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diff --git a/76599-0.txt b/76599-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8f4d6d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/76599-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12899 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76599 *** + + + + + + THE MEMOIRS OF + ALEXANDER + HERZEN + + I + + + + + NOTE + + This translation has been made by + arrangement from the sole complete + and copyright edition of _My Past + and Thoughts_, that published in the + original Russian at Berlin, 1921. + + + + + _MY PAST AND THOUGHTS_ + THE MEMOIRS OF + ALEXANDER HERZEN + _THE AUTHORISED TRANSLATION_ + _TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN + BY CONSTANCE GARNETT_ + VOLUME I + +[Illustration: [Logo]] + + NEW YORK + ALFRED A. KNOPF + + + + + PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY + T. & A. CONSTABLE LTD. EDINBURGH + * + ALL RIGHTS + RESERVED + + + FIRST PUBLISHED 1924 + + + + + TRANSLATOR’S NOTE + + +A few words about Herzen’s parentage will make his narrative more +intelligible to the English reader. Herzen’s father, Ivan Yakovlyev, was +a very wealthy nobleman belonging to one of the most aristocratic +families of Russia. In 1811, at the age of forty-two, he married (so +Brückner tells us in his _History of Russian Literature_) at Stuttgart a +girl of sixteen, whose name was Henriette Haag, though she was always in +Russia called Luise Ivanovna, as easier to pronounce. As he neglected to +repeat the marriage ceremony in Russia, their son was there +illegitimate. Yakovlyev is said to have given him the surname Herzen, +because he was the ‘child of his heart.’ + + + + + CONTENTS + + + PART I + NURSERY & UNIVERSITY + (1812–1835) + CHAPTER I:—My Nurse and the _Grande Armée_—The Fire of + Moscow—My Father with Napoleon—General Ilovaisky—Travelling + with the French Prisoners—The Patriotism of C. Calot—The + Common Management of the Property—Dividing it—The Senator _page 1_ + + CHAPTER II:—The Talk of Nurses and of Generals—False + Position—Russian Encyclopaedists—Boredom—The Maids’ Room and + the Servants’ Hall—Two Germans—Lessons and Reading—The + Catechism and the Gospel _page 24_ + + CHAPTER III:—The Death of Alexander I. and the Fourteenth of + December—Moral Awakening—The Terrorist Bouchot—My Kortcheva + Cousin _page 55_ + + CHAPTER IV:—Nick and the Sparrow Hills _page 82_ + + CHAPTER V:—Details of Home Life—Eighteenth-Century People in + Russia—A Day in our House—Visitors and + _Habitués_—Sonnenberg—The Valet and Others _page 93_ + + CHAPTER VI:—The Kremlin Department—Moscow University—Our + Set—The Chemist—The Malov Affair—The Cholera—Filaret—V. + Passek—General Lissovsky—The Sungurov Affair _page 117_ + + CHAPTER VII:—The End of My Studies—The Schiller Period—Early + Youth and Bohemianism—Saint-Simonism and N. Polevoy _page 174_ + + APPENDIX:—A. Polezhaev _page 193_ + + + PART II + PRISON & EXILE + (1834–1838) + CHAPTER VIII:—A Prediction—Ogaryov’s Arrest—A Fire—A Moscow + Liberal—M. F. Orlov—The Graveyard _page 197_ + + CHAPTER IX:—Arrest—An Impartial Witness—The Office of the + Pretchistensky Police Station—A Patriarchal Judge _page 208_ + + CHAPTER X:—Under the Watch Tower—The Lisbon Policeman—The + Incendiaries _page 215_ + + CHAPTER XI:—Krutitsky Barracks—Gendarmes’ Tales—Officers _page 226_ + + CHAPTER XII:—The Investigation—Golitsyn Senior—Golitsyn + Junior—General Staal—Sokolovsky—Sentence _page 236_ + + CHAPTER XIII:—Exile—The Mayor at Pokrovo—The Volga—Perm _page 254_ + + CHAPTER XIV:—Vyatka—The Office and Dining-Room of His + Excellency—K. Y. Tyufyaev _page 273_ + + CHAPTER XV:—Officials—Siberian Governors-General—A Rapacious + Police-Master—An Accommodating Judge—A Roasted + Police-Captain—A Tatar Missionary—A Boy of the Female + Sex—The Potato Terror, etc. _page 295_ + + CHAPTER XVI:—Alexander Lavrentyevitch Vitberg _page 327_ + + CHAPTER XVII:—The Tsarevitch at Vyatka—The Fall of + Tyufyaev—I am transferred to Vladimir—The Police-Captain at + the Posting-Station _page 344_ + + CHAPTER XVIII:—The Beginning of my Life at Vladimir _page 356_ + + + + + PART I + NURSERY & UNIVERSITY + (1812–1835) + + ‘_When memories of the past return + And the old road again we tread, + Slowly the passions of old days + Come back to life within the soul; + Old griefs and joys are here unchanged, + Again the once familiar thrill + Stirs echoes in the troubled heart; + And for remembered woes we sigh._’ + OGARYOV: Humorous Verse. + + + + + Chapter 1 + MY NURSE AND THE _GRANDE ARMÉE_—THE FIRE OF MOSCOW—MY FATHER WITH + NAPOLEON—GENERAL ILOVAISKY—TRAVELLING WITH THE FRENCH PRISONERS—THE + PATRIOTISM OF C. CALOT—THE COMMON MANAGEMENT OF THE PROPERTY—DIVIDING + IT—THE SENATOR + + +‘Vera Artamonovna, come tell me again how the French came to Moscow,’ I +used to say, rolling myself up in the quilt and stretching in my crib, +which was sewn round with linen that I might not fall out. + +‘Oh! what’s the use of telling you, you’ve heard it so many times, +besides it’s time to go to sleep; you had better get up a little earlier +to-morrow,’ the old woman would usually answer, although she was as +eager to repeat her favourite story as I was to hear it. + +‘But do tell me a little bit. How did you find out, how did it begin?’ + +‘This was how it began. You know what your papa is—he is always putting +things off; he was getting ready and getting ready, and much use it was! +Every one was saying “It’s time to set off; it’s time to go; what is +there to wait for, there’s no one left in the town.” But no, Pavel +Ivanovitch[1] and he kept talking of how they would go together, and +first one wasn’t ready and then the other. At last we were packed and +the carriage was ready; the family sat down to lunch, when all at once +our head cook ran into the dining-room as pale as a sheet, and +announced: “The enemy has marched in at the Dragomilovsky Gate.” Our +hearts did sink. “The power of the Cross be with us!” we cried. +Everything was upside down. While we were bustling about, sighing and +groaning, we looked and down the street came galloping dragoons in such +helmets with horses’ tails streaming behind. The gates had all been +closed, and here was your papa left behind for a treat and you with him; +your wet nurse Darya still had you at the breast, you were so weak and +delicate.’ + +And I smiled with pride, pleased that I had taken part in the war. + +‘At the beginning we got along somehow, for the first few days, that is; +it was only that two or three soldiers would come in and ask by signs +whether there was something to drink; we would take them a glass each, +to be sure, and they would go away and touch their caps to us, too. But +then, you see, when fires began and kept getting worse and worse, there +was such disorder, plundering and all sorts of horrors. At that time we +were living in the lodge at the Princess Anna Borissovna’s and the house +caught fire; then Pavel Ivanovitch said, “Come to me, my house is built +of brick, it stands far back in the courtyard and the walls are thick.” + +‘So we went, masters and servants all together, there was no difference +made; we went out into the Tverskoy Boulevard and the trees were +beginning to burn—we made our way at last to the Golohvastovs’ house and +it was simply blazing, flames from every window. Pavel Ivanovitch was +dumbfoundered, he could not believe his eyes. Behind the house there is +a big garden, you know; we went into it thinking we should be safe +there. We sat there on the seats grieving, when, all at once, a mob of +drunken soldiers were upon us; one fell on Pavel Ivanovitch, trying to +pull off his travelling coat; the old man would not give it up, the +soldier pulled out his sword and struck him on the face with it so that +he kept the scar to the end of his days; the others set upon us, one +soldier tore you from your nurse, opened your baby-clothes to see if +there were any money-notes or diamonds hidden among them, saw there was +nothing there, and so the scamp purposely tore your clothes and flung +them down. As soon as they had gone away, we were in trouble again. Do +you remember our Platon who was sent for a soldier? He was dreadfully +fond of drink and was very much exhilarated that day; he tied on a sabre +and walked about like that. The day before the enemy entered, Count +Rastoptchin[2] had distributed all sorts of weapons at the arsenal; so +that was how he had got hold of a sabre. Towards the evening he saw a +dragoon ride into the yard; there was a horse standing near the stable, +the dragoon wanted to take it, but Platon rushed headlong at him and, +catching hold of the bridle, said: “The horse is ours, I won’t give it +you.” The dragoon threatened him with a pistol, but we could see it was +not loaded; the master himself saw what was happening and shouted to +Platon: “Let the horse alone, it’s not your business.” But not a bit of +it! Platon pulled out his sabre and struck the man on the head, and he +staggered, and Platon struck him again and again. “Well,” thought we, +“now the hour of our death is come; when his comrades see him, it will +be the end of us.” But when the dragoon fell off, Platon seized him by +the feet and dragged him to a pit full of mortar and threw him in, poor +fellow, although he was still alive; his horse stood there and did not +stir from the place, but stamped its foot on the ground as though it +understood; our servants shut it in the stable; it must have been burnt +there. We all hurried out of the courtyard, the fire was more and more +dreadful; worn out and with nothing to eat, we got into a house that was +still untouched, and flung ourselves down to rest; in less than an hour, +our people were shouting from the street: “Come out, come out! Fire! +Fire!” Then I took a piece of green baize from the billiard table and +wrapped you in it to keep you from the night air; and so we made our way +as far as the Tverskoy Square. There the French were putting the fire +out, because some great man of theirs was living in the governor’s +house; we sat simply in the street; sentries were walking everywhere, +others were riding by on horseback. And you were screaming, straining +yourself with crying, your nurse had no more milk, no one had a bit of +bread. Natalya Konstantinovna was with us then, a wench of spirit, you +know; she saw that some soldiers were eating something in a corner, took +you and went straight to them, showed you and said “_mangé_ for the +little one”; at first they looked at her so sternly and said “_allez, +allez_,” but she fell to scolding them. “Ah, you cursed brutes,” said +she, “you this and that”; the soldiers did not understand a word, but +they burst out laughing and gave her some bread soaked in water for you +and a crust for herself. Early in the morning an officer came up and +gathered together all the men and your papa with them, leaving only the +women and Pavel Ivanovitch who was wounded, and took them to put out the +fire in the houses near by, so we remained alone till evening; we sat +and cried and that was all. When it was dusk, the master came back and +with him an officer....’ + +Allow me to take the old woman’s place and continue her narrative. When +my father had finished his duties as a fire-brigade man, he met by the +Strastny monastery a squadron of Italian cavalry; he went up to their +officer and told him in Italian the position in which his family was +placed. When the Italian heard _la sua dolce favella_ he promised to +speak to the duc de Trévise,[3] and as a preliminary measure to put a +sentry to guard us and prevent barbarous scenes such as had taken place +in the Golohvastovs’ garden. He sent an officer to accompany my father +with these instructions. Hearing that the whole party had eaten nothing +for two days, the officer led us all to a shop that had been broken +into; the choicest tea and Levant coffee had been thrown about on the +floor, together with a great number of dates, figs, and almonds; our +servants stuffed their pockets full, and had plenty of dessert anyway. +The sentry turned out to be of the greatest use to us: a dozen times +gangs of soldiers began molesting the luckless group of women and +servants encamped in the corner of Tverskoy Square, but they moved off +immediately at his command. + +Mortier remembered that he had known my father in Paris and informed +Napoleon; Napoleon ordered him to present himself next morning. In a +shabby, dark blue, short coat with bronze buttons, intended for sporting +wear, without his wig, in high boots that had not been cleaned for +several days, with dirty linen and unshaven chin, my father—who +worshipped decorum and strict etiquette—made his appearance in the +throne room of the Kremlin Palace at the summons of the Emperor of the +French. + +Their conversation which I have heard many times is fairly +correctly given in Baron Fain’s[4] _History_ and in that of +Mihailovsky-Danilevsky. + +After the usual phrases, abrupt words and laconic remarks, to which a +deep meaning was ascribed for thirty-five years, till men realised that +their meaning was often quite trivial, Napoleon blamed Rastoptchin for +the fire, said that it was Vandalism, declared as usual his invincible +love of peace, maintained that his war was against England and not +against Russia, boasted that he had set a guard on the Foundling +Hospital and the Uspensky Cathedral, complained of Alexander, said that +he was surrounded by bad advisers and that his (Napoleon’s) peaceful +dispositions were not made known to the Emperor. + +My father observed that it was rather for a conqueror to make offers of +peace. + +‘I have done what I could; I have sent to Kutuzov,[5] he will not enter +into any negotiations and does not bring my offer to the cognizance of +the Tsar. If they want war, it is not my fault—they shall have war.’ + +After all this comedy, my father asked him for a pass to leave Moscow. + +‘I have ordered no passes to be given to any one; why are you going? +What are you afraid of? I have ordered the markets to be opened.’ + +The Emperor of the French apparently forgot at that moment that, in +addition to open markets, it is as well to have a closed house, and that +life in the Tverskoy Square in the midst of enemy soldiers is anything +but agreeable. My father pointed this out to him; Napoleon thought a +moment and suddenly asked: + +‘Will you undertake to convey a letter from me to the Emperor? On that +condition I will command them to give you a permit to leave the town +with all your household.’ + +‘I would accept your Majesty’s offer,’ my father observed, ‘but it is +difficult for me to guarantee that it will reach him.’ + +‘Will you give me your word of honour that you will make every effort to +deliver the letter in person?’ + +‘_Je m’engage sur mon honneur, Sire._’ + +‘That suffices. I will send for you. Are you in need of anything?’ + +‘Of a roof for my family while I am here. Nothing else.’ + +‘The duc de Trévise will do what he can.’ + +Mortier did, in fact, give us a room in the governor-general’s house, +and gave orders that we should be furnished with provisions; his _maître +d’hôtel_ even sent us wine. A few days passed in this way, after which +Mortier sent an adjutant, at four o’clock one morning, to summon my +father to the Kremlin. + +The fire had attained terrific proportions during those days; the +scorched air, murky with smoke, was insufferably hot. Napoleon was +dressed and was walking about the room, looking careworn and out of +temper; he was beginning to feel that his singed laurels would before +long be frozen, and that there would be no escaping here with a jest, as +in Egypt. The plan of the campaign was absurd; except Napoleon, +everybody knew it: Ney, Narbonne, Berthier, and officers of lower rank; +to all objections he had replied with the cabalistic word ‘Moscow’; in +Moscow even he guessed the truth. + +When my father went in, Napoleon took a sealed letter that was lying on +the table, handed it to him and said, bowing him out: ‘I rely on your +word of honour.’ + +On the envelope was written: ‘_A mon frère l’Empereur Alexandre_.’ + +The permit given to my father was still valid; it was signed by the duc +de Trévise and countersigned by the head police-master Lesseps. A few +outsiders, hearing of our permit, joined us, begging my father to take +them in the guise of servants or relations. An open wagonette was given +us for the wounded old man, my mother and my nurse; the others walked. A +few Uhlans escorted us, on horseback, as far as the Russian rearguard, +on sight of which they wished us a good journey and galloped back. + +A minute later the Cossacks surrounded their strange visitors and led +them to the headquarters of the rearguard. There Wintzengerode and +Ilovaisky the Fourth were in command. Wintzengerode, hearing of the +letter, told my father that he would send him on immediately, with two +dragoons, to the Tsar in Petersburg. + +‘What’s to be done with your people?’ asked the Cossack general, +Ilovaisky, ‘it is impossible for them to stay here. They are not out of +range of the guns, and something serious may be expected any day.’ + +My father begged that we should, if possible, be taken to his Yaroslav +estate, but incidentally observed that he had not a kopeck with him. + +‘We will settle up afterwards,’ said Ilovaisky, ‘and do not worry +yourself, I give you my word to send them.’ + +My father was taken by couriers along a road made by laying faggots on +the ground. For us Ilovaisky procured some sort of an old conveyance and +sent us to the nearest town with a party of French prisoners and an +escort of Cossacks; he provided us with money for our expenses until we +reached Yaroslav, and altogether did everything he possibly could in the +turmoil of wartime. Such was my first journey in Russia; my second was +unaccompanied by French Uhlans, Cossacks from the Ural and prisoners of +war—I was alone but for a drunken gendarme sitting by my side. + +My father was taken straight to Count Araktcheyev[6] and detained in his +house. The Count asked for the letter, my father told him he had given +his word of honour to deliver it in person; Araktcheyev promised to ask +the Tsar, and, next day, informed him by letter that the Tsar had +charged him to take the letter and to deliver it immediately. He gave a +receipt for the letter (which is still preserved). For a month my father +remained under arrest in Araktcheyev’s house; no one was allowed to see +him except S. S. Shishkov,[7] who came at the Tsar’s command to question +him concerning the details of the fire, of the enemy’s entry into +Moscow, and his interview with Napoleon; he was the first eye-witness to +arrive in Petersburg. At last Araktcheyev informed my father that the +Tsar had ordered his release, and did not hold him to blame for +accepting a permit from the enemy in consideration of the extremity in +which he was placed. On setting him free, Araktcheyev commanded him to +leave Petersburg immediately without seeing anybody except his elder +brother, to whom he was allowed to say good-bye. + +On reaching at nightfall the little Yaroslav village my father found us +in a peasants’ hut (he had no house on that estate). I was asleep on a +bench under the window; the window did not close properly, the snow +drifting through the crack, covered part of the bench and lay, not +thawing, on the window-sill. + +Every one was in great perturbation, especially my mother. A few days +before my father’s arrival, the village elder and some of the +house-serfs had run hastily in the morning into the hut where she was +living, trying to explain something by gestures and insisting on her +following them. At that time my mother did not speak a word of Russian; +all she could make out was that the matter concerned Pavel Ivanovitch; +she did not know what to think; the idea occurred to her that they had +killed him, or that they meant to kill him and afterwards her. She took +me in her arms, and trembling all over, more dead than alive, followed +the elder. Golohvastov was in another hut, they went into it; the old +man really was lying dead beside the table at which he had been about to +shave; a sudden stroke of paralysis had cut short his life +instantaneously. + +My mother’s position may well be imagined (she was then seventeen), +living in a little grimy hut, in the midst of these half-savage bearded +men, dressed in bare sheepskins, and talking in a completely unknown +language; and all this in November of the terrible winter of 1812. Her +one support had been Golohvastov; she wept day and night after his +death. And meanwhile these savages were pitying her from the bottom of +their hearts, showing her all their warm hospitality and good-natured +simplicity; and the village elder sent his son several times to the town +to get raisins, cakes, apples, and bread rings for her. + +Fifteen years later the elder was still living and used sometimes, grey +as a kestrel and somewhat bald, to come to us in Moscow. My mother used +specially to regale him with tea and to talk to him about the winter of +1812, saying how she had been so afraid of him and how, without +understanding each other, they had made the arrangements for the funeral +of Pavel Ivanovitch. The old man used still to call my mother—as he had +then—Yuliza Ivanovna, instead of Luise, and used to tell how I was not +at all afraid of his beard and would readily let him take me into his +arms. + +From the province of Yaroslav we moved to that of Tver, and at last, a +year later, made our way back to Moscow. By that time my father’s +brother, who had been ambassador to Westphalia and had afterwards gone +on some commission to Bernadotte, had returned from Sweden; he settled +in the same house with us. + +I still remember, as in a dream, the traces of the fire, which remained +until early in the ’twenties: great burnt-out houses without window +frames or roofs, tumbledown walls, empty spaces fenced in, with remains +of stoves and chimneys on them. + +Tales of the fire of Moscow, of the battle of Borodino, of Beresina, of +the taking of Paris were my cradle-songs, my nursery stories, my Iliad +and my Odyssey. My mother and our servants, my father and Vera +Artamonovna were continually going back to the terrible time which had +impressed them so recently, so intimately, and so acutely. Then the +returning generals and officers began to arrive in Moscow. My father’s +old comrades of the Izmailovsky regiment, now the heroes of a bloody war +scarcely ended, were often at our house. They found relief from their +toils and anxieties in describing them. This was in reality the most +brilliant moment of the Petersburg period; the consciousness of strength +gave new life, all practical affairs and troubles seemed to be put off +till the morrow when work would begin again, now all that was wanted was +to revel in the joys of victory. + +From these gentlemen I heard a great deal more about the war than from +Vera Artamonovna. I was particularly fond of the stories told by Count +Miloradovitch[8]; he spoke with the greatest vivacity, with lively +mimicry, with roars of laughter, and more than once I fell asleep, on +the sofa behind him, to the sounds of them. + +Of course, in such surroundings, I was a desperate patriot and intended +to go into the army; but an exclusive sentiment of nationality never +leads to any good; it led me to the following incident. Among others who +used to visit us was the Comte de Quinsonas, a French _émigré_ and +lieutenant-general in the Russian service. A desperate royalist, he took +part in the celebrated fête of Versailles, at which the King’s minions +trampled underfoot the revolutionary cockade and at which Marie +Antoinette drank to the destruction of the revolution. This French +count, a tall, thin, graceful old man with grey hair, was the very model +of politeness and elegant manners. There was a peerage awaiting him in +Paris, where he had already been to congratulate Louis XVIII. on getting +his berth. He had returned to Russia to dispose of his estate. Unluckily +for me this most courteous of generals of all the Russian armies began +speaking of the war in my presence. + +‘But surely you must have been fighting against us?’ I remarked with +extreme naïveté. + +‘_Non, mon petit, non; j’étais dans l’armée russe._’ + +‘What?’ said I, ‘you, a Frenchman, and fighting in our army!’ + +My father glanced sternly at me and changed the conversation. The Count +heroically set things right by saying to my father that ‘he liked such +patriotic sentiments.’ + +My father did not like them, and after the Count had gone away he gave +me a terrible scolding. + +‘This is what comes of rushing headlong into conversation about all +sorts of things you don’t understand and can’t understand; it was out of +fidelity to _his_ king that the Count served under _our_ emperor.’ + +I certainly did not understand that. + +My father had spent twelve years abroad and his brother still longer; +they tried to arrange their life in the foreign style while avoiding +great expense and retaining all Russian comforts. Their life never was +so arranged, either because they did not know how to manage or because +the nature of a Russian landowner was stronger in them than their +foreign habits. The management of their land and house was in common, +the estate was undivided, an immense crowd of house-serfs peopled the +lower storeys, and consequently all the conditions conducive to disorder +were present. + +Two nurses looked after me, one Russian and one German. Vera Artamonovna +and Madame Proveau were very kind women, but it bored me to watch them +all day long knitting stockings and bickering together, and so on every +favourable opportunity I ran away to the half of the house occupied by +my uncle, the Senator (the one who had been an ambassador), to see my +one friend, his valet Calot. + +I have rarely met a kinder, gentler, milder man; utterly alone in +Russia, parted from all his own people, with difficulty speaking broken +Russian, his devotion to me was like a woman’s. I spent whole hours in +his room, worried him, got in his way, did mischief, and he bore it all +with a good-natured smile; cut all sorts of marvels out of cardboard for +me and carved various trifles out of wood (and how I loved him for it!). +In the evenings he used to bring me up picture-books from the +library—the Travels of Gmelin[9] and of Pallas,[10] and a fat book of +_The World in Pictures_, which I liked so much that I looked at it until +the binding, although of leather, gave way; for a couple of hours at a +time, Calot would show me the same pictures, repeating the same +explanation for the thousandth time. + +Before my birthday and my name-day Calot would lock himself up in his +room, from which came the sounds of a hammer and other tools; often he +would pass along the corridor with rapid steps, every time locking his +door after him, sometimes carrying a little saucepan of glue, sometimes +a parcel with things wrapped up. It may well be imagined how much I +longed to know what he was making; I used to send the house-serf boys to +try and find out, but Calot kept a sharp look out. We somehow +discovered, on the staircase, a little crack which looked straight into +his room, but it was of no help to us; all we could see was the upper +part of the window and the portrait of Frederick II. with a huge nose +and huge star, and the expression of an emaciated vulture. Two days +before the event the noise would cease and the room would be +opened—everything in it was as usual, except for scraps of coloured and +gold paper here and there; I would flush crimson, devoured with +curiosity, but Calot, with an air of strained gravity, refused to +approach the delicate subject. + +I lived in agonies until the momentous day; at five o’clock in the +morning I was awake and thinking of Calot’s preparations; at eight +o’clock he would himself appear in a white cravat, a white waistcoat, +and a dark-blue tail coat—with empty hands. When would it end? Had he +spoiled it? And time passed and the ordinary presents came, and +Elizaveta Alexeyevna Golobvastov’s footman had already appeared with a +costly toy, wrapped up in a napkin, and the Senator had already brought +me some marvel, but the uneasy expectation of the surprise troubled my +joy. + +All at once, as it were casually, after dinner or after tea, Nurse would +say to me: ‘Go downstairs just a minute; there is somebody asking for +you.’ At last, I thought, and went down, sliding on my hands down the +banisters of the staircase. The doors into the hall were thrown open +noisily, music was playing. A transparency with my monogram was lighted +up, serf boys dressed up as Turks offered me sweetmeats, then followed a +puppet show or indoor fireworks. Calot, perspiring with his efforts, was +with his own hands setting everything in motion. + +What presents could be compared with such an entertainment! I have never +been fond of things, the bump of ownership and acquisitiveness has never +been developed in me at any age, and now, after the prolonged suspense, +the numbers of candles, the tinsel and the smell of gunpowder! Only one +thing was lacking—a comrade of my own age, but I spent all my childhood +in solitude,[11] and certainly was not over-indulged in that respect. + +My father and the Senator had another elder brother,[12] between whom +and the two younger brothers there was an open feud, in spite of which +they managed their estate in common or rather ruined it in common. The +triple control and the quarrel together led to glaring disorganisation. +My father and the Senator did everything to thwart the elder brother, +who did the same by them. The village elders and peasants lost their +heads; one brother was demanding wagons; another, hay; a third, +firewood; each gave orders, each sent his authorised agents. The elder +brother would appoint a village elder, the younger ones would remove him +within a month, upon some nonsensical pretext, and appoint another whom +their senior would not recognise. With all this, backbiting, slander, +spies and favourites were naturally plentiful, and under it all the poor +peasants, who found neither justice nor defence, were harassed on all +sides and oppressed with the double burden of work and the impossibility +of carrying out the capricious demands of their owners. + +The first consequence of the feud between the brothers that made some +impression upon them, was the loss of their great lawsuit with the +Counts Devier, though justice was on their side. Though their interests +were the same, they could never agree on a course of action; their +opponents naturally profited by this. In addition to the loss of a large +and fine estate, the Senate sentenced each of the brothers to pay costs +and damages to the amount of 30,000 paper roubles. This lesson opened +their eyes and they made up their minds to divide their property. The +preliminary negotiations lasted for about a year, the estate was carved +into three fairly equal parts and they were to decide by casting lots +which was to come to which. The Senator and my father visited their +elder brother, whom they had not seen for several years, to negotiate +and be reconciled; then there was a rumour among us that he would visit +us to complete the arrangements. The rumour of the visit of this elder +brother excited horror and anxiety in our household. + +He was one of those grotesquely original creatures who are only possible +in Russia, where life is original to grotesqueness. He was a man gifted +by nature, yet he spent his whole life in absurd actions, often almost +crimes. He had received a fairly good education in the French style, was +very well-read,—and spent his time in debauchery and empty idleness up +to the day of his death. He, too, had served at first in the Izmailovsky +regiment, had been something like an aide-de-camp in attendance on +Potyomkin, then served on some mission, and returning to Petersburg was +made chief prosecutor in the Synod. Neither diplomatic nor monastic +surroundings could restrain his unbridled character. For his quarrels +with the heads of the Church he was removed from his post; for a slap in +the face, which he either tried to give, or gave to a gentleman at an +official dinner at the governor-general’s, he was banished from +Petersburg. He went to his Tambov estate; there the peasants nearly +murdered him for his ferocity and amorous propensities; he was indebted +to his coachman and horses for his life. + +After that he settled in Moscow. Deserted by all his relations and also +by his acquaintances, he lived in solitude in his big house in the +Tverskoy Boulevard, oppressing his house-serfs and ruining his peasants. +He amassed a great library of books and collected a regular harem of +serf-girls, both of which he kept under lock and key. Deprived of every +occupation and concealing a passionate vanity, often extremely naïve, he +amused himself by buying unnecessary things, and making still more +unnecessary demands on the peasants, which he exacted with ferocity. His +lawsuit concerning an Amati violin lasted thirty years, and ended in his +losing it. After another lawsuit he succeeded by extraordinary efforts +in winning the wall between two houses, the possession of which was of +no use to him whatever. Being himself on the retired list, he used, on +reading in the newspapers of the promotions of his old colleagues, to +buy such orders as had been given to them, and lay them on his table as +a mournful reminder of the decorations he might have received! + +His brothers and sisters were afraid of him and had nothing to do with +him; our servants would go a long way round to avoid his house for fear +of meeting him, and would turn pale at the sight of him; women went in +terror of his impudent persecution, the house-serfs paid for special +services of prayer that they might not come into his possession. + +So this was the terrible man who was to visit us. Extraordinary +excitement prevailed throughout the house from early morning; I had +never seen this legendary ‘enemy-brother,’ though I was born in his +house, where my father stayed when he came back from foreign parts; I +longed to see him and at the same time I was frightened, I do not know +why, but I was terribly frightened. + +Two hours before his arrival, my father’s eldest nephew, two intimate +acquaintances and a good-natured stout and flabby official who was in +charge of the legal business arrived. They were all sitting in silent +expectation, when suddenly the butler came in, and, in a voice unlike +his own, announced that the brother ‘had graciously pleased to arrive.’ +‘Ask him up,’ said the Senator, with perceptible agitation, while my +father took a pinch of snuff, the nephew straightened his cravat, and +the official turned aside and coughed. I was ordered to go upstairs, but +trembling all over, I stayed in the next room. + +Slowly and majestically the ‘brother’ advanced, the Senator and my +father rose to meet him. He was holding an ikon with both hands before +his chest, as people do at weddings and funerals, and in a drawling +voice, a little through his nose, he addressed his brothers in the +following words: + +‘With this ikon our father blessed me before his end, charging me and +our late brother Pyotr to watch over you and to be a father to you in +his place ... if our father knew of your conduct to your elder +brother!...’ + +‘Come, _mon cher frère_,’ observed my father in his studiously +indifferent voice, ‘well have you carried out our father’s last wish. It +would be better to forget these memories, painful to you as well as to +us.’ + +‘How? what?’ shouted the devout brother. ‘Is this what you have summoned +me for ...’ and he flung down the ikon, so that the silver setting gave +a metallic clink. + +At this point the Senator shouted in a voice still more terrifying. I +rushed headlong upstairs and only had time to see the official and the +nephew, no less scared, retreating to the balcony. + +What was done and how it was done, I cannot say; the frightened servants +huddled into corners out of sight, no one knew anything of what +happened, neither the Senator nor my father ever spoke of this scene +before me. Little by little the noise subsided and the partition of the +estate was carried out, whether then or on another day I do not +remember. + +My father received Vassilyevskoe, a big estate in the Ruzsky district, +near Moscow. We spent the whole summer there the following year; +meanwhile the Senator bought himself a house in Arbat, and we returned +to live alone in our great house, deserted and deathlike. Soon +afterwards, my father too bought a house in Old Konyushenny Street. + +With the Senator, in the first place, and Calot in the second, all the +lively elements of our household were withdrawn. The Senator alone had +prevented the hypochondriacal disposition of my father from prevailing; +now it had full sway. The new house was gloomy; it was suggestive of a +prison or a hospital; the lower storey was built with pillars supporting +the arched ceiling, the thick walls made the windows look like the +embrasures of a fortress. The house was surrounded on all sides by a +courtyard unnecessarily large. + +To tell the truth, it is rather a wonder that the Senator managed to +live so long under the same roof as my father than that they parted. I +have rarely seen two men so complete a contrast as they were. + +The Senator was of a kindly disposition, and fond of amusements; he +spent his whole life in the world of artificial light and of official +diplomacy, the world that surrounded the court, without a notion that +there was another more serious world, although he had been not merely in +contact with but intimately connected with all the great events from +1789 to 1815. Count Vorontsov had sent him to Lord Grenville[13] to find +out what General Bonaparte was going to undertake after abandoning the +Egyptian army. He had been in Paris at the coronation of Napoleon. In +1811 Napoleon had ordered him to be detained in Cassel, where he was +ambassador ‘at the court of King Jeremiah,’[14] as my father used to say +in moments of vexation. In fact, he took part in all the great events of +his time, but in a queer way, irregularly. + +Though a captain in the Life Guards of the Izmailovsky regiment, he was +sent on a mission to London; Paul, seeing this in the correspondence, +ordered him at once to return to Petersburg. The soldier-diplomat set +off by the first ship and appeared before the Tsar. ‘Do you want to +remain in London?’ Paul asked in his hoarse voice. ‘If it should please +your Majesty to permit me,’ answered the captain-diplomat. + +‘Go back without loss of time,’ said Paul in his hoarse voice, and he +did go back, without even seeing his relations, who lived in Moscow. + +While diplomatic questions were being settled by bayonets and +grape-shot, he was an ambassador and concluded his diplomatic career at +the time of the Congress of Vienna, that bright festival of all the +diplomats. + +Returning to Russia he was appointed court chamberlain in Moscow, where +there is no Court. Though he knew nothing of Russian Law and legal +procedure, he got into the Senate, became a member of the Council of +Trustees, a director of the Mariinsky Hospital, and of the Alexandrinsky +Institute, and he performed all his duties with a zeal that was hardly +necessary, with a censoriousness that only did harm and with an honesty +that no one noticed. + +He was never at home, he tired out two teams of four strong horses in +the course of the day, one set in the morning, the other after dinner. +Besides the Senate, the sittings of which he never neglected, and the +Council of Wardens, which he attended twice a week, besides the hospital +and the institute, he hardly missed a single French play, and visited +the English Club three times a week. He had no time to be bored, he was +always busy and interested; he was always going somewhere, and his life +rolled lightly on good springs through a world of official papers and +pink tape. + +Moreover, up to the age of seventy-five he was as strong as a young man, +was present at all the great balls and dinners, took part in every +ceremonial assembly and annual function, whether it were of an +agricultural or medical or fire insurance society or of the Society of +Scientific Research ... and, on the top of it all, perhaps because of +it, preserved to old age some degree of human feeling and a certain +warmth of heart. + +No greater contrast to the sanguine Senator, who was always in movement +and only occasionally visited his home, can possibly be imagined than my +father, who hardly ever went out of his courtyard, hated the whole +official world and was everlastingly ill-humoured and discontented. We +also had eight horses (very poor ones), but our stable was something +like an almshouse for broken-down nags; my father kept them partly for +the sake of appearances and partly that the two coachmen and the two +postillions should have something to do, besides fetching the _Moscow +News_ and getting up cockfights, which they did very successfully +between the coachhouse and the neighbours’ yard. + +My father had scarcely been in the service at all; educated by a French +tutor, in the house of a devout and highly respected aunt, he entered +the Izmailovsky regiment as a sergeant at sixteen, served until the +accession of Paul, and retired with the rank of captain in the Guards. +In 1801 he went abroad and remained abroad until 1811, wandering from +one country to another. He returned with my mother three months before +my birth, and after the fire of Moscow he spent a year on his estate in +the province of Tver, and then returned to live in Moscow, trying to +order his life so as to be as solitary and dreary as possible. His +brother’s liveliness hindered him in this. + +After the Senator had left us, everything in the house began to assume a +more and more gloomy aspect. The walls, the furniture, the servants, +everything bore a look of displeasure and suspicion, and I need hardly +say that my father himself was of all the most displeased. The unnatural +stillness, the whispers and cautious footsteps of the servants, did not +suggest attentive solicitude, but oppression and terror. Everything was +immovable in the rooms; for five or six years the same books would lie +in the very same places with the same markers in them. In my father’s +bedroom and study the furniture was not moved nor the windows opened for +years together. When he went away into the country he took the key of +his room in his pocket, that they might not venture to scrub the floor +or wash the walls in his absence. + + + + + Chapter 2 + THE TALK OF NURSES AND OF GENERALS—FALSE POSITION—RUSSIAN + ENCYCLOPAEDISTS—BOREDOM—THE MAIDS’ ROOM AND THE SERVANTS’ HALL—TWO + GERMANS—LESSONS AND READING—THE CATECHISM AND THE GOSPEL + + +Until I was ten years old I noticed nothing strange or special in my +position; it seemed to me simple and natural that I should be living in +my father’s house; that in his part of it I should be on my good +behaviour, while my mother lived in another part of the house, in which +I could be as noisy and mischievous as I liked. The Senator spoiled me +and gave me presents, Calot carried me about in his arms, Vera +Artamonovna dressed me, put me to bed, and gave me my bath, Madame +Proveau took me out for walks and talked to me in German; everything +went on in its regular way, yet I began pondering on things. + +Stray remarks, carelessly uttered words, began to attract my attention. +Old Madame Proveau and all the servants were devoted to my mother, while +they feared and disliked my father. The scenes which sometimes took +place between them were often the subject of conversation between Madame +Proveau and Vera Artamonovna, both of whom always took my mother’s side. + +My mother certainly had a good deal to put up with. Being an extremely +kind-hearted woman, with no strength of will, she was completely crushed +by my father, and, as always happens with weak characters, put up a +desperate opposition in trifling matters and things of no consequence. +Unhappily, in these trifling matters, my father was nearly always in the +right, and the dispute always ended in his triumph. + +‘If I were in the mistress’s place,’ Madame Proveau would say, for +instance, ‘I would simply go straight back to Stuttgart; much comfort +she gets—nothing but ill-humour and unpleasantness, and deadly +dullness.’ + +‘To be sure,’ Vera Artamonovna would assent, ‘but that’s what ties her, +hand and foot,’ and she would point with her knitting-needle towards me. +‘How can she take him with her—what to? And as for leaving him here +alone, with our ways of going on, that would be too dreadful!’ + +Children in general have far more insight than is supposed, they are +quickly distracted and forget for a time what has struck them, but they +go back to it persistently, especially if it is anything mysterious or +dreadful, and with wonderful perseverance and ingenuity they go on +probing until they reach the truth. + +Once on the look out, within a few weeks I had found out all the details +of my father’s meeting my mother, had heard how she had brought herself +to leave her parents’ home, how she had been hidden at the Senator’s in +the Russian Embassy at Cassel, and had crossed the frontier, dressed as +a boy; all this I found out without putting a single question to any +one. + +The first result of these discoveries was to estrange me from my father +on account of the scenes of which I have spoken. I had seen them before, +but it had seemed to me that all that was in the regular order of +things; for I was so accustomed to the fact that every one in the house, +not excepting the Senator, was afraid of my father and that he was given +to scolding every one, that I saw nothing strange in it. Now I began to +take a different view of it, and the thought that part of all this was +endured on my account sometimes threw a dark oppressive cloud over my +bright, childish imagination. + +A second idea that took root in me from that time, was that I was far +less dependent on my father than children are as a rule. I liked this +feeling of independence which I imagined for myself. + +Two or three years later, two of my father’s old comrades in the +regiment, P. K. Essen, the governor-general of Orenburg, and A. N. +Bahmetyev, formerly commander in Bessarabia, a general who had lost his +leg at Borodino, were sitting with my father. My room was next to the +drawing-room in which they were sitting. Among other things my father +told them that he had been speaking to Prince Yussupov about putting me +into the service. ‘There’s no time to be lost,’ he added; ‘you know that +he will have to serve for years in order to reach any grade worth +speaking of.’ + +‘What a strange idea, friend, to make him a clerk,’ Essen said, +good-naturedly. ‘Leave it to me, and I will get him into the Ural +Cossacks. We’ll promote him from the ranks, that’s all that matters, +after that he will make his way as we all have.’ + +My father did not agree, he said that he had grown to dislike everything +military, that he hoped in time to get me a post on some mission to a +warm country, where he would go to end his days. + +Bahmetyev, who had taken little part in the conversation, got up on his +crutches and said: ‘It seems to me that you ought to think very +seriously over Pyotr Kirillovitch’s advice. If you don’t care to put his +name down at Orenburg, you might put him down here. We are old friends +and it’s my way to tell you openly what I think; you will do your young +man no good with the civil service and university, and you will make him +of no use to society. He is quite obviously in a false position, only +the military service can open a career for him and put him right. Before +he reaches the command of a company, all dangerous ideas will have +subsided. Military discipline is a grand schooling, his future depends +on it. You say that he has abilities, but you don’t mean to say that +none but fools go into the army, do you? What about us and all our +circle? There’s only one objection you can make—that he will have to +serve a long time before he gets a commission, but it’s just in that +particular that we can help you.’ + +This conversation had as much effect as the remarks of Madame Proveau +and Vera Artamonovna. By that time I was thirteen and such lessons, +turned over and over, and analysed from every point of view during weeks +and months of complete solitude, bore their fruit. The result of this +conversation was that, although I had till then, like all boys, dreamed +of the army and a uniform, and had been ready to cry at my father’s +wanting me to go into the civil service, my enthusiasm for soldiering +suddenly cooled, and my love and tenderness for epaulettes, stripes and +gold lace, was by degrees completely eradicated. My smouldering passion +for the uniform had, however, one last flicker. A cousin of ours, who +had been at a boarding-school in Moscow and used sometimes to spend a +holiday with us, had entered the Yamburgsky regiment of Uhlans. In 1825 +he came to Moscow as an ensign and stayed a few days with us. My heart +throbbed when I saw him with all his little cords and laces, wearing a +sword and a four-cornered helmet put on a little on one side and +fastened with a chin-strap. He was a boy of seventeen and short for his +age. Next morning I dressed up in his uniform, put on his sword and +helmet and looked at myself in the glass. Oh dear! how handsome I +thought myself in the short blue jacket with red braiding! And the +pompon, and the pouch ... what were the yellow nankeen breeches and the +short camlet jacket which I used to wear at home, in comparison with +these? + +The cousin’s visit destroyed the effect of the generals’ talk, but soon +circumstances turned me against the army again, and this time for good. + +The spiritual result of my meditations on my ‘false position’ was +somewhat the same as what I had deduced from the talk of my two nurses. +I felt myself more independent of society, of which I knew absolutely +nothing, felt that in reality I was thrown on my own resources, and with +somewhat childish conceit thought I would show the old generals what I +was made of. + +With all that it may well be imagined how drearily and monotonously the +time passed in the strange conventlike seclusion of my father’s house. I +had neither encouragement nor distraction; my father had spoilt me until +I was ten, and now he was almost always dissatisfied with me; I had no +companions, my teachers came and went, and, seeing them out of the yard, +I used to run off on the sly, to play with the house-serf boys, which +was strictly forbidden. The rest of my time I spent wandering aimlessly +about the big dark rooms, which had their windows shut all day and were +only dimly lighted in the evening, doing nothing or reading anything +that turned up. + +The servants’ hall and the maids’ room provided the only keen enjoyment +left me. There I found perfect peace and happiness; I took the side of +one party against another, discussed with my friends their affairs, and +gave my opinion upon them, knew all their private business, and never +dropped a word in the drawing-room of the secrets of the servants’ hall. + +I must pause upon this subject. Indeed, I do not intend to avoid +digressions and episodes; that is the way of every conversation, that is +the way of life itself. + +Children as a rule are fond of servants; their parents forbid them, +especially in Russia, to associate with servants; the children do not +obey them because it is dull in the drawing-room and lively in the +maids’ room. In this case, as in thousands of others, parents do not +know what they are about. I cannot conceive that our servants’ hall was +a less wholesome place for children than our ‘tea-room’ or +‘lounge-room.’ In the servants’ hall children pick up coarse expressions +and bad manners, that is true; but in the drawing-room they pick up +coarse ideas and bad feelings. + +The very instruction to children to hold themselves aloof from those +with whom they are continually in contact is immoral. + +A great deal is said among us about the complete depravity of servants, +especially when they are serfs. They certainly are not distinguished by +exemplary strictness of conduct, and their moral degradation can be seen +from the fact that they put up with too much and are too rarely moved to +indignation and resistance. But that is not the point. I should like to +know what class in Russia is less depraved? Are the nobility or the +officials? the clergy, perhaps? + +Why do you laugh? The peasants, perhaps, are the only ones who may claim +to be different.... + +The difference between the nobleman and the serving man is very small. I +hate the demagogues’ flattery of the mob, particularly since the +troubles of 1848, but the aristocrats’ slander of the people I hate even +more. By picturing servants and slaves as degraded beasts, the planters +throw dust in people’s eyes and stifle the voice of conscience in +themselves. We are not often better than the lower classes, but we +express ourselves more gently and conceal our egoism and our passions +more adroitly; our desires are not so coarse, and the ease with which +they are satisfied and our habit of not controlling them make them less +conspicuous; we are simply wealthier and better fed and consequently +more fastidious. When Count Almaviva reckoned up to the Barber of +Seville the qualities he expected from a servant, Figaro observed with a +sigh: ‘If a servant must have all these virtues, are there many +gentlemen fit to be lackeys?’ + +Immorality in Russia as a rule does not go deep; it is more savage and +dirty, noisy and coarse, dishevelled and shameless than profound. The +clergy, shut up at home, drink and overeat themselves with the +merchants. The nobility get drunk in the sight of all, play cards until +they are ruined, thrash their servants, seduce their housemaids, manage +their business affairs badly and their family life still worse. The +officials do the same, but in a dirtier way, and in addition are guilty +of grovelling before their superiors and pilfering. As far as stealing +in the literal sense goes, the nobility are less guilty, they take +openly what belongs to others; when it suits them, however, they are +just as smart as other people. All these charming weaknesses are to be +met with in a still coarser form in those who are in private and not +government service, and in those who are dependent not on the Court but +on the landowners. But in what way they are worse than others as a +class, I do not know. + +Going over my remembrances, not only of the serfs of our house and of +the Senator’s, but also of two or three households with which we were +intimate for twenty-five years, I do not remember anything particularly +vicious in their behaviour. Petty thefts, perhaps, ... but on that +matter all ideas are so muddled by their position, that it is difficult +to judge; _human property_ does not stand on ceremony with its kith and +kin, and is hail-fellow-well-met with the master’s goods. It would be +only fair to exclude from this generalisation the confidential servants, +the favourites of both sexes, masters’ mistresses and talebearers; but +in the first place they are an exception—these Kleinmihels of the +stable[15] and Benckendorfs[16] from the cellar, Perekusihins[17] in +striped linen gowns, and barelegged Pompadours; moreover, they do behave +better than any of the rest, they only get drunk at night and do not +pawn their clothes at the pot-house. + +The simple-hearted immorality of the rest revolves round a glass of +vodka and a bottle of beer, a merry talk and a pipe, absences from home +without leave, quarrels which sometimes end in fights, and sly tricks +played on the masters who expect of them something inhuman and +impossible. Of course, on the one hand, the lack of all education, on +the other, the simplicity of the peasant in slavery have brought out a +great deal that is monstrous and distorted in their manners, but for all +that, like the negroes in America, they have remained half children, a +trifle amuses them, a trifle distresses them; their desires are limited, +and are rather naïve and human than vicious. + +Vodka and tea, the tavern and the restaurant, are the two permanent +passions of the Russian servant; for their sake, he steals, for their +sake, he is poor, on their account, he endures persecution and +punishment and leaves his family in poverty. Nothing is easier than for +a Father Matthew[18] from the height of his teetotal intoxication to +condemn drunkenness, and sitting at the tea-table, to wonder why +servants go to drink tea at the restaurant, instead of drinking it at +home, although at home it is cheaper. + +Vodka stupefies a man, it enables him to forget himself, stimulates him +and induces an artificial cheerfulness; this stupefaction and +stimulation are the more agreeable the less the man is developed and the +more he is bound to a narrow, empty life. How can a servant not drink +when he is condemned to the everlasting waiting in the hall, to +perpetual poverty, to being a slave, to being sold? He drinks to +excess—when he can—because he cannot drink every day; that was observed +fifteen years ago by Senkovsky in the _Library of Good Reading_.[19] In +Italy and the South of France there are no drunkards, because there is +plenty of wine. The savage drunkenness of the English working man is to +be explained in the same way. These men are broken in the inevitable and +unequal conflict with hunger and poverty; however hard they have +struggled they have met everywhere a blank wall of oppression and sullen +resistance that has flung them back into the dark depths of social life, +and condemned them to the never-ending, aimless toil that consumes mind +and body alike. It is not surprising that after spending six days as a +lever, a cogwheel, a spring, a screw, the man breaks savagely on +Saturday afternoon out of the penal servitude of factory work, and in +half an hour is drunk, for his exhaustion cannot stand much. The +moralists would do better to drink Irish or Scotch whisky themselves and +to hold their tongues, or with their inhuman philanthropy they may +provoke terrible replies. + +Drinking tea at the restaurant has a different significance for +servants. Tea at home is not the same thing for the house-serf; at home +everything reminds him that he is a servant; at home he is in the dirty +servants’ room, he must get the samovar himself; at home he has a cup +with a broken handle, and any minute his master may ring for him. At the +restaurant he is a free man, he is a gentleman; for him the table is +laid and the lamps are lit; for him the waiter runs with the tray; the +cup shines, the tea-pot glitters, he gives orders and is obeyed, he +enjoys himself and gaily calls for pressed caviare or a turnover for his +tea. + +In all of this there is more of childish simplicity than immorality. +Impressions quickly take possession of them but do not send down roots; +their minds are continually occupied, or rather distracted, by casual +subjects, small desires, trivial aims. A childish belief in everything +marvellous turns a grown-up man into a coward, and the same childish +belief comforts him in the bitterest moments. Filled with wonder, I was +present at the death of two or three of my father’s servants; it was +then that one could judge of the simple-hearted carelessness with which +their lives had passed, of the absence of great sins upon their +conscience; if there were anything, it had all been settled +satisfactorily with the priest. + +This resemblance between servants and children accounts for their mutual +attraction. Children hate the aristocratic ideas of the grown-ups and +their benevolently condescending manners, because they are clever and +understand that in the eyes of grown-up people they are children, while +in the eyes of servants they are people. Consequently they are much +fonder of playing cards or loto with the maids than with visitors. +Visitors play for the children’s benefit with condescension, give way to +them, tease them and throw up the game for any excuse; the maids, as a +rule, play as much for their own sakes as for the children’s; and that +gives the game interest. + +Servants are extremely devoted to children, and this is not a slavish +devotion, but the mutual affection of the weak and the simple. In old +days there used to be a patriarchal dynastic affection between +landowners and their serfs, such as exists even now in Turkey. To-day +there are in Russia no more of those devoted servants, attached to the +race and family of their masters. And that is easy to understand. The +landowner no longer believes in his power, he does not believe that he +will have to answer for his serfs at the terrible Day of Judgment, but +simply makes use of his power for his own advantage. The servant does +not believe in his subjection and endures violence not as a chastisement +and trial from God, but simply because he is defenceless; it is no use +kicking against the pricks. + +I used to know in my youth two or three specimens of those fanatics of +slavery, of whom eighteenth century landowners speak with a sigh, +telling stories of their unflagging service and their great devotion, +and forgetting to add in what way their fathers and themselves had +repaid such self-sacrifice. + +On one of the Senator’s estates a feeble old man called Andrey Stepanov +was living in peace, that is, on free rations. + +He had been valet to the Senator and my father when they were serving in +the Guards, and was a good, honest, and sober man, who looked into his +young masters’ eyes, and, to use their own words, ‘guessed from them +what they wanted,’ which, I imagine, was not an easy task. Afterwards he +looked after the estate near Moscow. Cut off from the beginning of the +war of 1812 from all communication, and afterwards left alone, without +money, on the ashes of a village which had been burnt to the ground, he +sold some beams to escape starvation. The Senator, on his return to +Russia, proceeded to set his estate in order, and going into details of +the past, came to the sale of the beams. He punished his former valet by +sending him away in disgrace, depriving him of his duties. The old man, +burdened with a family, departed into exile. We used to stay for a day +or two on the estate where Andrey Stepanov was living. The feeble old +man, crippled by paralysis, used to come every time leaning on his +crutch, to pay his respects to my father and to speak to him. + +The devotion and the gentleness with which he talked, his grievous +appearance, the locks of yellowish grey hair on each side of his bald +pate, touched me deeply. ‘I have heard, master,’ he said on one +occasion, ‘that your brother has received another decoration. I am +getting old, your honour, I shall soon give up my soul to God, and yet +the Lord has not vouchsafed to me to see your brother in his +decorations, not even once before my end to behold his honour in his +ribbons and all his finery!’ + +I looked at the old man, his face was so childishly candid, his bent +figure, his painfully twisted face, lustreless eyes, and weak voice—all +inspired confidence; he was not lying, he was not flattering, he really +longed before his death to see, in ‘all his ribbons and finery,’ the man +who could not for fifteen years forgive him the loss of a few beams. Was +this a saint, or a madman? But perhaps it is only madmen who attain +saintliness? + +The new generation has not this idolatrous worship, and if there are +cases of serfs not caring for freedom, that is simply due to indolence +and material considerations. It is more depraved, there is no doubt, but +it is a sign that the end is near; if they want to see anything on their +master’s neck, it is certainly not the Vladimir ribbon. + +Here I will say something of the position of our servants in general. + +Neither the Senator nor my father oppressed the house-serfs +particularly, that is, they did not ill-treat them physically. The +Senator was hasty and impatient, and consequently often rough and +unjust, but he had so little contact with the house-serfs and took so +little notice of them that they scarcely knew each other. My father +wearied them with his caprices, never let pass a look, a word or a +movement, and was everlastingly lecturing them; to a Russian this often +seems worse than blows or abuse. + +Corporal punishment was almost unknown in our house, and the two or +three cases in which the Senator and my father resorted to the revolting +method of the police station were so exceptional, that all the servants +talked about it for months afterwards; and it was only provoked by +glaring offences. + +More frequently house-serfs were sent for soldiers, and this punishment +was a terror to all the young men; without kith or kin, they still +preferred to remain house-serfs, rather than to be in harness for twenty +years. I was greatly affected by those terrible scenes.... Two soldiers +of the police would appear at the summons of the landowner: they would +stealthily, in a casual, sudden way, seize the appointed victim. The +village elder commonly announced at this point that the master had the +evening before ordered that he was to be taken to the recruiting office, +and the man would try through his tears to put a brave face on it, while +the women wept: every one made him presents and I gave him everything I +could, that is, perhaps a twenty-kopeck piece and a neck-handkerchief. + +I remember, too, my father’s ordering some village elder’s beard to be +shaved off, because he had spent the obrok[20] which he had collected. I +did not understand this punishment, but was struck by the appearance of +this old man of sixty; he was in floods of tears, and kept bowing to the +ground and begging for a fine of one hundred roubles in addition to the +obrok if only he might be spared this disgrace. + +When the Senator was living with us, the common household consisted of +thirty men and almost as many women; the married women, however, +performed no service, they looked after their own families; there were +five or six maids or laundresses, who never came upstairs. To these must +be added the boys and girls who were being trained in their duties, that +is, in sloth and idleness, in lying and the use of vodka. + +To give an idea of the life in Russia of those days, I think it will not +be out of place to say a few words on the maintenance of the +house-serfs. At first, they used to be given five roubles a month for +food and afterwards six. The women had a rouble a month less, and +children under ten had half the full allowance. The servants made up +‘artels’[21] and did not complain of the allowance being too small, and, +indeed, provisions were extraordinarily cheap in those days. The highest +wage was a hundred roubles a year, while others received half that +amount and some only thirty roubles. Boys under seventeen got no wages +at all. In addition to their allowance, servants were given clothes, +greatcoats, shirts, sheets, quilts, towels and mattresses covered with +sailcloth; boys, who did not get wages, were allowed money for their +physical and moral purification, that is, for the bath-house and for +preparing for communion. Taking everything into account, a servant cost +three hundred roubles a year; if to this we add a share of medicine, of +a doctor and of the surplus edibles brought from the village, even then +it is not over 350 roubles. This is only a quarter of the cost of a +servant in Paris or London. + +The planters usually take into account the insurance premium of slavery, +that is, the maintenance of wife and children by the owner, and a meagre +crust of bread somewhere in the village for the slave in old age. Of +course this must be taken into account; but the cost is greatly lessened +by the fear of corporal punishment, the impossibility of changing their +position, and a much lower scale of maintenance. + +I have seen enough of the way in which the terrible consciousness of +serfdom destroys and poisons the existence of house-serfs, the way in +which it oppresses and stupefies their souls. Peasants, especially those +who pay a fixed sum in lieu of labour, have less feeling of their +personal bondage; they somehow succeed in not believing in their +complete slavery. But for the house-serf, sitting on a dirty locker in +the hall from morning till night, or standing with a plate at table, +there is no room for doubt. + +Of course there are people who live in the servants’ hall like fish in +water, people whose souls have never awakened, who have acquired a taste +for their manner of life and who perform their duties with a sort of +artistic relish. + +Of that class we had one extremely interesting specimen, our footman +Bakay, a man of tall figure and athletic build, with solid, dignified +features and an air of the greatest profundity; he lived to an advanced +age, imagining that the position of a footman was one of the greatest +consequence. + +This worthy old man was perpetually angry or a little drunk, or angry +and a little drunk at once. He took an exalted view of his duties and +ascribed a serious importance to them: with a peculiar bang and crash he +would throw up the steps of the carriage and slam the carriage door with +a report like a pistol shot. With a gloomy air he stood up stiff and +rigid behind the carriage, and every time there was a jolt over a rut he +would shout in a thick and displeased voice to the coachman: ‘Steady!’ +regardless of the fact that the rut was already five paces behind. + +Apart from going out with the carriage, his chief occupation, a duty he +had voluntarily undertaken, consisted of training the serf boys in the +aristocratic manners of the servants’ hall. When he was sober, things +went fairly well, but when his head was a little dizzy, he became +incredibly pedantic and tyrannical. I sometimes stood up for my friends, +but my authority had little influence on Bakay, whose temper was of a +Roman severity; he would open the door into the drawing-room for me and +say: ‘This is not the place for you; be pleased to leave the room or I +shall carry you out.’ He lost no opportunity of scolding the boys, and +often added a cuff to his words, or, with his thumb and first finger, +gave them a flip on the head with the sharpness and force of a spring. + +When at last he had chased the boys out and was left alone, he +transferred his persecution to his one friend, Macbeth, a big +Newfoundland dog, whom he used to feed, comb and groom. After sitting in +solitude for two or three minutes he would go out into the yard, call +Macbeth to join him on the locker, and begin a conversation. ‘What are +you sitting out there in the yard in the frost for, stupid, when there +is a warm room for you? What a beast! What are you rolling your eyes +for, eh? Have you nothing to say?’ Usually a slap would follow these +words. Macbeth would sometimes growl at his benefactor; and then Bakay +would upbraid him in earnest: ‘You may go on feeding a dog, but he will +still remain a dog, he will show his teeth at any one, without caring +who it is ... the fleas would have eaten him up if it had not been for +me!’ And offended by his friend’s ingratitude he would wrathfully take a +pinch of snuff and fling what was left between his fingers on Macbeth’s +nose. Then the dog would sneeze, clumsily brush away the snuff with his +paw, and, leaving the bench indignantly, would scratch at the door; +Bakay would open it with the word ‘Rascal’ and give him a kick as he +went out. Then the boys would come back, and he would set to flipping +them on the head again. + +Before Macbeth, we had a setter called Berta; she was very ill and Bakay +took her on to his mattress and looked after her for two or three weeks. +Early one morning I went out into the servants’ hall. Bakay tried to say +something to me, but his voice broke and a big tear rolled down his +cheek—the dog was dead. There is a fact for the student of human nature. +I do not for a moment suppose that he disliked the boys; it was simply a +case of a severe character, accentuated by drink and unconsciously +moulded by the spirit of the servants’ hall. + +But besides these amateurs of slavery, what gloomy images of martyrs, of +hopeless victims, pass mournfully before my memory. + +The Senator had a cook Alexey, a sober industrious man of exceptional +talent who made his way in the world. The Senator himself got him taken +into the Tsar’s kitchen, where there was at that time a celebrated +French cook. After being trained there, he got a post in the English +club, grew rich, married and lived like a gentleman; but the bonds of +serfdom would not let him sleep soundly at night, nor take pleasure in +his position. + +After having a service celebrated to the Iversky Madonna, Alexey plucked +up his courage and presented himself before the Senator to ask for his +freedom for five thousand roubles. The Senator was proud of _his_ cook, +just as he was proud of _his_ painter, and so he would not take the +money, but told the cook that he should be set free for nothing at his +master’s death. The cook was thunderstruck; he grieved, grew thin and +worn, turned grey and ... being a Russian, took to drink. He neglected +his work; the English Club dismissed him. He was engaged by the Princess +Trubetskoy, who worried him by her petty niggardliness. Being on one +occasion extremely offended by her, Alexey, who was fond of expressing +himself eloquently, said, speaking through his nose with his air of +dignity: ‘What a clouded soul dwells in your illustrious body!’ The +princess was furious, she turned the cook away, and, as might be +expected from a Russian lady, wrote a complaint to the Senator. The +Senator would have done nothing to him, but, as a polite gentleman, he +felt bound to send for the cook, gave him a good scolding and told him +to go and beg the princess’s pardon. + +The cook did not go to the princess but went to the pot-house. Within a +year he had lost everything from the capital he had saved up for his +ransom to the last of his aprons. His wife struggled and struggled on +with him, but at last went off and took a place as a nurse. Nothing was +heard of him for a long time. Then the police brought Alexey in tatters +and wild-looking; he had been picked up in the street, he had no +lodging, he wandered from tavern to tavern. The police insisted that his +master should take him. The Senator was distressed and perhaps +conscience-stricken, too; he received him rather mildly and gave him a +room. Alexey went on drinking, was noisy when he was drunk and imagined +that he was composing verses; he certainly had some imagination of an +incoherent sort. We were at that time at Vassilyevskoe. The Senator, not +knowing what to do with the cook, sent him there, thinking that my +father would bring him to reason. But the man was too completely +shattered. I saw in his case the concentrated anger and hatred against +the masters which lies in the heart of the serf, and might be +particularly dangerous in a cook; he would grind his teeth and speak +with malignant mimicry. He was not afraid to give full rein to his +tongue in my presence; he was fond of me and would often, patting me +familiarly on the shoulders, say that I was ‘a good branch of a rotten +tree.’ + +After the Senator’s death, my father gave him his freedom at once. It +was too late and simply meant getting rid of him, he was ruined in any +case. + +Besides Alexey, I cannot help recalling another victim of serfdom. The +Senator had a serf aged about five-and-thirty who acted as his +secretary. My father’s eldest brother, who died in 1813, had sent him as +a boy to a well-known doctor to be trained as a feldsher (or doctor’s +assistant) that he might be of use in a village hospital which his +master was intending to found. The doctor procured permission for him to +attend the lectures of the Academy of Medicine and Surgery; the young +man had abilities, he learned Latin, German, and something of doctoring. +At five-and-twenty he fell in love with the daughter of an officer, +concealed his position from her and married her. The deception could not +last long. After his master’s death, the wife learned with horror that +they were serfs. The Senator, his new owner, did not oppress them in any +way, indeed he was fond of young Tolotchanov, but the trouble with the +wife persisted; she could not forgive her husband for the deception and +ran away from him with another man. Tolotchanov must have been devoted +to her, for from that time he sank into a melancholy that bordered upon +madness, spent his nights in debauchery, and, having no means of his +own, squandered his master’s money. When he saw that he could not set +things right, on the 31st of December 1821 he poisoned himself. + +The Senator was not at home; Tolotchanov went in to my father in my +presence and told him that he had come to say good-bye to him and to ask +him to tell the Senator that he had spent the money that was missing. + +‘You are drunk,’ my father told him. ‘Go and sleep it off.’ + +‘I shall soon go for a long sleep,’ said the doctor, ‘and I only beg you +not to remember evil against me.’ + +Tolotchanov’s tranquil air rather alarmed my father and, looking more +intently at him, he asked: + +‘What’s the matter with you, are you raving?’ + +‘Not at all, I have only taken a wine-glassful of arsenic.’ + +They sent for a doctor and the police, gave him an emetic, and made him +drink milk. When he was on the point of vomiting, he restrained himself +and said: ‘Stay there, stay there, I did not swallow you for that.’ + +Afterwards, when the poison began to act more freely, I heard his moans +and his voice repeating in agony, ‘It burns! it burns! it’s fire!’ + +Some one advised him to send for a priest; he refused, and told Calot +that there could not be a life beyond the grave, that he knew too much +anatomy to believe that. At midnight he asked the doctor, in German, +what time it was, then saying, ‘Well, it’s the new year, I wish you a +happy one,’ he died. + +In the morning I rushed to the little lodge that served as a bath-house; +Tolotchanov had been taken there; the body was lying on the table, +dressed just as he had died, in a dress-coat without a cravat, with his +chest open, and his features were terribly distorted and had even turned +black. This was the first dead body I had seen; I went away almost +fainting. And the playthings and pictures I had had given me for the New +Year did not comfort me. Tolotchanov’s dark-looking face hovered before +my eyes and I kept hearing his ‘It burns! it’s fire!’ + +I will say only one thing more, to conclude this gloomy subject: the +servants’ hall had no really bad influence upon me at all. On the +contrary, it awakened in me from my earliest years an invincible hatred +for every form of slavery and every form of tyranny. At times when I was +a child, Vera Artamonovna would say by way of the greatest rebuke for +some naughtiness: ‘Wait a bit, you will grow up and turn into just such +another master as the rest.’ I felt this a horrible insult. The old +woman need not have worried herself—just such another as the rest, +anyway, I have not become. + +Besides the servants’ hall and the maids’ room I had one other +distraction, and in that I was not hindered in any way. I loved reading +as much as I hated lessons. My passion for unsystematic reading was, +indeed, one of the chief obstacles to serious study. I never could, for +instance, then or later, endure the theoretical study of languages, but +I very soon learnt to understand and chatter them incorrectly, and at +that stage I remained, because it was sufficient for my reading. + +My father and the Senator had between them a fairly large library, +consisting of French books of the eighteenth century. The books lay +about in heaps in a damp, unused room in a lower storey of the Senator’s +house. Calot had the key. I was allowed to rummage in these literary +granaries as I liked, and I read and read to my heart’s content. My +father saw two advantages in it, that I should learn French more quickly +and that I should be occupied, that is, should sit quietly and in my own +room. Besides, I did not show him all the books I read, nor lay them on +the table; some of them were hidden in the sideboard. + +What did I read? Novels and plays, of course. I read fifty volumes of +the French and Russian drama; in every volume there were three or four +plays. Besides French novels my mother had the Tales of La Fontaine and +the comedies of Kotzebue, and I read them two or three times. I cannot +say that the novels had much influence on me; though like all boys I +pounced eagerly on all equivocal or somewhat improper scenes, they did +not interest me particularly. A play which I liked beyond all measure +and read over twenty times in the Russian translation, the _Marriage of +Figaro_,[22] had much greater influence on me. I was in love with +Cherubino and the Countess, and what is more, I was myself Cherubino; my +heart throbbed as I read it and without myself clearly recognising it I +was conscious of a new sensation. How enchanting I thought the scene in +which the page is dressed up as a girl, how intensely I longed to hide +somebody’s ribbon in my bosom and kiss it in secret. In reality I had in +those years no feminine society. + +I only remember that occasionally on Sundays Bahmetyev’s two daughters +used to come from their boarding-school to visit us. The younger, a girl +of sixteen, was strikingly beautiful. I was overwhelmed when she entered +the room and never ventured to address a word to her, but kept stealing +looks at her lovely dark eyes and dark curls. I never dropped a hint on +the subject and the first breath of love passed unseen by any one, even +by her. + +Years afterwards when I met her, my heart throbbed violently and I +remembered how at twelve years old I had worshipped her beauty. + +I forgot to say that _Werther_ interested me almost as much as the +_Marriage of Figaro_; half the novel was beyond me and I skipped it, and +hurried on to the terrible _dénouement_, over which I wept like a +madman. In 1839 _Werther_ happened to come into my hands again; this was +when I was at Vladimir and I told my wife how as a boy I had cried over +it and began reading her the last letters ... and when I came to the +same passage, my tears began flowing again and I had to stop. + +Up to the age of fourteen I cannot say that my father greatly restricted +my liberty, but the whole atmosphere of our house was oppressive for a +lively boy. The persistent and unnecessary fussiness concerning my +physical health, together with complete indifference to my moral +well-being, was horribly wearisome. There were everlasting precautions +against my taking a chill, or eating anything indigestible, and anxious +solicitude over the slightest cough or cold in the head. In the winter I +was kept indoors for weeks at a time, and when I was allowed to go out, +it was only wearing warm high boots, thick scarves and such things. At +home it was always insufferably hot from the stoves. All this would +inevitably have made me a frail and delicate child but for the iron +health I inherited from my mother. She by no means shared my father’s +prejudices, and in her half of the house allowed me everything which was +forbidden in his. + +My education made slow progress without emulation, encouragement, or +approval; I did my lessons lazily, without method or supervision, and +thought to make a good memory and lively imagination take the place of +hard work. I need hardly say that there was no supervision over my +teachers either; once the terms upon which they were engaged were +settled, they might, so long as they turned up at the proper time and +sat through their hour, go on for years without rendering any account to +any one. + +One of the queerest episodes of my education at that time was the +engagement of the French actor Dalès to give me lessons in elocution. + +‘No attention is paid to it nowadays,’ my father said to me, ‘but my +brother Alexander was every evening for six months reciting “Le récit de +Théramène”[23] with his teacher without reaching the perfection that he +insisted upon.’ + +So I set to work at recitation. + +‘Well, Monsieur Dalès, I expect you can give him dancing lessons as +well?’ my father asked him on one occasion. + +Dalès, a fat old man over sixty, who was fully aware of his own +qualities, but no less fully aware of the propriety of being modest +about them, replied: ‘that he could not judge of his own talents, but +that he had often given advice in the ballet dances _au grand Opéra_.’ + +‘So I supposed,’ my father observed, offering him his open snuff-box, a +civility he would never have shown to a Russian or a German teacher. ‘I +should be very glad if you could _le dégourdir un peu_; after his +recitation he might have a little dancing.’ + +‘_Monsieur le comte peut disposer de moi._’ + +And my father, who was excessively fond of Paris, began recalling the +foyer of the opera in 1810, the youth of George,[24] the declining years +of Mars,[25] and inquiring about cafés and theatres. + +Now imagine my little room, a gloomy winter evening, the windows frozen +over and water dripping down a string from them, two tallow candles on +the table and our tête-à-tête. On the stage, Dalès still spoke fairly +naturally, but at a lesson thought it his duty to depart further from +nature in his delivery. He read Racine in a sort of chant and at the +cæsura made a parting such as an Englishman makes in his hair, so that +each line seemed like a broken stick. + +At the same time he waved his arm like a man who has fallen into the +water and does not know how to swim. He made me repeat every line +several times and always shook his head, saying, ‘Not right, not right +at all, _attention_, “_Je crains Dieu, cher Abner_,”’ then the parting, +at which he would close his eyes and with a slight shake of his head, +tenderly pushing away the waves with his hand, add: ‘_et n’ai point +d’autre crainte_.’ + +Then the old gentleman who ‘feared nothing but God’ looked at his watch, +shut the book and pushed a chair towards me; this was my partner. + +Under the circumstances it was not surprising that I never learned to +dance. + +The lessons did not last long; they were cut short very tragically a +fortnight later. + +I was at the French theatre with the Senator; the overture was played +once, then a second time and still the curtain did not rise. The front +rows, wishing to show they knew their Paris, began to be noisy in the +way the back rows are there. The manager came before the curtain, bowed +to the right, bowed to the left, bowed straight before him, and said: +‘We ask the kind indulgence of the audience; a terrible calamity has +befallen us, our comrade Dalès’—and the man’s voice was actually broken +by tears—‘has been found in his room stifled by charcoal fumes.’ + +It was in this violent way that the fumes of a Russian stove delivered +me from recitations, monologues and solo dances with my four-legged +mahogany partner. + +At twelve years old I was transferred from feminine to masculine hands. +About that time my father made two unsuccessful attempts to engage a +German to look after me. + +A German who looks after children is neither a tutor nor a nurse; it is +quite a special profession. He does not teach the children and he does +not dress them, but sees that they are taught and dressed, takes care of +their health, goes out for walks with them and talks any nonsense to +them so long as it is in German. If there is a tutor in the house, the +German is under his orders; if there is a male-nurse, he takes his +orders from the German. The visiting teachers, who come late owing to +unforeseen causes and leave early owing to circumstances over which they +have no control, do their best to win the German’s favour, and in spite +of his complete ignorance he begins to regard himself as a man of +learning. Governesses employ the German in shopping for them and in all +sorts of commissions, but only allow him to pay his court to them if +they suffer from striking physical defects or a complete lack of other +admirers. Boys of fourteen will go, without their parents’ knowledge, to +the German’s room to smoke, and he puts up with it because he must do +everything he can to remain in the house. Indeed at about that period +the German is thanked, presented with a watch and discharged. If he is +tired of sauntering about the streets with children and receiving +reprimands for their having colds, or stains on their clothes, the +‘children’s German’ becomes simply a German, sets up a little shop, +sells amber cigarette-holders, eau-de-Cologne and cigars to his former +nurslings, and carries out other secret commissions for them.[26] + +The first German who was engaged to look after me was a native of +Silesia and was called Jokisch; to my mind the surname was sufficient +reason not to have engaged him. He was a tall, bald man, distinguished +by an extreme lack of cleanliness; he used to boast of his knowledge of +agricultural science, and I imagine it must have been on that account +that my father engaged him. I looked on the Silesian giant with +aversion, and the only thing that reconciled me to him was that he used, +as we walked to the Dyevitchy grounds and to the Pryesnensky ponds, to +tell me indecent anecdotes which I repeated in the servants’ hall. He +stayed no more than a year; he did something disgraceful in the village +and the gardener tried to kill him with a scythe, so my father told him +to take himself off. + +He was succeeded by a Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel soldier (probably a +deserter) called Fyodor Karlovitch, who was distinguished by his fine +handwriting and extreme stupidity. He had been in the same position in +two families before and had acquired some experience, so adopted the +tone of a tutor; moreover, he spoke French with the accent invariably on +the wrong syllable.[27] + +I had not a particle of respect for him and poisoned every moment of his +existence, especially after I had convinced myself that he was incapable +of understanding decimal fractions and the rule of three. As a rule +there is a great deal of ruthlessness and even cruelty in boys’ hearts; +with positive ferocity I persecuted the poor Wolfenbüttel _Jäger_ with +proportion sums; this so interested me that I triumphantly informed my +father of Fyodor Karlovitch’s stupidity, though I was not given to +discussing such subjects with him. + +Moreover, Fyodor Karlovitch boasted to me that he had a new swallow-tail +coat, dark blue with gold buttons, and I actually did see him on one +occasion setting off to attend a wedding in a swallow-tail coat which +was too big for him but had gold buttons. The boy whose duty it was to +wait upon him informed me that he had borrowed the coat from a friend +who served at the counter of a perfumery shop. Without the slightest +sympathy I pestered the poor fellow to tell me where his blue dress-coat +was. + +‘There are so many moths in your house,’ he said, ‘that I have left it +with a tailor I know, to be taken care of.’ + +‘Where does that tailor live?’ + +‘What is that to you?’ + +‘Why not tell me?’ + +‘You needn’t poke your nose into other people’s business.’ + +‘Well, perhaps not, but it is my name-day in a week, so please do get +the blue coat from the tailor for that day.’ + +‘No, I won’t, you don’t deserve it because you are so impertinent.’ + +For his final discomfiture Fyodor Karlovitch must needs one day brag +before Bouchot, my French teacher, of having been a recruit at Waterloo, +and of the Germans having given the French a terrible thrashing. Bouchot +merely stared at him and took a pinch of snuff with such a terrible air +that the conqueror of Napoleon was a good deal disconcerted. Bouchot +walked off leaning angrily on his gnarled stick and never referred to +him afterwards except as ‘_le soldat de Villainton_.’ I did not know at +the time that this pun was perpetrated by Béranger and could not boast +of having sprung from Bouchot’s fertile fancy. + +At last Blücher’s companion in arms had some quarrel with my father and +left our house; after that my father did not worry me with any more +Germans. + +While our Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel friend held the field I sometimes used +to visit some boys with whom a friend of his lived, also in the capacity +of a German; and with these boys we used to take long walks; after his +departure I was left again in complete solitude. I was bored, struggled +to get out of it, and found no means of escape. As I had no chance of +overriding my father’s will I might perhaps have been broken in to this +existence, if a new intellectual interest and two meetings, of which I +will speak in the following chapter, had not soon afterwards saved me. I +am quite certain that my father had not the faintest notion what sort of +life he was forcing upon me, or he would not have thwarted me in the +most innocent desires, nor have refused me the most natural requests. + +Sometimes he allowed me to go with the Senator to the French theatre, +and this was the greatest enjoyment for me; I was passionately fond of +seeing acting, but this pleasure brought me as much pain as joy. The +Senator used to arrive with me when the play was half over, and as he +invariably had an invitation for the evening, would drag me away before +the end. The theatre was in Apraxin’s House, at Arbatsky Gate, and we +lived in Old Konyushenny Street, that is very close by, but my father +sternly forbade my returning without the Senator. + +I was about fifteen when my father engaged a priest to give me Scripture +lessons, so far as was necessary for entering the University. The +Catechism came into my hands after I had read Voltaire. Nowhere does +religion play so modest a part in education as in Russia, and that, of +course, is a great piece of good fortune. A priest is always paid +half-price for lessons in religion, and, indeed, if the same priest +gives Latin lessons also, he is paid more for them than for teaching the +Catechism. + +My father regarded religion as among the essential belongings of a +well-bred man; he used to say that one must believe in the ‘Holy +Scriptures’ without criticism, because you could do nothing in that +domain with reason, and all intellectual considerations merely obscured +the subject; that one must observe the rites of the religion in which +one was born, without, however, giving way to excessive devoutness, +which was all right for old women, but not proper in men. Did he himself +believe? I imagine that he did believe a little, from habit, from regard +for propriety, and from a desire to be on the safe side. He did not +himself, however, take part in any church observances, sheltering +himself behind the delicate state of his health. He scarcely ever +received a priest, at most he would ask him to perform a service in the +empty drawing-room and would send him there five roubles. In the winter +he excused himself on the plea that the priest and the deacon always +brought such chilliness with them that he invariably caught cold. In the +country he used to go to church and receive the priest, but rather with +a view to secular affairs than religious considerations. My mother was a +Lutheran and therefore one degree more religious; on one or two Sundays +in every month she would drive to her church, or as Bakay persisted in +calling it, to ‘her kirche,’ and, having nothing better to do, I went +with her. There I learned to mimic the German pastors, their declamation +and verbosity with artistic finish, and I retained the talent in riper +years. + +Every year my father commanded me to fast, confess, and take the +sacrament. I was afraid of confession, and the church _mise en scène_ +altogether impressed and alarmed me. With genuine awe I went up to take +the sacrament, but I cannot call it a religious feeling, it was the awe +which is inspired by everything incomprehensible and mysterious, +especially when a grave and solemn significance is attributed to it; +casting spells and telling fortunes affect one in the same way. I took +the sacrament after matins in Holy Week, and, after devouring eggs +coloured red and Easter cakes, I thought no more of religion for the +rest of the year. + +But I used to read the Gospel a great deal and with love, both in the +Slavonic and in the Lutheran translation. I read it without any +guidance, and, though I did not understand everything, I felt a deep and +genuine respect for what I read. In my early youth I was often +influenced by Voltairianism, and was fond of irony and mockery, but I do +not remember that I ever took the Gospel in my hand with a cold feeling; +and it has been the same with me all my life; at all ages and under +various circumstances I have gone back to reading the Gospel, and every +time its words have brought peace and gentleness to my soul. + +When the priest began giving me lessons he was surprised to find not +only that I had a general knowledge of the Gospel but that I could quote +texts, word for word; ‘but the Lord God,’ he said, ‘though He has opened +his mind, had not yet opened his heart.’ And my theologian, shrugging +his shoulders, marvelled at my ‘double nature,’ but was pleased with me, +thinking that I should be able to pass my examination. + +Soon a religion of a different sort took possession of my soul. + + + + + Chapter 3 + THE DEATH OF ALEXANDER I. AND THE FOURTEENTH OF DECEMBER—MORAL + AWAKENING—THE TERRORIST BOUCHOT—MY KORTCHEVA COUSIN + + +One winter morning the Senator arrived not at the time he usually +visited us; looking anxious, he went with hurried footsteps into my +father’s study and closed the door, motioning me to remain in the +drawing-room. + +Luckily I had not long to rack my brains guessing what was the matter. +The door of the servants’ hall opened a little way and a red face, +half-hidden in the wolf-fur of a livery overcoat, called me in a +whisper; it was the Senator’s footman. I rushed to the door. + +‘Haven’t you heard?’ he asked. + +‘What?’ + +‘The Tsar has just died at Taganrog.’ + +The news impressed me; I had never thought of the possibility of the +Tsar’s death; I had grown up with a great respect for Alexander, and +recalled mournfully how I had seen him not long before in Moscow. When +we were out walking, we had met him beyond the Tverskoy Gate; he was +quietly riding along with two or three generals, returning from Hodynki, +where there had been a review. His face was gracious, his features soft +and rounded, his expression tired and melancholy. When he was on a level +with us, I raised my hat, he bowed to me, smiling. What a contrast to +Nicholas, who always looked like a slightly bald Medusa with cropped +hair and moustaches. In the street, at the court, with his children and +ministers, with his couriers and maids of honour, he was incessantly +trying whether his eyes had the power of a rattlesnake, of freezing the +blood in the veins.[28] If Alexander’s external gentleness was assumed, +surely such hypocrisy is better than the naked shamelessness of +despotism. + +While vague ideas floated through my mind, while portraits of the new +Emperor Constantine were sold in the shops, while appeals to take the +oath of allegiance were being delivered, and good people were hastening +to do so, rumours were suddenly afloat that the Tsarevitch had refused +the crown. Then that same footman of the Senator’s, who was greatly +interested in political news and had a fine field for gathering it—in +all the public offices and vestibules of senators, to one or other of +which he was always driving from morning to night, for he did not share +the privilege of the horses, who were changed after dinner—informed me +that there had been rioting in Petersburg and that cannons were being +fired in Galerny Street. + +On the following evening Count Komarovsky, a general of the gendarmes, +was with us: he told us of the troops in St. Isaac’s Square, of the +Horse Guards’ attack, of the death of Count Miloradovitch. + +Then followed arrests; ‘so-and-so has been taken,’ ‘so-and-so has been +seized,’ ‘so-and-so has been brought up from the country’; terrified +parents trembled for their children. The sky was overcast with gloomy +storm-clouds. + +In the reign of Alexander political punishments were rare; the Tsar did, +it is true, banish Pushkin for his verses and Labzin for having, when he +was secretary, proposed to elect a coachman, called Ilya Baykov, a +member of the Academy of Arts[29]; but there was no systematic +persecution. The secret police had not yet grown into an independent +body of gendarmes, but consisted of a department under the control of De +Sanglain, an old Voltairian, a wit, a great talker, and a humorist in +the style of Jouy.[30] Under Nicholas, this gentleman himself was under +the supervision of the police and he was considered a liberal, though he +was exactly what he had always been; from this fact alone, it is easy to +judge of the difference between the two reigns. + +Nicholas was completely unknown until he came to the throne; in the +reign of Alexander he was of no consequence, and no one was interested +in him. Now every one rushed to inquire about him; no one could answer +questions but the officers of the Guards; they hated him for his cold +cruelty, his petty fussiness and his vindictiveness. One of the first +anecdotes that went the round of the town confirmed the officers’ +opinion of him. The story was that at some drill or other the Grand Duke +had so far forgotten himself as to try and take an officer by the +collar. The officer responded with the words: ‘Your Highness, my sword +is in my hand.’ Nicholas drew back, said nothing, but never forgot the +answer. After the Fourteenth of December he made inquiries on two +occasions as to whether this officer was implicated. Fortunately he was +not.[31] + +The tone of society changed before one’s eyes; the rapid deterioration +in morals was a melancholy proof of how little the sense of personal +dignity was developed among Russian aristocrats. Nobody (except women) +dared show sympathy, dared utter a warm word about relations or friends, +whose hands had been shaken only the day before they had been carried +off at night by the police. On the contrary, there were savage fanatics +for slavery, some from abjectness, others, worse still, from +disinterested motives. + +Women alone did not take part in this shameful abandonment of those who +were near and dear ... and women alone stood at the Cross too, and at +the blood-stained guillotine there stood, first, Lucile Desmoulins,[32] +that Ophelia of the Revolution, always beside the axe, waiting for her +turn, and later, George Sand, who gave the hand of sympathy and +friendship on the scaffold to the youthful fanatic Alibaud.[33] + +The wives of men, exiled to hard labour, lost their civil rights, +abandoned wealth and social position, and went to a lifetime of bondage +in the terrible climate of Eastern Siberia, under the still more +terrible yoke of the police there. Sisters, who had not the right to go +with their brothers, withdrew from court, and many left Russia; almost +all of them kept a feeling of love for the victims alive in their +hearts; but there was no such love in the men, terror consumed it in +their hearts, not one of them dared mention the luckless exiles. + +While I am touching on the subject, I cannot forbear saying a few words +about one of those heroic stories, of which very little has been heard. +A young French governess was living in the old-fashioned family of the +Ivashevs. Ivashev’s son and heir wanted to marry her. This drove all his +relations frantic; there was an uproar, tears, petitions. The French +girl had not the support of a brother like Tchernov, who on his sister’s +behalf killed Novosiltsov and was killed by him in a duel. She was +persuaded to leave Petersburg, and he to put off for a time his design +of marrying her. Ivashev was one of the more active conspirators and he +was sentenced to penal servitude for life. His relations did not succeed +in saving him from the _mésalliance_. As soon as the dreadful news +reached the young girl in Paris, she set off for Petersburg and asked +permission to go to the province of Irkutsk to join her betrothed. +Benckendorf tried to dissuade her from this criminal intention; he did +not succeed and reported the matter to Nicholas. The Tsar directed that +the position of women who did not desert their exiled husbands should be +explained to her, adding that he would not prevent her going, but that +she must know that, if wives who went to Siberia from fidelity to their +husbands deserved some indulgence, she had not the slightest right to +any since she was wilfully entering into marriage with a criminal. +Nicholas and she both kept their word, she went to Siberia, and he did +nothing to alleviate her fate. + + ‘The Monarch though severe was just.’[34] + +In the prison nothing was known of the permission given her, and when +the poor girl arrived she had, while a correspondence was carried on +with the authorities in Petersburg, to wait in a little settlement +inhabited by all sorts of former criminals, with no means of finding out +anything about Ivashev or communicating with him. + +By degrees she became acquainted with her new companions. Among them was +an exiled robber who worked in the prison; she told him her story. Next +day the robber brought her a note from Ivashev. A day later he offered +to bring her notes from Ivashev and to take her letters to him. He had +to work in the prison from morning till evening; at nightfall he would +take Ivashev’s letter and would set off with it regardless of snowstorms +and fatigue, and return to his work at dawn.