frankness of youth, we were easily caught up -by the mighty stream and early passed across that Jordan, before which -whole armies of mankind stop short, fold their arms, and either march -backwards or hunt about for a ford; but there is no ford over Jordan! - -We did not all cross. Socialism and rationalism are to this day the -touchstones of humanity, the rocks which lie in the course of revolution -and science. Groups of swimmers, driven by reflexion or the waves of -circumstance against these rocks, break up at once into two camps, -which, under different disguises, remain the same throughout all -history, and may be distinguished either in a great political party or -in a group of a dozen young men. One represents logic; the other, -history: one stands for dialectics; the other for evolution. Truth is -the main object of the former, and feasibility of the latter. There is -no question of choice between them: thought is harder to tame than any -passion and pulls with irresistible force. Some may be able to put on -the drag and stop themselves by means of feeling or dreams or fear of -consequences; but not all can do this. If thought once masters a man, he -ceases to discuss whether the thing is practicable, and whether the -enterprise is hard or easy: he seeks truth alone and carries out his -principles with inexorable impartiality, as the Saint-Simonians did in -their day and as Proudhon[58] does still. - -Footnote 58: - - Pierre Joseph Proudhon (1809-1863), a French publicist and socialist. - -Our group grew smaller and smaller. As early as 1833, the “liberals” -looked askance at us as backsliders. Just before we were imprisoned, -Saint-Simonianism raised a barrier between me and Polevói. He had an -extraordinarily active and adroit mind, which could rapidly assimilate -any food; he was a born journalist, the very man to chronicle successes -and discoveries and the battles of politicians or men of science. I made -his acquaintance towards the end of my college course and saw a good -deal of him and his brother, Xenophon. He was then at the height of his -reputation; it was shortly before the suppression of his newspaper, the -_Telegraph_. - -To Polevói the latest discovery, the freshest novelty either of incident -or theory, was the breath of his nostrils, and he was changeable as a -chameleon. Yet, for all his lively intelligence, he could never -understand the Saint-Simonian doctrine. What was to us a revelation was -to him insanity, a mere Utopia and a hindrance to social progress. I -might declaim and expound and argue as much as I pleased—Polevói was -deaf, grew angry and even bitter. He especially resented opposition on -the part of a student; for he valued his influence over the young, and -these disputes showed him that it was slipping out of his grasp. - -One day I was hurt by the absurdity of his criticisms and told him that -he was just as benighted as the foes against whom he had been fighting -all his life. Stung to the quick by my taunt he said, “Your time will -come too, when, in recompense for a lifetime of labour and effort, some -young man with a smile on his face will call you a back number and bid -you get out of his way.” I felt sorry for him and ashamed of having hurt -his feelings; and yet I felt also that this complaint, more suitable to -a worn-out gladiator than a tough fighter, contained his own -condemnation. I was sure then that he would never go forward, and also -that his active mind would prevent him from remaining where he was, in a -position of unstable equilibrium. - -His subsequent history is well known: he wrote _Parasha, the Siberian -Girl_. - -If a man cannot pass off the stage when his hour has struck and cannot -adopt a new rôle, he had better die. That is what I felt when I looked -at Polevói, and at Pius the Ninth, and at how many others! - - - §13 - -To complete my chronicle of that sad time, I should record here some -details about Polezháev. - -Even at College he became known for his remarkable powers as a poet. One -of his productions was a humorous poem called _Sashka_, a parody of -Púshkin’s _Onégin_; he trod on many corns in the pretty and playful -verse, and the poem, never intended for print, allowed itself the -fullest liberty of expression. - -When the Tsar Nicholas came to Moscow for his coronation in the autumn -of 1826, the secret police furnished him with a copy of the poem. - -So, at three one morning, Polezháev was wakened by the Vice-Chancellor -and told to put on his uniform and appear at the office. The Visitor of -the University was waiting for him there: he looked to see that -Polezháev’s uniform had no button missing and no button too many, and -then carried him off in his own carriage, without offering any -explanation. - -They drove to the house of the Minister of Education. The Minister of -Education also gave Polezháev a seat in his carriage, and this time they -drove to the Palace itself. - -Prince Liven proceeded to an inner room, leaving Polezháev in a -reception room, where, in spite of the early hour—it was 6 a.m.—several -courtiers and other high functionaries were waiting. They supposed that -the young man had distinguished himself in some way and began a -conversation with him at once; one of them proposed to engage him as -tutor to his son. - -He was soon sent for. The Tsar was standing, leaning on a desk and -talking to Liven. He held a manuscript in his hand and darted an -enquiring glance at Polezháev as he entered the room. “Did you write -these verses?” he asked. - -“Yes,” said Polezháev. - -“Well, Prince,” the Tsar went on, “I shall give you a specimen of -University education; I shall show you what the young men learn there.” -Then he turned to Polezháev and added, “Read this manuscript aloud.” - -Polezháev’s agitation was such that he could not read it; and he said -so. - -“Read it at once!” - -The loud voice restored his strength to Polezháev, and he opened the -manuscript. He said afterwards that he had never seen _Sashka_ so well -copied or on such fine paper. - -At first he read with difficulty, but by degrees he took courage and -read the poem to the end in a loud lively tone. At the most risky -passages the Tsar waved his hand to the Minister and the Minister closed -his eyes in horror. - -“What do you say, Prince?” asked Nicholas, when the reading was over. “I -mean to put a stop to this profligacy. These are surviving relics of the -old mischief,[59] but I shall root them out. What character does he -bear?” - -Footnote 59: - - _I.e._, the Decembrist conspiracy. - -Of course the Minister knew nothing about his character; but some humane -instinct awoke in him, and he said, “He bears an excellent character, -Your Majesty.” - -“You may be grateful for that testimony. But you must be punished as an -example to others. Do you wish to enter the Army?” - -Polezháev was silent. - -“I offer you this means of purification. Will you take it?” - -“I must obey when you command,” said Polezháev. The Tsar came close up -to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. He said: “Your fate depends upon -yourself. If I forget about you, you may write to me.” Then he kissed -Polezháev on the forehead. - -This last detail seemed to me so improbable that I made Polezháev repeat -it a dozen times; he swore that it was true. - -From the presence of the Tsar, Polezháev was taken to Count Diebitch, -who had rooms in the Palace. Diebitch was roused out of his sleep and -came in yawning. He read through the document and asked the -_aide-de-camp_, “Is this the man?” “Yes,” was the reply. - -“Well, good luck to you in the service! I was in it myself and worked my -way up, as you see; perhaps you will be a field-marshal yourself some -day.” That was Diebitch’s kiss—a stupid, ill-timed, German joke. -Polezháev was taken to camp and made to serve with the colours. - -When three years had passed, Polezháev recalled what the Tsar had said -and wrote him a letter. No answer came. After a few months he wrote -again with the same result. Feeling sure that his letters were not -delivered, he deserted, his object being to present a petition in -person. But he behaved foolishly: he hunted up some college friends in -Moscow and was entertained by them, and of course further secrecy was -impossible. He was arrested at Tver and sent back to his regiment as a -deserter; he had to march all the way in fetters. A court-martial -sentenced him to run the gauntlet, and the sentence was forwarded to the -Tsar for confirmation. - -Polezháev determined to commit suicide before the time of his -punishment. For long he searched in the prison for some sharp -instrument, and at last he confided in an old soldier who was attached -to him. The soldier understood and sympathised with his wish; and when -he heard that the reply had come, he brought a bayonet and said with -tears in his eyes as he gave it to Polezháev, “I sharpened it with my -own hands.” - -But the Tsar ordered that Polezháev should not be flogged. - -It was at this time that he wrote that excellent poem which begins— - - “No consolation - Came when I fell; - In jubilation - Laughed fiends of Hell.” - -He was sent to the Caucasus, where he distinguished himself and was -promoted corporal. Years passed, and the tedium and hopelessness of his -position were too much for him. For him it was impossible to become a -poet at the service of the police, and that was the only way to get rid -of the knapsack. - -There was, indeed, one other way, and he preferred it: he drank, in -order to forget. There is one terrible poem of his—_To Whiskey_. - -He got himself transferred to a regiment of carabineers quartered at -Moscow. This was a material improvement in his circumstances, but cruel -consumption had already fastened on his lungs. It was at this time I -made his acquaintance, about 1833. He dragged on for four years more and -died in the military hospital. - -When one of his friends went to ask for the body, to bury it, no one -knew where it was. The military hospital carries on a trade in dead -bodies, selling them to the University and medical schools, -manufacturing skeletons, and so on. Polezháev’s body was found at last -in a cellar; there were other corpses on the top of it, and the rats had -gnawed one of the feet. - -His poems were published after his death, and it was intended to add a -portrait of him in his private’s uniform. But the censor objected to -this, and the unhappy victim appears with the epaulettes of an -officer—he was promoted while in the hospital. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PART II - - PRISON AND EXILE - - (1834-1838) - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER I - -A Prophecy—Ogaryóv’s Arrest—The Fires—A Moscow Liberal—Mihail Orlóv—The - Churchyard. - - - §1 - -ONE morning in the spring of 1834 I went to Vadim’s house. Though -neither he nor any of his brothers or sisters were at home, I went -upstairs to his little room, sat down, and began to write. - -The door opened softly, and Vadim’s mother came in. Her tread was -scarcely audible; looking tired and ill, she went to an armchair and sat -down. “Go on writing,” she said; “I just looked in to see if Vadya had -come home. The children have gone out for a walk, and the downstairs -rooms are so empty and depressing that I felt sad and frightened. I -shall sit here for a little, but don’t let me interfere with what you -are doing.” - -She looked thoughtful, and her face showed more clearly than usual the -shadow of past suffering, and that suspicious fear of the future and -distrust of life which is the invariable result of great calamities when -they last long and are often repeated. - -We began to talk. She told me something of their life in Siberia. “I -have come through much already,” she said, shaking her head, “and there -is more to come: my heart forebodes evil.” - -I remembered how, sometimes, when listening to our free talk on -political subjects, she would turn pale and heave a gentle sigh; and -then she would go away to another room and remain silent for a long -time. - -“You and your friends,” she went on, “are on the road that leads to -certain ruin—ruin to Vadya and yourself and all of you. You know I love -you like a son”—and a tear rolled down her worn face. - -I said nothing. She took my hand, tried to smile, and went on: “Don’t be -vexed with me; my nerves are upset. I quite understand. You must go your -own way; for you there is no other; if there were, you would be -different people. I know this, but I cannot conquer my fears; I have -borne so much misfortune that I have no strength for more. Please don’t -say a word of this to Vadya, or he will be vexed and argue with me. But -here he is!”—and she hastily wiped away her tears and once more begged -me by a look to keep her secret. - -Unhappy mother! Saint and heroine! Corneille’s _qu’il mourût_[60] was -not a nobler utterance than yours. - -Footnote 60: - - Said of his son by the father in Corneille’s play, _Horace_. - -Her prophecy was soon fulfilled. Though the storm passed harmless this -time over the heads of her sons, yet the poor lady had much grief and -fear to suffer. - - - §2 - -“Arrested him?” I called out, springing out of bed, and pinching myself, -to find out if I was asleep or awake. - -“Two hours after you left our house, the police and a party of Cossacks -came and arrested my master and seized his papers.” - -The speaker was Ogaryóv’s valet. Of late all had been quiet, and I could -not imagine what pretext the police had invented. Ogaryóv had only come -to Moscow the day before. And why had they arrested him, and not me? - -To do nothing was impossible. I dressed and went out without any -definite purpose. It was my first experience of misfortune. I felt -wretched and furious at my own impotence. - -I wandered about the streets till at last I thought of a friend whose -social position made it possible for him to learn the state of the case, -and, perhaps, to mend matters. But he was then living terribly far off, -at a house in a distant suburb. I called the first cab I saw and hurried -off at top speed. It was then seven o’clock in the morning. - - - §3 - -Eighteen months before this time we had made the acquaintance of this -man, who was a kind of a celebrity in Moscow. Educated in Paris, he was -rich, intelligent, well-informed, witty, and independent in his ideas. -For complicity in the Decembrist plot he had been imprisoned in a -fortress till he and some others were released; and though he had not -been exiled, he wore a halo. He was in the public service and had great -influence with Prince Dmitri Golitsyn, the Governor of Moscow, who liked -people with independent views, especially if they could express them in -good French; for the Governor was not strong in Russian. - -V.—as I shall call him—was ten years our senior and surprised us by his -sensible comments on current events, his knowledge of political affairs, -his eloquent French, and the ardour of his liberalism. He knew so much -and so thoroughly; he was so pleasant and easy in conversation; his -views were so clearly defined; he had a reply to every question and a -solution of every problem. He read everything—new novels, pamphlets, -newspapers, poetry, and was working seriously at zoology as well; he -drew up reports for the Governor and was organising a series of -school-books. - -His liberalism was of the purest tricolour hue, the liberalism of the -Left, midway between Mauguin and General Lamarque.[61] - -Footnote 61: - - French politicians prominent about 1830. - -The walls of his study in Moscow were covered with portraits of famous -revolutionaries, from John Hampden and Bailly to Fieschi and Armand -Carrel,[62] and a whole library of prohibited books was ranged beneath -these patron saints. A skeleton, with a few stuffed birds and scientific -preparations, gave an air of study and concentration to the room and -toned down its revolutionary appearance. - -Footnote 62: - - Bailly, Mayor of Paris, was guillotined in 1793. Fieschi was executed - in 1836 for an attempt on the life of Louis Philippe. Armand Carrel - was a French publicist and journalist who fell in a duel in 1836. - -We envied his experience and knowledge of the world; his subtle irony in -argument impressed us greatly. We thought of him as a practical reformer -and rising statesman. - - - §4 - -V. was not at home. He had gone to Moscow the evening before, for an -interview with the Governor; his valet said that he would certainly -return within two hours. I waited for him. - -The country-house which he occupied was charming. The study where I -waited was a high spacious room on the ground-floor, with a large door -leading to a terrace and garden. It was a hot day; the scent of trees -and flowers came from the garden; and some children were playing in -front of the house and laughing loudly. Wealth, ease, space, sun and -shade, flowers and verdure—what a contrast to the confinement and close -air and darkness of a prison! I don’t know how long I sat there, -absorbed in bitter thoughts; but suddenly the valet who was on the -terrace called out to me with an odd kind of excitement. - -“What is it?” I asked. - -“Please come here and look.” - -Not wishing to annoy the man, I walked out to the terrace, and stood -still in horror. All round a number of houses were burning; it seemed as -if they had all caught fire at once. The fire was spreading with -incredible speed. - -I stayed on the terrace. The man watched the fire with a kind of uneasy -satisfaction, and he said, “It’s spreading grandly; that house on the -right is certain to be burnt.” - -There is something revolutionary about a fire: fire mocks at property -and equalises fortunes. The valet felt this instinctively. - -Within half an hour, a whole quarter of the sky was covered with smoke, -red below and greyish black above. It was the beginning of those fires -which went on for five months, and of which we shall hear more in the -sequel. - -At last V. arrived. He was in good spirits, very cordial and friendly, -talking of the fires past which he had come and of the common report -that they were due to arson. Then he added, half in jest: “It’s -Pugatchóv[63] over again. Just look out, or you and I will be caught by -the rebels and impaled.” - -Footnote 63: - - The leader of a famous rebellion in Catherine’s reign. Many nobles - were murdered with brutal cruelty. - -“I am more afraid that the authorities will lay us by the heels,” I -answered. “Do you know that Ogaryóv was arrested last night by the -police?” - -“The police! Good heavens!” - -“That is why I came. Something must be done. You must go to the Governor -and find out what the charge is; and you must ask leave for me to see -him.” - -No answer came, and I looked at V. I saw a face that might have belonged -to his elder brother—the pleasant colour and features were changed; he -groaned aloud and was obviously disturbed. - -“What’s the matter?” I asked. - -“You know I told you, I always told you, how it would end. Yes, yes, it -was bound to happen. It’s likely enough they will shut me up too, though -I am perfectly innocent. I know what the inside of a fortress is like, -and it’s no joke, I can tell you.” - -“Will you go to the Governor?” - -“My dear fellow, what good would it do? Let me give you a piece of -friendly advice: don’t say a word about Ogaryóv; keep as quiet as you -can, or harm will come of it. You don’t know how dangerous affairs like -this are. I frankly advise you to keep out of it. Make what stir you -like, you will do Ogaryóv no good and you will get caught yourself. That -is what autocracy means—Russian subjects have no rights and no means of -defence, no advocates and no judges.” - -But his brave words and trenchant criticisms had no attractions for me -on this occasion: I took my hat and departed. - - - §5 - -I found a general commotion going on at home. My father was angry with -me because Ogaryóv had been arrested; my uncle, the Senator, was already -on the scene, rummaging among my books and picking out those which he -thought dangerous; he was very uneasy. - -On my table I found an invitation to dine that day with Count Orlóv. -Possibly he might be able to do something? Though I had learned a lesson -by my first experiment, it could do no harm to try. - -Mihail Orlóv was one of the founders of the famous Society of -Welfare;[64] and if he missed Siberia, he was less to blame for that -than his brother, who was the first to gallop up with his squadron of -the Guards to the defence of the Winter Palace, on December 14, 1825. -Orlóv was confined at first to his own estates, and allowed to settle in -Moscow a few years later. During his solitary life in the country he -studied political economy and chemistry. The first time I met him he -spoke of a new method of naming chemical compounds. Able men who take up -some science late in life often show a tendency to rearrange the -furniture, so to speak, to suit their own ideas. Orlóv’s system was more -complicated than the French system, which is generally accepted. As I -wished to attract his attention, I argued in a friendly way that, though -his system was good, it was not as good as the old one. - -Footnote 64: - - An imitation of the _Tugenbund_ formed by German students in 1808. In - Russia the society became identified with the Decembrists. - -He contested the point, but ended by agreeing with me. - -My little trick was successful, and we became intimate. He saw in me a -rising possibility, and I saw in him a man who had fought for our -ideals, an intimate friend of our heroes, and a shining light amid -surrounding darkness. - -Poor Orlóv was like a caged lion. He beat against the bars of his cage -at every turn; nowhere could he find elbow-room or occupation, and he -was devoured by a passion for activity. - -More than once since the collapse of France[65] I have met men of this -type, men to whom political activity was an absolute necessity, who -never could find rest within the four walls of their study or in family -life. To them solitude is intolerable: it makes them fanciful and -unreasonable; they quarrel with their few remaining friends, and are -constantly discovering plots against themselves, or else they make plots -of their own, in order to unmask the imaginary schemes of their enemies. - -Footnote 65: - - _I.e._, after December 2, 1851. - -A theatre of action and spectators are as vital to these men as the air -they breathe, and they are capable of real heroism under such -conditions. Noise and publicity are essential to them; they must be -making speeches and hearing the objections of their opponents; they love -the excitement of contest and the fever of danger, and, if deprived of -these stimulants, they grow depressed and spiritless, run to seed, lose -their heads, and make mistakes. Ledru-Roilin[66] is a man of this type; -and he, by the way, especially since he has grown a beard, has a -personal resemblance to Orlóv. - -Footnote 66: - - Alexandre Ledru-Rollin (1807-1874), a French liberal politician and - advocate of universal suffrage. - -Orlóv was a very fine-looking man. His tall figure, dignified bearing, -handsome manly features, and entirely bald scalp seemed to suit one -another perfectly, and lent an irresistible attraction to his outward -appearance. His head would make a good contrast with the head of General -Yermólov, that tough old warrior, whose square frowning forehead, -penthouse of grey hair, and penetrating glance gave him the kind of -beauty which fascinated Marya Kochubéi in the poem.[67] - -Footnote 67: - - See Púshkin’s _Poltáva_. Marya, who was young and beautiful, fell in - love with Mazeppa, who was old and war-worn and her father’s enemy. - -Orlóv was at his wits’ end for occupation. He started a factory for -stained-glass windows of medieval patterns and spent more in producing -them than he got by selling them. Then he tried to write a book on -“Credit,” but that proved uncongenial, though it was his only outlet. -The lion was condemned to saunter about Moscow with nothing to do, and -not daring even to use his tongue freely. - -Orlóv’s struggles to turn himself into a philosopher and man of science -were most painful to watch. His intellect, though clear and showy, was -not at all suited to abstract thought, and he confused himself over the -application of newly devised methods to familiar subjects, as in the -case of chemistry. Though speculation was decidedly not his forte, he -studied metaphysics with immense perseverance. - -Being imprudent and careless in his talk, he was constantly making -slips; he was carried away by his instincts, which were always -chivalrous and generous, and then he suddenly remembered his position -and checked himself in mid-course. In these diplomatic withdrawals he -was even less successful than in metaphysics or scientific terminology: -in trying to clear himself of one indiscretion, he often slipped into -two or three more. He got blamed for this; people are so superficial and -unobservant that they think more of words than actions, and attach more -importance to particular mistakes than to a man’s general character. It -was unfair to expect of him a high standard of consistency; he was less -to blame than the sphere in which he lived, where every honourable -feeling had to be hidden, like smuggled goods, up your sleeve, and -uttered behind closed doors. If you spoke above your breath, you would -spend the whole day in wondering whether the police would soon be down -upon you. - - - §6 - -It was a large dinner. I happened to sit next General Raevski, Orlóv’s -brother-in-law. Raevski also had been in disgrace since the famous -fourteenth of December. As a boy of fourteen he had served under his -distinguished father at the battle of Borodino; and he died eventually -of wounds received in the Caucasus. I told him about Ogaryóv and asked -whether Orlóv would be able and willing to take any steps. - -Raevski’s face clouded over, but it did not express that querulous -anxiety for personal safety which I had seen earlier in the day; he -evidently felt disgust mixed with bitter memories. - -“Of willingness there can be no question in such a case,” he said; “but -I doubt if Orlóv has the power to do much. Pass through to the study -after dinner, and I will bring him to you there.” He was silent for a -moment and then added, “So your turn has come too; those depths will -drown you all.” - -Orlóv questioned me and then wrote to the Governor, asking for an -interview. “The Prince is a gentleman,” he said; “if he does nothing, at -least he will tell us the truth.” - -I went next day to hear the answer. Prince Dmitri Golitsyn had replied -that Ogaryóv had been arrested by order of the Tsar, that a commission -of enquiry had been appointed, and that the charge turned chiefly on a -dinner given on June 24, at which seditious songs had been sung. I was -utterly puzzled. That day was my father’s birthday; I had spent the -whole day at home, and Ogaryóv was there too. - -My heart was heavy when I left Orlóv. He too was unhappy: when I held -out my hand at parting, he got up and embraced me, pressed me tight to -his broad chest and kissed me. It was just as if he felt that we should -not soon meet again. - - - §7 - -I only saw him once more, just six years later. He was then near death; -I was struck by the signs of illness and depression on his face, and the -marked angularity of his features was a shock to me. He felt that he was -breaking up, and knew that his affairs were in hopeless disorder. Two -months later he died, of a clot of blood in the arteries. - -At Lucerne there is a wonderful monument carved by Thorwaldsen in the -natural rock—a niche containing the figure of a dying lion. The great -beast is mortally wounded; blood is pouring from the wound, and a broken -arrow sticks up out of it The grand head rests on the paw; the animal -moans and his look expresses agony. That is all; the place is shut off -by hills and trees and bushes; passers-by would never guess that the -king of beasts lies there dying. - -I sat there one day for a long time and looked at this image of -suffering, and all at once I remembered my last visit to Orlóv. - - - §8 - -As I drove home from Orlóv’s house, I passed the office of General -Tsinski, chief of the police; and it occurred to me to make a direct -application to him for leave to see Ogaryóv. - -Never in my life had I paid a visit to any person connected with the -police. I had to wait a long time; but at last the Chief Commissioner -appeared. My request surprised him. - -“What reason have you for asking this permission?” - -“Ogaryóv and I are cousins.” - -“Cousins?” he asked, looking me straight in the face. - -I said nothing, but returned His Excellency’s look exactly. - -“I can’t give you leave,” he said; “your kinsman is in solitary -confinement. I am very sorry.” - -My ignorance and helplessness were torture to me. Hardly any of my -intimate friends were in Moscow; it was quite impossible to find out -anything. The police seemed to have forgotten me or to ignore me. I was -utterly weary and wretched. But when all the sky was covered with gloomy -clouds and the long night of exile and prison was coming close, just -then a radiant sunbeam fell upon me. - - - §9 - -A few words of deep sympathy, spoken by a girl[68] of sixteen, whom I -regarded as a child, put new life in me. - -Footnote 68: - - This was Natálya Zakhárin, Herzen’s cousin, who afterwards became his - wife. - -This is the first time that a woman figures in my narrative; and it is -practically true that only one woman figures in my life. - -My young heart had been set beating before by fleeting fancies of youth; -but these vanished like the shapes of cloudland before this figure, and -no new fancies ever came. - -Our meeting was in a churchyard. She leant on a grave-stone and spoke of -Ogaryóv, till my sorrow grew calm. - -“We shall meet to-morrow,” she said, and gave me her hand, smiling -through her tears. - -“To-morrow,” I repeated, and looked long after her retreating figure. - -The date was July 19, 1834. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER II - - Arrest—The Independent Witness—A Police-Station—Patriarchal Justice. - - - §1 - -“WE shall meet to-morrow,” I repeated to myself as I was falling asleep, -and my heart felt unusually light and happy. - -At two in the morning I was wakened by my father’s valet; he was only -half-dressed and looked frightened. - -“An officer is asking for you.” - -“What officer?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Well, I do,” I said, as I threw on my dressing-gown. A figure wrapped -in a military cloak was standing at the drawing-room door; I could see a -white plume from my window, and there were some people behind it—I could -make out a Cossack helmet. - -Our visitor was Miller, an officer of police. He told me that he bore a -warrant from the military Governor of Moscow to examine my papers. -Candles were brought. Miller took my keys, and while his subordinates -rummaged among my books and shirts, attended to the papers himself. He -put them all aside as suspicious; then he turned suddenly to me and -said: - -“I beg you will dress meanwhile; you will have to go with me.” - -“Where to?” I asked. - -“To the police-station of the district,” he said, in a reassuring voice. - -“And then?” - -“There are no further orders in the Governor’s warrant.” - -I began to dress. - -Meanwhile my mother had been awakened by the terrified servants, and -came in haste from her bedroom to see me. When she was stopped half-way -by a Cossack, she screamed; I started at the sound and ran to her. The -officer came with us, leaving the papers behind him. He apologised to my -mother and let her pass; then he scolded the Cossack, who was not really -to blame, and went back to the papers. - -My father now appeared on the scene. He was pale but tried to keep up -his air of indifference. The scene became trying: while my mother wept -in a corner, my father talked to the officer on ordinary topics, but his -voice shook. I feared that if this went on it would prove too much for -me, and I did not wish that the under-strappers of the police should -have the satisfaction of seeing me shed tears. - -I twitched the officer’s sleeve and said we had better be off. - -He welcomed the suggestion. My father then left the room, but returned -immediately; he was carrying a little sacred picture, which he placed -round my neck, saying that his father on his deathbed had blessed him -with it. I was touched: the nature of this gift proved to me how great -was the fear and anxiety that filled the old man’s heart. I knelt down -for him to put it on; he raised me to my feet, embraced me, and gave me -his blessing. - -It was a representation on enamel of the head of John the Baptist on the -charger. Whether it was meant for an example, a warning, or a prophecy, -I don’t know, but it struck me as somehow significant. - -My mother was almost fainting. - -I was escorted down the stairs by all the household servants, weeping -and struggling to kiss my face and hands; it might have been my own -funeral with me to watch it. The officer frowned and hurried on the -proceedings. - -Once outside the gate, he collected his forces—four Cossacks and four -policemen. - -There was a bearded man sitting outside the gate, who asked the officer -if he might now go home. - -“Be off!” said Miller. - -“Who is that?” I asked, as I took my seat in the cab. - -“He is a witness: you know that the police must take a witness with them -when they make an entrance into a private house.” - -“Is that why you left him outside?” - -“A mere formality,” said Miller; “it’s only keeping the man out of his -bed for nothing.” - -Our cab started, escorted by two mounted Cossacks. - - - §2 - -There was no private room for me at the police-station, and the officer -directed that I should spend the rest of the night in the office. He -took me there himself; dropping into an armchair and yawning wearily, he -said: “It’s a dog’s life. I’ve been up since three, and now your -business has kept me till near four in the morning, and at nine I have -to present my report.” - -“Good-bye,” he said a moment later and left the room. A corporal locked -me in, and said that I might knock at the door if I needed anything. - -I opened the window: day was beginning and the morning breeze was -stirring. I asked the corporal for water and drank a whole jugful. Of -sleep I never even thought. For one thing, there was no place to lie -down; the room contained no furniture except some dirty leather-covered -chairs, one armchair, and two tables of different sizes, both covered -with a litter of papers. There was a night-light, too feeble to light up -the room, which threw a flickering white patch on the ceiling; and I -watched the patch grow paler and paler as the dawn came on. - -I sat down in the magistrate’s seat and took up the paper nearest me on -the table—a permit to bury a servant of Prince Gagárin’s and a medical -certificate to prove that the man had died according to all the rules of -the medical art. I picked up another—some police regulations. I ran -through it and found an article to this effect: “Every prisoner has a -right to learn the cause of his arrest or to be discharged within three -days.” I made a mental note of this item. - -An hour later I saw from the window the arrival of our butler with a -cushion, coverlet, and cloak for me. He made some request to the -corporal, probably for leave to visit me; he was a grey-haired old man, -to several of whose children I had stood godfather while a child myself; -the corporal gave a rough and sharp refusal. One of our coachmen was -there too, and I hailed them from the window. The soldier, in a fuss, -ordered them to be off. The old man bowed low to me and shed tears; and -the coachman, as he whipped up his horse, took off his hat and rubbed -his eyes. When the carriage started, I could bear it no more: the tears -came in a flood, and they were the first and last tears I shed during my -imprisonment. - - - §3 - -Towards morning the office began to fill up. The first to appear was a -clerk, who had evidently been drunk the night before and was not sober -yet. He had red hair and a pimpled face, a consumptive look, and an -expression of brutish sensuality; he wore a long, brick-coloured coat, -ill-made, ill-brushed, and shiny with age. The next comer was a -free-and-easy gentleman, wearing the cloak of a non-commissioned -officer. He turned to me at once and asked: - -“They got you at the theatre, I suppose?” - -“No; I was arrested at home.” - -“By Fyodor Ivanovitch?” - -“Who is Fyodor Ivanovitch?” - -“Why, Colonel Miller.” - -“Yes, it was he.” - -“Ah, I understand, Sir”—and he winked to the red-haired man, who showed -not the slightest interest. The other did not continue the conversation; -seeing that I was not charged as drunk and disorderly, he thought me -unworthy of further attention; or perhaps he was afraid to converse with -a political prisoner. - -A little later, several policemen appeared, rubbing their eyes and only -half awake; and finally the petitioners and suitors. - -A woman who kept a disorderly house made a complaint against a publican. -He had abused her publicly in his shop, using language which she, as a -woman, could not venture to repeat before a magistrate. The publican -swore he had never used such language; the woman swore that he had used -it repeatedly and very loudly, and she added that he had raised his hand -against her and would have laid her face open, had she not ducked her -head. The shopman said, first, that she owed him money, and, secondly, -that she had insulted him in his own shop, nay more, had threatened to -kill him by the hands of her bullies. - -She was a tall, slatternly woman with swollen eyes; her voice was -piercingly loud and high, and she had an extraordinary flow of language. -The shopman relied more on gesture and pantomime than on his eloquence. - -In the absence of the judge, one of the policemen proved to be a second -Solomon. He abused both parties in fine style. “You’re too well off,” he -said; “that’s what’s the matter with you; why can’t you stop at home and -keep the peace, and be thankful to us for letting you alone? What fools -you are! Because you have had a few words you must run at once before -His Worship and trouble him! How dare you give yourself airs, my good -woman, as if you had never been abused before? Why your very trade can’t -be named in decent language!” Here the shopman showed the heartiest -approval by his gestures; but his turn came next. “And you, how dare you -stand there in your shop and bark like an angry dog? Do you want to be -locked up? You use foul language, and raise your fist as well; it’s a -sound thrashing you want.” - -This scene had the charm of novelty for me; it was the first specimen I -had seen of patriarchal justice as administered in Russia, and I have -never forgotten it. - -The pair went on shouting till the magistrate came in. Without even -asking their business, he shouted them down at once. “Get out of this! -Do you take this place for a bad house or a gin-shop?” When he had -driven out the offenders, he turned on the policeman: “I wonder you are -not ashamed to permit such disorder. I have told you again and again. -People lose all respect for the place; it will soon be a regular -bear-garden for the mob; you are too easy with them.” Then he looked at -me and said: - -“Who is that?” - -“A prisoner whom Fyodor Ivanovitch brought in,” answered the policeman; -“there is a paper about him somewhere, Sir.” - -The magistrate ran through the paper and then glanced at me. As I kept -my eyes fixed on him, ready to retort the instant he spoke, he was put -out and said, “I beg your pardon.” - -But now the business began again between the publican and his enemy. The -woman wished to take an oath, and a priest was summoned; I believe both -parties were sworn, and there was no prospect of a conclusion. At this -point I was taken in a carriage to the Chief Commissioner’s office—I am -sure I don’t know why, for no one spoke a word to me there—and then -brought back to the police-station, where a room right under the belfry -was prepared for my occupation. The corporal observed that if I wanted -food I must send out for it: the prison ration would not be issued for a -day or two; and besides, as it only amounted to three or four _kopecks_ -a day, a gentleman “under a cloud” did not usually take it. - -Along the wall of my room there was a sofa with a dirty cover. It was -past midday and I was terribly weary. I threw myself on the sofa and -fell fast asleep. When I woke, I felt quite easy and cheerful. Of late I -had been tormented by my ignorance of Ogaryóv’s fate; now, my own turn -had come, the black cloud was right overhead, I was in the thick of the -danger, instead of watching it in the distance. I felt that this first -prosecution would serve us as a consecration for our mission. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER III - - Under the Belfry—A Travelled Policeman—The Incendiaries. - - - §1 - -A MAN soon gets used to prison, if he has any interior life at all. One -quickly gets accustomed to the silence and complete freedom of one’s -cage—there are no cares and no distractions. - -They refused me books at first, and the police-magistrate declared that -it was against the rules for me to get books from home. I then proposed -to buy some. “I suppose you mean some serious book—a grammar of some -kind, I dare say? Well, I should not object to that; for other books, -higher authority must be obtained.” Though the suggestion that I should -study grammar to relieve boredom was exceedingly comic, yet I caught at -it eagerly and asked him to buy me an Italian grammar and dictionary. I -had two ten-_rouble_ notes on me, and I gave him one. He sent at once to -buy the books, and despatched by the same messenger a letter to the -Chief Commissioner, in which, taking my stand on the article I had read, -I asked him to explain the cause of my arrest or to release me. - -The magistrate, in whose presence I wrote the letter, urged me not to -send it. “It’s no good, I swear it’s no good your bothering His -Excellency. They don’t like people who give them trouble. It can’t -result in anything, and it may hurt you.” - -A policeman turned up in the evening with a reply: His Excellency sent -me a verbal message, to the effect that I should learn in good time why -I was arrested. The messenger then produced a greasy Italian grammar -from his pocket, and added with a smile, “By good luck it happens that -there is a vocabulary here; so you need not buy one.” The question of -change out of my note was not alluded to. I was inclined to write again -to His Excellency; but to play the part of a little Hampden seemed to me -rather too absurd in my present quarters. - - - §2 - -I had been in prison ten days, when a short policeman with a swarthy, -pock-marked face came to my room at ten in the evening, bringing an -order that I was to dress and present myself before the Commission of -Enquiry. - -While I was dressing, a serio-comic incident occurred. My dinner was -sent me every day from home; our servant delivered it to the corporal on -duty, and he sent a private upstairs with it. A bottle of wine from -outside was allowed daily, and a friend had taken advantage of this -permission to send me a bottle of excellent hock. The private and I -contrived to uncork the bottle with a couple of nails; the bouquet of -the wine was perceptible at a distance, and I looked forward to the -pleasure of drinking it for some days to come. - -There is nothing like prison life for revealing the childishness in a -grown man and the consolation he finds in trifles, from a bottle of wine -to a trick played on a turnkey. - -Well, the pock-marked policeman found out my bottle, and, turning to me, -asked if he might have a taste. Though I was vexed, I said I should be -very glad. I had no glass. The wretch took a cup, filled it to the very -brim, and emptied it into himself without drawing breath. No one but a -Russian or a Pole can pour down strong drink in this fashion: I have -never in any part of Europe seen a glass or cup of spirits disposed of -with equal rapidity. To add to my sorrow at the loss of this cupful, my -friend wiped his lips with a blue tobacco-stained handkerchief, and said -as he thanked me, “Something like Madeira, _that_ is!” I hated the sight -of him and felt a cruel joy that his parents had not vaccinated him and -nature had not spared him the small-pox. - - - §3 - -This judge of wine went with me to the Chief Commissioner’s house on the -Tver Boulevard, where he took me to a side room and left me alone. Half -an hour later, a fat man with a lazy, good-natured expression came in, -carrying papers in a wallet; he threw the wallet on a chair and sent the -policeman who was standing at the door off on some errand. - -“I suppose,” he said to me, “you are mixed up in the affair of Ogaryóv -and the other young men who were lately arrested.” I admitted it. - -“I’ve heard about it casually,” he went on; “a queer business! I can’t -understand it at all.” - -“Well, I’ve been in prison a fortnight because of it, and not only do I -not understand it, but I know nothing about it.” - -“That’s right!” said the man, looking at me attentively. “Continue to -know nothing about it! Excuse me, if I give you a piece of advice. You -are young, and your blood is still hot, and you want to be talking; but -it’s a mistake. Just you remember that you know nothing about it. -Nothing else can save you.” - -I looked at him in surprise; but his expression did not suggest anything -base. He guessed my thoughts and said with a smile: - -“I was a student at Moscow University myself twelve years ago.” - -A clerk of some kind now came in. The fat man, who was evidently his -superior, gave him some directions and then left the room, after -pressing a finger to his lips with a friendly nod to me. I never met him -again and don’t know now who he was; but experience proved to me that -his advice was well meant. - - - §4 - -My next visitor was a police-officer, not Colonel Miller this time. He -summoned me to a large, rather fine room where five men were sitting at -a table, all wearing military uniform except one who was old and -decrepit. They were smoking cigars and carrying on a lively -conversation, lying back in their chairs with their jackets unbuttoned. -The Chief Commissioner, Tsinski, was in the chair. - -When I came in, he turned to a figure sitting modestly in a corner of -the room and said, “May I trouble Your Reverence?” Then I made out that -the figure in the corner was an old priest with a white beard and a -mottled face. The old man was drowsy and wanted to go home; he was -thinking of something else and yawning with his hand before his face. In -a slow and rather sing-song voice he began to admonish me: he said it -was sinful to conceal the truth from persons appointed by the Tsar, and -useless, because the ear of God hears the unspoken word; he did not fail -to quote the inevitable texts—that all power is from God, and that we -must render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s. Finally, he bade me -kiss the Holy Gospel and the True Cross in confirmation of a vow (which -however I did not take and he did not ask) to reveal the whole truth -frankly and openly. - -When he had done, he began hastily to wrap up the Gospel and the Cross; -and the President, barely rising in his seat, told him he might go. Then -he turned to me and translated the priest’s address into the language of -this world. “One thing I shall add to what the priest has said—it is -impossible for you to conceal the truth even if you wish to.” He pointed -to piles of papers, letters, and portraits, scattered on purpose over -the table: “Frank confession alone can improve your position; it depends -on yourself, whether you go free or are sent to the Caucasus.” - -Questions were then submitted in writing, some of them amusingly -simple—“Do you know of the existence of any secret society? Do you -belong to any society, learned or otherwise? Who are its members? Where -do they meet?” - -To all this it was perfectly simple to answer “No” and nothing else. - -“I see you know nothing,” said the President, reading over the answers; -“I warned you beforehand that you will complicate your situation.” - -And that was the end of the first examination. - - - §5 - -Eight years later a lady, who had once been beautiful, and her beautiful -daughter, were living in a different part of this very house where the -Commission sat; she was the sister of a later Chief Commissioner. - -I used to visit there and always had to pass through the room where -Tsinski and Company used to sit on us. There was a portrait of the -Emperor Paul on the wall, and I used to stop in front of it every time I -passed, either as a prisoner or as a visitor. Near it was a little -drawing-room where all breathed of beauty and femininity; and it seemed -somehow out of place beside frowning Justice and criminal trials. I felt -uneasy there, and sorry that so fair a bud had found such an uncongenial -spot to open in as the dismal brick walls of a police-office. Our talk, -and that of a small number of friends who met there, sounded ironical -and strange to the ear within those walls, so familiar with -examinations, informations, and reports of domiciliary visits—within -those walls which parted us from the mutter of policemen, the sighs of -prisoners, the jingling spurs of officers, and the clanking swords of -Cossacks. - - - §6 - -Within a week or a fortnight the pock-marked policeman came again and -went with me again to Tsinski’s house. Inside the door some men in -chains were sitting or lying, surrounded by soldiers with rifles; and in -the front room there were others, of various ranks in society, not -chained but strictly guarded. My policeman told me that these were -incendiaries. As Tsinski himself had gone to the scene of the fires, we -had to wait for his return. We arrived at nine in the evening; and at -one in the morning no one had asked for me, and I was still sitting very -peacefully in the front hall with the incendiaries. One or other of them -was summoned from time to time; the police ran backward and forward, the -chains clinked, and the soldiers, for want of occupation, rattled their -rifles and went through the manual exercise. Tsinski arrived about one, -black with smoke and grime, and hurried on to his study without -stopping. Half an hour later my policeman was summoned; when he came -back, he looked pale and upset and his face twitched convulsively. -Tsinski followed him, put his head in at the door, and said: “Why, the -members of the Commission were waiting for you, M. Herzen, the whole -evening. This fool brought you here at the hour when you were summoned -to Prince Golitsyn’s house instead. I am very sorry you have had to wait -so long, but I am not to blame. What can one do, with such subordinates? -I suppose he has been fifty years in the service, and is as great a -blockhead as ever. Well,” he added, turning to the policeman and -addressing him in a much less polite style, “be off now and go back.” - -All the way home the man kept repeating: “Lord! what bad luck! A man -never knows what’s going to happen to him. He will do for me now. He -wouldn’t matter so much; but the Prince will be angry, and the -Commissioner will catch it for your not being there. Oh, what a -misfortune!” - -I forgave him the hock, especially when he declared that, though he was -once nearly drowned at Lisbon, he was less scared then than now. This -adventure surprised me so much that I roared with laughter. “How utterly -absurd! What on earth took you to Lisbon?” I asked. It turned out that -he had served in the Fleet twenty-five years before. The statesman in -Gógol’s novel, who declares that every servant of the State in Russia -meets with his reward sooner or later,[69] certainly spoke the truth. -For death spared my friend at Lisbon, in order that he might be scolded -like a naughty boy by Tsinski, after forty years’ service. - -Footnote 69: - - Gógol, _Dead Souls_, Part I, chap. 10. - -Besides, he was hardly at all to blame in the matter. The Tsar was -dissatisfied with the original Commission of Enquiry, and had appointed -another, with Prince Serghéi Golitsyn as chairman; the other members -were Staal, the Commandant of Moscow, another Prince Golitsyn, -Shubenski, a colonel of police, and Oranski, formerly paymaster-general. -As my Lisbon friend had received no notice that the new Commission would -sit at a different place, it was very natural that he should take me to -Tsinski’s house. - - - §7 - -When we got back, we found great excitement there too: three fires had -broken out during the evening, and the Commissioners had sent twice to -ask what had become of me and whether I had run away. If Tsinski had not -abused my escort sufficiently, the police-magistrate fully made up for -any deficiencies; and this was natural, because he himself was partly to -blame for not asking where exactly I was to be sent. - -In a corner of the office there was a man lying on two chairs and -groaning, who attracted my attention. He was young, handsome, and -well-dressed. The police-surgeon advised that he should be sent to the -hospital early next morning, as he was spitting blood and in great -suffering. I got the details of this affair from the corporal who took -me to my room. The man was a retired officer of the Guards, who was -carrying on a love affair with a maid-servant and was with her when a -fire broke out in the house. The panic caused by incendiarism was then -at its height; and, in fact, never a day passed without my hearing the -tocsin ring repeatedly, while at night I could always see the glow of -several fires from my window. As soon as the excitement began, the -officer, wishing to save the girl’s reputation, climbed over a fence and -hid himself in an outbuilding of the next house, intending to come out -when the coast was clear. But a little girl had seen him in the -court-yard, and told the first policeman who came on the scene that an -incendiary was hiding in the shed. The police made for the place, -accompanied by a mob, dragged the officer out in triumph, and dealt with -him so vigorously that he died next morning. - -The police now began to sift the men arrested for arson. Half of them -were let go, but the rest were detained on suspicion. A magistrate came -every morning and spent three or four hours in examining the charges. -Some were flogged during this process; and then their yells and cries -and entreaties, the shrieks of women, the harsh voice of the magistrate, -and the drone of the clerk’s reading—all this came to my ears. It was -horrible beyond endurance. I dreamed of these sounds at night, and woke -up in horror at the thought of these poor wretches, lying on straw a few -feet away, in chains, with flayed and bleeding backs, and, in all -probability, quite innocent. - - - §8 - -In order to know what Russian prisons and Russian police and justice -really are, one must be a peasant, a servant or workman or shopkeeper. -The political prisoners, who are mostly of noble birth, are strictly -guarded and vindictively punished; but they suffer infinitely less than -the unfortunate “men with beards.” With them the police stand on no -ceremony. In what quarter can a peasant or workman seek redress? Where -will he find justice? - -The Russian system of justice and police is so haphazard, so inhuman, so -arbitrary and corrupt, that a poor malefactor has more reason to fear -his trial than his sentence. He is impatient for the time when he will -be sent to Siberia; for his martyrdom comes to an end when his -punishment begins. Well, then, let it be remembered that three-fourths -of those arrested on suspicion by the police are acquitted by the court, -and that all these have gone through the same ordeal as the guilty. - -Peter the Third abolished the torture-chamber, and the Russian -star-chamber. - -Catherine the Second abolished torture. - -Alexander the First abolished it over again. - -Evidence given under torture is legally inadmissible, and any magistrate -applying torture is himself liable to prosecution and severe punishment. - -That is so: and all over Russia, from Behring Straits to the Crimea, men -suffer torture. Where flogging is unsafe, other means are -used—intolerable heat, thirst, salt food; in Moscow the police made a -prisoner stand barefooted on an iron floor, at a time of intense frost; -the man died in a hospital, of which Prince Meshcherski was president, -and he told the story afterwards with horror. All this is known to the -authorities; but they all agree with Selifan[70] in Gógol’s novel—“Why -not flog the peasants? The peasants need a flogging from time to time.” - -Footnote 70: - - Gógol, _Dead Souls_, Part I, chap. 3. Selifan, a coachman, is a - peasant himself. - - - §9 - -The board appointed to investigate the fires sat, or, in other words, -flogged, for six months continuously, but they were no wiser at the end -of the flogging. The Tsar grew angry: he ordered that the business -should be completed in three days. And so it was: guilty persons were -discovered and sentenced to flogging, branding, and penal servitude. All -the hall-porters in Moscow were brought together to witness the -infliction of the punishment. It was winter by then, and I had been -moved to the Krutitski Barracks; but a captain of police, a kind-hearted -old man, who was present at the scene, told me the details I here -record. The man who was brought out first for flogging addressed the -spectators in a loud voice: he swore that he was innocent, and that he -did not know what evidence he had given under torture; then he pulled -off his shirt and turned his back to the people, asking them to look at -it. - -A groan of horror ran through the crowd: his whole back was raw and -bleeding, and that livid surface was now to be flogged over again. The -protesting cries and sullen looks of the crowd made the police hurry on -with the business: the executioners dealt out the legal number of -lashes, the branding and fettering took place, and the affair seemed at -an end. But the scene had made an impression and was the subject of -conversation all through the city. The Governor reported this to the -Tsar, and the Tsar appointed a new board, which was to give special -attention to the case of the man who had addressed the crowd. - -Some months later I read in the newspapers that the Tsar, wishing to -compensate two men who had been flogged for crimes of which they were -innocent, ordered that they should receive 200 _roubles_ for each lash, -and also a special passport, to prove that though branded they were not -guilty. These two were the man who had addressed the crowd, and one of -his companions. - - - §10 - -The cause of these incendiary fires which alarmed Moscow in 1834 and -were repeated ten years later in different parts of the country, still -remains a mystery. That it was not all accidental is certain: fire as a -means of revenge—“The red cock,” as it is called—is characteristic of -the nation. One is constantly hearing of a gentleman’s house or -corn-kiln or granary being set on fire by his enemies. But what was the -motive for the fires at Moscow in 1834, nobody knows, and the members of -the Board of Enquiry least of all. - -The twenty-second of August was the Coronation Day; and some practical -jokers dropped papers in different parts of the city, informing the -inhabitants they need not trouble about illuminating, because there -would be plenty of light otherwise provided. - -The authorities of the city were in great alarm. From early morning my -police-station was full of troops, and a squadron of dragoons was -stationed in the court-yard. In the evening bodies of cavalry and -infantry patrolled the streets; cannon were ready in the arsenal. -Police-officers, with constables and Cossacks, galloped to and fro; the -Governor himself rode through the city with his _aides-de-camp_. It was -strange and disquieting to see peaceful Moscow turned into a military -camp. I watched the court-yard from my lofty window till late at night. -Dismounted dragoons were sitting in groups near their horses, while -others remained in the saddle; their officers walked about, looking with -some contempt at their comrades of the police; staff-officers, with -anxious faces and yellow collars on their jackets, rode up, did nothing, -and rode away again. - -There were no fires. - -Immediately afterwards the Tsar himself came to Moscow. He was -dissatisfied with the investigation of our affair, which was just -beginning, dissatisfied because we had not been handed over to the -secret police, dissatisfied because the incendiaries had not been -discovered—in short, he was dissatisfied with everything and everybody. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - The Krutitski Barracks—A Policeman’s Story—The Officers. - - - §1 - -THREE days after the Tsar came to Moscow, a police-officer called on me -late in the evening—all these things are done in the dark, to spare the -nerves of the public—bringing an order for me to pack up and start off -with him. - -“Where to?” I asked. - -“You will see shortly,” he answered with equal wit and politeness. That -was enough: I asked no more questions, but packed up my things and -started. - -We drove on and on for an hour and a half, passed St. Peter’s Monastery, -and stopped at a massive stone gateway, before which two constables were -pacing, armed with carbines. This building was the Krutitski Monastery, -which had been converted into a police-barracks. - -I was taken to a smallish office, where everyone was dressed in blue, -officers and clerks alike. The orderly officer, wearing full uniform and -a helmet, asked me to wait and even proposed that I should light my pipe -which I was holding. Having written out an acknowledgement that a fresh -prisoner had been received, and handed it to my escort, he left the room -and returned with another officer, who told me that my quarters were -ready and asked me to go there. A constable carried a light, and we -descended a staircase, passed through a small yard, and entered by a low -door a long passage lighted by a single lantern. On both sides of the -passage there were low doors; and the orderly officer opened one of -these, which led into a tiny guard-room and thence into a room of -moderate size, damp, cold, and smelling like a cellar. The officer who -was escorting me now addressed me in French: he said that he was _désolé -d’être dans la nécessité_ of rummaging my pockets, but that discipline -and his duty required it. After this noble exordium he turned without -more ado to the gaoler and winked in my direction; and the man instantly -inserted into my pocket an incredibly large and hairy paw. I pointed out -to the polite officer that this was quite unnecessary: I would empty out -all my pockets myself, without any forcible measures being used. And I -asked what I could possibly have on me after six weeks in prison. - -“Oh, we know what they are capable of at police-stations,” said the -polite officer, with an inimitable smile of superiority, and the orderly -officer also smiled sarcastically; but they told the turnkey merely to -look on while I emptied my pockets. - -“Shake out any tobacco you have on the table,” said the polite officer. - -I had in my tobacco-pouch a pencil and a penknife wrapped up in paper. I -remembered about them at once, and, while talking to the officer, I -fiddled with the pouch till the knife came out in my hand; then I -gripped it behind the pouch, while boldly pouring out the tobacco on the -table. The turnkey gathered it together again. I had saved my knife and -my pencil, and I had also paid out my polite friend for his contempt of -my former gaolers. - -This little incident put me in excellent humour, and I began cheerfully -to survey my new possessions. - - - §2 - -The monks’ cells, built 300 years ago, had sunk deep into the ground, -and were now put to a secular use for political prisoners. - -My room contained a bedstead without a mattress, a small table with a -jug of water on it, and a chair; a thin tallow candle was burning in a -large copper candlestick. The damp and cold struck into the marrow of my -bones; the officer ordered the stove to be lighted, and then I was left -alone. A turnkey promised to bring some straw; meanwhile I used my -overcoat as a pillow, lay down on the bare bedstead, and lit a pipe. I -very soon noticed that the ceiling was covered with black beetles. Not -having seen a light for a long time, the black beetles hurried to the -lighted patch in great excitement, jostling one another, dropping on the -table, and then running wildly about along the edge of it. - -I don’t like black beetles, nor uninvited guests in general. My -neighbours seemed to me horribly repulsive, but there was nothing to be -done: I could not begin by complaining of black beetles, and I -suppressed my dislike of them. Besides, after a few days all the insects -migrated to the next room, where the turnkey kept up a higher -temperature; only an occasional specimen would look in on me, twitch his -whiskers, and then hurry back to the warmth. - - - §3 - -In spite of my entreaties, the turnkey insisted on closing the stove -after he had lighted it. I soon felt uncomfortable and giddy, and I -decided to get up and knock on the wall. I did get up, but I remember no -more. - -When I came to myself I was lying on the floor and my head was aching -fiercely. A tall, grey-haired turnkey was standing over me with his arms -folded, and watching me with a steady, expressionless stare, such as may -be seen in the eyes of the dog watching the tortoise, in a well-known -bronze group. - -Seeing that I was conscious, he began: “Your Honour had a near shave of -suffocation. But I put some pickled horse-radish to your nose, and now -you can drink some _kvass_.”[71] When I had drunk, he lifted me up and -laid me on my bed. I felt very faint, and the window, which was double, -could not be opened. The turnkey went to the office to ask that I might -go out into the court; but the orderly officer sent a message that he -could not undertake the responsibility in the absence of the colonel and -adjutant. I had to put up with the foul atmosphere. - -Footnote 71: - - A sort of beer. - - - §4 - -But I became accustomed even to these quarters, and conjugated Italian -verbs and read any books I could get. At first, the rules were fairly -strict: when the bugle sounded for the last time at nine in the evening, -a turnkey came in, blew out my candle, and locked me up for the night. I -had to sit in darkness till eight next morning. I was never a great -sleeper, and the want of exercise made four hours’ sleep ample for me in -prison; hence the want of a light was a serious deprivation. Besides -this, a sentry at each end of the passage gave a loud prolonged cry of -“All’s well-l-l-l!” every quarter of an hour. - -After a few weeks, however, the colonel allowed me to have a light. My -window was beneath the level of the court, so that the sentry could -watch all my movements; and no blind or curtain to the window was -allowed. He also stopped the sentries from calling out in the passage. -Later, we were permitted to have ink and a fixed number of sheets of -paper, on condition that none were torn up; and we were allowed to walk -in the yard once in twenty-four hours, accompanied by a sentry and the -officer of the day, while outside the yard there was a fence and a chain -of sentries. - -The life was monotonous and peaceful; military precision gave it a kind -of mechanical regularity like the caesura in verse. In the morning I -made coffee over the stove with the help of the turnkey; at ten the -officer of the day made his appearance, bringing in with him several -cubic feet of frost, and clattering with his sword; he wore cloak and -helmet and gloves up to his elbows; at one the turnkey brought me a -dirty napkin and a bowl of soup, which he held by the rim in such a way -that his two thumbs were noticeably cleaner than the other fingers. The -food was tolerable; but it must be remembered that we were charged two -_roubles_ a day for it, which mounts up to a considerable sum for a poor -man in the course of nine months. The father of one prisoner said -frankly that he could not pay, whereupon he was told it would be stopped -out of his salary; had he not been drawing Government pay, he would -probably have been put in prison himself. There was also a Government -allowance for our keep; but the quarter-masters put this in their -pockets and stopped the mouths of the officers with orders for the -theatres on first nights and benefits. - -After sunset complete silence set in, only interrupted by the distant -calls of the sentries, or the steps of a soldier crunching over the snow -right in front of my window. I generally read till one, before I put out -my candle. In my dreams I was free once more. Sometimes I woke up -thinking: “What a horrid nightmare of prison and gaolers! How glad I am -it’s not true!”—and suddenly a sword rattled in the passage, or the -officer of the day came in with his lantern-bearer, or a sentry called -out “Who goes there?” in his mechanical voice, or a bugle, close to the -window, split the morning air with reveille. - - - §5 - -When I was bored and not inclined to read, I talked to my gaolers, -especially to the old fellow who had treated me for my fainting fit. The -colonel, as a mark of favour, excused some of the old soldiers from -parade and gave them the light work of guarding a prisoner; they were in -charge of a corporal—a spy and a scoundrel. Five or six of these -veterans did all the work of the prison. - -The old soldier I am speaking of was a simple creature, kind-hearted -himself and grateful for any kindness that was shown him, and it is -likely that not much had been shown him in the course of his life. He -had served through the campaign of 1812 and his breast was covered with -medals. His term of service had expired, but he stayed on as a -volunteer, having no place to go to. “I wrote twice,” he used to say, -“to my relations in the Government of Mogilev, but I got no answer; so I -suppose that all my people are dead. I don’t care to go home, only to -beg my bread in old age.” How barbarous is the system of military -service in Russia, which detains a man for twenty years with the -colours! But in every sphere of life we sacrifice the individual without -mercy and without reward. - -Old Philimonov professed to know German; he had learned it in winter -quarters after the taking of Paris. In fact, he knew some German words, -to which he attached Russian terminations with much ingenuity. - - - §6 - -In his stories of the past there was a kind of artlessness which made me -sad. I shall record one of them. - -He served in Moldavia, in the Turkish campaign of 1805; and the -commander of his company was the kindest of men, caring like a father -for each soldier and always foremost in battle. “Our captain was in love -with a Moldavian woman, and we saw that he was in bad spirits; the -reason was that she was often visiting another officer. One day he sent -for me and a friend of mine—a fine soldier he was and lost both legs in -battle afterwards—and said to us that the woman had jilted him; and he -asked if we were willing to help him and teach her a lesson. ‘Surely, -Your Honour,’ said we; ‘we are at your service at any time.’ He thanked -us and pointed out the house where the officer lived. Then he said, -‘Take your stand to-night on the bridge which she must cross to get to -his house; catch hold of her quietly, and into the river with her!’ -‘Very good, Your Honour,’ said we. So I and my chum got hold of a sack -and went to the bridge; there we sat, and near midnight the girl came -running past. ‘What are you hurrying for?’ we asked. Then we gave her -one over the head; not a sound did she make, bless her; we put her in -the sack and threw it into the river. Next day our captain went to the -other officer and said: ‘You must not be angry with the girl: we -detained her; in fact, she is now at the bottom of the river. But I am -quite prepared to take a little walk with you, with swords or pistols, -as you prefer.’ Well, they fought, and our captain was badly wounded in -the chest; he wasted away, poor fellow, and after three months gave back -his soul to God.” - -“But was the woman really drowned?” I asked. - -“Oh, yes, Sir,” said the soldier. - -I was horrified by the childlike indifference with which the old man -told me this story. He appeared to guess my feelings or to give a -thought for the first time to his victim; for he added, to reassure me -and make it up with his own conscience: - -“You know, Sir, she was only a benighted heathen, not like a Christian -at all.” - - - §7 - -It is the custom to serve out a glass of brandy to the gaolers on -saints’ days and royal birthdays; and Philimonov was allowed to decline -this ration till five or six were due to him, and then to draw it all at -once. He marked on a tally the number of glasses he did not drink, and -applied for the lot on one of the great festivals. He poured all the -brandy into a soup-tureen, crumbled bread into it, and then supped it -with a spoon. When this repast was over, he smoked a large pipe with a -tiny mouthpiece; his tobacco, which he cut up himself, was strong beyond -belief. As there was no seat in his room, he curled himself up on the -narrow space of the window-sill; and there he smoked and sang a song -about grass and flowers, pronouncing the words worse and worse as the -liquor gained power over him. But what a constitution the man had! He -was over sixty and had been twice wounded, and yet he could stand such a -meal as I have described. - - - §8 - -Before I end these Wouverman-Callot[72] sketches of barrack-life and -this prison-gossip which only repeats the recollections of all captives -like myself, I shall say something also of the officers. - -Footnote 72: - - Wouverman (1619-1668), a Dutch painter; Callot (1592-1635), a French - painter; both painted outdoor life, soldiers, beggars, etc. - -Most of them were not spies at all, but good enough people, who had -drifted by chance into the constabulary. Young nobles, with little or no -education, without fortune or any settled prospects, they had taken to -this life, because they had nothing else to do. They performed their -duties with military precision, but without a scrap of enthusiasm, as -far as I could see; I must except the adjutant, indeed; but then that -was just why he _was_ adjutant. When I got to know the officers, they -granted me all the small indulgences that were in their power, and it -would be a sin for me to complain of them. - -One of the young officers told me a story of the year 1831, when he was -sent to hunt down and arrest a Polish gentleman who was in hiding -somewhere near his own estate. He was accused of having relations with -agitators. The officer started on his mission, made enquiries, and -discovered the Pole’s hiding place. He led his men there, surrounded the -house, and entered it with two constables. The house was empty: they -went through all the rooms and hunted about, but no one was to be seen; -and yet some trifling signs proved that the house had been occupied not -long before. Leaving his men below, the young officer went up to the -attics a second time; after a careful search, he found a small door -leading to a garret or secret chamber of some kind; the door was locked -on the inside, but flew open at a kick. Behind it stood a tall and -beautiful woman; she pointed without a word to a man who held in his -arms a fainting girl of twelve. It was the Pole and his family. The -officer was taken aback. The tall woman perceived this and said, “Can -you be barbarous enough to destroy them?” The officer apologised: he -urged the stock excuse, that a soldier is bound to implicit obedience; -but at last, in despair, as he saw that his words had not the slightest -effect, he ended by asking what he was to do. The woman looked haughtily -at him, pointed to the door, and said, “Go down at once and say that -there is no one here.” “I swear I cannot explain it,” the officer said, -“but down I went and ordered the sergeant to collect the party. Two -hours later we were beating every bush on another estate, while our man -was slipping across the frontier. Strange, what things women make one -do!” - - - §9 - -Nothing in the world can be more stupid and more unfair than to judge a -whole class of men in the lump, merely by the name they bear and the -predominating characteristics of their profession. A label is a terrible -thing. Jean Paul Richter[73] says with perfect truth: “If a child tells -a lie, make him afraid of doing wrong and tell him that he has told a -lie, but don’t call him a liar. If you define him as a liar, you break -down his confidence in his own character.” We are told that a man is a -murderer, and we instantly imagine a hidden dagger, a savage expression, -and dark designs, as if murder were the regular occupation, the trade, -of anyone who has once in his life without design killed a man. A spy, -or a man who makes money by the profligacy of others, cannot be honest; -but it is possible to be an officer of police and yet to retain some -manly worth, just as a tender and womanly heart and even delicacy of -feeling may constantly be found in the victims of what is called “social -incontinence.” - -Footnote 73: - - The German humorist (1763-1825). - -I have an aversion for people who, because they are too stupid or will -not take the trouble, never get beyond a mere label, who are brought up -short by a single bad action or a false position, either chastely -shutting their eyes to it or pushing it roughly from them. People who -act thus are generally either bloodless and self-satisfied theorists, -repulsive in their purity, or mean, low natures who have not yet had the -chance or the necessity to display themselves in their true colours; -they are by nature at home in the mire, into which others have fallen by -misfortune. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER V - -The Enquiry—Golitsyn Senior—Golitsyn Junior—General Staal—The - Sentence—Sokolovski. - - - §1 - -BUT meanwhile what about the charge against us? and what about the -Commission of Enquiry? - -The new Commission made just as great a mess of it as its predecessor. -The police had been on our track for a long time, but their zeal and -impatience prevented them from waiting for a decent pretext, and they -did a silly thing. They employed a retired officer called Skaryatka to -draw us on till we were committed; and he made acquaintance with nearly -all of our set. But we very soon made out what he was and kept him at a -distance. Some other young men, chiefly students, were less cautious, -but these others had no relations of any importance with us. - -One of the latter, on taking his degree, entertained his friends on June -24, 1834. Not one of us was present at the entertainment; not one of us -was even invited. The students drank toasts, and danced and played the -fool; and one thing they did was to sing in chorus Sokolovski’s -well-known song abusing the Tsar. - -Skaryatka was present and suddenly remembered that the day was his -birthday. He told a story of selling a horse at a profit and invited the -whole party to supper at his rooms, promising a dozen of champagne. They -all accepted. The champagne duly appeared, and their host, who had begun -to stagger, proposed that Sokolovski’s song should be sung over again. -In the middle of the song the door opened, and Tsinski appeared with his -myrmidons. It was a stupid and clumsy proceeding, and a failure as well. - -The police wanted to catch us and were looking out for some tangible -pretext, in order to trap the five or six victims whom they had marked -down; what they actually did was to arrest a score of innocent persons. - - - §2 - -But the police are not easily abashed, and they arrested us a fortnight -later, as concerned in the affair of the students’ party. They found a -number of letters—letters of Satin’s at Sokolovski’s rooms, of Ogaryóv’s -at Satin’s, and of mine at Ogaryóv’s; but nothing of importance was -discovered. The first Commission of Enquiry was a failure; and in order -that the second might succeed better, the Tsar sent from Petersburg the -Grand Inquisitor, Prince A. F. Golitsyn. - -The breed to which he belonged is rare with us; it included Mordvínov, -the notorious chief of the Third Section, Pelikan, the Rector of Vilna -University, with a few officials from the Baltic provinces and renegade -Poles. - - - §3 - -But it was unfortunate for the Inquisition that Staal, the Commandant of -Moscow, was the first member appointed to it. Staal was a brave old -soldier and an honest man; he looked into the matter, and found that two -quite distinct incidents were involved: the first was the students’ -party, which the police were bound to punish; the second was the -mysterious arrest of some men, whose whole visible fault was limited to -some half-expressed opinions, and whom it would be difficult and absurd -to try on that charge alone. - -Prince A. F. Golitsyn disapproved of Staal’s view, and their dispute -took a heated turn. The old soldier grew furiously angry; he dashed his -sword on the floor and said: “Instead of destroying these young men, you -would do better to have all the schools and universities closed, and -that would be a warning to other unfortunates. Do as you please, only I -shall take no part in it: I shall not set foot again in this place.” -Having spoken thus, the old man left the room at once. - -This was reported to the Tsar that very day; and when the Commandant -presented his report next morning, the Tsar asked why he refused to -attend the Commission, and Staal told him the reason. - -“What nonsense!” said Nicholas; “I wonder you are not ashamed to quarrel -with Golitsyn, and I hope you will continue to attend.” - -“Sir,” replied Staal, “spare my grey hairs! I have lived till now -without the smallest stain on my honour. My loyalty is known to Your -Majesty; my life, what remains of it, is at your service. But this -matter touches my honour, and my conscience protests against the -proceedings of that Commission.” - -The Tsar frowned; Staal bowed himself out and never afterwards attended -a single meeting. - - - §4 - -The Commission now consisted of foes only. The President was Prince S. -M. Golitsyn, a simple old gentleman, who, after sitting for nine months, -knew just as little about the business as he did nine months before he -took the chair. He preserved a dignified silence and seldom spoke; -whenever an examination was finished, he asked, “May he be dismissed?” -“Yes,” said Golitsyn junior, and then Golitsyn senior signified in a -stately manner to the accused, “You may go.” - - - §5 - -My first examination lasted four hours. The questions asked were of two -kinds. The object of the first was to discover a trend of thought -“opposed to the spirit of the Russian government, and ideas that were -either revolutionary or impregnated with the pestilent doctrine of -Saint-Simonianism”—this is a quotation from Golitsyn junior and Oranski, -the paymaster. - -Such questions were simple, but they were not really questions at all. -The confiscated papers and letters were clear enough evidence of -opinions; the questions could only turn on the essential fact, whether -the letters were or were not written by the accused; but the -Commissioners thought it necessary to add to each expression they had -copied out, “In what sense do you explain the following passage in your -letter?” - -Of course there was nothing to explain, and I wrote meaningless and -evasive answers to all the questions. Oranski discovered the following -statement in one of my letters: “No written constitution leads to -anything: they are all mere contracts between a master and his slaves; -the problem is not to improve the condition of the slaves but to -eliminate them altogether.” When called upon to explain this statement, -I remarked that I saw no necessity to defend constitutional government, -and that, if I had done so, I might have been prosecuted. - -“There are two sides from which constitutional government can be -attacked,” said Golitsyn junior, in his excitable, sibilant voice, “and -you don’t attack it from the point of view of autocracy, or else you -would not have spoken of ‘slaves.’” - -“In that respect I am as guilty as the Empress Catherine, who forbade -her subjects to call themselves slaves.” - -Golitsyn junior was furious at my sarcasm. - -“Do you suppose,” he said, “that we meet here to carry on academic -discussion, and that you are defending a thesis in the lecture-room?” - -“Why then do you ask for explanations?” - -“Do you pretend not to understand what is wanted of you?” - -“I don’t understand,” I said. - -“How obstinate they are, every one of them!” said the chairman, Golitsyn -senior, as he shrugged his shoulders and looked at Colonel Shubenski, of -the police. I smiled. “Ogaryóv over again,” sighed the worthy old -gentleman, letting the cat quite out of the bag. - -A pause followed this indiscretion. The meetings were all held in the -Prince’s library, and I turned towards the shelves and examined the -books; they included an edition in many volumes of the _Memoirs_ of the -Duc de Saint-Simon.[74] - -Footnote 74: - - The author of the famous _Memoirs_ (1675-1755) was an ancestor of the - preacher of socialism (1760-1825). - -I turned to the chairman. “There!” I said, “what an injustice! You are -trying me for Saint-Simonianism, and you, Prince, have on your shelves -twenty volumes of his works.” - -The worthy man had never read a book in his life, and was at loss for a -reply. But Golitsyn junior darted a furious glance at me and asked, -“Don’t you see that these are the works of the Duc de Saint-Simon who -lived in the reign of Louis XIV?” - -The chairman smiled and conveyed to me by a nod his impression that I -had made a slip this time; then he said, “You may go.” - -When I had reached the door, the chairman asked, “Was it he who wrote -the article about Peter the Great which you showed me?” - -“Yes,” answered Shubenski. - -I stopped short. - -“He has ability,” remarked the chairman. - -“So much the worse: poison is more dangerous in skilful hands,” added -the Inquisitor; “a very dangerous young man and quite incorrigible.” - -These words contained my condemnation. - -Here is a parallel to the Saint-Simon incident. When the police-officer -was going through books and papers at Ogaryóv’s house, he put aside a -volume of Thiers’s _History of the French Revolution_; when he found a -second volume, a third, an eighth, he lost patience. “What a collection -of revolutionary works! And here’s another!” he added, handing to his -subordinate Cuvier’s speech _Sur les révolutions du globe terrestre_! - - - §6 - -There were other questions of a more complicated kind, in which various -traps and tricks, familiar to the police and boards of enquiry, were -made use of, in order to confuse me and involve me in contradictions. -Hints that others had confessed, and moral torture of various kinds, -came into play here. They are not worth repeating; it is enough to say -that the tricks all failed to make me or my three friends betray one -another. - -When the last question had been handed out to me, I was sitting alone in -the small room where we wrote our replies. Suddenly the door opened, and -Golitsyn junior came in, wearing a pained and anxious expression. - -“I have come,” he said, “to have a talk with you before the end of your -replies to our questions. The long friendship between my late father and -yours makes me feel a special interest in you. You are young and may -have a distinguished career yet; but you must first clear yourself of -this business, and that fortunately depends on yourself alone. Your -father has taken your arrest very much to heart; his one hope now is -that you will be released. The President and I were discussing it just -now, and we are sincerely ready to make large concessions; but you must -make it possible for us to help you.” - -I saw what he was driving at. The blood rushed to my head, and I bit my -pen with rage. - -He went on: “You are on the road that leads straight to service in the -ranks or imprisonment, and on the way you will kill your father: he will -not survive the day when he sees you in the grey overcoat of a private -soldier.” - -I tried to speak, but he stopped me. “I know what you want to say. Have -patience a moment. That you had designs against the Government is -perfectly clear; and we must have proofs of your repentance, if you are -to be an object of the Tsar’s clemency. You deny everything; you give -evasive answers; from a false feeling of honour you protect people of -whom we know more than you do, and who are by no means as scrupulous as -you are; you won’t help them, but they will drag you over the precipice -in their fall. Now write a letter to the Board; say simply and frankly -that you are conscious of your guilt, and that you were led away by the -thoughtlessness of youth; and name the persons whose unhappy errors led -you astray. Are you willing to pay this small price, in order to redeem -your whole future and to save your father’s life?” - -“I know nothing, and will add nothing to my previous disclosures,” I -replied. - -Golitsyn got up and said in a dry voice: “Very well! As you refuse, we -are not to blame.” That was the end of my examination. - - - §7 - -I made my last appearance before the Commission in January or February -of 1835. I was summoned there to read through my answers, make any -additions I wished, and sign my name. Shubenski was the only -Commissioner present. When I had done reading, I said: - -“I should like to know what charge can be based on these questions and -these answers. Which article of the code applies to my case?” - -“The code of law is intended for crimes of a different kind,” answered -the colonel in blue. - -“That is another matter. But when I read over all these literary -exercises, I cannot believe that the charge, on which I have spent six -months in prison, is really contained there.” - -“Do you really imagine,” returned Shubenski, “that we accepted your -statement that you were not forming a secret society?” - -“Where is it, then?” I asked. - -“It is lucky for you that we could not find the proofs, and that you -were cut short. We stopped you in time; indeed, it may be said that we -saved you.” - -Gógol’s story, in fact, over again, of the carpenter Poshlepkin and his -wife, in _The Revizor_.[75] - -Footnote 75: - - Gógol, _The Revizor_, Act IV, Scene ii. - -After I had signed my name, Shubenski rang and ordered the priest to be -summoned. The priest appeared and added his signature, testifying that -all my admissions had been made voluntarily and without compulsion of -any kind. Of course, he had never been present while I was examined; and -he had not the assurance to ask my account of the proceedings. I thought -of the unprejudiced witness who stopped outside our house while the -police arrested me. - - - §8 - -When the enquiry was over, the conditions of my imprisonment were -relaxed to some extent, and near relations could obtain permission for -interviews. In this way two more months passed by. - -In the middle of March our sentence was confirmed. What it was nobody -knew: some said we should be banished to the Caucasus, while others -hoped we should all be released. The latter was Staal’s proposal, which -he submitted separately to the Tsar; he held that we had been -sufficiently punished by our imprisonment. - -At last, on the twentieth of March, we were all brought to Prince -Golitsyn’s house, to hear our sentence. It was a very great occasion: -for we had never met since we were arrested. - -A cordon of police and officers of the garrison stood round us, while we -embraced and shook hands with one another. The sight of friends gave -life to all of us, and we made plenty of noise; we asked questions and -told our adventures indefatigably. - -Sokolovski was present, rather pale and thin, but as humorous as ever. - - - §9 - -Sokolovski, the author of _Creation_ and other meritorious poems, had a -strong natural gift for poetry; but this gift was neither improved by -cultivation nor original enough to dispense with it. He was not a -politician at all, he lived the life of a poet. He was very amusing and -amiable, a cheerful companion in cheerful hours, a _bon-vivant_, who -enjoyed a gay party as well as the rest of us, and perhaps a little -better. He was now over thirty. - -When suddenly torn from this life and thrown into prison, he bore -himself nobly: imprisonment strengthened his character. - -He was arrested in Petersburg and then conveyed to Moscow, without being -told where he was going. Useless tricks of this kind are constantly -played by the Russian police; in fact, it is the poetry of their lives; -there is no calling in the world, however prosaic and repulsive, that -does not possess its own artistic refinements and mere superfluous -adornments. Sokolovski was taken straight to prison and lodged in a kind -of dark store-room. Why should he be confined in prison and we in -barracks? - -He took nothing there with him but a couple of shirts. In England, every -convict is forced to take a bath as soon as he enters prison; in Russia, -precautionary measures are taken against cleanliness. - -Sokolovski would have been in a horrible state had not Dr. Haas sent him -a parcel of his own linen. - - - §10 - -This Dr. Haas, who was often called a fool and a lunatic, was a very -remarkable man. His memory ought not to be buried in the jungle of -official obituaries—that record of virtues that never showed themselves -until their possessors were mouldering in the grave. - -He was a little old man with a face like wax; in his black tail-coat, -knee-breeches, black silk stockings, and shoes with buckles, he looked -as if he had just stepped out of some play of the eighteenth century. In -this costume, suitable for a wedding or a funeral, and in the agreeable -climate of the 59th degree of north latitude, he used to drive once a -week to the Sparrow Hills when the convicts were starting for the first -stage of their long march. He had access to them in his capacity of a -prison-doctor, and went there to pass them in review; and he always took -with him a basketful of odds and ends—eatables and dainties of different -kinds for the women, such as walnuts, gingerbread, apples, and oranges. -This generosity excited the wrath and displeasure of the ‘charitable’ -ladies, who were afraid of giving pleasure by their charity, and afraid -of being more charitable than was absolutely necessary to save the -convicts from being starved or frozen. - -But Haas was obstinate. When reproached for the foolish indulgence he -showed to the women, he would listen meekly, rub his hands, and reply: -“Please observe, my dear lady; they can get a crust of bread from -anyone, but they won’t see sweets or oranges again for a long time, -because no one gives them such things—your own words prove that. And -therefore I give them this little pleasure, because they won’t get it -soon again.” - -Haas lived in a hospital. One morning a patient came to consult him. -Haas examined him and went to his study to write a prescription. When he -returned, the invalid had disappeared, and so had the silver off the -dinner-table. Haas called a porter and asked whether anyone else had -entered the building. The porter realised the situation: he rushed out -and returned immediately with the spoons and the patient, whom he had -detained with the help of a sentry. The thief fell on his knees and -begged for mercy. Haas was perplexed. - -“Fetch a policeman,” he said to one of the porters. “And you summon a -clerk here at once.” - -The two porters, pleased with their part in detecting the criminal, -rushed from the room; and Haas took advantage of their absence to -address the thief. “You are a dishonest man; you deceived me and tried -to rob me; God will judge you for it. But now run out at the back gate -as fast as you can, before the sentries come back. And wait a -moment—very likely you haven’t a penny; here is half a _rouble_ for you. -But you must try to mend your ways: you can’t escape God as easily as -the policeman.” - -His family told Haas he had gone too far this time. But the incorrigible -doctor stated his view thus: “Theft is a serious vice; but I know the -police, and how they flog people; it is a much worse vice to deliver up -your neighbour to their tender mercies. And besides, who knows? My -treatment may soften his heart.” - -His family shook their heads and protested: and the charitable ladies -said, “An excellent man but not quite all right _there_,” pointing to -their foreheads; but Haas only rubbed his hands and went his own way. - - - §11 - -Sokolovski had hardly got to an end of his narrative before others began -to tell their story, several speaking at the same time. It was as if we -had returned from a long journey—there was a running fire of questions -and friendly chaff. - -Satin had suffered more in body that the rest of us: he looked thin and -had lost some of his hair. He was on his mother’s estate in the -Government of Tambóv when he heard of our arrest, and started at once -for Moscow, that his mother might not be terrified by a visit from the -police. But he caught cold on the journey and was seriously ill when he -reached Moscow. The police found him there in his bed. It being -impossible to remove him, he was put under arrest in his own house: a -sentry was posted inside his bedroom, and a male sister of mercy, in the -shape of a policeman, sat by his pillow; hence, when he recovered from -delirium, his eyes rested on the scrutinising looks of one attendant or -the sodden face of the other. - -When winter began he was transferred to a hospital. It turned out that -there was no unoccupied room suitable for a prisoner; but that was a -trifle which caused no difficulty. A secluded corner _without a stove_ -was discovered in the building, and here he was placed with a sentry to -guard him. Nothing like a balcony on the Riviera for an invalid! What -the temperature in that stone box was like in winter, may be guessed: -the sentry suffered so much that he used at night to go into the passage -and warm himself at the stove, begging his prisoner not to tell the -officer of the day. - -But even the authorities of the hospital could not continue this -open-air treatment in such close proximity to the North Pole, and they -moved Satin to a room next to that in which people who were brought in -frozen were rubbed till they regained consciousness. - - - §12 - -Before we had nearly done telling our own experiences and listening to -those of our friends, the adjutants began to bustle about, the garrison -officers stood up straight, and the policemen came to attention; then -the door opened solemnly, and little Prince Golitsyn entered _en grande -tenue_ with his ribbon across his shoulder; Tsinski was in Household -uniform; and even Oranski had put on something special for the joyful -occasion—a light green costume, between uniform and mufti. Staal, of -course, was not there. - -The officers now divided us into three groups. Sokolovski, an artist -called Ootkin, and Ibayev formed the first group; I and my friends came -next, and then a miscellaneous assortment. - -The first three, who were charged with treason, were sentenced to -confinement at Schlüsselburg[76] for an unlimited term. - -Footnote 76: - - A prison-fortress on an island in the Neva, forty miles from - Petersburg. - -In order to show his easy, pleasant manners, Tsinski asked Sokolovski, -after the sentence was read, “I think you have been at Schlüsselburg -before?” “Yes, last year,” was the immediate answer; “I suppose I knew -what was coming, for I drank a bottle of Madeira there.” - - - §13 - -Two years later Ootkin died in the fortress. Sokolovski was released -more dead than alive and sent to the Caucasus, where he died at -Pyatigorsk. Of Ibayev it may be said in one sense that he died too; for -he became a mystic. - -Ootkin, “a free artist confined in prison,” as he signed himself in -replying to the questions put to him, was a man of forty; he never took -part in political intrigue of any kind, but his nature was proud and -vehement, and he was uncontrolled in his language and disrespectful to -the members of the Commission. For this they did him to death in a damp -dungeon where the water trickled down the walls. - -But for his officer’s uniform, Ibayev would never have been punished so -severely. He happened to be present at a party where he probably drank -too much and sang, but he certainly drank no more and sang no louder -than the rest. - - - §14 - -And now our turn came. Oranski rubbed his spectacles, cleared his -throat, and gave utterance to the imperial edict. It was here set forth -that the Tsar, having considered the report of the Commission and taking -special account of the youth of the criminals, ordered that they should -not be brought before a court of justice. On the contrary, the Tsar in -his infinite clemency pardoned the majority of the offenders and allowed -them to live at home under police supervision. But the ringleaders were -to undergo corrective discipline, in the shape of banishment to distant -Governments for an unlimited term; they were to serve in the -administration, under the supervision of the local authorities. - -This last class contained six names—Ogaryóv, Satin, Lakhtin, Sorokin, -Obolenski, and myself. My destination was Perm. Lakhtin had never been -arrested at all; when he was summoned to the Commission to hear the -sentence, he supposed it was intended merely to give him a fright, that -he might take thought when he saw the punishment of others. It was said -that this little surprise was managed by a relation of Prince Golitsyn’s -who was angry with Lakhtin’s wife. He had weak health and died after -three years in exile. - -When Oranski had done reading, Colonel Shubenski stepped forward. He -explained to us in picked phrases and the style of Lomonossov,[77] that -for the Tsar’s clemency we were obliged to the good offices of the -distinguished nobleman who presided at the Commission. He expected that -we should all express at once our gratitude to the great man, but he was -disappointed. - -Footnote 77: - - _I.e._, an old-fashioned pompous style. Lomonossov (1711-1765) was the - originator of Russian literature and Russian science. - -Some of those who had been pardoned made a sign with their heads, but -even they stole a glance at us as they did so. - -Shubenski then turned to Ogaryóv and said: “You are going to Penza. Do -you suppose that is a mere accident? Your father is lying paralysed at -Penza; and the Prince asked the Emperor that you might be sent there, -that your presence might to some extent lighten the blow he must suffer -in your banishment. Do you too think you have no cause for gratitude?” - -Ogaryóv bowed; and that was all they got for their pains. - -But that good old gentleman, the President, was pleased, and for some -reason called me up next. I stepped forward: whatever he or Shubenski -might say, I vowed by all the gods that I would not thank them. Besides, -my place of exile was the most distant and most disgusting of all. - -“So you are going to Perm,” said the Prince. - -I said nothing. The Prince was taken aback, but, in order to say -something, he added, “I have an estate there.” - -“Can I take any message to your bailiff?” I asked, smiling. - -“I send no messages by people like you—mere _carbonari_,” said the -Prince, by a sudden inspiration. - -“What do you want of me then?” I asked. - -“Nothing.” - -“Well, I thought you called me forward.” - -“You may go,” interrupted Shubenski. - -“Permit me,” I said, “as I am here, to remind you that you, Colonel, -said to me on my last appearance before the Commission, that no one -charged me with complicity in the students’ party; but now the sentence -says that I am one of those punished on that account. There is some -mistake here.” - -“Do you mean to protest against the imperial decision?” cried out -Shubenski. “If you are not careful, young man, something worse may be -substituted for Perm. I shall order your words to be taken down.” - -“Just what I meant to ask. The sentence says ‘according to the report of -the Commission’: well, my protest is not against the imperial edict but -against your report. I call the Prince to witness, that I was never even -questioned about the party or the songs sung there.” - -Shubenski turned pale with rage. “You pretend not to know,” he said, -“that your guilt is ten times greater than that of those who attended -the party.” He pointed to one of the pardoned men: “There is a man who -sang an objectionable song under the influence of drink; but he -afterwards begged forgiveness on his knees with tears. You are still far -enough from any repentance.” - -“Excuse me,” I went on; “the depth of my guilt is not the question. But -if I am a murderer, I don’t want to pass for a thief. I don’t want -people to say, even by way of defence, that I did so-and-so under the -influence of drink.” - -“If my son, my own son, were as brazen as you, I should myself ask the -Tsar to banish him to Siberia.” - -At this point the Commissioner of Police struck in with some incoherent -nonsense. It is a pity that Golitsyn junior was not present; he would -have had a chance to air his rhetoric. - -All this, as a matter of course, led to nothing. - -We stayed in the room for another quarter of an hour, and spent the -time, undeterred by the earnest representations of the police-officers, -in warm embraces and a long farewell. I never saw any of them again, -except Obolenski, before my return from Vyatka. - - - §15 - -We had to face our departure. Prison was in a sense a continuation of -our former life; but with our departure for the wilds, it broke off -short. Our little band of youthful friends was parting asunder. Our -exile was sure to last for several years. Where and how, if ever, should -we meet again? One felt regret for that past life—one had been forced to -leave it so suddenly, without saying good-bye. Of a meeting with Ogaryóv -I had no hope. Two of my intimate friends secured an interview with me -towards the end, but I wanted something more. - - - §16 - -I wished to see once more the girl who had cheered me before and to -press her hand as I had pressed it in the churchyard nine months -earlier. At that interview I intended to part with the past and greet -the future. - -We did meet for a few minutes on April 9, 1835, the day before my -departure into exile. - -Long did I keep that day sacred in memory; it is one of the red-letter -days of my life. - -But why does the recollection of that day and all the bright and happy -days of my past life recall so much that is terrible? I see a grave, a -wreath of dark-red roses, two children whom I am leading by the hand, -torch-light, a band of exiles, the moon, a warm sea beneath a mountain; -I hear words spoken which I cannot understand, and yet they tear my -heart.[78] - -Footnote 78: - - Herzen’s wife, Natalie, died at Nice in 1852 and was buried there - under the circumstances here described. - -All, all, has passed away! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - Exile—A Chief Constable—The Volga—Perm. - - - §1 - -ON the morning of April 10, 1835, a police-officer conducted me to the -Governor’s palace, where my parents were allowed to take leave of me in -the private part of the office. - -This was bound to be an uncomfortable and painful scene. Spies and -clerks swarmed round us; we listened while his instructions were read -aloud to the police-agent who was to go with me; it was impossible to -exchange a word unwatched—in short, more painful and galling -surroundings cannot be imagined. It was a relief when the carriage -started at last along the Vladimirka River. - - _Per me si va nella città dolente, - Per me si va nell’ eterno dolore_—[79] - -Footnote 79: - - Dante, _Inferno_, Canto III. - -I wrote this couplet on the wall of one of the post-houses; it suits the -vestibule of Hell and the road to Siberia equally well. - -One of my intimate friends had promised to meet me at an inn seven -_versts_ from Moscow. - -I proposed to the police-agent that he should have a glass of brandy -there; we were at a safe distance from Moscow, and he accepted. We went -in, but my friend was not there. I put off our start by every means in -my power; but at last my companion was unwilling to wait longer, and the -driver was touching up the horses, when suddenly a _troika_[80] came -galloping straight up to the door. I rushed out—and met two strangers; -they were merchants’ sons out for a spree and made some noise as they -got off their vehicle. All along the road to Moscow I could not see a -single moving spot, nor a single human being. I felt it bitter to get -into the carriage and start. But I gave the driver a quarter-_rouble_, -and off we flew like an arrow from the bow. - -Footnote 80: - - Three horses harnessed abreast form a _troika_. - -We put up nowhere: the orders were that not less than 200 _versts_ were -to be covered every twenty-four hours. That would have been tolerable, -at any other season; but it was the beginning of April, and the road was -covered with ice in some places, and with water and mud in others; and -it got worse and worse with each stage of our advance towards Siberia. - - - §2 - -My first adventure happened at Pokróv. - -We had lost some hours owing to the ice on the river, which cut off all -communication with the other side. My guardian was eager to get on, when -the post-master at Pokróv suddenly declared that there were no fresh -horses. My keeper produced his passport, which stated that horses must -be forthcoming all along the road; he was told that the horses were -engaged for the Under-Secretary of the Home Office. He began, of course, -to wrangle and make a noise; and then they both went off together to get -horses from the local peasants. - -Getting tired of waiting for their return in the post-master’s dirty -room, I went out at the gate and began to walk about in front of the -house. It was nine months since I had taken a walk without the presence -of a sentry. - -I had been walking half an hour when a man came up to me; he was wearing -uniform without epaulettes and a blue medal-ribbon. He stared very hard -at me, walked past, turned round at once, and asked me in an insolent -manner: - -“Is it you who are going to Perm with a police-officer?” - -“Yes,” I answered, still walking. - -“Excuse me! excuse me! How does the man dare...?” - -“Whom have I the honour of speaking to?” - -“I am the chief constable of this town,” replied the stranger, and his -voice showed how deeply he felt his own social importance. “The -Under-Secretary may arrive at any moment, and here, if you please, there -are political prisoners walking about the streets! What an idiot that -policeman is!” - -“May I trouble you to address your observations to the man himself?” - -“Address him? I shall arrest him and order him a hundred lashes, and -send you on in charge of someone else.” - -Without waiting for the end of his speech, I nodded and walked back -quickly to the post-house. Sitting by the window, I could hear his loud -angry voice as he threatened my keeper, who excused himself but did not -seem seriously alarmed. Presently they came into the room together; I -did not turn round but went on looking out of the window. - -From their conversation I saw at once that the chief constable was dying -to know all about the circumstances of my banishment. As I kept up a -stubborn silence, the official began an impersonal address, intended -equally for me and my keeper. - -“We get no sympathy. What pleasure is it to me, pray, to quarrel with a -policeman or to inconvenience a gentleman whom I never set eyes on -before in my life? But I have a great responsibility, in my position -here. Whatever happens, I get the blame. If public funds are stolen, -they attack me; if the church catches fire, they attack me; if there are -too many drunk men in the streets, I suffer for it; if too little whisky -is drunk,[81] I suffer for that too.” He was pleased with his last -remark and went on more cheerfully: “It is lucky you met me, but you -might have met the Secretary; and if you had walked past him, he would -have said ‘A political prisoner walking about! Arrest the chief -constable!’” - -Footnote 81: - - great revenue was derived by Government from the sale of spirits. - -I got weary at last of his eloquence. I turned to him and said: - -“Do your duty by all means, but please spare me your sermons. From what -you say I see that you expected me to bow to you; but I am not in the -habit of bowing to strangers.” - -My friend was flabbergasted. - -That is the rule all over Russia, as a friend of mine used to say: -whoever gets rude and angry first, always wins. If you ever allow a Jack -in office to raise his voice, you are lost: when he hears himself -shouting, he turns into a wild beast. But if _you_ begin shouting at his -first rude word, he is certain to be cowed; for he thinks that you mean -business and are the sort of person whom it is unsafe to irritate. - -The chief constable sent my keeper to enquire about the horses; then he -turned to me and remarked by way of apology: - -“I acted in that way chiefly because of the man. You don’t know what our -underlings are like—it is impossible to pass over the smallest breach of -discipline. But I assure you I know a gentleman when I see him. Might I -ask you what unfortunate incident it was that brings you...” - -“We were bound to secrecy at the end of the trial.” - -“Oh, in that case ... of course ... I should not venture...”—and his -eyes expressed the torments of curiosity. He held his tongue, but not -for long. - -“I had a distant cousin, who was imprisoned for about a year in the -fortress of Peter and Paul; he was mixed up with ... you understand. -Excuse me, but I think you are still angry, and I take it to heart. I am -used to army discipline; I began serving when I was seventeen. I have a -hot temper, but it all passes in a moment. I won’t trouble your man any -further, deuce take him!” - -My keeper now came in and reported that it would take an hour to drive -in the horses from the fields. - -The chief constable told him that he was pardoned at my intercession; -then he turned to me and added: - -“To show that you are not angry, I do hope you will come and take -pot-luck with me—I live two doors away; please don’t refuse.” - -This turn to our interview seemed to me so amusing that I went to his -house, where I ate his pickled sturgeon and caviare and drank his brandy -and Madeira. - -He grew so friendly that he told me all his private affairs, including -the details of an illness from which his wife had suffered for seven -years. After our meal, with pride and satisfaction he took a letter from -a jar on the table and let me read a “poem” which his son had written at -school and recited on Speech-day. After these flattering proofs of -confidence, he neatly changed the conversation and enquired indirectly -about my offence; and this time I gratified his curiosity to some -extent. - -This man reminded me of a justice’s clerk whom my friend S. used to -speak about. Though his chief had been changed a dozen times, the clerk -never lost his place and was the real ruler of the district. - -“How do you manage to get on with them all?” my friend asked. - -“All right, thank you; one manages to rub on somehow. You do sometimes -get a gentleman who is very awkward at first, kicks with fore legs and -hind legs, shouts abuse at you, and threatens to complain at -head-quarters and get you turned out. Well, you know, the likes of us -have to put up with that. One holds one’s tongue and thinks—‘Oh, he’ll -wear himself out in time; he’s only just getting into harness.’ And so -it turns out: once started, he goes along first-rate.” - - - §3 - -On getting near Kazán, we found the Volga in full flood. The river -spread fifteen _versts_ or more beyond its banks, and we had to travel -by water for the whole of the last stage. It was bad weather, and a -number of carts and other vehicles were detained on the bank, as the -ferries had stopped working. - -My keeper went to the man in charge and demanded a raft for our use. The -man gave it unwillingly; he said that it was dangerous and we had better -wait. But my keeper was in haste, partly because he was drunk and partly -because he wished to show his power. - -My carriage was placed upon a moderate-sized raft and we started. The -weather appeared to improve; and after half an hour the boatman, who was -a Tatar, hoisted a sail. But suddenly the storm came on again with fresh -violence, and we were carried rapidly downstream. We caught up some -floating timber and struck it so hard that our rickety raft was nearly -wrecked and the water came over the decking. It was an awkward -situation; but the Tatar managed to steer us into a sandbank. - -A barge now hove in sight. We called out to them to send us their boat, -but the bargemen, though they heard us, went past and gave us no -assistance. - -A peasant, who had his wife with him in a small boat, rowed up to us and -asked what was the matter. “What of that?” he said. “Stop the leak, say -a prayer, and start off. There’s nothing to worry about; but you’re a -Tatar, and that’s why you’re so helpless.” Then he waded over to our -raft. - -The Tatar was really very much alarmed. In the first place, my keeper, -who was asleep when the water came on board and wet him, sprang to his -feet and began to beat the Tatar. In the second place, the raft was -Government property and the Tatar kept saying, “If it goes to the -bottom, I shall catch it!” I tried to comfort him by saying that in that -case he would go to the bottom too. - -“But, if I’m _not_ drowned, _bátyushka_, what then?” was his reply. - -The peasant and some labourers stuffed up the leak in the raft and -nailed a board over it with their axe-heads; then, up to the waist in -the water, they dragged the raft off the sandbank, and we soon reached -the channel of the Volga. The current ran furiously. Wind, rain, and -snow lashed our faces, and the cold pierced to our bones; but soon the -statue of Ivan the Terrible began to loom out from behind the fog and -torrents of rain. It seemed that the danger was past; but suddenly the -Tatar called out in a piteous voice, “It’s leaking, it’s leaking!”—and -the water did in fact come rushing in at the old leak. We were right in -the centre of the stream, but the raft began to move slower and slower, -and the time seemed at hand when it would sink altogether. The Tatar -took off his cap and began to pray; my servant shed tears and said a -final good-bye to his mother at home; but my keeper used bad language -and vowed he would beat them both when we landed. - -I too felt uneasy at first, partly owing to the wind and rain, which -added an element of confusion and disorder to the danger. But then it -seemed to me absurd that I should meet my death before I had done -anything; the spirit of the conqueror’s question—_quid timeas? Caesarem -vehis!_—asserted itself;[82] and I waited calmly for the end, convinced -that I should not end my life there, between Uslon and Kazán. Later life -saps such proud confidence and makes a man suffer for it; and that is -why youth is bold and heroic, while a man in years is cautious and -seldom carried away. - -Footnote 82: - - The story of Caesar’s rebuke to the boatman is told by Plutarch in his - _Life of Caesar_, chap. 38. - -A quarter of an hour later we landed, drenched and frozen, near the -walls of the Kremlin of Kazán. At the nearest public-house I got a glass -of spirits and a hard-boiled egg, and then went off to the post-house. - - - §4 - -In villages and small towns, the post-master keeps a room for the -accommodation of travellers; but in the large towns, where everybody -goes to the hotels, there is no such provision. I was taken into the -office, and the post-master showed me his own room. It was occupied by -women and children and an old bedridden man; there was positively not a -corner where I could change my clothes. I wrote a letter to the officer -in command of the Kazán police, asking him to arrange that I should have -some place where I could warm myself and dry my clothes. - -My messenger returned in an hour’s time and reported that Count Apraxin -would grant my request. I waited two hours more, but no one came, and I -despatched my messenger again. He brought this answer—that the colonel -who had received Apraxin’s order was playing whist at the club, and that -nothing could be done for me till next day. - -This was positive cruelty, and I wrote a second letter to Apraxin. I -asked him to send me on at once and said I hoped to find better quarters -after the next stage of my journey. But my letter was not delivered, -because the Count had gone to bed. I could do no more. I took off my wet -clothes in the office; then I wrapped myself up in a soldier’s overcoat -and lay down on the table; a thick book, covered with some of my linen, -served me as a pillow. I sent out for some breakfast in the morning. By -that time the clerks were arriving, and the door-keeper pointed out to -me that a public office was an unsuitable place to breakfast in; it made -no difference to him personally, but the post-master might disapprove of -my proceedings. - -I laughed and said that a captive was secure against eviction and was -bound to eat and drink in his place of confinement, wherever it might -be. - -Next morning Count Apraxin gave me leave to stay three days at Kazán and -to put up at a hotel. - -For those three days I wandered about the city, attended everywhere by -my keeper. The veiled faces of the Tatar women, the high cheekbones of -their husbands, the mosques of true believers standing side by side with -the churches of the Orthodox faith—it all reminds one of Asia and the -East. At Vladímir or Nizhni the neighbourhood of Moscow is felt; but one -feels far from Moscow at Kazán. - - - §5 - -When I reached Perm, I was taken straight to the Governor’s house. There -was a great gathering there; for it was his daughter’s wedding-day; the -bridegroom was an officer in the Army. The Governor insisted that I -should come in. So I made my bow to the _beau monde_ of Perm, covered -with mud and dust, and wearing a shabby, stained coat. The Governor -talked a great deal of nonsense; he told me to keep clear of the Polish -exiles in the town and to call again in the course of a few days, when -he would provide me with some occupation in the public offices. - -The Governor of Perm was a Little Russian; he was not hard upon the -exiles and behaved reasonably in other respects. Like a mole which adds -grain to grain in some underground repository, so he kept putting by a -trifle for a rainy day, without anyone being the wiser. - - - §6 - -From some dim idea of keeping a check over us, he ordered that all the -exiles residing at Perm should report themselves at his house, at ten -every Saturday morning. He came in smoking his pipe and ascertained, by -means of a list which he carried, whether all were present; if anyone -was missing, he sent to enquire the reason; he hardly ever spoke to -anyone before dismissing us. Thus I made the acquaintance in his -drawing-room of all the Poles whom he had told me I was to avoid. - -The day after I reached Perm, my keeper departed, and I was at liberty -for the first time since my arrest—at liberty, in a little town on the -Siberian frontier, with no experience of life and no comprehension of -the sphere in which I was now forced to live. - -From the nursery I had passed straight to the lecture-room, and from the -lecture-room to a small circle of friends, an intimate world of theories -and dreams, without contact with practical life; then came prison, with -its opportunities for reflexion; and contact with life was only -beginning now and here, by the ridge of the Ural Mountains. - -Practical life made itself felt at once: the day after my arrival I went -to look for lodgings with the porter at the Governor’s office; he took -me to a large one-storeyed house; and, though I explained that I wanted -a small house, or, better still, part of a house, he insisted that I -should go in. - -The lady who owned the house made me sit on the sofa. Hearing that I -came from Moscow, she asked if I had seen M. Kabrit there. I replied -that I had never in my life heard a name like it. - -“Come, come!” said the old lady; “I mean M. Kabrit,” and she gave his -Christian name and patronymic. “You don’t say, _bátyushka_, that you -don’t know him! He is our Vice-Governor!” - -“Well, I spent nine months in prison,” I said smiling, “and perhaps that -accounts for my not hearing of him.” - -“It may be so. And so you want to hire the little house, _bátyushka_?” - -“It’s a big house, much too big; I said so to the man who brought me.” - -“Too much of this world’s goods are no burden to the back.” - -“True; but you will ask a large rent for your large house.” - -“Who told you, young man, about my prices? I’ve not opened my mouth -yet.” - -“Yes, but I know you can’t ask little for a house like this.” - -“How much do you offer?” - -In order to have done with her, I said that I would not pay more than -350 _roubles_. - -“And glad I am to get it, my lad! Just drink a glass of Canary, and go -and have your boxes moved in here.” - -The rent seemed to me fabulously low, and I took the house. I was just -going when she stopped me. - -“I forgot to ask you one thing—do you mean to keep a cow?” - -“Good heavens! No!” I answered, deeply insulted by such a question. - -“Very well; then I will supply you with cream.” - -I went home, thinking with horror that I had reached a place where I was -thought capable of keeping a cow! - - - §7 - -Before I had time to look about me, the Governor informed me that I was -transferred to Vyatka: another exile who was destined for Vyatka had -asked to be transferred to Perm, where some of his relations lived. The -Governor wished me to start next day. But that was impossible; as I -expected to stay some time at Perm, I had bought a quantity of things -and must sell them, even at a loss of 50 per cent. After several evasive -answers, the Governor allowed me to stay for forty-eight hours longer, -but he made me promise not to seek an opportunity of meeting the exile -from Vyatka. - -I was preparing to sell my horse and a variety of rubbish, when the -inspector of police appeared with an order that I was to leave in -twenty-four hours. I explained to him that the Governor had granted me -an extension, but he actually produced a written order, requiring him to -see me off within twenty-four hours; and this order had been signed by -the Governor after his conversation with me. - -“I can explain it,” said the inspector; “the great man wishes to shuffle -off the responsibility on me.” - -“Let us go and confront him with his signature,” I said. - -“By all means,” said the inspector. - -The Governor said that he had forgotten his promise to me, and the -inspector slyly asked if the order had not better be rewritten. “Is it -worth the trouble?” asked the Governor, with an air of indifference. - -“We had him there,” said the inspector to me, rubbing his hands with -satisfaction. “What a mean shabby fellow he is!” - - - §8 - -This inspector belonged to a distinct class of officials, who are half -soldiers and half civilians. They are men who, while serving in the -Army, have been lucky enough to run upon a bayonet or stop a bullet, and -have therefore been rewarded with positions in the police service. -Military life has given them an air of frankness; they have learned some -phrases about the point of honour and some terms of ridicule for humble -civilians. The youngest of them have read Marlinski and Zagóskin,[83] -and can repeat the beginning of _The Prisoner of the Caucasus_,[84] and -they like to quote the verses they know. For instance, whenever they -find a friend smoking, they invariably say: - - “The amber smoked between his teeth.”[85] - -Footnote 83: - - Popular novelists of the “patriotic” school, now forgotten. - -Footnote 84: - - A poem by Púshkin. - -Footnote 85: - - _The Fountain of Bakhchisarai_, I. 2. - -They are one and all deeply convinced, and let you know their conviction -with emphasis, that their position is far below their merits, and that -poverty alone keeps them down; but for their wounds and want of money, -they would have been generals-in-waiting or commanders of army-corps. -Each of them can point to some comrade-in-arms who has risen to the top -of the tree. “You see what Kreutz is now,” he says; “well, we two were -gazetted together on the same day and lived in barracks like brothers, -on the most familiar terms. But I’m not a German, and I had no kind of -interest; so here I sit, a mere policeman. But you understand that such -a position is distasteful to anyone with the feelings of a gentleman.” - -Their wives are even more discontented. These poor sufferers travel to -Moscow once a year, where their real business is to deposit their little -savings in the bank, though they pretend that a sick mother or aunt -wishes to see them for the last time. - -And so this life goes on for fifteen years. The husband, railing at -fortune, flogs his men and uses his fists to the shopkeepers, curries -favour with the Governor, helps thieves to get off, steals State papers, -and repeats verses from _The Fountain of Bakhchisarai_.[86] The wife, -railing at fortune and provincial life, takes all she can lay her hands -on, robs petitioners, cheats tradesmen, and has a sentimental weakness -for moonlight nights. - -Footnote 86: - - Another of Púshkin’s early works. - -I have described this type at length, because I was taken in by these -good people at first, and really thought them superior to others of -their class; but I was quite wrong. - - - §9 - -I took with me from Perm one personal recollection which I value. - -At one of the Governor’s Saturday reviews of the exiles, a Roman -Catholic priest invited me to his house. I went there and found several -Poles. One of them sat there, smoking a short pipe and never speaking; -misery, hopeless misery, was visible in every feature. His figure was -clumsy and even crooked; his face was of that irregular -Polish-Lithuanian type which surprises you at first and becomes -attractive later: the greatest of all Poles, Thaddei Kosciusko,[87] had -that kind of face. The man’s name was Tsichanovitch, and his dress -showed that he was terribly poor. - -Footnote 87: - - The famous Polish general and patriot (1746-1817). - -Some days later, I was walking along the avenue which bounds Perm in one -direction. It was late in May; the young leaves of the trees were -opening, and the birches were in flower—there were no trees but birches, -I think, on both sides of the avenue—but not a soul was to be seen. -People in the provinces have no taste for _Platonic_ perambulations. -After strolling about for a long time; at last I saw a figure in a field -by the side of the avenue: he was botanising, or simply picking flowers, -which are not abundant or varied in that part of the world. When he -raised his head, I recognised Tsichanovitch and went up to him. - -He had originally been banished to Verchoturye, one of the remotest -towns in the Government of Perm, hidden away in the Ural Mountains, -buried in snow, and so far from all roads that communication with it was -almost impossible in winter. Life there is certainly worse than at Omsk -or Krasnoyarsk. In his complete solitude there, Tsichanovitch took to -botany and collected the meagre flora of the Ural Mountains. He got -permission later to move to Perm, and to him this was a change for the -better: he could hear once more his own language spoken and meet his -companions in misfortune. His wife, who had remained behind in -Lithuania, wrote that she intended to join him, _walking from the -Government of Vilna_. He was expecting her. - -When I was transferred so suddenly to Vyatka, I went to say good-bye to -Tsichanovitch. The small room in which he lived was almost bare—there -was a table and one chair, and a little old portmanteau standing on end -near the meagre bed; and that was all the furniture. My cell in the -Krutitski barracks came back to me at once. - -He was sorry to hear of my departure, but he was so accustomed to -privations that he soon smiled almost brightly as he said, “That’s why I -love Nature; of her you can never be deprived, wherever you are.” - -Wishing to leave him some token of remembrance, I took off a small -sleeve-link and asked him to accept it. - -“Your sleeve-link is too fine for my shirt,” he said; “but I shall keep -it as long as I live and wear it in my coffin.” - -After a little thought, he began to rummage hastily in his portmanteau. -He took from a small bag a wrought-iron chain with a peculiar pattern, -wrenched off some of the links, and gave them to me. - -“I have a great value for this chain,” he said; “it is connected with -the most sacred recollections of my life, and I won’t give it all to -you; but take these links. I little thought that I should ever give them -to a Russian, an exile like myself.” - -I embraced him and said good-bye. - -“When do you start?” he asked. - -“To-morrow morning; but don’t come: when I go back, I shall find a -policeman at my lodgings, who will never leave me for a moment.” - -“Very well. I wish you a good journey and better fortune than mine.” - -By nine o’clock next morning the inspector appeared at my house, to -hasten my departure. My new keeper, a much tamer creature than his -predecessor, and openly rejoicing at the prospect of drinking freely -during the 350 _versts_ of our journey, was doing something to the -carriage. All was ready. I happened to look into the street and saw -Tsichanovitch walking past. I ran to the window. - -“Thank God!” he said. “This is the fourth time I have walked past, -hoping to hail you, if only from a distance; but you never saw me.” - -My eyes were full of tears as I thanked him: I was deeply touched by -this proof of tender womanly attachment. But this was the only reason -why I was sorry to leave Perm. - - - §10 - -On the second day of our journey, heavy rain began at dawn and went on -all day without stopping, as it often does in wooded country; at two -o’clock we came to a miserable village of natives. There was no -post-house; the native Votyaks, who could neither read nor write, opened -my passport and ascertained whether there were two seals or one, shouted -out “All right!” and harnessed the fresh horses. A Russian post-master -would have kept us twice as long. On getting near this village, I had -proposed to my keeper that we should rest there two hours: I wished to -get dry and warm and have something to eat. But when I entered the -smoky, stifling hut and found that no food was procurable, and that -there was not even a public-house within five _versts_, I repented of my -purpose and intended to go on. - -While I was still hesitating, a soldier came in and brought me an -invitation to drink a cup of tea from an officer on detachment. - -“With all my heart. Where is your officer?” - -“In a hut close by, Your Honour”—and the soldier made a left turn and -disappeared. I followed him. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - Vyatka—The Office and Dinner-table of His Excellency—Tufáyev. - - - §1 - -WHEN I called on the Governor of Vyatka, he sent a message that I was to -call again at ten next morning. - -When I returned, I found four men in the drawing-room, the inspectors of -the town and country police, and two office clerks. They were all -standing up, talking in whispers, and looking uneasily at the door. The -door opened, and an elderly man of middle height and broad-shouldered -entered the room. The set of his head was like that of a bulldog, and -the large jaws with a kind of carnivorous grin increased the canine -resemblance; the senile and yet animal expression of the features, the -small, restless grey eyes, and thin lank hair made an impression which -was repulsive beyond belief. - -He began by roughly reproving the country inspector for the state of a -road by which His Excellency had travelled on the previous day. The -inspector stood with his head bent, in sign of respect and submission, -and said from time to time, like servants in former days, “Very good, -Your Excellency.” - -Having done with the inspector he turned to me. With an insolent look he -said: - -“I think you have taken your degree at Moscow University?” - -“I have.” - -“Did you enter the public service afterwards?” - -“I was employed in the Kremlin offices.” - -“Ha! Ha! Much they do there! Not too busy there to attend parties and -sing songs, eh?” Then he called out, “Alenitsin!” - -A young man of consumptive appearance came in. “Hark ye, my friend. Here -is a graduate of Moscow University who probably knows everything except -the business of administration, and His Majesty desires that we should -teach it to him. Give him occupation in your office, and let me have -special reports about him. You, Sir, will come to the office at nine -to-morrow morning. You can go now. By the way, I forgot to ask how you -write.” - -I was puzzled at first. “I mean your handwriting,” he added. - -I said I had none of my own writing on me. - -“Bring paper and a pen,” and Alenitsin handed me a pen. - -“What shall I write?” - -“What you please,” said the clerk; “write, _Upon investigation it turned -out._” - -The Governor looked at the writing and said with a sarcastic smile, -“Well, we shan’t ask you to correspond with the Tsar.” - - - §2 - -While I was still at Perm, I had heard much about Tufáyev, but the -reality far surpassed all my expectations. - -There is no person or thing too monstrous for the conditions of Russian -life to produce. - -He was born at Tobolsk. His father was, I believe, an exile and belonged -to the lowest and poorest class of free Russians. At thirteen he joined -a band of strolling players, who wandered from fair to fair, dancing on -the tight rope, turning somersaults, and so on. With them he went all -the way from Tobolsk to the Polish provinces, making mirth for the -lieges. He was arrested there on some charge unknown to me, and then, -because he had no passport, sent back on foot to Tobolsk as a vagabond, -together with a gang of convicts. His mother was now a widow and living -in extreme poverty; he rebuilt the stove in her house with his own -hands, when it came to pieces. He had to seek a trade of some kind; the -boy learned to read and write and got employment as a clerk in the town -office. Naturally quick-witted, he had profited by the variety of his -experience; he had learned much from the troupe of acrobats, and as much -from the gang of convicts in whose company he had tramped from one end -of Russia to the other. He soon became a sharp man of business. - -At the beginning of Alexander’s reign a Government Inspector was sent to -Tobolsk, and Tufáyev was recommended to him as a competent clerk. He did -his work so well that the Inspector offered to take him back to -Petersburg. Hitherto, as he said himself, his ambition had not aspired -beyond a clerkship in some provincial court; but now he set a different -value on himself, and resolved with an iron strength of will to climb to -the top of the tree. - -And he did it. Ten years later we find him acting as secretary to the -Controller of the Navy, and then chief of a department in the office of -Count Arakchéyev,[88] which governed the whole Empire. When Paris was -occupied by the Allied Armies in 1815, the Count took his secretary -there with him. During the whole time of the occupation, Tufáyev -literally never saw a single street in Paris; he sat all day and all -night in the office, drawing up or copying documents. - -Footnote 88: - - Arakchéyev (1769-1835) was Minister and favourite of Emperor Alexander - I; he has been called “the assassin of the Russian people.” - -Arakchéyev’s office was like those copper-mines where the workmen are -kept only for a few months, because, if they stay longer, they die. In -this manufactory of edicts and ordinances, mandates and instructions, -even Tufáyev grew tired at last and asked for an easier place. He was of -course, a man after Arakchéyev’s own heart—a man without pretensions or -distractions or opinions of his own, conventionally honest, eaten up by -ambition, and ranking obedience as the highest of human virtues. -Arakchéyev rewarded him with the place of a Vice-Governor, and a few -years later made him Governor of Perm. The province, which Tufáyev had -passed through as acrobat and convict, first dancing on a rope and then -bound by a rope, now lay at his feet. - -A Governor’s power increases by arithmetical progression with the -distance from Petersburg, but increases by geometrical progression in -provinces like Perm or Vyatka or Siberia, where there is no resident -nobility. That was just the kind of province that Tufáyev needed. - -He was a Persian satrap, with this difference—that he was active, -restless, always busy and interfering in everything. He would have been -a savage agent of the French Convention in 1794, something in the way of -Carrier.[89] - -Footnote 89: - - Infamous for his _noyades_ at Nantes; guillotined in 1794. - -Profligate in his life, naturally coarse, impatient of all opposition, -his influence was extremely harmful. He did not take bribes; and yet, as -appeared after his death, he amassed a considerable fortune. He was -strict with his subordinates and punished severely those whom he -detected in dishonesty; but they stole more under his rule than ever -before or since. He carried the misuse of influence to an extraordinary -pitch; for instance, when despatching an official to hold an enquiry, he -would say, if he had a personal interest in the matter, “You will -probably find out so-and-so to be the case,” and woe to the official if -he did not find out what the Governor foretold. - -Perm, when I was there, was still full of Tufáyev’s glory, and his -partisans were hostile to his successor, who, as a matter of course, -surrounded himself with supporters of his own. - - - §3 - -But on the other hand, there were people at Perm who hated him. One of -these was Chebotarev, a doctor employed at one of the factories and a -remarkable product of Russian life. He warned me specially against -Tufáyev. He was a clever and very excitable man, who had made an -unfortunate marriage soon after taking his degree; then he had drifted -to Ekaterinburg[90] and sank with no experience into the slough of -provincial life. Though his position here was fairly independent, his -career was wrecked, and his chief employment was to mock at the -Government officials. He jeered at them in their presence and said the -most insulting things to their faces. But, as he spared nobody, nobody -felt particular resentment at his flouts and jeers. His bitter tongue -assured him a certain ascendancy over a society where fixed principles -were rare, and he forced them to submit to the lash which he was never -weary of applying. - -Footnote 90: - - A town in the Ural district, now polluted by a horrible crime. - -I was told beforehand that, though he was a good doctor, he was -crack-brained and excessively rude. - -But his way of talking and jesting seemed to me neither offensive nor -trivial; on the contrary, it was full of humour and concentrated bile. -This was the poetry of his life, his revenge, his cry of resentment and, -perhaps, in part, of despair also. Both as a student of human nature and -as a physician, he had placed these officials under his microscope; he -knew all their petty hidden vices; and, encouraged by their dulness and -cowardice, he observed no limits in his way of addressing them. - -He constantly repeated the same phrase—“It does not matter twopence,” or -“It won’t cost you twopence.” I once laughed at him for this, and he -said: “What are you surprised at? The object of all speech is to -persuade, and I only add to my statements the strongest proof that -exists in the world. Once convince a man that it won’t cost him twopence -to kill his own father and he’ll kill him sure enough.” - -He was always willing to lend moderate sums, as much as a hundred or two -hundred _roubles_. Whenever he was appealed to for a loan, he pulled out -his pocket-book and asked for a date by which the money would be repaid. - -“Now,” he said, “I will bet a _rouble_ that you will not pay the money -on that day.” - -“My dear Sir, who do you take me for?” the borrower would say. - -“My opinion of you does not matter twopence,” was the reply; “but the -fact is that I have kept an account for six years, and not a single -debtor has ever paid me on the day, and very few after it.” - -When the time had expired, the doctor asked with a grave face for the -payment of his bet. - -A rich merchant at Perm had a travelling carriage for sale. The doctor -called on him and delivered the following speech all in a breath. “You -are selling a carriage, I need one. Because you are rich and a -millionaire, everyone respects you, and I have come to testify my -respect for the same reason. Owing to your wealth, it does not matter -twopence to you whether you sell the carriage or not; but I need it, and -I am poor. You will want to squeeze me and take advantage of my -necessity; therefore you will ask 1,500 _roubles_ for it. I shall offer -700 _roubles_; I shall come every day to haggle over the price, and -after a week you will let me have it for 750 or 800. Might we not as -well begin at once at that point? I am prepared to pay that sum.” The -merchant was so astonished that he let the doctor have the carriage at -his own figure. - -But there was no end to the stories of Chebotarev’s eccentricity. I -shall add two more. - - - §4 - -I was present once when a lady, a rather clever and cultivated woman, -asked him if he believed in mesmerism. “What do you mean by mesmerism?” -he asked. The lady talked the usual nonsense in reply. “It does not -matter twopence to you,” he said, “to know whether I believe in -mesmerism or not; but if you like, I will tell you what I have seen in -that way.” “Please do.” “Yes; but you must listen attentively,” and then -he began to describe some experiments made by a friend of his, a doctor -at Khárkov; his description was very lively, clever, and interesting. - -While he was talking, a servant brought in some refreshments on a tray, -and was leaving the room when the lady said, “You have forgotten the -mustard.” Chebotarev stopped dead. “Go on, go on,” said the lady, a -little frightened already. “I’m listening to you.” “Pray, Madam, has he -remembered the salt?” “I see you are angry with me,” said the lady, -blushing. “Not in the least, I assure you. I know that you were -listening attentively; but I also know that no woman, however -intelligent she may be and whatever may be the subject under discussion, -can ever soar higher than the kitchen. How then could I venture to be -angry with you in particular?” - -Another story about him. Being employed as a doctor at the factories of -a Countess Pollier, he took a fancy to a boy he saw there, and wished to -have him for a servant. The boy was willing, but the steward said that -the consent of the Countess must first be obtained. The doctor wrote to -her, and she replied that he might have the boy, on condition of paying -down a sum equal to the payments due to her from the boy during the next -five years. The doctor wrote at once to express his willingness, but he -asked her to answer this question. “As Encke’s comet may be expected to -pass through the orbit of the earth in three years and a half from now, -who will be responsible for repaying the money I have advanced, in case -the comet drives the earth out of its orbit?” - - - §5 - -On the day I left for Vyatka, the doctor turned up at my house early in -the morning. He began with this witticism. “You are like Horace: he sang -once and people have been translating him ever since, and so you are -translated[91] from place to place for that song you sang.” Then he -pulled out his purse and asked if I needed money for the journey. I -thanked him and declined his offer. “Why don’t you take it? It won’t -cost you twopence.” “I have money.” “A bad sign,” he said; “the end of -the world is coming.” Then he opened his notebook and made this entry. -“For the first time in fifteen years’ practice I have met a man who -refused money, and that man was on the eve of departure.” - -Footnote 91: - - The same Russian verb means ‘to translate’ and ‘to transfer.’ - -Having had his jest, he sat down on my bed and said seriously: “That’s a -terrible man you are going to. Keep out of his way as much as ever you -can. If he takes a fancy to you, that says little in your favour; but if -he dislikes you, he will certainly ruin you; what weapon he will use, -false accusation or not, I don’t know, but ruin you he will; he won’t -care twopence.” - -Thereupon he told me a strange story, which I was able to verify at a -later date by means of papers preserved in the Home Office at -Petersburg. - - - §6 - -Tufáyev had a mistress at Perm, the sister of a humble official named -Petrovski. The fact was notorious, and the brother was laughed at. -Wishing therefore to break off this connexion, he threatened to write to -Petersburg and lay information, and, in short, made such a noise and -commotion that the police arrested him one day as insane and brought him -up to be examined before the administration of the province. The judges -and the inspector of public health—he was an old German, much beloved by -the poor, and I knew him personally—all agreed that Petrovski was -insane. - -But Chebotarev knew Petrovski and had been his doctor. He told the -inspector that Petrovski was not mad at all, and urged a fresh -examination; otherwise, he would feel bound to carry the matter further. -The administration raised no difficulties; but unfortunately Petrovski -died in the mad-house before the day fixed for the second examination, -though he was a young man and enjoyed good health. - -News of the affair now reached Petersburg. The sister was arrested -(Tufáyev ought to have been) and a secret enquiry began. Tufáyev -dictated the replies of the witnesses. He surpassed himself in this -business. He devised a means to stifle it for ever and to save himself -from a second involuntary journey to Siberia. He actually induced the -sister to say that her youth and inexperience had been taken advantage -of by the late Tsar Alexander when he passed through Perm, and that the -quarrel with her brother dated from that event. - -Was her story true? Well, _la regina ne aveva molto_,[92] says the -story-teller in Púshkin’s _Egyptian Nights_. - -Footnote 92: - - The reference in Púshkin is to Cleopatra’s lovers. - - - §7 - -Such was the man who now undertook to teach me the business of -administration, a worthy pupil of Arakchéyev, acrobat, tramp, clerk, -secretary, Governor, a tender-hearted, unselfish being, who shut up sane -men in mad-houses and made away with them there. - -I was entirely at his mercy. He had only to write some nonsense to the -Minister at Petersburg, and I should be packed off to Irkutsk. Indeed, -writing was unnecessary; he had the right to transfer me to some savage -place like Kai or Tsarevo-Sanchursk, where there were no resources and -no means of communication. He sent one young Pole to Glazov, because the -ladies had the bad taste to prefer him as a partner in the mazurka to -His Excellency. In this way Prince Dolgorúkov was transferred from Perm -to Verchoturye, a place in the Government of Perm, buried in mountains -and snow-drifts, with as bad a climate as Beryózov and even less -society. - - - §8 - -Prince Dolgorúkov belonged to a type which is becoming rarer with us; he -was a sprig of nobility, of the wrong sort, whose escapades were -notorious at Petersburg, Moscow, and Paris. His whole life was spent in -folly; he was a spoilt, insolent, offensive practical joker, a mixture -of buffoon and fine gentleman. When his pranks exceeded all bounds, he -was banished to Perm. - -He arrived there with two carriages; the first was occupied by himself -and his dog, a Great Dane, the second by his French cook and his -parrots. The arrival of this wealthy visitor gave much pleasure, and -before long all the town was rubbing shoulders in his dining-room. He -soon took up with a young lady of Perm; and this young lady, suspecting -that he was unfaithful, turned up unexpectedly at his house one morning, -and found him with a maid-servant. A scene followed, and at last the -faithless lover took his riding-whip down from its peg; when the lady -perceived his intention, she made off; simply attired in a dressing-gown -and nothing else, he made after her, and caught her up on the small -parade-ground where the troops were exercised. When he had given the -jealous lady a few blows with his whip, he strolled home, quite content -with his performance. - -But these pleasant little ways brought upon him the persecution of his -former friends, and the authorities decided to send this madcap of forty -on to Verchoturye. The day before he left, he gave a grand dinner, and -all the local officials, in spite of the strained relations, came to the -feast; for Dolgorúkov had promised them a new and remarkable pie. The -pie was in fact excellent and vanished with extraordinary rapidity. When -nothing but the crust was left, Dolgorúkov said to his guests with an -air of emotion: “It never can be said that I spared anything to make our -last meeting a success. I had my dog killed yesterday, to make this -pie.” - -The officials looked first with horror at one another and then round the -room for the Great Dane whom they all knew perfectly; but he was not -there. The Prince ordered a servant to bring in the mortal remains of -his favourite; the skin was all there was to show; the rest was in the -stomachs of the people of Perm. Half the town took to their beds in -consequence. - -Dolgorúkov meanwhile, pleased by the success of the practical joke he -had played on his friends, was travelling in triumph to Verchoturye. To -his train he had now added a third vehicle containing a hen-house and -its inhabitants. At several of the post-houses on his way he carried off -the official registers, mixed them up, and altered the figures; the -posting-department, who, even with the registers, found it difficult -enough to get the returns right, almost went mad in consequence. - - - §9 - -The oppressive emptiness and dumbness of Russian life, when misallied to -a strong and even violent temperament, are apt to produce monstrosities -of all kinds. - -Not only in Dolgorúkov’s pie, but in Suvórov’s crowing like a cock, in -the savage outbursts of Ismailov, in the semi-voluntary insanity of -Mamonov,[93] and in the wild extravagances of Tolstoi, nicknamed “The -American,” everywhere I catch a national note which is familiar to us -all, though in most of us it is weakened by education or turned in some -different direction. - -Footnote 93: - - Suvórov, the famous general (1729-1800), was very eccentric in his - personal habits. Ismailov, a rich landowner at the beginning of the - nineteenth century, was infamous for his cruelties. Mamonov - (1758-1803) was one of Catherine’s favourites. - -Tolstoi I knew personally, just at the time when he lost his daughter, -Sara, a remarkable girl with a high poetic gift. He was old then; but -one look at his athletic figure, his flashing eyes, and the grey curls -that clustered on his forehead, was enough to show how great was his -natural strength and activity. But he had developed only stormy passions -and vicious propensities. And this is not surprising: in Russia all that -is vicious is allowed to grow for long unchecked, while men are sent to -a fortress or to Siberia at the first sign of a humane passion. For -twenty years Tolstoi rioted and gambled, used his fists to mutilate his -enemies, and reduced whole families to beggary, till at last he was -banished to Siberia. He made his way through Kamchatka to America and, -while there, obtained permission to return to Russia. The Tsar pardoned -him, and he resumed his old life the very day after his return. He -married a gipsy woman, a famous singer who belonged to a gipsy tribe at -Moscow, and turned his house into a gambling-hell. His nights were spent -at the card-table, and all his time in excesses; wild scenes of cupidity -and intoxication went on round the cradle of his daughter. It is said -that he once ordered his wife to stand on the table, and sent a bullet -through the heel of her shoe, in order to prove the accuracy of his aim. - -His last exploit very nearly sent him back to Siberia. He contrived to -entrap in his house at Moscow a tradesman against whom he had an old -grudge, bound him hand and foot, and pulled out one of his teeth. It is -hardly credible that this should have happened only ten or twelve years -ago. The man lodged a complaint. But Tolstoi bribed the police and the -judges, and the victim was lodged in prison for false witness. It -happened that a well-known man of letters was then serving on the prison -committee and took up the affair, on learning the facts from the -tradesman. Tolstoi was seriously alarmed; it was clear that he was -likely to be condemned. But anything is possible in Russia. Count Orlóv -sent secret instructions that the affair must be hushed up, to deprive -the lower classes of a direct triumph over the aristocracy, and he also -advised that the man of letters should be removed from the committee. -This is almost more incredible than the incident of the tooth. But I was -in Moscow then myself and well acquainted with the imprudent man of -letters. But I must go back to Vyatka. - - - §10 - -The office there was incomparably worse than my prison. The actual work -was not hard; but the mephitic atmosphere—the place was like a second -Grotto del Cane[94]—and the monstrous and absurd waste of time made the -life unbearable. Alenitsin did not treat me badly. He was even more -polite than I expected; having been educated at the grammar school of -Kazán, he had some respect for a graduate of Moscow University. - -Footnote 94: - - The grotto near Naples where dogs were held over the sulphurous vapour - till they became insensible. - -Twenty clerks were employed in the office. The majority of them were -entirely destitute of either intellectual culture or moral sense, sons -of clerks, who had learned from their cradles to look upon the public -service as a means of livelihood and the cultivators of the land as the -source of their income. They sold official papers, pocketed small sums -whenever they could get them, broke their word for a glass of spirits, -and stuck at nothing, however base and ignominious. My own valet stopped -playing billiards at the public rooms, because, as he said, the -officials cheated shamefully and he could not give them a lesson because -of their rank in society. - -With these men, whose position alone made them safe from my servant’s -fists, I had to sit every day from nine till two and again from five -till eight. - -Alenitsin was head of the whole office, and the desk at which I sat had -a chief also, not a bad-hearted man, but drunken and illiterate. There -were four other clerks at my desk; and I had to be on speaking terms -with them, and with all the rest as well. Apart from the fact that these -people would sooner or later have paid me out for any airs of -exclusiveness, it is simply impossible not to get to know people in -whose company you spend several hours every day. It must also be -remembered how people in the country hang on to a stranger, especially -if he comes from the capital, and still more if he has been mixed up in -some exciting scandal. - -When I had tugged at the oar all day in this galley, I used sometimes to -go home quite stupefied and fall on my sofa, worn out and humiliated, -and incapable of any work or occupation. I heartily regretted my prison -cell with its foul air and black beetles, its locked door and turnkey -behind the lock. There I was free and did what I liked without -interference; there I enjoyed dead silence and unbroken leisure; I had -exchanged these for trivial talk, dirty companions, low ideas, and -coarse feelings. When I remembered that I must go back there in the -afternoon, and back again to-morrow, I sometimes fell into such fits of -rage and despair that I drank wine and spirits for consolation. - -Nor was that all. One of my desk-fellows would perhaps look in, for want -of something to do; and there he would sit and chatter till the -appointed hour recalled us to the office. - - - §11 - -After a few months, however, the office life became somewhat less -oppressive. - -It is not in the Russian character to keep up a steady system of -persecution, unless where personal or avaricious motives are involved; -and this fact is due to our Russian carelessness and indifference. Those -in authority in Russia are generally unlicked and insolent, and it is -very easy, when dealing with them, to come in for the rough side of -their tongue; but a war of pin-pricks is not in their way—they have not -the patience for it, perhaps because it brings in no profit. - -In the heat of the moment, in order to display their power or prove -their zeal, they are capable of anything, however absurd and -unnecessary; but then by degrees they cease to trouble you. - -I found this to be the case in my office. It so happened that the -Ministry of the Interior had just been seized with a fit of statistics. -Orders were issued that committees should be appointed all over the -country, and information was required from these committees which could -hardly have been supplied in such countries as Belgium and Switzerland. -There were also ingenious tables of all kinds for figures, to show a -maximum and minimum as well as averages, and conclusions based on a -comparison of ten years (for nine of which, if you please, no statistics -at all had been recorded); the morality of the inhabitants and even the -weather were to be included in the report. For the committee and for the -collection of facts not a penny was allotted; the work had to be done -from pure love of statistics; the rural police were to collect the facts -and the Governor’s office to put them in order. The office was -overburdened with work already, and the rural police preferred to use -their fists rather than their brains; both looked on the statistics -committee as a mere superfluity, an official joke; nevertheless, a -report had to be presented, including tables of figures and conclusions -based thereon. - -To all our office the job seemed excessively difficult. It was, indeed, -simply impossible; but to that nobody paid any attention; their sole -object was to escape a reprimand. I promised Alenitsin that I would -write the introduction and first part of the report, with specimen -tables, introducing plenty of eloquent phrases, foreign words, apt -quotations, and impressive conclusions, if he would allow me to perform -this difficult task at my house instead of at the office. He talked it -over with the Governor and gave permission. - -The beginning of the report dealt with the committee’s activity; and -here, as there was nothing to show at present, I dwelt upon hopes and -intentions for the future. This composition moved Alenitsin to the depth -of his heart and was considered a masterpiece even by the Governor. That -was the end of my labours in the department of statistics, but I was -made chairman of the committee. Thus I was delivered from the slavery of -copying office papers, and my drunken chief became something like my -subordinate. Alenitsin only asked, from some idea of keeping up -appearances, that I should just look in every day at the office. - -To show how utterly impossible it was to draw up serious tables, I shall -quote some information received from the town of Kai. There were many -absurdities, and this was one. - - Persons drowned, 2 - Causes of drowning unknown, 2 - ═══ - Total 4 - -Under the heading “Extraordinary Events” the following tragedy was -chronicled: “So-and-so, having injured his brain with spirituous -liquors, hanged himself.” Under the heading “Morality of the -Inhabitants” this was entered: “No Jews were found in the town of Kai.” -There was a question whether any funds had been allotted to the building -of a church, or exchange, or hospital. The answer was: “Money allotted -to the building of an exchange was not allotted.” - - - §12 - -Statistics saved me from office work, but they had one bad result—they -brought me into personal relations with the Governor. - -There was a time when I hated this man, but that time has long passed -away, and the man has passed away himself—he died about 1845 near Kazán, -where he had an estate. I think of him now without anger; I regard him -as a strange beast encountered in some primeval forest, which deserves -study, but, just because it is a beast, cannot excite anger. But then it -was impossible not to fight him; any decent man must have done so. He -might have damaged me seriously, but accident preserved me; and to -resent the harm which he failed to do me would be absurd and pitiable. - -The Governor was separated from his wife, and the wife of his cook -occupied her place. The cook was banished from the town, his only guilt -being his marriage; and the cook’s wife, by an arrangement whose -awkwardness seemed intentional, was concealed in the back part of the -Governor’s residence. Though she was not formally recognised, yet the -cook’s wife had a little court, formed out of those officials who were -especially devoted to the Governor—in other words, those whose conduct -could least stand investigation; and their wives and daughters, though -rather bashful about it, paid her stolen visits after dark. This lady -possessed the tact which distinguished one of her most famous male -predecessors—Catherine’s favourite, Potemkin. Knowing her consort’s way -and anxious not to lose her place, she herself procured for him rivals -from whom she had nothing to fear. Grateful for this indulgence, he -repaid her with his affection, and the pair lived together in harmony. - -The Governor spent the whole morning working in his office. The poetry -of his life began at three o’clock. He loved his dinner, and he liked to -have company while eating. Twelve covers were laid every day; if the -party was less than six, he was annoyed; if it fell to two, he was -distressed; and if he had no guest, he was almost desperate and went off -to the apartments of his Dulcinea, to dine there. It is not a difficult -business to get people together, in order to feed them to excess; but -his official position, and the fear his subordinates felt for him, -prevented them from availing themselves freely of his hospitality, and -him from turning his house into an inn. He had therefore to content -himself with heads of departments—though with half of them he was on bad -terms—occasional strangers, rich merchants, spirit-distillers, and -“curiosities.” These last may be compared with the _capacités_, who were -to be introduced into the Chamber of Deputies under Louis Philippe. I -need hardly say that I was a “curiosity” of the first water at Vyatka. - - - §13 - -People banished for their opinions to remote parts of Russia are a -little feared but by no means confounded with ordinary mortals. For the -provincial mind “dangerous people” have that kind of attraction which -notorious Don Juans have for women, and notorious courtesans for men. -The officials of Petersburg and grandees of Moscow are much more shy of -“dangerous” people than the dwellers in the provinces and especially in -Siberia. - -The exiled Decembrists were immensely respected. Yushnevski’s widow was -treated as a lady of the first consequence in Siberia; the official -figures of the Siberian census were corrected by means of statistics -supplied by the exiles; and Minich, in his prison, managed the affairs -of the province of Tobolsk, the Governors themselves resorting to him -for advice in matters of importance. - -The common people are even more friendly to the exiles; they always take -the side of men who have been punished. Near the Siberian frontier, the -word “exile” disappears, and the word “unfortunate” is used instead. In -the eyes of the Russian people, the sentence of a court leaves no stain. -In the Government of Perm, the peasants along the road to Tobolsk often -put out _kvass_ or milk and bread on the window-sill, for the use of -some “unfortunate” who may be trying to escape from Siberia. - - - §14 - -In this place I may say something about the Polish exiles. There are -some as far west as Nizhni, and after Kazán the number rapidly -increases; there were forty of them at Perm and at least as many at -Vyatka; and each of the smaller towns contained a few. - -They kept entirely apart and avoided all communication with the Russian -inhabitants; among themselves they lived like brothers, and the rich -shared their wealth with the poor. - -I never noticed any special hatred or any liking for them on the part of -the Russians. They were simply considered as outsiders; and hardly any -of the Poles knew Russian. - -I remember one of the exiles who got permission in 1837 to return to his -estates in Lithuania. He was a tough old cavalry officer who had served -under Poniatovski in several of Napoleon’s campaigns. The day before he -left, he invited some Poles to dinner, and me as well. After dinner he -came up to me with his glass in his hand, embraced me, and said with a -soldier’s frankness, “Oh, why are you a Russian?” I made no answer, but -his question made a strong impression on me. I realised that it was -impossible for the present generation to give freedom to Poland. But, -since Konarsky’s[95] time, Poles have begun to think quite differently -of Russians. - -Footnote 95: - - A Polish revolutionary; born in 1808, he was shot in February, 1839. - -In general, the exiled Poles are not badly treated; but those of them -who have no means of their own are shockingly ill off. Such men receive -from Government fifteen _roubles_ a month, to pay for lodgings, -clothing, food, and fuel. In the larger towns, such as Kazán or Tobolsk, -they can eke out a living by giving lessons or concerts, by playing at -balls or painting portraits or teaching children to dance; but at Perm -and Vyatka even these resources did not exist. In spite of that, they -never asked Russians for assistance in any form. - - - §15 - -The Governor’s invitations to dine on the luxuries of Siberia were a -real infliction to me. His dining-room was merely the office over again, -in a different shape, cleaner indeed, but more objectionable, because -there was not the same appearance of compulsion about it. - -He knew his guests thoroughly and despised them. Sometimes he showed his -claws, but he generally treated them as a man treats his dogs, either -with excessive familiarity or with a roughness beyond all bounds. But -all the same he continued to invite them, and they came in a flutter of -joy, prostrating themselves before him, currying favour by tales against -others, all smiles and bows and complaisance. - -I blushed for them and felt ashamed. - -Our intimacy did not last long: the Governor soon perceived that I was -unfit to move in the highest circles of Vyatka. - -After three months he was dissatisfied with me, and after six months he -hated me. I ceased to attend his dinners, and never even called at his -house. As we shall see later, it was a visit to Vyatka from the Crown -Prince[96] that saved me from his persecution. - -Footnote 96: - - Afterwards Alexander II. - -In this connexion it is necessary to add that I did nothing whatever to -deserve either his attentions and invitations at first, or his anger and -ill-usage afterwards. He could not endure in me an attitude which, -though not at all rude, was independent; my behaviour was perfectly -correct, but he demanded servility. - -He was greedily jealous of the power which he had worked hard to gain, -and he sought not merely obedience but the appearance of unquestioning -subordination. Unfortunately, in this respect he was a true Russian. - -The gentleman says to his servant: “Hold your tongue! I will not allow -you to answer me back.” - -The head of an office says to any subordinate who ventures on a protest: -“You forget yourself. Do you know to whom you are speaking?” - -Tufáyev cherished a secret but intense hatred for everything -aristocratic, and it was the result of bitter experience. For him the -penal servitude of Arakchéyev’s office was a harbour of refuge and -freedom, such as he had never enjoyed before. In earlier days his -employers, when they gave him small jobs to do, never offered him a -chair; when he served in the Controller’s office, he was treated with -military roughness by the soldiers and once horse-whipped by a colonel -in the streets of Vilna. The clerk stored all this up in his heart and -brooded over it; and now he was Governor, and it was his turn to play -the tyrant, to keep a man standing, to address people familiarly, to -speak unnecessarily loudly, and at times to commit long-descended nobles -for trial. - -From Perm he was promoted to Tver. But the nobles, however deferential -and subservient, could not stand Tufáyev. They petitioned for his -removal, and he was sent to Vyatka. - -There he was in his element once more. Officials and distillers, -factory-owners and officials,—what more could the heart of man desire? -Everyone trembled before him and got up when he approached; everyone -gave him dinners, offered him wine, and sought to anticipate his wishes; -at every wedding or birthday party the first toast proposed was “His -Excellency the Governor!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - -Officials—Siberian Governors—A Bird of Prey—A Gentle Judge—An Inspector - Roasted—The Tatar—A Boy of the Female Sex—The Potato Revolt—Russian - Justice. - - - §1 - -ONE of the saddest consequences of the revolution effected by Peter the -Great is the development of the official class in Russia. These -_chinóvniks_ are an artificial, ill-educated, and hungry class, -incapable of anything except office-work, and ignorant of everything -except official papers. They form a kind of lay clergy, officiating in -the law-courts and police-offices, and sucking the blood of the nation -with thousands of dirty, greedy mouths. - -Gógol raised one side of the curtain and showed us the Russian -_chinóvnik_ in his true colours;[97] but Gógol, without meaning to, -makes us resigned by making us laugh, and his immense comic power tends -to suppress resentment. Besides, fettered as he was by the censorship, -he could barely touch on the sorrowful side of that unclean subterranean -region in which the destinies of the ill-starred Russian people are -hammered and shaped. - -Footnote 97: - - Gógol’s play, _The Revisor_, is a satire on the Russian bureaucracy. - -There, in those grimy offices which we walk through as fast as we can, -men in shabby coats sit and write; first they write a rough draft and -then copy it out on stamped paper—and individuals, families, whole -villages are injured, terrified, and ruined. The father is banished to a -distance, the mother is sent to prison, the son to the Army; it all -comes upon them as suddenly as a clap of thunder, and in most cases it -is undeserved. The object of it all is money. Pay up! If you don’t, an -inquest will be held on the body of some drunkard who has been frozen in -the snow. A collection is made for the village authorities; the peasants -contribute their last penny. Then there are the police and -law-officers—they must live somehow, and one has a wife to maintain and -another a family to educate, and they are all model husbands and -fathers. - -This official class is sovereign in the north-eastern Governments of -Russia and in Siberia. It has spread and flourished there without -hindrance and without pause; in that remote region where all share in -the profits, theft is the order of the day. The Tsar himself is -powerless against these entrenchments, buried under snow and constructed -out of sticky mud. All measures of the central Government are -emasculated before they get there, and all its purposes are distorted: -it is deceived and cheated, betrayed and sold, and all the time an -appearance of servile fidelity is kept up, and official procedure is -punctually observed. - -Speranski[98] tried to lighten the burdens of the people by introducing -into all the offices in Siberia the principle of divided control. But it -makes little difference whether the stealing is done by individuals or -gangs of robbers. He discharged hundreds of old thieves, and took on -hundreds of new ones. The rural police were so terrified at first that -they actually paid blackmail to the peasants. But a few years passed, -and the officials were making as much money as ever, in spite of the new -conditions. - -Footnote 98: - - Michail Speranski (1772-1839), minister under Alexander I, was - Governor of Siberia in 1819. - -A second eccentric Governor, General Velyaminov, tried again. For two -years he struggled hard at Tobolsk to root out the malpractices; and -then, conscious of failure, he gave it all up and ceased to attend to -business at all. - -Others, more prudent than he, never tried the experiment: they made -money themselves and let others do the same. - -“I shall root out bribery,” said Senyavin, the Governor of Moscow, to a -grey-bearded old peasant who had entered a complaint against some crying -act of injustice. The old man smiled. - -“What are you laughing at?” asked the Governor. - -“Well, I _was_ laughing, _bátyushka_; you must forgive me. I was -thinking of one of our people, a great strong fellow, who boasted that -he would lift the Great Cannon at Moscow; and he did try, but the cannon -would not budge.” - -Senyavin used to tell this story himself. He was one of those -unpractical bureaucrats who believe that well-turned periods in praise -of honesty, and rigorous prosecution of the few thieves who get caught, -have power to cure the widespread plague of Russian corruption, that -noxious weed that spreads at ease under the protecting boughs of the -censorship. - -Two things are needed to cope with it—publicity, and an entirely -different organisation of the whole machine. The old national system of -justice must be re-introduced, with oral procedure and sworn witnesses -and all that the central Government detests so heartily. - - - §2 - -Pestel, one of the Governors of Western Siberia, was like a Roman -proconsul, and was outdone by none of them. He carried on a system of -open and systematic robbery throughout the country, which he had -entirely detached from Russia by means of his spies. Not a letter -crossed the frontier unopened, and woe to the writer who dared to say a -word about his rule. He kept the merchants of the First Guild in prison -for a whole year, where they were chained and tortured. Officials he -punished by sending them to the frontier of Eastern Siberia and keeping -them there for two or three years. - -The people endured him for long; but at last a tradesman of Tobolsk -determined to bring the state of things to the Tsar’s knowledge. -Avoiding the usual route, he went first to Kyakhta and crossed the -Siberian frontier from there with a caravan of tea. At Tsárskoë Seló[99] -he found an opportunity to hand his petition to Alexander, and begged -him to read it. Alexander was astonished and impressed by the strange -matter he read there. He sent for the petitioner, and they had a long -conversation which convinced him of the truth of the terrible story. -Horrified and somewhat confused, the Tsar said: - -Footnote 99: - - _I.e._, “The Tsar’s Village,” near Petersburg. - -“You can go back to Siberia now, my friend; the matter shall be looked -into.” - -“No, Your Majesty,” said the man; “I cannot go home now; I would rather -go to prison. My interview with Your Majesty cannot be kept secret, and -I shall be murdered.” - -Alexander started. He turned to Milorádovitch, who was then Governor of -Petersburg, and said: - -“I hold you answerable for this man’s life.” - -“In that case,” said Milorádovitch, “Your Majesty must allow me to lodge -him in my own house.” And there the man actually stayed until the affair -was settled. - -Pestel resided almost continuously at Petersburg. You will remember that -the Roman proconsuls also generally lived in the capital.