[35] + +At last the permission came and they were married. A few years later +penal servitude was exchanged for a settlement. Their position was +somewhat better, but their strength was exhausted; the wife was the +first to sink under the weight of all she had gone through. She faded +away as a flower of southern lands must fade in the Siberian snows. +Ivashev did not survive her, he actually died a year later, but before +then he had left this sphere; his letters (which made some impression on +the Third Section[36]) bear the traces of an infinitely mournful, holy +madness and gloomy poetry; he was not really living after her death, but +slowly and solemnly dying. This chronicle does not end with his death. +After Ivashev’s exile his father made over his estate to his +illegitimate son, begging him to help his poor brother and not to forget +him. The exiles left two little boys, helpless, fatherless and +motherless, who had neither name nor rights and seemed likely to become +cantonists[37] and settlers in Siberia. Ivashev’s brother entreated +Nicholas for permission to take the children. Nicholas granted +permission. A few years later he risked another petition, he moved +heaven and earth for their father’s name to be restored to them; and in +this too he was successful. + +The accounts of the rising and of the trial of the leaders, and the +horror in Moscow, made a deep impression on me; a new world which became +more and more the centre of my moral existence was revealed to me. I do +not know how it came to pass, but though I had no understanding, or only +a very dim one, of what it all meant, I felt that I was not on the same +side as the grape-shot and victory, prisons and chains. The execution of +Pestel,[38] and his associates finally dissipated the childish dream of +my soul. + +Every one expected some mitigation of the sentence on the condemned men, +the coronation was about to take place. Even my father, in spite of his +caution and his scepticism, said that the death penalty would not be +carried out, and that all this was done merely to impress people. But, +like every one else, he knew little of the youthful monarch. Nicholas +left Petersburg, and, without visiting Moscow, stopped at the Petrovsky +Palace.... The citizens of Moscow could scarcely believe their eyes when +they read in the _Moscow News_ of the terrible event of the fourteenth +of July. + +The Russian people had become unaccustomed to the death penalty; since +the days of Mirovitch,[39] who was executed instead of Catherine II., +and of Pugatchov[40] and his companions, there had been no executions; +men had died under the knout, soldiers had run the gauntlet (contrary to +the law) until they fell dead, but the death penalty _de jure_ did not +exist. The story is told that in the reign of Paul there was some +partial rising of the Cossacks on the Don in which two officers were +implicated. Paul ordered them to be tried by court martial, and gave the +hetman or general full authority. The court condemned them to death, but +no one dared to confirm the sentence; the hetman submitted the matter to +the Tsar. ‘They are a pack of women,’ said Paul; ‘they want to throw the +execution on me, very much obliged to them,’ and he commuted the +sentence to penal servitude. + +Nicholas re-introduced the death penalty into our criminal proceedings, +at first illegally, but afterwards he included it in the Code. + +The day after receiving the terrible news there was a religious service +in the Kremlin.[41] After celebrating the execution Nicholas made his +triumphal entry into Moscow. I saw him then for the first time; he was +on horseback riding beside a carriage in which the two empresses, his +wife and Alexander’s widow, were sitting. He was handsome, but there was +a coldness about his looks; no face could have more mercilessly betrayed +the character of the man than his. The sharply retreating forehead and +the lower jaw developed at the expense of the skull were expressive of +iron will and feeble intelligence, rather of cruelty than of sensuality; +but the chief point in the face was the eyes, which were entirely +without warmth, without a trace of mercy, wintry eyes. I do not believe +that he ever passionately loved any woman, as Paul loved Anna +Lopuhin,[42] and as Alexander loved all women except his wife; ‘he was +favourably disposed to them,’ nothing more. + +In the Vatican there is a new gallery in which Pius VII., I believe, has +placed an immense number of statues, busts, and statuettes, dug up in +Rome and its environs. The whole history of the decline of Rome is there +expressed in eyebrows, lips, foreheads; from the daughters of Augustus +down to Poppaea, the matrons have succeeded in transforming themselves +into cocottes, and the type of cocotte is predominant and persists; the +masculine type, surpassing itself, so to speak, in Antinous and +Hermaphroditus, divides into two. On one hand there is sensual and moral +degradation, low brows and features defiled by vice and gluttony, +bloodshed and every wickedness in the world, petty as in the hetaira +Heliogabalus, or with sunken cheeks like Galba; the last type is +wonderfully reproduced in the King of Naples.... But there is +another—the type of military commander in whom everything social and +moral, everything human has died out, and there is left nothing but the +passion for domination; the mind is narrow and there is no heart at all; +they are the monks of the love of power; force and austere will is +manifest in their features. Such were the Emperors of the Praetorian +Guard and of the army, whom the turbulent legionaries raised to power +for an hour. Among their number I found many heads that recalled +Nicholas before he wore a moustache. I understand the necessity for +these grim and inflexible guards beside what is dying in frenzy, but +what use are they to what is youthful and growing? + +In spite of the fact that political dreams absorbed me day and night, my +ideas were not distinguished by any peculiar insight; they were so +confused that I actually imagined that the object of the Petersburg +rising was, among other things, to put the Tsarevitch Constantine on the +throne, while limiting his power. This led to my being devoted for a +whole year to that eccentric creature. He was at that time more popular +than Nicholas; for what reason I do not know, but the masses, for whom +he had never done anything good, and the soldiers, to whom he had done +nothing but harm, loved him. I well remember how during the coronation +he walked beside the pale-faced Nicholas with scowling, light-yellow, +bushy eyebrows, a bent figure with the shoulders hunched up to the ears, +wearing the uniform of the Lettish Guards with a yellow collar. After +giving away the bride at the wedding of Nicholas with Russia, he went +away to complete the disaffection of Warsaw. Nothing more was heard of +him until the 29th of November 1830.[43] + +My hero was not handsome and you could not find such a type in the +Vatican. I should have called it the Gatchina type, if I had not seen +the King of Sardinia. + +I need hardly say that now solitude weighed upon me more than ever, for +I longed to communicate my ideas and my dreams to some one, to test them +and to hear them confirmed; I was too proudly conscious of being +‘ill-intentioned’ to say nothing about it, or to speak of it +indiscriminately. My first choice of a confidant was my Russian tutor. + +I. E. Protopopov was full of that vague and generous liberalism which +often passes away with the first grey hair, with marriage and a post, +but yet does ennoble a man. My teacher was touched, and as he was taking +leave embraced me with the words: ‘God grant that these feelings may +take root and grow stronger in you.’ His sympathy was a great comfort to +me. After this he began bringing me much-dog’s-eared manuscript copies +in small handwriting of Pushkin’s poems, the ‘Ode to Freedom,’ ‘The +Dagger,’ ‘Ryleyev’s Reverie.’ I used to copy them in secret ... (and now +I print them openly!). + +Of course, my reading, too, took a different turn. Politics was now in +the foreground, and above all the history of the Revolution, of which I +knew nothing except from Madame Proveau’s tales. In the library in the +basement I discovered a history of the ‘nineties written by a Royalist. +It was so partial that even at fourteen I did not believe it. I happened +to hear from old Bouchot that he had been in Paris during the +Revolution; and I longed to question him; but Bouchot was a stern and +forbidding man with an immense nose and spectacles; he never indulged in +superfluous conversation, he conjugated verbs, dictated copies, scolded +me and went away, leaning on his thick gnarled stick. + +‘Why did they execute Louis XVI.?’ I asked him in the middle of a +lesson. + +The old man looked at me, frowning with one grey eyebrow and lifting the +other, pushed his spectacles up on his forehead like a visor, pulled out +a large blue handkerchief and, blowing his nose with dignity, said: +‘_Parce qu’il a été traître à la patrie_.’ + +‘If you had been one of the judges, would you have signed the death +sentence?’ + +‘With both hands.’ + +This lesson was of more value to me than all the subjunctives; it was +enough for me; it was clear that the king deserved to be executed. + +Old Bouchot did not like me and thought me empty-headed and mischievous, +because I did not prepare my lessons properly, and he often used to say +‘you’ll come to no good,’ but when he noticed my sympathy with his +regicide ideas, he began to be gracious instead of being cross, forgave +my mistakes and used to tell me episodes of the year ’93, and how he had +left France, when ‘the dissolute and the dishonest’ got the upper hand. +He would finish the lesson with the same dignity, without a smile, but +now he would say indulgently: ‘I really did think that you were coming +to no good, but your generous feelings will be your salvation.’ + +To this encouragement and sympathy from my teacher was soon added a +warmer sympathy which had more influence on me. + +The granddaughter[44] of my father’s eldest brother was living in a +little town in the province of Tver. I had known her from my earliest +childhood, but we rarely met; she used to come once a year for Christmas +or for Carnival to stay at Moscow with her aunt. Nevertheless, we became +friends. She was five years older than I, but so small and young-looking +that she might have been taken for the same age. What I particularly +liked her for was that she was the first person who treated me as a +human being, that is, did not continually express surprise at my having +grown, ask me what lessons I was doing, and whether I was good at them, +and whether I wanted to go into the army and into what regiment, but +talked to me as people in general talk to each other; though she +retained that tone of authority which girls like to assume with boys who +are a little younger than themselves. We had written to each other and +after 1824 fairly often, but letters again mean pens and paper, again +the schoolroom table with its blots and pictures carved with a penknife; +I longed to see her, to talk to her about my new ideas, and so it may be +imagined with what joy I heard that my cousin was coming in February +(1826), and would stay with us for some months. I scratched on my table +the days of the month until her arrival and blotted them out as they +passed, sometimes intentionally forgetting three days so as to have the +pleasure of blotting out rather more at once, and yet the time dragged +on very slowly; then the time fixed had passed and her coming was +deferred until a later date, and that passed, as it always does. + +I was sitting one evening with my tutor Protopopov in my schoolroom, and +he as usual, taking a sip of fizzing kvass after every sentence, was +talking of the hexameter, horribly with voice and hand chopping up every +line of Gnyeditch’s _Iliad_ at the cæsura, when all of a sudden the snow +in the yard crunched with a different sound from that made by town +sledges, the tied-up bell gave the relic of a tinkle, there was talk in +the yard.... I flushed crimson, I had no more thought for the measured +wrath of ‘Achilles, son of Peleus’; I rushed headlong to the hall and my +cousin from Tver, wrapped in fur coats, shawls, and scarves, wearing a +bonnet and fluffy white high boots, red with the frost and, perhaps, +with joy, rushed to kiss me. + +People usually talk of their early childhood, of its griefs and joys +with a smile of condescension, as though, like Sofya Pavlovna in _Woe +from Wit_, they would say with a grimace: ‘Childishness!’ As though they +had grown better in later years, as though their feelings were keener or +deeper. Within three years children are ashamed of their playthings—let +them be, they long to be grown-up, they grow and change so rapidly, they +see that from their jackets and the pages of their schoolbooks; but one +would have thought grown-up people might understand that childhood +together with two or three years of youth is the fullest, most exquisite +part of life, the part that is most our own, and, indeed, almost the +most important, for it imperceptibly shapes our future. + +So long as a man is advancing with discreet footsteps forward, without +stopping or taking thought, so long as he does not come to a precipice +or break his neck, he imagines that his life lies before him, looks down +on the past and does not know how to appreciate the present. But when +experience has crushed the flowers of spring and the flush of summer has +cooled, when he begins to suspect that his life is practically over, +though its continuation remains, then he turns with different feelings +to the bright, warm, lovely memories of early youth. + +Nature with her everlasting snares and economic devices _gives_ man +youth, but _takes_ the formed man for herself; she draws him on, +entangles him in a web of social and family relations, three-fourths of +which are independent of his will; he, of course, gives his personal +character to his actions, but he belongs to himself far less than in +youth; the lyrical element of the personality is feebler and therefore +also the power of enjoyment—everything is weaker, except the mind and +the will. + +My cousin’s life was not a bed of roses. Her mother she lost when she +was a baby. Her father was a desperate gambler, and, like all who have +gambling in their blood, he was a dozen times reduced to poverty and a +dozen times rich again, and ended all the same by completely ruining +himself. _Les beaux restes_ of his property he devoted to a stud-farm on +which he concentrated all his thoughts and feelings. His son, an ensign +in the Uhlans, my cousin’s only brother and a very good-natured youth, +was going the straight road to ruin; at nineteen he was already a more +passionate gambler than his father. + +At fifty, the father, for no reason at all, married an old maid who had +been a pupil in the Smolny Convent.[45] Such a complete, perfect type of +the Petersburg boarding-school miss it has never been my lot to meet. +She had been one of the best pupils, and afterwards had become _dame de +classe_ in the school; thin, fair, and short-sighted, she had something +didactic and edifying about her very appearance. Not at all stupid, she +was full of an icy enthusiasm in words, talked in hackneyed phrases of +virtue and devotion, knew chronology and geography by heart, spoke +French with a revolting correctness and concealed an inner vanity which +was like an artificial Jesuitical modesty. In addition to these traits +of the ‘seminarists in yellow shawls’ she had others which were purely +Nevsky or Smolny characteristics. She used to raise her eyes full of +tears to heaven, as she spoke of the visits of their common mother (the +Empress Maria Fyodorovna), was in love with the Emperor Alexander, and, +I remember, used to wear a locket, or a signet ring, with a scrap of a +letter from the Empress Elizabeth in it, ‘_Il a repris son sourire de +bienveillance!_’ + +The reader can picture the harmonious trio: the father, a gambler, +passionately devoted to horses, gypsies, noise, carousals, races, and +trotting matches; the daughter brought up in complete independence, +accustomed to do what she liked in the house; and the learned lady who, +from an elderly schoolmistress, had been turned into a young wife. Of +course, she did not like her stepdaughter, and of course her +stepdaughter did not like her; as a rule great affection can only exist +between women of five-and-thirty and girls of seventeen when the former, +with resolute self-sacrifice, determine to have no sex. + +I am not at all surprised at the common hostility between stepdaughters +and stepmothers, it is natural and it is right. The new person put into +the mother’s place excites aversion in the children, the second marriage +is for them like a second funeral. The children’s love is vividly +expressed in this feeling, it whispers to the orphans: ‘Your father’s +wife is not your mother.’ At first Christianity understood that with the +conception of marriage which it developed, with the immortality of the +soul which it preached, a second marriage was altogether incongruous; +but, making continual concessions to the world, the Church compromised +with its principles and was confronted with the implacable logic of +life, with the simple childish heart that in practice revolts against +the pious incongruity of regarding its father’s companion as its mother. + +On her side, too, the woman who comes to her new home from church and +finds a family, children awaiting her, is in an awkward position; she +has nothing to do with them, she must affect feelings which she cannot +have, she must persuade herself and others that another woman’s children +are as dear to her as her own. + +And therefore I do not in the least blame the lady from the convent nor +my cousin for their mutual dislike, but I understand how the young girl, +unaccustomed to discipline, was fretting to escape anywhere out of the +parental home. Her father was beginning to get old and was more and more +under the thumb of his learned wife. Her brother, the Uhlan, was going +from bad to worse, and, in fact, life was not pleasant at home, and at +last she persuaded her stepmother to let her come for some months, +possibly even for a year, to us. + +The day after her arrival my cousin turned the whole order of my life, +except my lessons, upside down, arbitrarily fixed hours for our reading +together, advised me not to read novels, but recommended Ségur’s +_Universal History_ and the _Travels of Anacharsis_. Her stoical ideals +led her to oppose my marked inclination for smoking in secret, which I +did by wrapping the tobacco in paper (cigarettes did not exist in those +days); she liked preaching morality to me in general, and if I did not +obey her teaching, at least I listened meekly. Luckily she could not +keep up to her own standards, and, forgetting her rules, she read +Zschokke’s[46] tales with me instead of the archæological novel, and +secretly sent a boy out to buy, in winter, buckwheat cakes and +pease-pudding, and, in summer, gooseberries and currants. + +I think my cousin’s influence over me was very good; with her a warm +element came into the cell-like seclusion of my youth, it fostered and +perhaps, indeed, preserved the scarcely developing feelings which might +very well have been completely crushed by my father’s irony. I learnt to +be observant, to be wounded by a word, to care about somebody else, to +love; I learnt to talk about my feelings. She supported my political +aspirations, predicted for me an extraordinary future and fame, and I, +with childish vanity, believed her that I was a future ‘Brutus or +Fabricius.’ + +To me alone she confided the secret of her love for an officer of the +Alexandrinsky Regiment of Hussars, in a black cape and a black dolman; +it was a genuine secret, for the hussar himself, as he commanded his +squadron, never suspected what a pure flame was glowing for him in the +bosom of a girl of eighteen. I do not know whether I envied his lot, +probably I did a little, but I was proud of having been chosen as a +confidant, and imagined (after Werther) that this was one of those +tragic passions, which would have a great _dénouement_ accompanied by +suicide, poison, and a dagger, and the idea even occurred to me that I +might go to him and tell him all about it. + +My cousin had brought shuttlecocks from Kortcheva; in one of the +shuttlecocks there was a pin, she would never play with any other, and +whenever it fell to me or any one else she would take it, saying she was +used to playing with it. The demon of mischief, which was always my evil +tempter, prompted me to change the pin, that is, to stick it in another +shuttlecock. The trick was fully successful, my cousin always took to +the one with the pin in it. A fortnight later I told her; her face +changed, she dissolved into tears and went off to her own room. I was +panic-stricken and unhappy and, after waiting for half an hour, went to +her; her door was locked. I begged her to open it; she refused to let me +in and said that she was ill, that I was no friend to her, but a +heartless boy. I wrote her a note and besought her to forgive me; after +tea we made it up, I kissed her hand, she embraced me and at once +explained the full importance of the matter. A year before, the hussar +had dined with them and after dinner played battledore and shuttlecock, +and this was the shuttlecock with which he had played. I had pangs of +conscience, I thought that I had committed a real sacrilege. + +My cousin stayed until October. Her father sent for her to come home, +promising to let her come to us at Vassilyevskoe the following year. We +looked forward with horror to parting and, behold, one day a chaise came +for her, and her maid carried off boxes and baskets to pack in it while +our servants filled the chaise with all sorts of provisions for a full +week’s journey, and crowded at the entrance to say good-bye. We embraced +warmly, she wept and I wept—the chaise drove out into the side street +beside the very place where they used to sell us buckwheat cakes and +pease-pudding, and vanished. I crossed the yard, it seemed so cold and +horrid; I went up into my room—and there it seemed cold and empty. I set +to work on my lesson for Protopopov, while I wondered where the chaise +was now, and whether it had passed the town-gate or not. + +My only comfort was the thought of our being together again at +Vassilyevskoe the following June! + +For me the country was always a time of renewal, I was passionately fond +of country life. The forest, the fields, and the freedom—it was all so +new for me who had been brought up in cotton-wool, within brick walk, +not daring on any pretext to go out beyond the gate without asking leave +and being accompanied by a footman.... + +‘Are we going this year to Vassilyevskoe or not?’ From early spring I +was greatly interested in this question. My father invariably said that +this year he was going away early, that he longed to see the leaves come +out, but he never could get off before July. Some years he would put it +off so late that we never went at all. He wrote to the country every +winter that the house was to be got ready and thoroughly warmed, but +this was done through deep diplomatic considerations rather than quite +seriously, in order that the village elder and the counting-house clerk +might be afraid he would soon be coming and look after their work more +carefully. + +It seemed that we were going. My father told the Senator that he was +longing to rest in the country and that the estate wanted looking after, +but again weeks went by. + +Little by little there seemed more ground for hope, provisions began to +be sent off, sugar, tea, all sorts of cereals, and wine—then again there +was a pause, and then at last an order was despatched to the village +elder to send so many peasants’ horses on such a day—and so we were +going, we were going! + +I did not think then what the loss of four or five days when work in the +fields was at its height must have meant to the peasants, but rejoiced +with all my heart and hastened to pack my books and exercise books. The +horses were brought, with inward satisfaction I heard their munching and +snorting in the yard, and took great interest in the bustle of the +coachmen, and the wrangling of the servants as to who should sit in +which cart and where each should put his belongings. In the servants’ +quarters lights were burning until daybreak, and all were packing, +dragging sacks and bags from place to place, and dressing for the +journey (which was one of over fifty miles). My father’s valet was the +most exasperated of all, he realised the full importance of the packing; +with intense irritation he flung out everything which had been put in by +others, tore his hair with vexation and was quite unapproachable. + +My father did not get up a bit earlier next day, in fact I think he got +up later than usual, and drank his coffee just as slowly, but at last, +at eleven o’clock, he ordered the horses to be put in. Behind the +carriage, which had four seats and was drawn by six carriage horses, +there followed three and sometimes four conveyances—a coach, a chaise, a +wagon, or instead of it, two carts; all these were filled with the +house-serfs and their belongings, although wagon-loads had been sent on +beforehand, and everything was so tightly packed that no one could sit +with comfort. We stopped half way to have dinner and to feed the horses +in the big village of Perhushkovo, the name of which occurs in +Napoleon’s bulletins. This village belonged to the son of that elder +brother of my father of whom I have spoken in connection with the +division of the property. The neglected house of the owner stood on the +high-road, surrounded by flat, cheerless-looking fields; but even this +dusty vista delighted me after the stuffiness of town. In the house the +warped boards and stairs shook, sounds and footsteps resounded loudly, +the walls echoed as it were with astonishment. The old-fashioned +furniture from the former owner’s art museum was living out its day in +this exile; I wandered with curiosity from room to room, went upstairs +and downstairs and finally into the kitchen. There our man-cook, with a +cross and ironical expression, was preparing a hasty dinner. The +steward, a grey-haired old man with a swelling on his head, was usually +sitting in the kitchen; the cook addressed his remarks to him and +criticised the stove and the hearth, while the steward listened to him +and from time to time answered laconically: ‘May-be,’ and looked +disconsolately at all the upset, wondering when the devil would carry us +off again. + +The dinner was served on a special English service, made of tin or some +composition, bought _ad hoc_. Meanwhile the horses had been put in; in +the hall and vestibule, people who were fond of meetings and +leave-takings were gathering together: footmen who were finishing their +lives on bread and pure country air, old women who had been +prepossessing maids thirty years before, all the locusts of a +landowner’s household who through no fault of their own eat up the +peasants’ substance like real locusts. With them came children with +flaxen hair; barefooted and muddy, they kept poking forward while the +old women pulled them back. They caught me on every opportunity, and +every year wondered that I had grown so much. My father said a few words +to them; some went up to kiss his hand, which he never gave them, others +bowed, and we set off. + +A few miles from Prince Golitsyn’s estate of Vyazma the elder of +Vassilyevskoe was waiting for us on horseback at the edge of the forest, +and he escorted us by a cross-road. In the village by the big house, +approached by a long avenue of limes, we were met by the priest, his +wife, the church servitors, the house-serfs, several peasants, and the +village fool, who was the only one to display a feeling of human +dignity, for he did not take off his hat, but stood smiling at a little +distance and took to his heels as soon as any of the town servants +attempted to approach him. + +I have seen few places more picturesque than Vassilyevskoe. For any one +who knows Kuntsovo and Yussupov’s Arhangelskoe, or Lopuhin’s estate +facing the Savin monastery, it is enough to say that Vassilyevskoe lies +on a continuation of the same bank of the Moskva, twenty miles from the +same monastery. On the sloping side of the river lie the village, the +church, and the old manor house. On the other side there is a hill and a +small village, and there my father built a new house. The view from it +embraced an expanse of ten miles of country; seas of quivering +cornfields stretched endlessly; homesteads and villages with white +churches could be seen here and there; forests of various hues made a +semicircular setting, and the Moskva like a pale blue ribbon ran through +it all. Early in the morning I opened the window in the room upstairs +and gazed and listened and breathed. + +And yet I regretted the old brick house, perhaps because I was there +when I first went to the country; I so loved the long, shady avenue +leading up to it and the garden that had run wild; the house had fallen +into ruins and a slender graceful birch tree was growing out of a crack +in the wall of the hall. On the left an avenue of willows ran along the +riverside, beyond it there were reeds and the white sand down to the +river; on that sand and among those reeds I used at ten and eleven years +old to play for a whole morning. A bent old man, the gardener, used +always to be sitting before the house, he used to distil peppermint +water, cook berries, and secretly regale me on all sorts of vegetables. +There were great numbers of rooks in the garden: the tops of the trees +were covered with their nests, and they used to circle round them, +cawing; sometimes, especially in the evening, they used to fly up in +regular hundreds racing after one another with a great clamour; +sometimes one would fly hurriedly from tree to tree and then all would +be still.... And towards night an owl would wail somewhere in the +distance like a child, or go off into a peal of laughter.... I was +afraid of these wild wailing sounds and yet I went to listen to them. + +Every year, or, at least, every alternate year, we used to go to +Vassilyevskoe. As I went away, I used to measure my height on the wall +by the balcony, and I went at once on arriving to find how much I had +grown. But in the country I could measure not only my physical growth, +these periodical returns to the same objects showed me clearly the +difference in my inner development. Other books were brought, other +objects interested me. In 1823 I was quite a child, I had children’s +books with me, and even those I did not read, but was much more +interested in a hare and a squirrel which were living in the loft near +my room. One of my principal enjoyments consisted in my father’s +permission to shoot from a falconet every evening, which operation of +course entertained all the servants, and grey-haired old men of fifty +were as much diverted as I was. In 1827 I brought with me Plutarch and +Schiller; early in the morning I used to go out into the forest as far +as I could and, imagining that I was in the Bohemian forests, read aloud +to myself. Nevertheless, I was greatly interested in a dam which I was +making on a small stream with the help of a serf-boy and would run a +dozen times a day to look at it and repair it. In 1829 and 1830 I was +writing a philosophical article on Schiller’s _Wallenstein_, and of my +old toys none but the falconet retained its charm. + +Besides shooting there was, however, another enjoyment for which I +retained an unalterable passion—watching the evenings in the country; +now as then, such evenings are still times of devoutness, peace, and +poetry. One of the last serenely-bright moments in my life reminds me +also of those village evenings. The sun was sinking majestically, +brilliantly, into an ocean of fire, was dissolving into it.... All at +once the rich purple was followed by deep blue dusk, everything was +covered with a smoky mist: in Italy the darkness falls quickly. We +mounted our mules; on the way from Frascati to Rome we had to ride +through a little village; here and there lights were already twinkling; +everything was still, the mules’ hoofs rang musically on the stone, a +fresh and rather damp wind was blowing from the Apennines. As we came +out of the village, there was a little Madonna standing in a niche with +a lamp burning before her; some peasant girls as they came from work +with white kerchiefs on their heads sank on their knees and chanted a +prayer; they were joined by some strolling flute-players who were +passing by. I was deeply affected, deeply touched. We looked at each +other ... and with slow steps rode on to the inn where a carriage was +waiting for us. As we drove homewards I talked of the evenings at +Vassilyevskoe, and what was there to tell? + + ‘In silence stood the garden trees, + Among the hills the village lay, + And thither at the fall of night + The lingering cattle wend their way.’ + OGARYOV: Humorous Verse. + +... The shepherd cracks his long whip and plays on his birch-bark pipe; +there is the lowing and bleating and stamping of the herds returning +over the bridge, the dog with a bark chases a straying sheep while she +runs with a sort of wooden gallop; and then the songs of the peasant +girls, on their way home from the fields, come closer and closer; but +the path turns off to the right and the sounds retreat again. From the +houses children run out at the creaking gates to meet their cows and +sheep; work is over. The children are playing in the street and on the +river-bank, their voices ring out with shrill clearness over the river +in the evening glow; the parched smell of corn-kilns mingles in the air, +the dew begins little by little to lie like smoke over the fields, the +wind moves over the forest with a sound as though the leaves were +boiling and the summer lightning, quivering, lights up the landscape +with a dying, tremulous azure, and Vera Artamonovna, grumbling rather +than cross, says, coming upon me under a lime tree: ‘How is it there is +no finding you anywhere, and tea has been ready long ago and every one +is at the table, here I have been looking and looking for you until my +legs are tired. I can’t go running about at my age; and why are you +lying on the damp grass like that? ... you’ll have a cold to-morrow, +I’ll be bound.’ + +‘Oh, come, come,’ I say, laughing to the old woman, ‘I shan’t have a +cold and I don’t want any tea, but you steal me the best of the cream +from the very top.’ + +‘Well, you really are a boy, there’s no being angry with you ... that’s +a queer thing to ask for! I have got the cream ready for you without +your asking. Look at the lightning ... well, that’s right! It’s good for +the corn.’ + +And I go home skipping and whistling. + +We did not visit Vassilyevskoe after 1832. My father sold it while I was +in exile. In 1843 we stayed at another estate in the Moscow province, in +the district of Zvenigorod, about fourteen miles from Vassilyevskoe. I +could not help going over to visit my old home. And here we were again +riding along the same cross-road; the familiar fir-wood and the hill +covered with nut trees came into view, and then the ford over the river, +the ford that had so delighted me twenty years before, the gurgling of +the water, the crunching of the pebbles, the shouting coachmen and the +struggling horses ... and here was the village and the priest’s house +where he used to sit on a bench in a dark-brown cassock, simple-hearted, +good-natured, red-haired, always in a sweat, always nibbling something +and always afflicted with a hiccup; and here was the counting-house +where the clerk Vassily Epifanov, who was never sober, used to write his +accounts, huddled up over the paper, holding the pen by the very end +with his third finger bent tightly under it. The priest was dead and +Vassily Epifanov was keeping accounts and getting drunk in another +village. We stopped at the village elder’s hut, but found only the wife +at home, the man himself was in the fields. + +A strange element had crept in during those ten years; instead of our +house on the hill there was a new one, and a new garden was laid out +beside it. As we turned by the church and the graveyard, we met a +deformed-looking figure, dragging itself along almost on all fours; it +was showing me something, I went up: it was a hunchback and paralytic +old woman, half-crazy, who used to live on charity and work in the +former priest’s garden. She had been about seventy then and death seemed +to have overlooked her. She recognised me, shed tears, shook her head +and kept saying: ‘Ough! why even you are getting old, I only knew you +from your walk, while I—there, there, ough! ough! don’t talk of it!’ + +As we were driving back, I saw in the fields in the distance the village +elder, the same as in our time. At first he did not know me, but when we +had driven by, as though suddenly coming to himself with a start, he +took off his hat and bowed low. When we had driven a little further I +turned round; the village elder, Grigory Gorsky, was still standing in +the same place, looking after us; his tall, bearded figure, bowing in +the midst of the cornfield, gave us a friendly send-off from the home +which had passed into strangers’ hands. + + + + + Chapter 4 + NICK AND THE SPARROW HILLS + + ‘_Write how here on that spot (the Sparrow Hills) the story of + our lives, yours and mine, developed._’—A Letter, 1833. + + +Three years before the time of my cousin’s visit we were walking on the +banks of the Moskva at Luzhniki, _i.e._ on the other side of the Sparrow +Hills. At the river’s edge we met a French tutor of our acquaintance +dressed in nothing but his shirt; he was panic-stricken and was +shouting, ‘He is drowning, he is drowning!’ But before our friend had +time to take off his shirt or put on his trousers, an Ural Cossack ran +down from the Sparrow Hills, dashed into the water, vanished, and a +minute later reappeared with a frail-looking man, whose head and arms +were flopping about like clothes hung out in the wind. He laid him on +the bank, saying, ‘We had better roll him or else he will die.’ + +The people standing round collected fifty roubles and offered it to the +Cossack. The latter without affectation said very simple-heartedly: +‘It’s a sin to take money for such a thing, and it was no trouble +either; come to think of it, he is no more weight than a cat. But we are +poor people, though,’ he added. ‘Ask, we don’t; but, there, if people +give, why not take; we are humbly thankful.’ Then tying up the money in +a handkerchief he went to graze his horses on the hill. My father asked +his name and wrote about the incident next day to Essen. Essen promoted +him to be a non-commissioned officer. A few months later the Cossack +came to see us and with him a pock-marked bald German, smelling of scent +and wearing a curled fair wig; he came to thank us on behalf of the +Cossack, it was the drowned man. From that time he took to coming to see +us. + +Karl Ivanovitch Sonnenberg, that was his name, was at that time +completing the German part of the education of two young rascals; from +them he went to a landowner of Simbirsk, and from him to a distant +relative of my father’s. The boy, the care of whose health and German +accent had been entrusted to him and whom Sonnenberg called Nick, +attracted me. There was something kind, gentle, and dreamy about him; he +was not at all like the other boys it had been my luck to meet, but, +nevertheless, we became close friends. He was silent and dreamy; I was +playful but afraid to tease him. + +About the time when my cousin went back to Kortcheva, Nick’s grandmother +died; his mother he had lost in early childhood. There was a great upset +in the house, and Sonnenberg who really had nothing to do was very busy +too, and imagined that he was run off his legs; he brought Nick in the +morning and asked that he might remain with us for the rest of the day. +Nick was sad and frightened; I suppose he had been fond of his +grandmother. He so poetically recalled her in after years: + + “When even’s golden beams are blent + With rosy vistas, radiant hued, + I call to mind how in our home + The ancient customs we pursued. + On every Sunday’s eve there came + Our grey and stately priest arrayed, + And, bowing to the holy shrine, + With his assistants knelt and prayed. + Our grandmamma, the honoured dame, + Would lean upon her spacious chair + And, fingering her rosary, + Would bend her head in whispered prayer. + And through the doorway we could see + The house-servants’ familiar faces, + As praying for a ripe old age + They knelt in their accustomed places. + Meantime, upon the window-panes + The evening glow would shine, reflected, + While incense floated through the hall + By censers, swinging wide, projected. + Amid the silence so profound + No sound was heard except the praying + Of mingled voices. On my heart + Some feeling undefined was weighing, + A wistful sadness, dim and vague, + Of fleeting, childish dreams begot. + Unknown to me my heart was full + Of yearning for I knew not what.”— + OGARYOV: Humorous Verse.[47] + +... After we had been sitting still a little I suggested reading +Schiller. I was surprised at the similarity of our tastes; he knew far +more by heart than I did and knew precisely the passages I liked best; +we closed the book and, so to speak, began sounding our mutual +sympathies. + +From Möros who went with a dagger in his sleeve ‘to free the city from +the tyrant,’ from Wilhelm Tell who waited for Vogt on the narrow path to +Küsznacht, the transition to Nicholas and the Fourteenth of December was +easy. These thoughts and these comparisons were not new to Nick; he, +too, knew Pushkin’s and Ryleyev’s[48] unpublished poems. The contrast +between him and the empty-headed boys I had occasionally met was +striking. + +Not long before, walking to the Pryesnensky Ponds, full of my Bouchot +terrorism, I had explained to a companion of my own age the justice of +the execution of Louis XVI. ‘Quite so,’ observed the youthful Prince O., +‘but you know he was God’s anointed!’ I looked at him with compassion, +ceased to care for him and never asked to go and see him again. + +There were no such barriers with Nick, his heart beat as mine did. He, +too, had broken loose from the grim conservative shore, and we had but +to shove off more vigorously together and almost from the first day we +resolved to work in the interests of the Tsarevitch Constantine! + +Before that day we had had few long conversations. Karl Ivanovitch +pestered us like an autumn fly and spoilt every conversation with his +presence; he interfered in everything without understanding, made +observations, straightened Nick’s shirt collar, was in a hurry to get +home, in fact, was detestable. A month later we could not pass two days +without seeing each other or writing letters; with all the impulsiveness +of my nature I devoted myself more and more to Nick, while he had a +quiet and deep love for me. + +From the very beginning our friendship took a serious tone. I do not +remember that mischievous pranks ever took a foremost place with us, +particularly when we were alone. Of course we did not sit still, our +boyish years showed themselves in laughing and playing the fool, teasing +Sonnenberg and playing with bows and arrows in the yard; but at the +bottom of it all there was something very different from idle +companionship. Besides our being of the same age, besides our ‘chemical +affinity,’ we were united by our common faith. Nothing in the world so +purifies and ennobles early youth, nothing keeps it so safe as a keenly +alert interest of a purely human character. We respected our future in +ourselves, we looked at each other as ‘chosen vessels,’ predestined. + +Nick and I often walked out into the country. We had our favourite +places, the Sparrow Hills, the fields beyond the Dragomilovsky Gate. He +would come with Sonnenberg to fetch me at six or seven in the morning, +and if I were asleep would throw sand and little pebbles at my window. I +would wake up smiling and hasten to go out to him. + +The indefatigable Karl Ivanovitch had instituted these walks. + +In the old-fashioned patriarchal education of Ogaryov Sonnenberg plays +the part of Biron.