[100] By his -presence and his connexions and, above all, by sharing his booty, he -stopped in advance all unpleasant rumours and gossip. He and Rostopchín -were dining one day at the Tsar’s table. They were standing by the -window, and the Tsar asked, “What is that on the church cross over -there—something black?” “I cannot make it out,” said Rostopchín; “we -must appeal to Pestel; he has wonderful sight and can see from here what -is going on in Siberia.” - -Footnote 100: - - Herzen is mistaken here. - -The Imperial Council, taking advantage of the absence of Alexander,—he -was at Verona or Aix,—wisely and justly decided that, as the complaint -referred to Siberia, Pestel, who was fortunately on the spot, should -conduct the investigation. But Milorádovitch, Mordvínov, and two others -protested against this decision, and the matter was referred to the -Supreme Court. - -That body gave an unjust decision, as it always does when trying high -officials. Pestel was reprimanded, and Treskin, the Civil Governor of -Tobolsk, was deprived of his official rank and title of nobility and -banished. Pestel was merely dismissed from the service. - -Pestel was succeeded at Tobolsk by Kaptsevitch, a pupil of Arakchéyev. -Thin and bilious, a tyrant by nature and a restless martinet, he -introduced military discipline everywhere; but, though he fixed maximum -prices, he left all ordinary business in the hands of the robbers. In -1824 the Tsar intended to visit Tobolsk. Throughout the Government of -Perm there is an excellent high road, well worn by traffic; it is -probable that the soil was favourable for its construction. Kaptsevitch -made a similar road all the way to Tobolsk in a few months. In spring, -when the snow was melting and the cold bitter, thousands of men were -driven in relays to work at the road. Sickness broke out and half the -workmen died; but “zeal overcomes all difficulties,” and the road was -made. - -Eastern Siberia is governed in a still more casual fashion. The distance -is so great that all rumours die away before they reach Petersburg. One -Governor of Irkutsk used to fire cannon at the town when he was cheerful -after dinner; another, in the same state, used to put on priest’s robes -and celebrate the Mass in his own house, in the presence of the Bishop; -but, at least, neither the noise of the former nor the piety of the -latter did as much harm as the state of siege kept up by Pestel and the -restless activity of Kaptsevitch. - - - §3 - -It is a pity that Siberia is so badly governed. The choice of Governors -has been peculiarly unfortunate. I do not know how Muravyóv acquits -himself there—his intelligence and capacity are well known; but all the -rest have been failures. Siberia has a great future before it. It is -generally regarded as a kind of cellar, full of gold and furs and other -natural wealth, but cold, buried in snow, and ill provided with comforts -and roads and population. But this is a false view. - -The Russian Government is unable to impart that life-giving impulse -which would drive Siberia ahead with American speed. We shall see what -will happen when the mouths of the Amoor are opened to navigation, and -when America meets Siberia on the borders of China. - -I said, long ago, that the Pacific Ocean is the Mediterranean of the -future; and I have been pleased to see the remark repeated more than -once in the New York newspapers. In that future the part of Siberia, -lying as it does between the ocean, South Asia, and Russia, is -exceedingly important. Siberia must certainly extend to the Chinese -frontier: why should we shiver and freeze at Beryózov and Yakutsk, when -there are such places as Krasnoyarsk and Minusinsk? - -The Russian settlers in Siberia have traits of character which suggest -development and progress. The population in general are healthy and well -grown, intelligent and exceedingly practical. The children of the -emigrants have never felt the pressure of landlordism. There are no -great nobles in Siberia, and there is no aristocracy in the towns; -authority is represented by the civil officials and military officers; -but they are less like an aristocracy than a hostile garrison -established by a conqueror. The cultivators are saved from frequent -contact with them by the immense distances, and the merchants are saved -by their wealth. This latter class, in Siberia, despise the officials: -while professing to give place to them, they take them for what they -really are—inferiors who are useful in matters of law. - -Arms are indispensable to the settler, and everyone knows how to use -them. Familiarity with danger and the habit of prompt action have made -the Siberian peasant more soldierly, more resourceful, and more ready to -resist, than his Great Russian brother. The distance of the churches has -left him more independence of mind: he is lukewarm about religion and -very often a dissenter. There are distant villages which the priest -visits only thrice a year, when he christens the children in batches, -reads the service for the dead, marries all the couples, and hears -confession of accumulated sins. - - - §4 - -On this side of the Ural ridge, the ways of governors are less -eccentric. But yet I could fill whole volumes with stories which I heard -either in the office or at the Governor’s dinner-table—stories which -throw light on the malpractices and dishonesty of the officials. - - - §5 - -“Yes, Sir, he was indeed a marvel, my predecessor was”—thus the -inspector of police at Vyatka used to address me in his confidential -moments. “Well, of course, we get along fairly, but men like him are -born, not made. He was, in his way, I might say, a Caesar, a -Napoleon”—and the eyes of my lame friend, the Major, who had got his -place as recompense for a wound, shone as he recalled his glorious -predecessor. - -“There was a gang of robbers, not far from the town. Complaints came -again and again to the authorities; now it was a party of merchants -relieved of their goods, now the manager of a distillery was robbed of -his money. The Governor was in a fuss and drew up edict after edict. -Well, as you know, the country police are not brave: they can deal well -enough with a petty thief, if there’s only one; but here there was a -whole gang, and, likely enough, in possession of firearms. As the -country police did nothing, the Governor summoned the town inspector and -said: - -“‘I know that this is not your business at all, but your well-known -activity forces me to appeal to you.’ - -“The inspector knew all about the scandal already. - -“‘General,’ said he, ‘I shall start in an hour. I know where the robbers -are sure to be; I shall take a detachment with me; I shall come upon the -scoundrels, bring them back in chains, and lodge them in the town -prison, before they are three days older.’ Just like Suvórov to the -Austrian Emperor! And he did what he said he would do: he surprised them -with his detachment; the robbers had no time to hide their money; the -inspector took it all and marched them off to the town. - -“When the trial began, the inspector asked where the money was. - -“‘Why, _bátyushka_, we put it into your own hands,’ said two of the men. - -“‘Mine!’ cried the inspector, with an air of astonishment. - -“‘Yes, yours!’ shouted the thieves. - -“‘There’s insolence for you!’ said the inspector to the magistrate, -turning pale with rage. ‘Do you expect to make people believe that I was -in league with you? I shall show you what it is to insult my uniform; I -was a cavalry officer once, and my honour shall not be insulted with -impunity!’ - -“So the thieves were flogged, that they might confess where they had -stowed away the money. At first they were obstinate, but when they heard -the order that they were to be flogged ‘for two pipes,’ then the leader -of the gang called out—‘We plead guilty! We spent the money ourselves.’ - -“‘You might have said so sooner,’ remarked the inspector, ‘instead of -talking such nonsense. You won’t get round me in a hurry, my friend.’ -‘No, indeed!’ muttered the robber, looking in astonishment at the -inspector; ‘we could teach nothing to Your Honour, but we might learn -from you.’ - -“Well, over that affair the inspector got the Vladímir Order.” - -“Excuse me,” I said, interrupting his enthusiasm for the great man, “but -what is the meaning of that phrase ‘for two pipes’?” - -“Oh, we often use that in the police. One gets bored, you know, while a -flogging is going on; so one lights a pipe; and, as a rule, when the -pipe is done, the flogging is over too. But in special cases we order -that the flogging shall go on till two pipes are smoked out. The men who -flog are accustomed to it and know exactly how many strokes that means.” - - - §6 - -Ever so many stories about this hero were in circulation at Vyatka. His -exploits were miraculous. For some reason or another—perhaps a -Staff-general or Minister was expected—he wished to show that he had not -worn cavalry uniform for nothing, but could put spurs to a charger in -fine style. With this object in view, he requisitioned a horse from a -rich merchant of the district; it was a grey stallion, and a very -valuable animal. The merchant refused it. - -“All right,” said the inspector; “if you don’t choose to do me such a -trifling service voluntarily, then I shall take the horse without your -leave.” - -“We shall see about that,” said Gold. - -“Yes, you shall,” said Steel. - -The merchant locked up his stable and set two men to guard it. “Foiled -for once, my friend!” he thought. - -But that night, by a strange accident, a fire broke out in some empty -sheds close to the merchant’s house. The inspector and his men worked -manfully. In order to save the house, they even pulled down the wall of -the stable and led out the object of dispute, with not a hair of his -mane or tail singed. Two hours later, the inspector was caracoling on a -grey charger, on his way to receive the thanks of the distinguished -visitor for his courage and skill in dealing with the fire. This -incident proved to everyone that he bore a charmed life. - - - §7 - -The Governor was once leaving a party; and, just as his carriage -started, a careless driver, in charge of a small sledge, drove into him, -striking the traces between the wheelers and leaders. There was a block -for a moment, but the Governor was not prevented from driving home in -perfect comfort. Next day he said to the inspector: “Do you know whose -coachman ran into me last night? He must be taught better.” - -“That coachman will not do it again, Your Excellency,” answered the -inspector with a smile; “I have made him smart properly for it.” - -“Whose coachman was it?” - -“Councillor Kulakov’s, Your Excellency.” - -At that moment the old Councillor, whom I found at Vyatka and left there -still holding the same office, came into the room. - -“You must excuse us,” said the Governor, “for giving a lesson to your -coachman yesterday.” - -The Councillor, quite in the dark, looked puzzled. - -“He drove into my carriage yesterday. Well, you understand, if he did it -to _me_, then ...” - -“But, Your Excellency, my wife and I spent the evening at home, and the -coachman was not out at all.” - -“What’s the meaning of this?” asked the Governor. - -But the inspector was not taken aback. - -“The fact is, Your Excellency, I had such a press of business yesterday -that I quite forgot about the coachman. But I confess I did not venture -to mention to Your Excellency that I had forgotten. I meant to attend to -his business at once.” - -“Well, there’s no denying that you are the right man in the right -place!” said the Governor. - - - §8 - -Side by side with this bird of prey I shall place the portrait of a very -different kind of official—a mild and sympathetic creature, a real -sucking dove. - -Among my acquaintance at Vyatka was an old gentleman who had been -dismissed from the service as inspector of rural police. He now drew up -petitions and managed lawsuits for other people—a profession which he -had been expressly forbidden to adopt. He had entered the service in the -year one, had robbed and squeezed and blackmailed in three provinces, -and had twice figured in the dock. This veteran liked to tell surprising -stories of what he and his contemporaries had done; and he did not -conceal his contempt for the degenerate successors who now filled their -places. - -“Oh, they’re mere bunglers,” he used to say. “Of course they take -bribes, or they couldn’t live; but as for dexterity or knowledge of the -law, you needn’t expect anything of the kind from them. Just to give you -an idea, let me tell you of a friend of mine who was a judge for twenty -years and died twelve months ago. He was a genius! The peasants revere -his memory, and he left a trifle to his family too. His method was all -his own. If a peasant came with a petition, the Judge would admit him at -once and be very friendly and cheerful. - -“‘Well, my friend, tell me your name and your father’s name, too.’ - -“The peasant bows—‘Yermolai is my name, _bátyushka_, and my father’s -name was Grigóri.’ - -“‘Well, how are you, Yermolai Grigorevitch, and where do you come from?’ - -“‘I live at Dubilov.’ - -“‘I know, I know—those mills on the right hand of the high road are -yours, I suppose?’ - -“‘Just so, _bátyushka_, the mills belong to our village.’ - -“‘A prosperous village, too—good land—black soil.’ - -“‘We have no reason to murmur against Heaven, Your Worship.’ - -“‘Well, that’s right. I dare say you have a good large family, Yermolai -Grigorevitch?’ - -“‘Three sons and two daughters, Your Worship, and my eldest daughter’s -husband has lived in our house these five years.’ - -“‘And I dare say there are some grandchildren by this time?’ - -“‘Indeed there are, Your Worship—a few of them too.’ - -“‘And thank God for it! He told us to increase and multiply. Well, -you’ve come a long way, Yermolai Grigorevitch; will you drink a glass of -brandy with me?’ - -“The visitor seems doubtful. The Judge fills the glass, saying: - -“‘Come, come, friend—the holy fathers have not forbidden us the use of -wine and oil on this day.’ - -“‘It is true that we are allowed it, but strong drink brings a man to -all bad fortune.’ Thereupon he crosses himself, bows to his host, and -drinks the dram. - -“‘Now, with a family like that, Grigorevitch, you must find it hard to -feed and clothe them all. One horse and one cow would never do for -you—you would run short of milk for such a number.’ - -“‘One horse, _bátyushka_! That wouldn’t do at all. I’ve three, and I had -a fourth, a roan, but it died in St. Peter’s Fast; it was bewitched; our -carpenter Doroféi hates to see others prosper, and he has the evil eye.’ - -“‘Well, that does happen sometimes. But you have good pasture there, and -I dare say you keep sheep.’ - -“‘Yes, we have some sheep.’ - -“‘Dear me, we have had quite a long chat, Yermolai Grigorevitch. I must -be off to Court now—the Tsar’s service, as you know. Have you any little -business to ask me about, I wonder?’ - -“‘Indeed I have, Your Worship.’ - -“‘Well, what is it? Have you been doing something foolish? Be quick and -tell me, because I must be starting.’ - -“‘This is it, Your Honour. Misfortune has come upon me in my old age, -and I trust to you. It was Assumption Day; we were in the public-house, -and I had words with a man from another village—a nasty fellow he is, -who steals our wood. Well, we had some words, and then he raised his -fist and struck me on the breast. “Don’t you use your fists off your own -dunghill,” said I; and I wanted to teach him a lesson, so I gave him a -tap. Now, whether it was the drink or the work of the Evil One, my fist -went straight into his eye, and the eye was damaged. He went at once to -the police—“I’ll have the law of him,” says he.’ - -“During this narrative the Judge—a fig for your Petersburg -actors!—becomes more and more solemn; the expression of his eyes becomes -alarming; he says not a word. - -“The peasant sees this and changes colour; he puts his hat down on the -ground and takes out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his brow. The -Judge turns over the leaves of a book and still keeps silence. - -“‘That is why I have come to see you, _bátyushka_,’ the peasant says in -a strained voice. - -“‘What can I do in such a case? It’s a bad business! What made you hit -him in the eye?’ - -“‘What indeed, _bátyushka_! It was the enemy led me astray.’ - -“‘Sad, very sad! Such a thing to ruin a whole family! How can they get -on without you—all young, and the grandchildren mere infants! A sad -thing for your wife, too, in her old age!’ - -“The man’s legs begin to tremble. ‘Does Your Honour think it’s as bad as -all that?’ - -“‘Take the book and read the act yourself. But perhaps you can’t read? -Here is the article dealing with injuries to the person—“shall first be -flogged and then banished to Siberia.”’ - -“‘Oh, save a man from ruin, save a fellow-Christian from destruction! Is -it impossible ...’ - -“‘But, my good man, we can’t go against the law. So far as it’s in our -hands, we might perhaps lower the thirty strokes to five or so.’ - -“‘But about Siberia?’ - -“‘Oh, there we’re powerless, my friend.’ - -“The peasant at this point produces a purse, takes a paper out of the -purse and two or three gold pieces out of the paper; with a low bow he -places them on the table. - -“‘What’s all that, Yermolai Grigorevitch?’ - -“‘Save me, _bátyushka_!’ - -“‘No more of that! I have my weak side and I take a present at times; my -salary is small and I have to do it. But if I do, I like to give -something in return; and what can I do for you? If only it had been a -rib or a tooth! But the eye! Take your money back.’ - -“The peasant is dumbfounded. - -“‘There is just one possibility: I might speak to the other judges and -write a line to the county town. The matter will probably go to the -court there, and I have friends there who will do all they can. But -they’re men of a different kidney, and three yellow-boys will not go far -in that quarter.’ - -“The peasant recovers a little. - -“‘_I_ don’t want anything—I’m sorry for your family; but it’s no use -offering _them_ less than 400 _roubles_.’ - -“‘Four hundred _roubles_! How on earth can I get such a mint of money as -that, in these times? It’s quite beyond me, I swear.’ - -“‘It’s not easy, I agree. We can lessen the flogging; the man’s sorry, -we shall say, and he was not sober at the time. People _do_ live in -Siberia, after all; and it’s not so very far from here. Of course, you -might manage it by selling a pair of horses and one of the cows and the -sheep. But you would have to work many years to replace all that stock; -and if you don’t pay up, your horses will be left all right but you’ll -be off on the long tramp yourself. Think it over, Grigorevitch; no -hurry; we’ll do nothing till to-morrow; but I must be going now.’ And -the Judge pockets the coins he had refused, saying, ‘It’s quite -unnecessary—I only take it to spare your feelings.’ - -“Next day, an old Jew turns up at the Judge’s house, lugging a bag that -contains 350 _roubles_ in coinage of all dates. - -“The Judge promises his assistance. The peasant is tried, and tried over -again, and well frightened; then he gets off with a light sentence, or a -caution to be more prudent in future, or a note against his name as a -suspicious character. And the peasant for the rest of his life prays -that God will reward the Judge for his kindness. - -“Well, that’s a specimen of the neat way they used to do it”—so the -retired inspector used to wind up his story. - - - §9 - -In Vyatka the Russian tillers of the soil are fairly independent, and -get a bad name in consequence from the officials, as unruly and -discontented. But the Finnish natives, poor, timid, stupid people, are a -regular gold-mine to the rural police. The inspectors pay the governors -twice the usual sum when they are appointed to districts where the Finns -live. - -The tricks which the authorities play on these poor wretches are beyond -belief. - -If the land-surveyor is travelling on business and passes a native -village, he never fails to stop there. He takes the theodolite off his -cart, drives in a post and pulls out his chain. In an hour the whole -village is in a ferment. “The land-measurer! the land-measurer!” they -cry, just as they used to cry, “The French! the French!” in the year -’12. The elders come to pay their respects: the surveyor goes on -measuring and making notes. They ask him not to cheat them out of their -land, and he demands twenty or thirty _roubles_. They are glad to give -it and collect the money; and he drives on to the next village of -natives. - -Again, if the police find a dead body, they drag it about for a -fortnight—the frost makes this possible—through the Finnish villages. In -each village they declare that they have just found the corpse and mean -to start an inquest; and the people pay blackmail. - -Some years before I went to Vyatka, a rural inspector, a famous -blackmailer, brought a dead body in a cart into a large village of -Russian settlers, and demanded, I think, 200 _roubles_. The village -elder consulted the community; but they would not go beyond one hundred. -The inspector would not lower his price. The peasants got angry: they -shut him up with his two clerks in the police-office and threatened, in -their turn, to burn them alive. The inspector did not take them -seriously. The peasants piled straw around the house; then, by way of -ultimatum, they held up a hundred-_rouble_ note on a pole in front of -the window. The hero inside asked for a hundred more. Thereupon the -peasants fired the straw at all four corners, and all the three Mucius -Scaevolas of the rural police were burnt to death. At a later time this -matter came before the Supreme Court. - -These native settlements are in general much less thriving than the -Russian villages. - -“You don’t seem well off, friend,” I said to the native owner of a hut -where I was waiting for fresh horses; it was a wretched, smoky, -lop-sided cabin, with windows looking over the yard at the back. - -“What can we do, _bátyushka_? We are poor, and keep our money for a -rainy day.” - -“A rainy day? It looks to me as if you’d got it already. But drink that -for comfort”—and I filled a glass with rum. - -“We don’t drink,” said the Finn, with a greedy look at the glass and a -suspicious look at me. - -“Come, come, you’d better take it.” - -“Well, drink first yourself.” - -I drank, and then he followed my example. “What are you doing?” he -asked. “Have you come on business from Vyatka?” - -“No,” I answered; “I’m a traveller on my way there.” He was considerably -relieved to hear this; he looked all round, and added by way of -explanation, “The rainy day is when the inspector or the priest comes -here.” - -I should like to say something here about the latter of these -personages. - - - §10 - -Of the Finnish population some accepted Christianity before Peter’s -reign, others were baptised in the time of Elizabeth,[101] and others -have remained heathen. Most of those who changed their religion under -Elizabeth are still secretly attached to their own dismal and savage -faith. - -Footnote 101: - - Elizabeth, daughter of Peter the Great, reigned from 1741 to 1762. - -Every two or three years the police-inspector and the priest make a tour -of the villages, to find out which of the natives have not fasted in -Lent, and to enquire the reasons. The recusants are harried and -imprisoned, flogged and fined. But the visitors search especially for -some proof that the old heathen rites are still kept up. In that case, -there is a real ‘rainy day’—the detective and the missionary raise a -storm and exact heavy blackmail; then they go away, leaving all as it -was before, to repeat their visit in a year or two. - -In the year 1835 the Holy Synod thought it necessary to convert the -heathen Cheremisses to Orthodoxy. Archbishop Philaret nominated an -active priest named Kurbanovski as missionary. Kurbanovski, a man eaten -up by the Russian disease of ambition, set to work with fiery zeal. He -tried preaching at first, but soon grew tired of it; and, in point of -fact, not much is to be done by that ancient method. - -The Cheremisses, when they heard of this, sent their own priests to meet -the missionary. These fanatics were ingenious savages: after long -discussions, they said to him: “The forest contains not only silver -birches and tall pines but also the little juniper. God permits them all -to grow and does not bid the juniper be a pine tree. We men are like the -trees of the forest. Be you the silver birches, and let us remain the -juniper. We don’t interfere with you, we pray for the Tsar, pay our -dues, and provide recruits for the Army; but we are not willing to be -false to our religion.” - -Kurbanovski saw that they could not agree, and that he was not fated to -play the part of Cyril and Methodius.[102] He had recourse to the -secular arm; and the local police-inspector was delighted—he had long -wished to show his zeal for the church; he was himself an unbaptised -Tatar, a true believer in the Koran, and his name was Devlet Kildéyev. - -Footnote 102: - - In the ninth century Cyril and his brother Methodius, two Greek monks - of Salonica, introduced Christianity among the Slavs. They invented - the Russian alphabet. - -He took a detachment of his men and proceeded to besiege the -Cheremisses. Several villages were baptised. Kurbanovski sang the _Te -Deum_ in church and went back to Moscow, to receive with humility the -velvet cap for good service; and the Government sent the Vladímir Cross -to the Tatar. - -But there was an unfortunate misunderstanding between the Tatar -missionary and the local mullah. The mullah was greatly displeased when -this believer in the Koran took to preaching the Gospel and succeeded so -well. During Ramadan, the inspector boldly put on his cross and appeared -in the mosque wearing it; he took a front place, as a matter of course. -The mullah had just begun to chant the Koran through his nose, when he -suddenly stopped and said that he dared not go on, in the presence of a -true believer who had come to the mosque wearing a Christian emblem. - -The congregation protested; and the discomfited inspector was forced to -put his cross in his pocket. - -I read afterwards in the archives of the Home Office an account of this -brilliant conversion of the Cheremisses. The writer mentioned the -zealous cooperation of Devlet Kildéyev, but unfortunately forgot to add -that his zeal for the Church was the more disinterested because of his -firm belief in the truth of Islam. - - - §11 - -Before I left Vyatka, the Department of Imperial Domains was committing -such impudent thefts that a commission of enquiry was appointed; and -this commission sent out inspectors into all the provinces. A new system -of control over the Crown tenants was introduced after that time. - -Our Governor at that time was Kornilov; he had to nominate two -subordinates to assist the inspectors, and I was one of the two. I had -to read a multitude of documents, sometimes with pain, sometimes with -amusement, sometimes with disgust. The very headings of the subjects for -investigation struck me with astonishment— - -(1) _The loss and total disappearance of a police-station, and the -destruction of the plan by the gnawing of mice._ - -(2) _The loss of twelve miles of arable land._ - -(3) _The transference of the peasant’s son Vasili to the female sex._ - -The last item was so remarkable that I read the details at once from -beginning to end. - -There was a petition to the Governor from the father of the child. The -petitioner stated that fifteen years ago a daughter had been born to -him, whom he wished to call Vasilissa; but the priest, not being sober, -christened the girl Vasili, and entered the name thus on the register. -This fact apparently caused little disturbance to the father; but when -he found he would soon be required to provide a recruit for the Army and -pay the poll-tax for the child, he informed the police. The police were -much puzzled. They began by refusing to act, on the ground that he ought -to have applied earlier. The father then went to the Governor, and the -Governor ordered that this boy of the female sex should be formally -examined by a doctor and a midwife. But at this point, matters were -complicated by a correspondence with the ecclesiastical authorities; and -the parish priest, whose predecessor, under the influence of drink, had -been too prudish to recognise differences of sex, now appeared on the -scene; the matter went on for years, and I rather think the girl was -never cleared of the suspicion of being a boy. - -The reader is not to suppose that this absurd story is a mere humorous -invention of mine. - -During the Emperor Paul’s reign a colonel of the Guards, making his -monthly report, returned as dead an officer who had gone to the -hospital; and the Tsar struck his name off the lists. But unfortunately -the officer did not die; he recovered instead. The colonel induced him -to return to his estates for a year or two, hoping to find an -opportunity of putting matters straight; and the officer agreed. But his -heirs, having read of his death in the Gazette, positively refused to -recognise him as still alive; though inconsolable for their loss, they -insisted upon their right of succession. The living corpse, whom the -Gazette had killed once, found that he was likely to die over again, by -starvation this time. So he travelled to Petersburg and handed in a -petition to the Tsar. - -This beats even my story of the girl who was also a boy. - - - §12 - -It is a miry slough, this account of our provincial administration; yet -I shall add a few words more. This publicity is the last paltry -compensation to those who suffered unheard and unpitied. - -Government is very ready to reward high officials with grants of -unoccupied land. There is no great harm in that, though it might be -wiser to keep it for the needs of an increasing population. The rules -governing such allotments of land are rather detailed; it is illegal to -grant the banks of a navigable river, or wood fit for building purposes, -or both sides of a river; and finally, land reclaimed by peasants may in -no case be taken from them, even though the peasants have no title to -the land except prescription. - -All this is very well, on paper; but in fact this allotment of land to -individuals is a terrible instrument by which the Crown is robbed and -the peasants oppressed. - -Most of the magnates to whom the leases are granted either sell their -rights to merchants, or try, by means of the provincial authorities, to -secure some privileges contrary to the rules. Thus it happened, by mere -chance, of course, that Count Orlóv himself got possession of the road -and pastures used by droves of cattle in the Government of Saratov. - -No wonder, then, that the peasants of a certain district in Vyatka were -deprived one fine morning of all their land, right up to their houses -and farmyards, the soil having passed into the possession of some -merchants who had bought the lease from a relation of Count -Kankrin.[103] The merchants next put a rent on the land. The law was -appealed to. The Crown Court, being bribed by the merchants and fearing -a great man’s cousin, put a spoke in the wheel; but the peasants, -determined to go on to the bitter end, chose two shrewd men from among -themselves and sent them off to Petersburg. The matter now came before -the Supreme Court. The judges suspected that the peasants were in the -right; but they were puzzled how to act, and consulted Kankrin. That -nobleman admitted frankly that the land had been taken away unjustly; -but he thought there would be difficulty in restoring it, because it -_might_ have been re-sold since, and because the new owners _might_ have -made some improvements. He therefore suggested that advantage should be -taken of the vast extent of the Crown lands, and that the same quantity -of land should be granted to the peasants, but in another district. This -solution pleased everyone except the peasants: in the first place, it -was no trifle to reclaim fresh land; and, in the second place, the land -offered them turned out to be a bog. As the peasants were more -interested in growing corn than in shooting snipe, they sent in a fresh -petition. - -Footnote 103: - - Count Kankrin (1774-1845) was Minister of Finance from 1823 till his - death. He carried through some important reforms in the currency. - -The Crown Court and the Treasury then treated this as a fresh case. They -discovered a law which provided that, in cases where unsuitable land had -been allotted, the grant should not be cancelled but an addition of 50 -per cent should be made; they therefore directed that the peasants -should get half a bog in addition to the bog they had been given -already. - -The peasants sent in a third petition to the Supreme Court. But, before -this was discussed, the Board of Agriculture sent them plans of their -new land, duly bound and coloured; with a neat diagram of the points of -the compass arranged in a star, and suitable explanations of the rhombus -R R Z and the rhombus Z Z R, and, above all, with a demand for a fixed -payment per acre. When the peasants saw that, far from getting back -their good land, they were to be charged money for their bog, they -flatly refused to pay. - -The rural inspector informed the Governor of this; and the Governor sent -troops under the command of the town inspector of Vyatka. The latter -went to the spot, arrested several men and beat them, restored order in -the district, took money, handed over the ‘guilty’ to the Criminal -Court, and was hoarse for a week after, owing to the strain on his -voice. Several of the offenders were sentenced to flogging and -banishment. - -Two years afterwards, when the Crown Prince was passing through the -district, these peasants presented a petition, and he ordered the matter -to be examined. It was at this point that I had to draw up a report of -all the proceedings. Whether anything sensible was done in consequence -of this fresh investigation, I do not know. I have heard that the exiles -were restored, but I never heard that the land had been given back. - - - §13 - -In the next place I shall refer to the famous episode of the -“potato-rebellion.” - -In Russia, as formerly throughout Europe, the peasants were unwilling to -grow potatoes, from an instinctive feeling that potatoes are poor food -and not productive of health and strength. Model landlords, however, and -many Crown settlements used to grow these tubers long before the “potato -revolt.” - -In the Government of Kazán and part of Vyatka, the people had grown a -crop of potatoes. When the tubers were taken up, it occurred to the -Board of Agriculture to start communal pits for storing them. The pits -were authorised, ordered, and constructed; and in the beginning of -winter the peasants, with many misgivings, carted their potatoes to the -communal pits. But they positively refused, when they were required in -the spring to plant these same potatoes in a frozen condition. What, -indeed, can be more insulting to labouring men than to bid them do what -is obviously absurd? But their protest was represented as a rebellion. -The minister despatched an official from Petersburg; and this -intelligent and practical man excused the farmers of the first district -he visited from planting the frozen potatoes, and charged for this -dispensation one _rouble_ per head. He repeated this operation in two -other districts; but the men of the fourth district flatly refused -either to plant the potatoes or to pay the money. “You have excused the -others,” they said; “you are clearly bound to let us off too.” The -official then tried to end the business by threats and corporal -punishment; but the peasants armed themselves with poles and routed the -police. The Governor sent a force of Cossacks to the spot; and the -neighbouring districts backed up the rebels. - -It is enough to say that cannon roared and rifles cracked before the -affair was over. The peasants took to the woods and were routed out of -their covert like wild animals by the Cossacks. They were caught, -chained, and sent to Kosmodemyansk to be tried by court-martial. - -By a strange chance there was a simple, honest man, an old major of -militia, serving on the court-martial; and he ventured to say that the -official from Petersburg was to blame for all that had happened. But -everyone promptly fell on the top of him and squashed him and suppressed -him; they tried to frighten him and said he ought to be ashamed of his -attempt “to ruin an innocent man.” - -The enquiry went on just as enquiries do in Russia: the peasants were -flogged on examination, flogged as a punishment, flogged as an example, -and flogged to get money out of them; and then a number of them were -exiled to Siberia. - -It is worthy of remark that the Minister passed through Kosmodemyansk -during the trial. One thinks he might have looked in at the -court-martial himself or summoned the dangerous major to an interview. -He did nothing of the kind. - -The famous Turgot,[104] knowing how unpopular the potato was in France, -distributed seed-potatoes to a number of dealers and persons in -Government employ, with strict orders that the peasants were to have -none. But at the same time he let them know privately that the peasants -were not to be prevented from helping themselves. The result was that in -a few years potatoes were grown all over the country. - -Footnote 104: - - Turgot (1727-1781) was one of the Ministers of Finance under Louis - XVI. - -All things considered, this seems to me a better method than the -cannon-ball plan. - - - §14 - -In the year 1836 a strolling tribe of gipsies came to Vyatka and -encamped there. These people wandered at times as far as Tobolsk and -Irbit, carrying on from time immemorial their roving life of freedom, -accompanied of course by a bear that had been taught to dance and -children that had been taught nothing; they lived by doctoring horses, -telling fortunes, and petty theft. At Vyatka they went on singing their -songs and stealing chickens, till the Governor suddenly received -instructions, that, if the gipsies turned out to have no passports—no -gipsy was ever known to possess one—a certain interval should be allowed -them, within which they must register themselves as members of the -village communities where they happened to be at the time. - -If they failed to do so by the date mentioned, then all who were fit for -military service were to be sent to the colours, the rest to be banished -from the country, and all their male children to be taken from them. - -Tufáyev himself was taken aback by this decree. He gave notice of it to -the gipsies, but he reported to Petersburg that it could not be complied -with. The registration would cost money; the consent of the communities -must be obtained, and they would want money for admitting the gipsies. -After taking everything into consideration, Tufáyev proposed to the -Minister—and he must get due credit for the proposal—that the gipsies -should be treated leniently and given an extension of time. - -In reply the Minister ordered him to carry out the original instructions -when the time had expired. The Governor hardened his heart and sent a -detachment to surround the gipsy encampment; when that was done, the -police brought up a militia battalion, and scenes that beggar -description are said to have followed—women, with their hair flying -loose, ran frantically to and fro, shrieking and sobbing, while -white-haired old women clutched hold of their sons. But order triumphed, -and the police-inspector secured all the boys and the recruits, and the -rest were marched off by stages to their place of exile. - -But a question now arose: where were the kidnapped children to be put, -and at whose cost were they to be maintained? - -In former days there had been schools for foundlings which cost the -Crown nothing; but these had been abolished, as productive of -immorality. The Governor advanced the money from his own pocket and -consulted the Minister. The Minister replied that, until further orders, -the children were to be looked after by the old people in the -alms-house. - -To make little children live with dying old men and women, and to force -them to breathe the atmosphere of death; and on the other hand, to force -the aged and worn-out to look after the children for nothing—that was a -real inspiration! - - - §15 - -While I am on this subject, I shall tell here the story of what happened -eighteen months later to a bailiff of my father’s. Though a peasant, he -was a man of intelligence and experience; he had several teams of his -own which he hired out, and he served for twenty years as bailiff of a -small detached village. - -In the year which I spent at Vladímir, he was asked by the people of a -neighbouring village to supply a substitute as a recruit for the Army; -and he turned up in the town with the future defender of his country at -the end of a rope. He seemed perfectly self-confident and sure of -success. - -“Yes, _bátyushka_,” he said to me, combing with his fingers his thick -brown beard with some grey in it, “it all depends on how you manage -these things. We put forward a lad two years ago, but he was a very poor -miserable specimen, and the men were very much afraid that he would not -do. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘you must begin by collecting some money—the wheel -won’t go round unless you grease it!’ So we had a talk together, and the -village produced twenty-five gold pieces. I drove into the town, had a -talk with the people in the Crown Court, and then went straight to the -President’s house—a clever man, _bátyushka_, and an old acquaintance of -mine. He had me taken into his study, where he was lying on the sofa -with a bad leg. I put the facts before him. He laughed and said, ‘All -right, all right! But you tell me how many of _them_ you have brought -with you; for I know what an old skin-flint you are.’ I put ten gold -pieces on the table with a low bow. He took them up and played with -them. ‘Well,’ says he, ‘I’m not the only person who expects payment; -have you brought any more?’ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘we can go as far as ten -more.’ ‘You can count for yourself,’ says he, ‘where they are to go to: -the doctor will want a couple, and the inspector of recruits another -couple, and the clerk—I don’t think more than three will be needed in -that quarter; but you had better give me the lot, and I’ll try to -arrange it for you.’” - -“Well, did you give it?” I asked. - -“Certainly I did; and the man was passed for the Army all right.” - -Enlightened by this method of rounding off accounts, and attracted -probably by the five gold pieces to whose ultimate destination he had -made no allusion, the bailiff was sure of success this time also. But -there is many a slip between the bribe and the palm that closes on it. -Count Essen, an Imperial _aide-de-camp_, was sent to Vladímir to inspect -the recruits. The bailiff, with his golden arguments in his pocket, -found his way into the presence of the Count. But unfortunately the -Count was no true Russian, but a son of the Baltic provinces which teach -German devotion towards the Russian Tsar. He got angry, raised his -voice, and, worse than all, rang his bell; in ran a secretary, and -police-officers on the top of him. The bailiff, who had never dreamed of -the existence of a man in uniform who would refuse a bribe, lost his -head altogether; instead of holding his tongue, he swore by all his gods -that he had never offered money, and wished that his eyes might fall out -and he might die of thirst, if he had ever thought of such a thing. -Helpless as a sheep, he was taken off to the police-station, where he -probably repented of his folly in insulting a high officer by offering -him so little. - -Essen was not content with his own clear conscience nor with having -given the man a fright. He probably wished to lay the axe to the tree of -Russian corruption, to punish vice, and to make a salutary example. He -therefore reported the bailiff’s nefarious attempt to the police, the -Governor, and the Recruiting Office. The offender was put in prison and -ordered to be tried. Thanks to the absurd law, which is equally severe -on the honest man who gives a bribe and the official who pockets it, the -affair looked bad, and I resolved at all costs to save the bailiff. - -I went at once to the Governor, but he refused to interfere. The -President and Councillors of the Criminal Court shook their heads: the -_aide-de-camp_ was interested in the case, and that frightened them. I -went to Count Essen himself, and he was very gracious—he had no wish -that the bailiff should suffer, but thought he needed a lesson: “Let him -be tried and acquitted,” he said. When I repeated this to the inspector -of police, he remarked: “The fact is, these gentlemen don’t understand -business. If the Count had simply sent him to me, I should have warmed -the fool’s back for walking into a river without asking if there was a -ford; then I should have sent him about his business, and all parties -would have been satisfied. But the court complicates matters.” - -I have never forgotten what the Count said and what the inspector said: -they expressed so neatly and clearly the view of justice entertained in -the Russian Empire. - -Between these Pillars of Hercules of our national jurisprudence, the -bailiff had fallen into the deep water, in other words, into the -Criminal Court. A few months later the court came to a decision: the -criminal was to be flogged and then banished to Siberia. His son and all -his relations came to me, begging me to save the father and head of the -family. I felt intense pity myself for the sufferer, who was perfectly -innocent. I called again on the President and Councillors; again I tried -to prove that they were injuring themselves by punishing this man so -severely. “You know very well yourselves,” I said, “that no lawsuit is -ever settled without bribes; and you will starve yourselves, unless you -take the truly Christian view that every gift is good and perfect.”[105] -By begging and bowing and sending the bailiff’s son to bow still lower, -I attained half of my object. The man was condemned to suffer a certain -number of lashes within the prison walls, but he was not exiled; and he -was forbidden to undertake any business of the kind in future for other -peasants. - -Footnote 105: - - There is a reference to the Epistle of James, i. 17. - -When I found that the Governor and state-attorney had confirmed this -remission, I went off to beg the police that the flogging might be -lightened; and they, partly flattered by this personal appeal, and -partly pitying a martyr in a cause so near to their own hearts, and also -because they knew the man was well-to-do, promised me that the -punishment should be merely nominal. - -A few days later the bailiff came to my house one morning; he looked -thin, and there was more grey in his beard. For all his joy, I soon -perceived that he had something on his mind. - -“What’s troubling you?” I asked. - -“Well, I wish I could get it all over at once.” - -“I don’t understand you.” - -“What I mean is—when will the flogging be?” - -“But haven’t you been flogged?” - -“No.” - -“But they’ve let you out, and I suppose you’re going home.” - -“Home? Yes, I’m going home, but I keep thinking about the flogging; the -secretary spoke of it, I am sure I heard him.” - -I was really quite puzzled. At last I asked him if he had a written -discharge of any kind. He handed it to me. I read there the original -sentence at full length, and then a postscript, that he was to be -flogged within the prison walls by sentence of the court and then to be -discharged, in possession of this certificate. - -I burst out laughing. “You see, you’ve been flogged already.” - -“No, _bátyushka_, I’ve not.” - -“Well, if you’re not content, go back and ask them to flog you; perhaps -the police will take pity upon you.” - -Seeing me laugh, he too smiled, but he shook his head doubtfully and -said, “It’s a very queer business.” - -A very irregular business, many will say; but let them reflect that it -is this kind of irregularity alone which makes life possible in Russia. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - Alexander Vitberg. - - - §1 - -IN the midst of all this ugliness and squalor, these petty and repulsive -persons and scenes, in this world of chicanery and red tape, I recall -the sad and noble figure of a great artist. - -I lived at his side for two years and a half and saw this strong man -breaking up under the pressure of persecution and misfortune. - -Nor can it be said that he succumbed without a protest; for ten long -years he struggled desperately. When he went into exile, he still hoped -to conquer his enemies and right himself; in fact, he was still eager -for the conflict, still full of projects and expedients. But at Vyatka -he saw that all was over. - -He might have accepted this discovery but for the wife and children at -his side, and the prospect of long years of exile, poverty, and -privation; he grew greyer and older, not day by day, but hour by hour. I -was two years at Vyatka, and when I left, he was ten years older than -when I came. - -Let me tell the story of this long martyrdom. - - - §2 - -The Emperor Alexander could not believe in his victory over Napoleon. -Glory was a burden to him, and he quite sincerely gave it to God’s name -instead. Always inclined to mysticism and despondency, he was more than -ever haunted by these feelings after his repeated victories over -Napoleon. - -When the last soldier of the French army had retreated over the -frontier, Alexander published a manifesto, in which he took a vow to -erect a great cathedral at Moscow, dedicated to the Saviour. - -Plans for this church were invited from all quarters, and there was a -great competition of artists. - -Alexander Vitberg was then a young man; he had been trained in the art -schools at Petersburg and had gained the gold medal for painting. Of -Swedish descent, he was born in Russia and received his early education -in the School of Mines. He was a passionate lover of art, with a -tendency to eccentricity and mysticism. He read the Emperor’s manifesto -and the invitation for designs, and at once gave up all his former -occupations. Day and night he wandered about the streets of Petersburg, -tormented by a fixed idea which he was powerless to banish. He shut -himself up in his room, took his pencil, and began to work. - -The artist took no one into his confidence. After working for several -months, he travelled to Moscow, where he studied the city and its -surroundings. Then he set to work again, hiding himself from all eyes -for months at a time, and hiding his drawings also. - -The time came for the competition. Many plans were sent in, plans from -Italy and from Germany, and our own academicians sent in theirs. The -design of this unknown youth took its place among the rest. Some weeks -passed before the Emperor examined the plans, and these weeks were the -Forty Days in the Wilderness, days of temptation and doubt and painful -anxiety. - -The Emperor was struck by Vitberg’s design, which was on a colossal -scale and remarkable for religious and artistic feeling. He stopped -first in front of it and asked who had sent it in. The envelope was -opened; the name inside was that of an unknown student of the Academy. - -Alexander sent for Vitberg and had a long conversation with him. He was -impressed by the artist’s confident and animated speech, the real -inspiration which filled him, and the mystical turn of his convictions. -“You speak in stone,” the Emperor said, as he looked through the plans -again. - -The plans were approved that very day; Vitberg was appointed architect -of the cathedral and president of the building committee. Alexander was -not aware that there were thorns beneath the crown of laurels which he -placed on the artist’s head. - - - §3 - -There is no art more akin to mysticism than architecture. Abstract, -geometrical, musical and yet dumb, passionless, it depends entirely upon -symbolism, form, suggestion. Simple lines, and the harmonious -combination and numerical relations between these, present something -mysterious and at the same time incomplete. A building, a temple, does -not comprise its object within itself; it differs in this respect from a -statue or a picture, a poem or a symphony. The building needs an -inhabitant; in itself it is a prepared space, a setting, like the shell -of a tortoise or marine creature; and the essential thing is just this, -that the outer case should fit the spirit and the inhabitant, as closely -as the shell fits the tortoise. The walls of the temple, its vaults and -pillars, its main entrance, its foundations and cupola, should all -reflect the deity that dwells within, just as the bones of the skull -correspond exactly to the convolutions of the brain. - -To the Egyptians their temples were sacred books, their obelisks were -sermons by the high road. - -Solomon’s temple is the Bible in stone; and so St. Peter’s at Rome is -the transition, in stone, from Catholicism to a kingdom of this world, -the first stage of our liberation from monastic fetters. - -The mere construction of temples was at all times accompanied by so many -mystical rites, allegoric ceremonies, and solemn consecrations, that the -medieval builders ranked themselves as a kind of religious order, as -successors to the builders of Solomon’s temple; and they formed -themselves into secret companies, of which freemasonry was a later -development. - -The Renaissance robbed architecture of this essentially mystical note. -The Christian faith began to contend with scepticism, the Gothic spire -with the Greek façade, religious sanctity with worldly beauty. This is -why St. Peter’s at Rome is so significant; in that colossal erection -Christianity is struggling to come alive, the Church turns pagan, and -Michael Angelo uses the walls of the Sistine Chapel to depict Jesus -Christ as a brawny athlete, a Hercules in the flower of youth and -strength. - -After this date church architecture fell into utter decadence, till it -became a mere reproduction, in varying proportions, either of St. -Peter’s or of ancient Greek temples. There is one Parthenon at Paris -which is called the Church of the Madeleine, and another at New York, -which is used as the Exchange. - -Without faith and without special circumstances, it was hard to build -anything with life about it. All modern churches are misfits and -pretentious anachronisms, like those angular Gothic churches with which -the English ornament their towns and offend every artistic eye. - - - §4 - -But the circumstances in which Vitberg drew his plans, his own -personality, and the Emperor’s temperament, all these were quite -exceptional. - -The war of 1812 had a profound effect upon men’s minds in Russia, and it -was long after the liberation of Moscow before the general emotion and -excitement subsided. Then foreign events, the taking of Paris, the -history of the Hundred Days, expectations and rumours, Waterloo, -Napoleon on board the _Bellerophon_, mourning for the dead and anxiety -for the living, the returning armies, the warriors restored to their -homes,—all this had a strong effect upon the least susceptible natures. -Now imagine a young man, an artist and a mystic, endowed with creative -power, and also an enthusiast spurred on by current events, by the -Tsar’s challenge, and by his own genius. - -Near Moscow, between the Mozhaisk and Kaluga roads, a modest eminence -dominates the whole city. Those are the Sparrow Hills of which I spoke -in my early recollections. They command one of the finest views of all -Moscow. Here it was that Ivan the Terrible, still young and unhardened, -shed tears at the sight of his capital on fire; and here that the priest -Silvester met him and by his stern rebuke changed for twenty years to -come the nature of that monster and man of genius. - -Napoleon and his army marched round these hills. There his strength was -broken, and there his retreat began. What better site for a temple in -memory of 1812 than the farthest point reached by the enemy? - -But this was not enough. It was Vitberg’s intention to convert the hill -itself into the lowest part of the cathedral, to build a colonnade to -the river, and then, on a foundation laid on three sides by nature -herself, to erect a second and a third church. But all the three -churches made one; for Vitberg’s cathedral, like the chief dogma of -Christianity, was both triple and indivisible. - -The lowest of the three churches, hewn in the rock, was a parallelogram -in the shape of a coffin or dead body. All that was visible was a -massive entrance supported on columns of almost Egyptian size; the -church itself was hidden in the primitive unworked rock. It was lighted -by lamps in high Etruscan candelabra; a feeble ray of daylight from the -second church passed into it through a transparent picture of the -Nativity. All the heroes who fell in 1812 were to rest in this crypt; a -perpetual mass was to be said there for those who had fallen on the -field of battle; and the names of them all, from the chief commanders to -the private soldiers, were to be engraved on the walls. - -On the top of this coffin or cemetery rose the second church, in the -form of a Greek cross with limbs of equal length spreading to the four -quarters, a temple of life, of suffering, of labour. The colonnade which -led up to it was adorned with statues of the Patriarchs and Judges. At -the entrance were the Prophets; they stood outside the church, pointing -out the way which they could not tread themselves. Inside this temple -the Gospel story and the Acts of the Apostles were represented on the -walls. - -Above this building, crowning it, completing it, and including it, the -third church was to be built in the shape of the Pantheon. It was -brightly lighted, as the home of the Spirit, of unbroken peace, of -eternity; and eternity was represented by its shape. Here there were no -pictures or sculpture; but there was an exterior frieze representing the -archangels, and the whole was surmounted by a colossal dome. - -Sad is my present recollection of Vitberg’s main idea; he had worked it -out in every detail, in complete accordance at every point with -Christian theology and architectural beauty. - -This astonishing man spent a whole lifetime over his conception. It was -his sole occupation during the ten years that his trial lasted; in -poverty and exile, he devoted several hours of each day to his -cathedral. He lived in it; he could not believe that it would never be -built; his whole life—his memories, his consolations, his fame—was -wrapped up in that portfolio. - -It may be that in the future, when the martyr is dead, some later artist -may shake the dust from those leaves and piously give to the world that -record of suffering, those plans over which the strong man, after his -brief hour of glory had gone out, spent a life of darkness and pain. - -His plan was full of genius, and startling in its extravagance; for this -reason Alexander chose it, and for this reason it should have been -carried out. It is said that the hill could never have supported such a -building; but I do not believe it, especially in view of all the modern -triumphs of engineering in America and England, those suspension-bridges -and tunnels which a train takes eight minutes to pass through. - -Milorádovitch advised Vitberg to have granite monoliths for the great -pillars of the lowest church. Someone pointed out that the process of -bringing these from Finland would be very costly. “That is the very -reason why we should get them,” answered Milorádovitch; “if there were -granite quarries on the Moscow River, where would be the wonder in -erecting the pillars?” - -Milorádovitch was a soldier, but he understood the element of romance in -war and in other things. Magnificent ends are gained by magnificent -means. Nature alone attains to greatness without effort. - -The chief accusation brought against Vitberg, even by those who never -doubted his honesty, was this, that he had accepted the post of director -of the works. As an artist without experience, and a young man ignorant -of finance, he should have been content with his position as architect. -This is true. - -It is easy to sit in one’s chair and condemn Vitberg for this. But he -accepted the post just because he was young and inexperienced, because -nothing seemed hard when once his plans had been accepted, because the -Tsar himself offered him the post, encouraged him, and supported him. -Whose head would not have been turned? Where are these sober, sensible, -self-controlled people? If they exist, they are not capable of -constructing colossal plans, they cannot make stones speak. - - - §5 - -As a matter of course, Vitberg was soon surrounded by a swarm of -rascals, men who look on state employment merely as a lucky chance to -line their own pockets. It is easy to understand that such men would -undermine Vitberg and set traps for him; yet he might have climbed out -of these but for something else—had not envy in some quarters, and -injured dignity in others, been added to general dishonesty. - -There were three other members of the commission as well as Vitberg—the -Archbishop Philaret, the Governor of Moscow, and Kushnikov, a Judge of -the Supreme Court; and all three resented from the first the presence of -this “whipper-snapper,” who actually ventured to state his objections -and insist on his own opinions. - -They helped others to entangle and defame him, and then they destroyed -him without a qualm. - -Two events contributed to this catastrophe, the fall of the Minister, -Prince A. N. Golitsyn, and then the death of Alexander. - -The Minister’s fall dragged Vitberg down with it. He felt the full -weight of that disaster: the Commission complained, the Archbishop was -offended, the Governor was dissatisfied. His replies were called -insolent—insolence was one of the main charges brought against him on -his trial—and it was said that his subordinates stole—as if there was a -single person in the public service in Russia who refrains from -stealing! It is possible, indeed, that his agents stole more than usual; -for he was quite inexperienced in the management of reformatories or the -detection of highly placed thieves. - -Alexander ordered Arakchéyev to investigate the affair. He himself was -sorry for Vitberg and sent a message to say that he was convinced of the -architect’s honesty. - -But Alexander died and Arakchéyev fell. Under Nicholas, Vitberg’s affair -at once assumed a more threatening aspect. It dragged on for ten years, -and the absurdity of the proceedings is incredible. The Supreme Court -dismissed charges taken as proved by the Criminal Court, and charged him -with guilt of which he had been acquitted; the committee of ministers -found him guilty on all the charges; and the Emperor Nicholas added to -the original sentence banishment to Vyatka. - -So Vitberg was banished, having been discharged from the public service -“for abusing the confidence of the Emperor Alexander and for squandering -the revenues of the Crown.” A claim was brought against him for a -million _roubles_—I think that was the sum; all his property was seized -and sold by auction, and a report was spread that he had transferred an -immense sum of money to America. - -I lived for two years in the same house with Vitberg and kept up -constant relations with him till I left Vyatka. He had not saved even -enough for his daily bread, and his family lived in the direst poverty. - - - §6 - -In order to throw light on this trial and all similar trials in Russia, -I shall add two trifling details. - -Vitberg bought a forest for building material from a merchant named -Lobanov, but, before the trees were felled, offered to take another -forest instead which was nearer the river and belonged to the same -owner. Lobanov agreed; the trees were felled and the timber floated down -the river. More timber was needed at a later date, and Vitberg bought -the first forest over again. Hence arose the famous charge that he had -paid twice over for the same timber. The unfortunate Lobanov was put in -prison on this charge and died there. - - - §7 - -Of the second affair I was myself an eye-witness. - -Vitberg bought up land with a view to his cathedral. His idea was that -the serfs, when transferred with the land he had bought, should bind -themselves to supply a fixed number of workmen to be employed on the -cathedral; in this way they acquired complete freedom from all other -burdens for themselves and their community. It is amusing to note that -our judges, being also landowners, objected to this measure as a form of -slavery! - -One estate which Vitberg wished to buy belonged to my father. It lay on -the bank of the Moscow River; stone had been found there, and Vitberg -got leave from my father to make a geological inspection, in order to -determine how much stone there was. After obtaining leave, Vitberg had -to go off to Petersburg. - -Three months later my father learned that the quarrying operations were -being carried out on a great scale, and that the peasants’ cornfields -were buried under blocks of stone. His protests were not listened to, -and he went to law. There was a stubborn contest. The defendants tried -at first to throw all the blame on Vitberg, but, unfortunately for them, -it turned out that he had given no orders whatever, and that the -Commission had done the whole thing during his absence. - -The case was referred to the Supreme Court, which surprised everyone by -coming to a fairly reasonable decision. The stone which had been -quarried was to belong to the landowner, as compensation for the injury -to his fields; the Crown funds spent on the work were to be repaid, to -the amount of 100,000 _roubles_, by those who had signed the contract -for the work. The signatories were Prince Golitsyn, the Archbishop, and -Kushnikov. Of course there was a great outcry, and the matter was -referred to the Tsar. - -The Tsar ordered that the payment should not be exacted, because—as he -wrote with his own hand—“the members of the Commission did not know what -they were signing”! This is actually printed in the journals of the -Supreme Court. Even if the Archbishop was bound by his cloth to display -humility, what are we to think of the other two magnates who accepted -the Tsar’s generosity under such conditions? - -But where was the money to be found? Crown property, we are told, can -neither be burnt by fire nor drowned in water—it can only be stolen, we -might add. Without hesitation a general of the Staff was sent in haste -to Moscow to clear matters up. - -He did so, restored order, and settled everything in the course of a few -days. The stone was to be taken from the landowner, to defray the -expenses of the quarry, though, if the landowner wished to keep the -stone, he might do so on payment of 100,000 _roubles_. The landowner was -not to receive special compensation, because the value of his property -had been increased by the discovery of a new source of wealth (that is -really a noble touch!)—but a certain law of Peter the Great’s sanctioned -the payment of so many _kopecks_ an acre for the damage done to the -peasants’ fields. - -The real sufferer was my father. It is hardly necessary to add that this -business of the stone quarry figured after all among the charges brought -against Vitberg at his trial. - - - §8 - -Vitberg had been living in exile at Vyatka for two years when the -merchants of the town determined to build a new church. - -Their plans surprised the Tsar Nicholas when they were submitted to him. -He confirmed them and gave orders to the local authorities that the -builders were not to mar the architect’s design. - -“Who made these plans?” he asked of the minister. - -“Vitberg, Your Majesty.” - -“Do you mean the same Vitberg?” - -“The same man, Your Majesty.” - -And so it happened that Vitberg, most unexpectedly, got permission to -return to Moscow or Petersburg. When he asked leave to clear his -character, it was refused; but when he made skilful plans for a church, -the Tsar ordered his restoration—as if there had ever been a doubt of -his artistic capacity! - -In Petersburg, where he was starving for bread, he made a last attempt -to defend his honour. It was a complete failure. He applied to Prince A. -N. Golitsyn; but the Prince thought it impossible to open the question -again, and advised Vitberg to address a humble petition for pecuniary -assistance to the Crown Prince. He said that Zhukovski and himself would -interest themselves in the matter, and held out hopes of a gift of 1,000 -_roubles_. - -Vitberg refused. - -I visited Petersburg for the last time at the beginning of winter in -1846, and there I saw Vitberg. He was quite a wreck; even his wrath -against his enemies, which I had admired so much in former days, had -begun to cool down; he had ceased to hope and was making no endeavour to -escape from his position; a calm despair was making an end of him; he -was breaking up altogether and only waiting for death. - -Whether the sufferer is still living, I do not know, but I doubt it. - -“But for my children,” he said to me at parting, “I would tear myself -away from Russia and beg my bread over the world; wearing my Cross of -Vladímir, I would hold out calmly to the passer-by that hand which the -Tsar Alexander grasped, and tell him of my great design and the fate of -an artist in Russia.” - -“Poor martyr,” thought I, “Europe shall learn your fate—I promise you -that.” - - - §9 - -My intimacy with Vitberg was a great relief to me at Vyatka. His serious -simplicity and a certain solemnity of manner suggested the churchman to -some extent. Strict in his principles, he tended in general to austerity -rather than enjoyment; but this strictness took nothing from the -luxuriance and richness of his artistic fancy. He could invest his -mystical views with such lively forms and such beautiful colouring that -objections died on your lips, and you felt reluctant to examine and pull -to pieces the glimmering forms and shadowy pictures of his imagination. - -His mysticism was partly due to his Scandinavian blood. It was the same -play of fancy combined with cool reflection which we see in -Swedenborg;[106] and that in its turn resembles the fiery reflection of -the sun’s rays when they fall on the ice-covered mountains and snows of -Norway. - -Footnote 106: - - Emmanuel Swedenborg (1688-1772), a Swedish mystic and founder of a - sect. - -Though I was shaken for a time by Vitberg’s influence, my positive turn -of mind held its own nevertheless. It was not my destiny to be carried -up to the third heaven; I was born to inhabit earth alone. Tables never -turn at my touch, rings never quiver when I look at them. The daylight -of thought is my element, not the moonlight of imagination. - -But I was more inclined to the mystical standpoint when I lived with -Vitberg than at any other period of my life. - -There was much to support Vitberg’s influence—the loneliness of exile, -the strained and pietistic tone of the letters I received from home, the -love which was mastering my whole being with ever increasing power, and -an oppressive feeling of remorse for my own misconduct.[107] - -Footnote 107: - - He refers to an intrigue he was carrying on at Vyatka. - -Two years later I was again influenced by ideas partly religious and -partly socialistic, which I took from the Gospel and from Rousseau; my -position was that of some French thinkers, such as Pierre Leroux.[108] - -Footnote 108: - - A French publicist and disciple of Saint Simon, 1797-1871. - -My friend Ogaryóv plunged even before I did into the waves of mysticism. -In 1833 he began to write a libretto for Gebel’s oratorio of _Paradise -Lost_; and he wrote to me that the whole history of humanity was -included in that poem! It appears therefore that he then considered the -paradise of his aspirations to have existed already and disappeared from -view. - -In 1838 I wrote from this point of view some historical scenes which I -supposed at the time to be dramatic. They were in verse. In one I -represented the strife between Christianity and the ancient world, and -told how St. Paul, when entering Rome, raised a young man from the dead -to enter on a new life. Another described the contest of the Quakers -against the Church of England, and the departure of William Penn for -America. - -The mysticism of the Gospel soon gave way in my mind to the mysticism of -science; but I was fortunate enough to escape from the latter as well in -course of time. - - - §10 - -But now I must go back to the modest little town which was called -Chlynov until Catherine II changed its name to Vyatka; what her motive -was, I do not know, unless it was her Finnish patriotism. - -In that dreary distant backwater of exile, separated from all I loved, -surrounded by the unclean horde of officials, and exposed without -defence to the tyranny of the Governor, I met nevertheless with many -warm hearts and friendly hands, and there I spent many happy hours which -are sacred in recollection. - -Where are you now, and how are you, my snowbound friends? It is twenty -years since we met. I suppose you have grown old, as I have; you are -thinking about marrying your daughters, and have given up drinking -champagne by the bottle and tossing off bumpers of vodka. Which of you -has made a fortune, and which has lost it? Which has risen high in the -official world, and which is laid low by the palsy? Above all, do you -still keep alive the memory of our free discussions? Do those chords -still resound that were struck so vigorously by our common friendship -and our common resentment? - -I am unchanged, as you know, for I suspect that rumour flies from the -banks of the Thames as far as you. I think of you sometimes, and always -with affection. I have kept some letters of those former days, and some -of them I regard as treasures and love to read over again. - -“I am not ashamed to confess to you,” writes one young friend on January -26, 1838, “that my heart is full of bitterness. Help me for the sake of -that life to which you summoned me; help me with your advice. I want to -learn; make me a list of books, lay down any programme you like; I will -work my hardest, if you will point the way. It would be sinful of you to -discourage me.” - -“I bless you,” another wrote to me just after I had left Vyatka, “as the -husbandman blesses the rain which gives life to his unfertilized field.” - -I copy out these lines, not from vanity, but because they are very -precious to me. This appeal to young hearts and their generous reply, -and the unrest I was able to awaken in them—this is my compensation for -nine months spent in prison and three years at Vyatka. - - - §11 - -There is one thing more. Twice a week the post from Moscow came to -Vyatka. With what excitement I waited near the post-office while the -letters were sorted! How my heart beat as I broke the seal of my letter -from home and searched inside for a little enclosure, written on thin -paper in a wonderfully small and beautiful hand! - -I did not read that in the post-office. I walked slowly home, putting -off the happy moment and feasting on the thought that the letter was -there. - -These letters have all been preserved. I left them at Moscow when I -quitted Russia. Though I longed to read them over, I was afraid to touch -them. - -Letters are more than recollections, the very life blood of the past is -stored up in them; they _are_ the past, exactly as it was, preserved -from destruction and decay. - -Is it really necessary once again to know, to see, to touch with hands -which age has covered with wrinkles, what once you wore on your -wedding-day?[109] - -Footnote 109: - - These letters were from Herzen’s cousin, Natálya Zakhárin, who became - his wife in 1838. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER X - -The Crown Prince at Vyatka—The Fall of Tufáyev—Transferred to - Vladímir—The Inspector’s Enquiry. - - - §1 - -THE Crown Prince[110] is coming to Vyatka! The Crown Prince is -travelling through Russia, to see the country and to be seen himself! -This news was of interest to everyone and of special interest, of -course, to the Governor. In his haste and confusion, he issued a number -of ridiculous and absurd orders—for instance, that the peasants along -the road should wear their holiday _kaftáns_, and that all boardings in -the towns should be repainted and all sidewalks mended. A poor widow who -owned a smallish house in Orlóv informed the mayor that she had no money -to repair her sidewalk; the mayor reported this to the Governor, and the -Governor ordered the floors of her house to be pulled up—the sidewalks -there were made of wood—and, if that was insufficient, the repairs were -to be done at the public cost and the money to be refunded by the widow, -even if she had to sell her house by auction for the purpose. Things did -not go to the length of an auction, but the widow’s floors were torn up. - -Footnote 110: - - Afterwards Alexander II. - - - §2 - -Fifty _versts_ from Vyatka is the spot where the wonder-working _ikon_ -of St. Nicholas was revealed to the people of Novgorod. When they moved -to Vyatka, they took the _ikon_ with them; but it disappeared and turned -up again by the Big River, fifty _versts_ away. The people removed it -again; but they took a vow that, if the _ikon_ would stay with them, -they would carry it in solemn procession once a year—on the twenty-third -of May, I think,—to the Big River. This is the chief summer holiday in -the Government of Vyatka. The _ikon_ is despatched along the river on a -richly decorated barge the day before, accompanied by the Bishop and all -the clergy in their full robes. Hundreds of boats of every description, -filled with peasants and their wives, native tribesmen and shopkeepers, -make up a lively scene, as they sail in the wake of the Saint. In front -of all sails the Governor’s barge, decorated with scarlet cloth. It is a -remarkable sight. The people gather from far and near in tens of -thousands, wait on the bank for the arrival of the Saint, and move about -in noisy crowds round the little village by the river. It is remarkable -that the native Votyaks and Cheremisses and even Tatars, though they are -not Christians, come in crowds to pray to the _ikon_. The festival, -indeed, wears a purely pagan aspect. Natives and Russians alike bring -calves and sheep as offerings up to the wall of the monastery; they -slaughter them on the spot, and the Abbot repeats prayers and blesses -and consecrates the meat, which is offered at a special window on the -inner side of the monastery enclosure. The meat is then distributed to -the people. In old times it was given away, but nowadays the monks -receive a few pence for each piece. Thus the peasant who has presented -an entire calf has to spend a trifle in order to get a bit of veal for -his own eating. The court of the monastery is filled with beggars, -cripples, blind men, and sufferers from all sorts of deformity; they sit -on the ground and sing out in chorus for alms. The gravestones round the -church are used as seats by boys, the sons of priests and shopmen; armed -with an ink-bottle, each offers to write out names of the dead, that -their souls may be prayed for. “Who wants names written?” they call out, -and the women crowd round them and repeat the names. The boys scratch -away with their pens with a professional air and repeat the names after -them—“Marya, Marya, Akulina, Stepanida, Father Ioann, Matrona—no, no! -auntie, half a _kopeck_ is all you gave me; but I can’t take less than -five _kopecks_ for such a lot—Ioann, Vasilissa, Iona, Marya, Yevpraxia, -and the baby Katherine.” - -The church is tightly packed, and the female worshippers differ oddly in -their preferences: one hands a candle to her neighbour with precise -directions that it is to be offered to “the guest,” _i.e._, the Saint -who is there on a visit, while another woman prefers “the host,” _i.e._, -the local Saint. During the ceremonies the monks and attendant acolytes -from Vyatka are never sober; they stop at all the large villages along -the way, and the peasants stand treat. - -This ancient and popular festival was celebrated on the twenty-third of -May. But the Prince was to arrive on May 19, and the Governor, wishing -to please his august visitor, changed the date of the festival; what -harm could it do, if St. Nicholas paid his visit three days too soon? -The Abbot’s consent was necessary; but he was fortunately a man of the -world and raised no difficulty when the Governor proposed to keep the -twenty-third of May on the nineteenth. - - - §3 - -Instructions of various kinds came from Petersburg; for instance, it was -ordered that each provincial capital should organise an exhibition of -the local products and manufactures; and the animal, vegetable, and -mineral products were to be kept separate. This division into kingdoms -perplexed our office not a little, and puzzled even the Governor -himself. Wishing not to make mistakes, he decided, in spite of the bad -relations between us, to seek my advice. “Now, honey, for example,” he -said, “where would you put honey? And that gilt frame—how can we settle -where that belongs?” My replies showed that I had surprisingly exact -information concerning the three natural kingdoms, and he proposed that -I should undertake the arrangement of the exhibition. - - - §4 - -I was still putting in order wooden spoons and native costumes, honey -and iron trellis-work, when an awful rumour spread through the town that -the Mayor of Orlóv had been arrested. The Governor’s face turned yellow, -and he even seemed unsteady in his gait. - -A week before the Prince arrived, the Mayor of Orlóv wrote to the -Governor that the widow whose floors had been torn up was making a -disturbance, and that a rich and well-known merchant of the town -declared his intention of telling the whole story to the Prince on his -arrival. The Governor dealt very ingeniously with this firebrand; he -recalled with satisfaction the precedent of Petrovski, and ordered that -the merchant, being suspected of insanity, should be sent to Vyatka for -examination. Thus the matter would drag on till the Prince left the -province; and that would be the end of it. The mayor did what he was -told, and the merchant was placed in the hospital at Vyatka. - -At last the Prince arrived. He greeted the Governor coldly and took no -further notice of him, and he sent his own physician at once to examine -the merchant. He knew all about it by this time. For the widow had -presented her petition at Orlóv, and then the merchants and shop people -had told the whole story. The Governor grew more and more crest-fallen. -The affair looked bad. The mayor had said plainly that he acted -throughout on the written orders of the Governor. - -When the physician came back, he reported that the merchant was -perfectly sane. That was a finishing stroke for the Governor. - -At eight in the evening the Prince visited the exhibition with his -suite. The Governor conducted him; but he made a terrible hash of his -explanations, till two of the suite, Zhukovski[111] and Arsenyev, seeing -that things were not going well, invited me to do the honours; and I -took the party round. - -Footnote 111: - - The famous man of letters (1783-1852) who acted as tutor to Alexander. - Arsenyev undertook the scientific side of the Prince’s education. - -The young Prince had not the stern expression of his father; his -features suggested rather good nature and indolence. Though he was only -about twenty, he was beginning to grow stout. The few words he addressed -to me were friendly, and he had not the hoarse abrupt utterance of his -uncle Constantine. - -When the Prince left the exhibition, Zhukovski asked me what had brought -me to Vyatka; he was surprised to find in such a place an official who -could speak like a gentleman. He offered at once to speak to the Prince -about me; and he actually did all that he could. The Prince suggested to -his father that I should be allowed to return to Petersburg; the Emperor -said that this would be unfair to the other exiles, but, owing to the -Prince’s intercession, he ordered that I should be transferred to -Vladímir. This was an improvement in point of position, as Vladímir is -700 _versts_ nearer Moscow. But of this I shall speak later. - - - §5 - -In the evening there was a ball at the assembly-rooms. The musicians, -who had been summoned for the occasion from one of the factories of the -province, arrived in the town helplessly drunk. The Governor rose to the -emergency: the performers were all shut up in prison twenty-four hours -before the ball, marched straight from prison to the orchestra, and kept -there till the ball was over. - -The ball was a dull, ill-arranged affair, both mean and motley, as balls -always are in small towns on great occasions. The police-officers -bustled up and down; the officials, in full uniform, squeezed up against -the walls; the ladies crowded round the Prince, just as savages mob a -traveller from Europe. - -Apropos of the ladies, I may tell a story. One of the towns offered a -“collation” after their exhibition. The Prince partook of nothing but a -single peach; when he had eaten it, he threw the stone out of the -window. Suddenly a tall figure emerged from the crowd of officials -standing outside the building; it was a certain rural judge, well known -for his irregular habits; he walked deliberately up to the window, -picked up the stone, and put it in his pocket. When the collation was -over, he went up to one of the important ladies and offered her the -stone; she was charmed to get such a treasure. Then he went to several -other ladies and made them happy in the same way. He had bought five -peaches and cut out the stones. Not one of the six ladies could ever be -sure of the authenticity of her prize. - - - §6 - -When the Prince had gone, the Governor prepared with a heavy heart to -exchange his satrapy for a place on the bench of the Supreme Court at -home; but he was not so fortunate as that. - -Three weeks later the post brought documents from Petersburg addressed -to “The Acting Governor of the Province.” Our office was a scene of -confusion; officials came and went; we heard that an edict had been -received, but the Governor pretended illness and kept his house. - -An hour later we heard that Tufáyev had been dismissed from his office; -and that was all that the edict said about him. - -The whole town rejoiced over his fall. While he ruled, the atmosphere -was impure, stale, and stifling; now one could breathe more freely. And -yet it was hateful to see the triumph of his subordinates. Asses in -plenty raised their heels against this stricken wild-boar. To compare -small things with great, the meanness of mankind was shown as clearly -then as when Napoleon fell. Between Tufáyev and me there had been an -open breach for a long time; and if he had not been turned out himself, -he would certainly have sent me to some frontier town like Kai. I had -therefore no reason to change my behaviour towards him; but others, who -only the day before had pulled off their hats at the sight of his -carriage and run at his nod, who had smiled at his spaniel and offered -their snuffboxes to his valet—these same men now would hardly salute him -and made the whole town ring with their protests against the -irregularities which he had committed and they had shared in. All this -is an old story and repeats itself so regularly from age to age, in all -places, that we must accept this form of baseness as a universal trait -of human nature, and, at all events, not be surprised by it. - - - §7 - -His successor, Kornilov, soon made his appearance. He was a very -different sort of person—a man of about fifty, tall and stout, rather -flabby in appearance, but with an agreeable smile and gentlemanly -manners. He formed all his sentences with strict grammatical accuracy -and used a great number of words; in fact, he spoke with a clearness -which was capable, by its copiousness, of obscuring the simplest topic. -He had been at school with Púshkin and had served in the Guards; he -bought all the new French books, liked to talk on serious topics, and -gave me a copy of Tocqueville’s[112] _Democracy in America_ the day -after he arrived at Vyatka. - -Footnote 112: - - Alexis de Tocqueville, a French statesman and publicist (1805-1859). - -It was a startling change. The same rooms, the same furniture, but, -instead of the Tatar tax-collector with the face of an Esquimo and the -habits of a Siberian, a theorist with a tincture of pedantry but a -gentleman none the less. Our new Governor had intelligence, but his -intellect seemed to give light only and no warmth, like a bright day in -winter which ripens no fruit though it is pleasant enough. He was a -terrible formalist too, though not of the red-tape variety; it is not -easy to describe the type, but it was just as tiresome as all varieties -of formalism are. - -As the new Governor had a real wife, the official residence lost its -ultra-bachelor characteristics; it became monogamous. As a consequence -of this, the members of the Council became quite domestic characters: -these bald old gentlemen, instead of boasting over their conquests, now -spoke with tender affection of their lawful wives, although these ladies -were past their prime and either angular and bony, or so fat that it was -impossible for a surgeon to draw blood from them. - - - §8 - -Some years before he came to us, Kornilov, being then a colonel in the -Guards, was appointed Civil Governor of a provincial town, and entered -at once upon business of which he knew nothing. Like all new brooms, he -began by reading every official paper that was submitted to him. He came -across a certain document from another Government which he could not -understand, though he read it through several times. - -He rang for his secretary and gave it to him to read. But the secretary -also was unable to explain the matter clearly. - -“What will you do with this document,” asked Kornilov, “if I pass it on -to the office?” - -“I shall hand it to Desk III—it is in their department.” - -“So the chief of Desk III will know what to do?” - -“Certainly, Your Excellency; he has been in charge of that desk for six -years.” - -“Please summon him to me.” - -The chief came, and Kornilov handed him the paper and asked what should -be done. The clerk ran through it hastily, and then said a question must -be asked of the Crown Court and instructions given to the inspector of -rural police. - -“What instructions?” - -The clerk seemed puzzled; at last he said that, though it was difficult -to state them on the spot, it was easy to write them down. - -“There is a chair; will you be good enough to write now?” - -The clerk took a pen, wrote rapidly and confidently, and soon produced -the two documents. - -The Governor took them and read them through; he read them through -again; he could make nothing of them. “Well,” he used to say afterwards, -“I saw that it really was in the form of an answer to the original -document; so I plucked up courage and signed it. The answer gave entire -satisfaction; I never heard another word about it.” - - - §9 - -The announcement of my transference to Vladímir arrived before -Christmas. My preparations were quickly made, and I started off. - -I said a cordial good-bye to society at Vyatka; in that distant town I -had made two or three real friends among the young merchants. They vied -with one another in showing sympathy and friendship for the outcast. -Several sledges accompanied me to the first stopping-place, and, in -spite of my protests, a whole cargo of eatables and drinkables was -placed on my conveyance. Next day I reached Yaransk. - -After Yaransk the road passes through endless pine-forests. There was -moonlight and hard frost as my small sledge slid along the narrow track. -I have never since seen such continuous forests. They stretch all the -way to Archangelsk, and reindeer occasionally find their way through -them to the Government of Vyatka. Most of the wood is suitable for -building purposes. The fir-trees seemed to file past my sledge like -soldiers; they were remarkably straight and high, and covered with snow, -under which their black needles stuck out like bristles. I fell asleep -and woke again—and there were the armies of the pines still marching -past at a great rate, and sometimes shaking off the snow. There are -small clearings where the horses are changed; you see a small house -half-hidden in the trees and the horses tethered to a tree-trunk, and -hear their bells jingling; a couple of native boys in embroidered shirts -run out, still rubbing their eyes; the driver has a dispute with the -other driver in a hoarse alto voice; then he calls out “All right!” and -strikes up a monotonous song—and the endless procession of pine-trees -and snow-drifts begins again. - - - §10 - -Just as I got out of the Government of Vyatka, I came in contact for the -last time with the officials, and this final appearance was quite in -their best manner. - -We stopped at a post-house, and the driver began to unharness the -horses. A tall peasant appeared at the door and asked who I was. - -“What business is that of yours?” - -“I am the inspector’s messenger, and he told me to ask.” - -“Very well: go to the office and you will find my passport there.” - -The peasant disappeared but returned in a moment and told the driver -that he could not have fresh horses. - -This was too much. I jumped out of the sledge and entered the house. The -inspector was sitting on a bench and dictating to a clerk; both were -half-seas over. On another bench in a corner a man was sitting, or -rather lying, with fetters on his feet and hands. There were several -bottles in the room, glasses, and a litter of papers and tobacco ash on -the table. - -“Where is the inspector?” I called out loudly, as I went in. - -“I am the inspector,” was the reply. I had seen the man before in -Vyatka; his name was Lazarev. While speaking he stared very rudely at -me—and then rushed towards me with open arms. - -It must be remembered that, after Tufáyev’s fall, the officials, seeing -that his successor and I were on fairly good terms, were a little afraid -of me. - -I kept him off with my hand, and asked in a very serious voice: “How -could you order that I was to have no horses? What an absurdity to -detain travellers on the high road!” - -“It was only a joke; I hope you won’t be angry about it.” Then he -shouted at his messenger: “Horses! horses at once! What are you standing -there for, you idiot?” - -“I hope you will have a cup of tea with some rum in it,” he said to me. - -“No, thank you.” - -“Perhaps we have some champagne”; he rushed to the bottles, but they -were all empty. - -“What are you doing here?” I asked. - -“Holding an enquiry; this fine fellow took an axe and killed his father -and sister. There was a quarrel and he was jealous.” - -“And so you celebrate the occasion with champagne?” I said. - -The man looked confused. I glanced at the murderer. He was a Cheremiss -of about twenty; there was nothing savage about his face; it was of -purely Oriental type with narrow flashing eyes and black hair. - -I was so disgusted by the whole scene that I went out again into the -yard. The inspector ran out after me, with a bottle of rum in one hand -and a glass in the other, and pressed me to have a drink. - -In order to get rid of him, I accepted. He caught me by the arm and -said: “I am to blame, I admit; but I hope you will not mention the facts -to His Excellency and so ruin an honest man.” As he spoke, he caught -hold of my hand and actually kissed it, repeating a dozen times over, -“In God’s name, don’t ruin an honest man!” I pulled away my hand in -disgust and said: - -“You needn’t be afraid; what need have I to tell tales?” - -“But can’t I do you some service?” - -“Yes; you can make them harness the horses quicker.” - -“Look alive there!” he shouted out, and soon began tugging at the straps -himself. - - - §11 - -I never forgot this incident. Nine years later I was in Petersburg for -the last time; I had to visit the Home Office to arrange about a -passport. While I was talking to the secretary in charge, a gentleman -walked through the room, distributing friendly handshakes to the -magnates of the office and condescending bows to the lesser lights. -“Hang it! it can’t surely be him!” I thought. “Who is that?” I asked. - -“His name is Lazarev; he is specially employed by the Minister and is a -great man here.” - -“Did he serve once as inspector in the Government of Vyatka?” - -“He did.” - -“I congratulate you, gentlemen! Nine years ago that man kissed my hand!” - -It must be allowed that the Minister knew how to choose his -subordinates. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - The Beginning of my Life at Vladímir. - - - §1 - -WHEN we had reached Kosmodemyansk and I came out to take my seat in the -sledge, I saw that the horses were harnessed three abreast in Russian -fashion; and the bells jingled cheerfully on the yoke worn by the -wheeler. - -In Perm and Vyatka they harness the horses differently—either in single -file, or one leader with two wheelers. - -My heart beat fast with joy, to see the Russian fashion again. - -“Now let us see how fast you can go!” I said to the lad sitting with a -professional air on the box of the sledge. He wore a sheepskin coat with -the wool inside, and such stiff gloves that he could hardly bring two -fingers together to clutch the coin I offered him. - -“Very good, Sir. Gee up, my beauties!” said the lad. Then he turned to -me and said, “Now, Sir, just you hold on; there’s a hill coming where I -shall let the horses go.” The hill was a steep descent to the Volga, -along which the track passed in winter. - -He did indeed let the horses go. As they galloped down the hill, the -sledge, instead of moving decently forwards, banged like a cracker from -side to side of the road. The driver was intensely pleased; and I -confess that I, being a Russian, enjoyed it no less. - -In this fashion I drove into the year 1838—the best and brightest year -of my life. Let me tell you how I saw the New Year in. - - - §2 - -About eighty _versts_ from Nizhni, my servant Matthew and I went into a -post-house to warm ourselves. The frost was keen, and it was windy as -well. The post-master, a thin and sickly creature who aroused my -compassion, was writing out a way-bill, repeating each letter as he -wrote it, and making mistakes all the same. I took off my fur coat and -walked about the room in my long fur boots. Matthew warmed himself at -the red-hot stove, the post-master muttered to himself, and the wooden -clock on the wall ticked with a feeble, jerky sound. - -“Look at the clock, Sir,” Matthew said to me; “it will strike twelve -immediately, and the New Year will begin.” He glanced half-enquiringly -at me and then added, “I shall bring in some of the things they put on -the sledge at Vyatka.” Without waiting for an answer, he hurried off in -search of the bottles and a parcel. - -Matthew, of whom I shall say more in future, was more than a servant—he -was my friend, my younger brother. A native of Moscow, he had been -handed over to our old friend Sonnenberg, to learn the art of -bookbinding, about which Sonnenberg himself knew little enough; later, -he was transferred to my service. - -I knew that I should have hurt Matthew by refusing, and I had really no -objection myself to making merry in the post-house. The New Year is -itself a stage in life’s journey. - -He brought in a ham and champagne. - -The wine was frozen hard, and the ham was frosted over with ice; we had -to chop it with an axe, but _à la guerre comme à la guerre_. - -“A Happy New Year,” we all cried. And I had cause for happiness. I was -travelling back in the right direction, and every hour brought me nearer -to Moscow—my heart was full of hope. - -As our frozen champagne was not much to the taste of the post-master, I -poured an equal quantity of rum into his glass; and this new form of -“half and half” was a great success. - -The driver, whom I invited to drink with us, was even more thoroughgoing -in his methods: he poured pepper into the foaming wine, stirred it up -with a spoon, and drank the glass at one gulp; then he sighed and added -with a sort of groan, “That was fine and hot.” - -The post-master himself helped me into the sledge, and was so zealous in -his attentions that he dropped a lighted candle into the hay and failed -to find it afterwards. He was in great spirits and kept repeating, “A -Happy New Year for me too, thanks to you.” - -The “heated” driver touched up the horses, and we started. - - - §3 - -At eight on the following evening I arrived at Vladímir and stopped at -an inn which is described with perfect accuracy in _The Tarantas_,[113] -with its queer menu in Russian-French and its vinegar for claret. - -Footnote 113: - - _I.e._, _The Travelling Carriage_, a novel by Count Sologub. - -“Someone was asking for you this morning,” said the waiter, after -reading the name on my passport; “perhaps he’s waiting in the bar now.” -The waiter’s head displayed that dashing parting and noble curl over the -ear which used to be the distinguishing marks of Russian waiters and are -now peculiar to them and Prince Louis Napoleon. - -I could not guess who this could be. - -“But there he is,” added the waiter, standing aside. What I first saw -was not a man at all but an immense tray piled high with all sorts of -provisions—cake and biscuits, apples and oranges, eggs, almonds and -raisins; then behind the tray came into view the white beard and blue -eyes belonging to the bailiff on my father’s estate near Vladimir. - -“Gavrilo Semyónitch!” I cried out, and rushed into his arms. His was the -first familiar face, the first link with the past, that I had met since -the period of prison and exile began. I could not look long enough at -the old man’s intelligent face, I could not say enough to him. To me he -represented nearness to Moscow, to my home and my friends: he had seen -them all three days before and brought me greetings from them all. How -could I feel that I was really far from them? - - - §4 - -The Governor of Vladimir was a man of the world who had lived long -enough to attain a temper of cool indifference. He was a Greek and his -name was Kuruta. He took my measure at once and abstained from the least -attempt at severity. Office work was never even hinted at—the only duty -he asked me to undertake was that I should edit the Provincial Gazette -in collaboration with the local schoolmaster. - -I was familiar with this business, as I had started the unofficial part -of the Gazette at Vyatka. By the way, one article which I published -there nearly landed my successor in a scrape. In describing the festival -on the Big River, I said that the mutton offered to St. Nicholas used to -be given away to the poor but was now sold. This enraged the Abbot, and -the Governor had some difficulty in pacifying him. - - - §5 - -Provincial Gazettes were first introduced in the year 1837. It was -Bludov, the Minister of the Interior, who conceived the idea of training -in publicity the land of silence and dumbness. Bludov, known as the -continuator of Karamzín’s History—though he never added a line to it—and -as the author of the Report on the Decembrist Revolution—which had -better never have been written—was one of those doctrinaire statesmen -who came to the front in the last years of Alexander’s reign. They were -able, educated, honest men; they had belonged in their youth to the -Literary Club of Arzamas;[114] they wrote Russian well, had patriotic -feelings, and were so much interested in the history of their country -that they had no leisure to bestow on contemporary events. They all -worshipped the immortal memory of Karamzín, loved Zhukovski, knew -Krylóv[115] by heart, and used to travel to Moscow on purpose to talk to -Dmítriev[116] in his house there. I too used to visit there in my -student days; but I was armed against the old poet by prejudices in -favour of romanticism, by my acquaintance with N. Polevói, and by a -secret feeling of dissatisfaction that Dmítriev, being a poet, should -also be Minister of Justice. Though much was expected of them, they did -nothing; but that is the fate of doctrinaires in all countries. Perhaps -they would have left more lasting traces behind them if Alexander had -lived; but Alexander died, and they never got beyond the mere wish to do -the state some service. - -Footnote 114: - - Zhukovski and Púshkin both belonged to this club. It carried on a - campaign against Shishkóv and other opponents of the new developments - in Russian style. - -Footnote 115: - - Krylóv (1768-1844), the famous writer of fables. - -Footnote 116: - - Dmítriev, a poet once famous, who lived long enough to welcome - Púshkin. - -At Monaco there is a monument to one of their Princes with this -inscription. “Here rests Prince Florestan”—I forget his number—“who -wished to make his subjects happy.” Our doctrinaires also wished to make -Russia happy, but they reckoned without their host. I don’t know who -prevented Florestan; but it was our Florestan[117] who prevented them. -They were forced to take a part in the steady deterioration of Russia, -and all the reforms they could introduce were useless, mere alterations -of forms and names. Every Russian in authority considers it his highest -duty to rack his brains for some novelty of this kind; the change is -generally for the worse and sometimes leaves things exactly as they -were. Thus the name of ‘secretary’ has given place to a Russian -equivalent in the public offices of the provinces, but the duties are -not changed. I remember how the Minister of Justice put forward a -proposal for necessary changes in the uniform of civilian officials. It -began with great pomp and circumstance—“Having taken special notice of -the lack of uniformity in the cut and fashion of certain uniforms worn -by the civilian department, and having adopted as a principle ...,” etc. - -Footnote 117: - - _I.e._, the Emperor Nicholas. - -Beset by this itch for novelty the Minister of the Interior made changes -with regard to the officers who administer justice in the rural -districts. The old judges lived in the towns and paid occasional visits -to the country; their successors have their regular residence in the -country and pay occasional visits to the towns. By this reform all the -peasants came under the immediate scrutiny of the police. The police -penetrated into the secrets of the peasant’s commerce and wealth, his -family life, and all the business of his community; and the village -community had been hitherto the last refuge of the people’s life. The -only redeeming feature is this—there are many villages and only two -judges to a district. - - - §6 - -About the same time the same Minister excogitated the Provincial -Gazettes. Our Government, while utterly contemptuous of education, makes -pretensions to be literary; and whereas, in England, for example, there -are no Government newspapers at all, every public department in Russia -publishes its own organ, and so does the Academy, and so do the -Universities. We have papers to represent the mining interest and the -pickled-herring interest, the interests of Frenchmen and Germans, the -marine interest and the land-carriage interest, all published at the -expense of Government. The different departments contract for articles, -just as they contract for fire-wood and candles, the only difference -being that in the former case there is no competition; there is no lack -of general surveys, invented statistics, and fanciful conclusions based -on the statistics. Together with a monopoly in everything else, the -Government has assumed a monopoly of nonsense; ordering everyone to be -silent, it chatters itself without ceasing. In continuation of this -system, Bludov ordered that each provincial Government should publish -its own Gazette, and that each Gazette should include, as well as the -official news, a department for history, literature and the like. - -No sooner said than done. In fifty provincial Governments they were soon -tearing their hair over this unofficial part. Priests from the -theological seminaries, doctors of medicine, schoolmasters, anyone who -was suspected of being able to spell correctly—all these were pressed -into the service. These recruits reflected, read up the leading -newspapers and magazines, felt nervous, took the plunge, and finally -produced their little articles. - -To see oneself in print is one of the strongest artificial passions of -an age corrupted by books. But it requires courage, nevertheless, except -in special circumstances, to venture on a public exhibition of one’s -productions. People who would not have dreamed of publishing their -articles in the _Moscow Gazette_ or the Petersburg newspapers, now began -to print their writings in the privacy of their own houses. Thus the -dangerous habit of possessing an organ of one’s own took root, and men -became accustomed to publicity. And indeed it is not a bad thing to have -a weapon which is always ready for use. A printing press, like the human -tongue, has no bones. - - - §7 - -My colleague in the editorship had taken his degree at Moscow University -and in the same faculty as myself. The end of his life was too tragical -for me to speak of him with a smile; but, down to the day of his death, -he was an exceedingly absurd figure. By no means stupid, he was -excessively clumsy and awkward. His exceptional ugliness had no -redeeming feature, and there was an abnormal amount of it. His face was -nearly twice as large as most people’s and marked by small-pox; he had -the mouth of a codfish which spread from ear to ear; his light-grey eyes -were lightened rather than shaded by colourless eye-lashes; his scalp -had a meagre covering of bristly hair; he was moreover taller by a head -than myself,[118] with a slouching figure and very slovenly habits. - -Footnote 118: - - Herzen himself was a very tall, large man. - -His very name was such that it once caused him to be arrested. Late one -evening, wrapped up in his overcoat, he was walking past the Governor’s -residence, with a field-glass in his hand. He stopped and aimed the -glass at the heavens. This astonished the sentry, who probably reckoned -the stars as Government property: he challenged the rapt star-gazer—“Who -goes there?” “Nebába,”[119] answered my colleague in a deep bass voice, -and gazed as before. - -Footnote 119: - - The word means in Russian “Not a woman.” - -“Don’t play the fool with me—I’m on duty,” said the sentry. - -“I tell you that I am Nebába!” - -The soldier’s patience was exhausted: he rang the bell, a serjeant -appeared, the sentry handed the astronomer over to him, to be taken to -the guard-room. “They’ll find out there,” as he said, “whether you’re a -woman or not.” And there he would certainly have stayed till the -morning, had not the officer of the day recognised him. - - - §8 - -One morning Nebába came to my room to tell me that he was going to -Moscow for a few days, and he smiled with an air that was half shy and -half sentimental. Then he added, with some confusion, “I shall not -return alone.” “Do you mean that ...?” “Yes, I am going to be married,” -he answered bashfully. I was astonished at the heroic courage of the -woman who was willing to marry this good-hearted but monstrously ugly -suitor. But a fortnight later I saw the bride at his house; she was -eighteen and, if no beauty, pretty enough, with lively eyes; and then I -thought him the hero. - -Six weeks had not passed before I saw that things were going badly with -my poor Orson. He was terribly depressed, corrected his proofs -carelessly, never finished his article on “The Migration of Birds,” and -could not fix his attention on anything; at times it seemed to me that -his eyes were red and swollen. This state of things did not last long. -One day as I was going home, I noticed a crowd of boys and shopkeepers -running towards the churchyard. I walked after them. - -Nebába’s body was lying near the church wall, and a rifle lay beside -him. He had shot himself opposite the windows of his own house; the -string with which he had pulled the trigger was still attached to his -foot. The police-surgeon blandly assured the crowd that the deceased had -suffered no pain; and the police prepared to carry his body to the -station. - -Nature is cruel to the individual. What dark forebodings filled the -breast of this poor sufferer, before he made up his mind to use his -piece of string and stop the pendulum which measured out nothing to him -but insult and suffering? And why was it so? Because his father was -consumptive or his mother dropsical? Likely enough. But what right have -we to ask for reasons or for justice? What is it that we seek to call to -account? Will the whirling hurricane of life answer our questions? - - - §9 - -At the same time there began for me a new epoch in my life—pure and -bright, youthful but earnest; it was the life of a hermit, but a hermit -thoroughly in love. - -But this belongs to another part of my narrative. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - ○ Text that: - was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MEMOIRS OF ALEXANDER -HERZEN, PARTS I AND II *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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