[49] When he made his appearance the influence of the +old peasant who had looked after the boy was put aside; the discontented +oligarchy of the servants’ hall were forced against the grain to +silence, knowing that there was no overcoming the damned German who fed +at the master’s table. Sonnenberg made violent changes in the old order +of things. The old man who had been nurse positively grew tearful when +he learned that the wretched German had taken the young master _himself_ +to buy ready-made boots at a shop! Sonnenberg’s revolution, like Peter +the Great’s, was distinguished by a military character even in the most +peaceful matters. It does not follow from that that Karl Ivanovitch’s +thin little shoulders had ever been adorned with epaulettes. But nature +has so made the German, that if he does not reach the slovenliness and +_sans-gêne_ of a philologist or a theologian, he is inevitably of a +military mind, even though he be a civilian. By virtue of this +peculiarity Karl Ivanovitch liked tight-fitting clothes, buttoned up and +cut with a waist, by virtue of it he was a strict observer of his own +rules, and if he proposed to get up at six o’clock in the morning, he +would get Nick up at one minute before six, and in no case later than +one minute after six, and would go out into the open air with him. + +The Sparrow Hills, at the foot of which Karl Ivanovitch had been so +nearly drowned, soon became our ‘Holy Mountain.’ + +One day after dinner my father proposed to drive out into the country. +Ogaryov was with us and my father invited him and Sonnenberg to go too. +These expeditions were not a joking matter. Before reaching the +town-gate we had to drive for an hour or more in a four-seated carriage, +built by ‘Joachim,’ which had not saved it from becoming disgracefully +shabby in its fifteen years of tranquil service and being heavier than a +siege cannon. The four horses of different sizes and colours who had +grown fat and lazy in idleness were covered with sweat and foam within a +quarter of an hour; the coachman Avdey was forbidden to let them get +into this condition, and so had no choice but to let them walk. The +windows were usually closed, however hot it might be; and with all this, +we had the indifferently oppressive supervision of my father and the +restlessly fussy and irritating supervision of Karl Ivanovitch. But we +gladly put up with everything for the sake of being together. + +At Luzhniki we crossed the river Moskva in a boat at the very spot where +the Cossack had pulled Karl Ivanovitch out of the water. My father +walked, as always, bent and morose; beside him Karl Ivanovitch tripped +along, entertaining him with gossip and scandal. We went on in front of +them, and getting far ahead ran up to the Sparrow Hills at the spot +where the first stone of Vitberg’s temple was laid. + +Flushed and breathless, we stood there mopping our faces. The sun was +setting, the cupolas glittered, the city lay stretched further than the +eye could reach; a fresh breeze blew on our faces, we stood leaning +against each other and, suddenly embracing, vowed in sight of all Moscow +to sacrifice our lives to the struggle we had chosen. + +This scene may strike others as very affected and very theatrical, and +yet twenty-six years afterwards I am moved to tears recalling it; there +was a sacred sincerity in it, and that our whole life has proved. But +apparently a like destiny awaits all vows made on that spot; Alexander +was sincere, too, when he laid the first stone of that temple, which, as +Joseph II.[50] said (though then mistakenly) when laying the first stone +in some town in Novorossia, was destined to be the last. + +We did not know all the strength of the foe with whom we were entering +into battle, but we took up the fight. That strength broke much in us, +but it did not crush us, and we did not surrender to it in spite of all +its blows. The wounds received from it were honourable. Jacob’s strained +thigh was the sign that he had wrestled in the night with a God. + +From that day the Sparrow Hills became a place of worship for us and +once or twice a year we went there, and always by ourselves. There, five +years later, Ogaryov asked me timidly and shyly whether I believed in +his poetic talent, and wrote to me afterwards (1833) from his country +house: ‘I have come away and feel sad, sad, as I have never been before. +And it’s all the Sparrow Hills. For a long time I hid my enthusiasm in +myself; shyness or something else, I don’t myself know what, prevented +me from uttering it, but on the Sparrow Hills that enthusiasm was not +weighed down by solitude. You shared it with me and those were moments +that I shall never forget, like memories of past happiness they have +haunted me on my journey, while all around I saw nothing but forest; it +was all so dark blue and in my soul was darkness, darkness. + +‘Write,’ he concluded, ‘how on that spot (that is, on the Sparrow Hills) +the history of our lives, yours and mine, developed.’ + +Five more years passed. I was far from the Sparrow Hills, but near me +their Prometheus, A. L. Vitberg, stood, austere and gloomy. In 1842 +returning finally to Moscow, again I visited the Sparrow Hills, once +more we stood on the site of the foundation stone and gazed at the same +view, two together, but the other was not Nick. + +From 1827 we were not parted. In every memory of that time, general and +particular, he with his boyish features and his love for me was +everywhere in the foreground. Early could be seen in him that sign of +grace, which is vouchsafed to few, whether for woe or for bliss I know +not, but certainly for being apart from the crowd. A large portrait of +Ogaryov as he was at that time (1827–8), painted in oils, remained for +many years afterwards in his father’s house. In later days I often stood +before it and gazed at him. He was painted with a turned-down shirt +collar; the painter had wonderfully reproduced the luxuriant chestnut +hair, the youthfully soft beauty of his irregular features and his +rather swarthy colouring; there was a dreaminess in the portrait that +gave promise of intense thought, a vague melancholy and extreme +gentleness shone in his big grey eyes that suggested the future +greatness of a mighty spirit; such indeed he grew to be. This portrait, +presented to me, was taken by a woman who was a stranger; perhaps these +lines will meet her eyes and she will send it to me. + +I do not know why the memories of first love are given such precedence +over the memories of youthful friendship. The fragrance of first love +lies in the fact that it forgets the difference of sex, that it is +passionate friendship. On the other hand, friendship between the young +has all the ardour of love and all its character, the same delicate fear +of touching on its feelings with a word, the same mistrust of self and +boundless devotion, the same agony at separation, and the same jealous +desire for exclusive affection. + +I had long loved Nick and loved him passionately, but did not venture to +call him my friend, and when he was spending the summer at Kuntsovo I +wrote to him at the end of a letter: ‘Whether your friend or not, I +don’t know yet.’ He first used the second person singular in writing to +me and used to call me his Agathon after Karamzin,[51] while I called +him my Raphael after Schiller.[52] + +You may smile if you like, but let it be a mild, good-natured smile, as +men smile when they think of being fifteen. Or would it not be better to +muse over the question, ‘Was I like that when I was developing?’ and to +bless your fate if you have had youth (merely being young is not enough +for it), to bless it doubly if you had a friend then. + +The language of that period seems affected and bookish to us now, we +have become unaccustomed to its vague enthusiasm, its confused fervour +that passes suddenly into yearning tenderness or childish laughter. It +would be as absurd in a man of thirty as the celebrated _Bettina will +schlafen_,[53] but in its proper time this language of youth, this +_jargon de la puberté_, this change of the psychological voice is very +sincere, even the bookish tone is natural to the age of theoretical +knowledge and practical ignorance. + +Schiller remained our favourite.[54] The characters of his dramas were +for us living persons; we analysed them, loved and hated them, not as +poetic creations but as living men. Moreover we saw ourselves in them. I +wrote to Nick, somewhat troubled by his being too fond of Fiesco, that +behind every Fiesco stands his Verrina. My ideal was Karl Moor, but I +soon changed it in favour of the Marquis of Posa. I imagined in a +hundred variations how I would speak to Nicholas, and how afterwards he +would send me to the mines or the scaffold. It is a strange thing that +almost all our day-dreams ended in Siberia or the scaffold and hardly +ever in triumph; can this be characteristic of the Russian imagination, +or is it the effect of Petersburg with its five gallows and its penal +servitude reflected on the young generation? + +And so, Ogaryov, hand in hand we moved forward into life! Fearlessly and +proudly we advanced, lavishly we responded to every appeal and sincerely +we gave ourselves up to every enthusiasm. The path we chose was a thorny +one, we have never left it for one moment, wounded and broken we have +gone forward and no one has turned us aside. I have reached ... not the +goal but the spot where the road goes downhill, and involuntarily I seek +thy hand that we may go down together, that I may press it and say +smiling mournfully, ‘So this is all!’ + +Meanwhile in the dull leisure to which the events of life have condemned +me, finding in myself neither strength nor freshness for new labours, I +am writing down our memories. Much of that which united us so closely +has taken shape in these pages. I present them to thee. For thee they +have a double value, the value of tombstones on which we meet familiar +names.[55] + +... And is it not strange to think that had Sonnenberg known how to +swim, or had he been drowned then in the Moskva, had he been pulled out +not by a Cossack of the Urals but by some soldier of the Apsheronsky +infantry, I should not have met Nick or should have met him later, +differently, not in that room in our old house, where, smoking cigars on +the sly, we entered so deeply into each other’s lives and drew strength +from each other. He did not forget our ‘old house.’ + + ‘Old Home! My old friend! I have found thee, + Thy cold desolation I see; + The past is arising before me, + And sadly I gaze upon thee. + Unswept and untended the courtyard, + Neglected and fallen the well, + Green leaves that once whispered and murmured + Lie yellow and dead where they fell. + The house is dismantled and empty, + The plaster is spread on the grass, + The heavy grey clouds wander sadly + And weep for thy plight as they pass. + I entered. The rooms were familiar: + ’Twas here—when we children were young— + The peevish old man sat and grumbled, + We feared his malevolent tongue. + And this room, my friend, oh! my comrade! + We shared, one in heart and in mind, + What bright golden thoughts were conceived here + In days that lie dimly behind! + A star shimmered faint through the window: + The words that are left on the wall + Were written when youth was triumphant, + Inspirer, dictator of all! + In this little room love and friendship + Were fostered. What joys did they bring! + But now, in its drear empty corners + The spiders’ webs broaden and cling. + And suddenly, smitten with terror, + Methought in the graveyard near by + I stood and I called on my loved ones, + The dead did not answer my cry....’ + OGARYOV: Humorous Verse.[56] + + + + + Chapter 5 + DETAILS OF HOME LIFE—EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY PEOPLE IN RUSSIA—A DAY IN OUR + HOUSE—VISITORS AND _HABITUÉS_—SONNENBERG—THE VALET AND OTHERS + + +The insufferable dreariness of our house grew greater every year. If my +University time had not been approaching, if it had not been for my new +friendship, my political enthusiasm and the liveliness of my +disposition, I should have run away or perished. + +My father was hardly ever in a good humour, he was perpetually +dissatisfied with everybody. A man of great intelligence and great +powers of observation, he had seen, heard, and remembered an immense +amount; an accomplished man of the world, he could be extremely polite +and interesting, but he did not care to be and sank more and more into +ill-humoured unsociability. + +It is hard to say exactly what it was that put so much bitterness and +spleen into his blood. Periods of passion, of great unhappiness, of +mistakes and losses were completely absent from his life. I could never +fully understand what was the origin of the spiteful mockery and +irritability that filled his soul, the mistrustful unsociability and the +vexation that consumed him. Did he bear with him to the grave some +memory which he confided to no one, or was this simply the result of the +combination of two elements so absolutely opposed as the eighteenth +century and Russian life, with the assistance of a third, terribly +conducive to the development of ill-humour, the idleness of the +slave-owner? + +Last century produced in the West, particularly in France, a wonderful +crop of men endowed with all the weak points of the Regency and all the +strong points of Rome and Sparta. These mixtures of Faublas[57] and +Regulus opened wide the doors of the Revolution and were the first to +rush in, crowding each other in their haste to reach the ‘window’ of the +guillotine. Our age no longer produces these single-minded powerful +natures; the eighteenth century on the contrary called them forth +everywhere, even where they were not needed, even where they could not +develop except into something grotesque. In Russia men exposed to the +influence of this mighty Western movement became original, but not +historical figures. Foreigners at home, foreigners in other lands, idle +spectators, spoilt for Russia by Western prejudices and for the West by +Russian habits, they were a sort of intellectual superfluity and were +lost in artificial life, in sensual pleasure and in unbearable egoism. + +To this class belonged the Tatar Prince, N. B. Yussupov, a Russian +grandee and a European _grand seigneur_, a foremost figure in Moscow, +conspicuous for his intelligence and his wealth. About him gathered a +perfect galaxy of grey-headed gallants and _esprits forts_, all the +Masalskys and Santis and _tutti quanti_. They were all rather cultured +and well-educated people; having no work in life they flung themselves +upon pleasure, pampered themselves, loved themselves, good-naturedly +forgave themselves all transgressions, exalted their gastronomy to the +level of a Platonic passion and reduced love for women to a sort of +voracious gourmandise. + +The old sceptic and Epicurean Yussupov, a friend of Voltaire and +Beaumarchais,[58] of Diderot and Casti,[59] really was gifted with +artistic taste. To see this, one need but go to Arhangelskoe and look at +his galleries, that is, if they have not yet been sold bit by bit by his +heir. He was magnificently fading out of life at eighty, surrounded by +marble, painted and living beauty. In his house near Moscow Pushkin +conversed with him and addressed a wonderful epistle to him, and there, +too, pictures were painted by Gonzaga,[60] to whom Yussupov dedicated +his theatre. + +By his education, by his service in the Guards, by position and +connections, my father belonged to this circle, but neither his +character nor his health permitted him to lead a frivolous life to the +age of seventy: and he passed to the opposite extreme. He tried to lead +a solitary life and found in it a deadly dullness, the mare because he +tried to arrange it entirely _for himself_. His strength of will changed +into obstinate caprice, his unemployed energies spoilt his character, +making him insufferable. + +When he was being educated, European civilisation was still so new in +Russia that to be educated was equivalent to being so much the less +Russian. To the end of his days he wrote more freshly and correctly in +French than in Russian. He had literally not read one single book in +Russian, not even the Bible. Though, indeed, he had not read the Bible +in other languages either; he knew the subject-matter of the Holy +Scriptures generally from hearsay and from extracts, and had no +curiosity to look into it. He had, it is true, a respect for +Derzhavin[61] and Krylov[62]: Derzhavin because he had written an ode on +the death of his uncle, Prince Meshtchersky, Krylov because he had been +with him as second at N. N. Bahmetyev’s duel. My father did once pick up +Karamzin’s _History of the Russian Empire_, having heard that the +Emperor Alexander was reading it, but he laid it aside, saying +contemptuously: ‘It is nothing but Izyaslavitches and Olgovitches, to +whom can it be of interest?’ + +For men he had an open, undisguised contempt—for all. Never under any +circumstances did he reckon upon anybody, and I do not remember that he +ever applied to any one with any serious request. He himself did nothing +for any one. In his relations with outsiders he demanded one thing only, +the observance of the proprieties; _les apparences, les convenances_ +made up the whole of his moral religion. He was ready to forgive much, +or rather to overlook it, but breaches of good form and good manners +made him beside himself, and in such cases he was without any tolerance, +without the slightest indulgence or compassion. I so long raged inwardly +against this injustice that at last I understood it. He was convinced +beforehand that every man is capable of any evil act; and that, if he +does not commit it, it is either that he has no need to, or that the +opportunity does not present itself; in the disregard of formalities he +saw a personal affront, a disrespect to himself; or a ‘plebeian +education,’ which in his opinion cut a man off from all human society. + +‘The soul of man,’ he used to say, ‘is darkness, and who knows what is +in any man’s soul? I have too much business of my own to be interested +in other people’s, much less to judge and criticise their intentions; +but I cannot be in the same room with an ill-bred man, he offends me, +grates upon me; of course he may be the best-hearted man in the world +and for that he will have a place in paradise, but I don’t want him. +What is most important in life is _esprit de conduite_, it is more +important than the most lofty intellect or any kind of learning. To know +how to be at ease everywhere, to put yourself forward nowhere, the +utmost courtesy with all and no familiarity with any one.’ + +My father disliked every sort of _abandon_, every sort of openness; all +that he called familiarity, just as he called every feeling +sentimentality. He persistently posed as a man superior to all such +petty trifles; for the sake of what, with what object? What was the +higher interest to which the heart was sacrificed?—I do not know. And +for whom did this haughty old man, who despised men so genuinely and +knew them so well, play his part of impartial judge?—For a woman whose +will he had broken although she sometimes contradicted him; for an +invalid who lay always at the mercy of the surgeon’s knife; for a boy +whose high spirits he had developed into disobedience; for a dozen +lackeys whom he did not reckon as human beings! + +And what patience was spent on it, what perseverance, and how +wonderfully well the part was played in spite of age and illness. Truly +the soul of man is darkness. + +Later on when I was arrested, and afterwards when I was sent into exile, +I saw that the old man’s heart was more open to love and even to +tenderness than I had thought. I never thanked him for it, not knowing +how he would take my gratitude. + +Of course he was not happy; always on his guard, always dissatisfied, he +saw with a pang the hostile feelings he roused in all his household; he +saw the smile pass from the face and the words checked at his entrance; +he spoke of it with mockery, with vexation, but made not a single +concession and went his way with the utmost persistence. Mockery, irony, +cold, malignant and scornful, was a weapon which he used like an artist; +he employed it equally against us and against the servants. In early +youth one can bear many things better than sarcasm, and until I went to +prison I was really estranged from my father, and joined with the maids +and men-servants in leading a little war against him. + +Moreover, he had persuaded himself that he was dangerously ill and was +continually undergoing treatment; besides our own household doctor, he +was visited by two or three others and had three or four consultations a +year at least. Visitors, seeing always his unfriendly face and hearing +nothing but complaints of his health, which was far from being so bad as +he thought, left off coming. He was angry at this but never reproached a +single person nor invited one. A terrible dullness reigned in the house, +particularly on the endless winter evenings—two lamps lighted a whole +suite of rooms; wearing felt or lamb’s-wool high boots, a velvet cap, +and a coat lined with white lambskin, bowed, with his hands clasped +behind his back, the old man walked up and down, followed by two or +three brown dogs, and never uttering a word. + +A carefulness spent on worthless objects grew with his melancholy. He +managed the estate badly for himself and badly for his peasants. The +village elders and his _missi dominici_ robbed their master and the +peasants; on the other hand, everything that met the eye was subjected +to redoubled supervision, candles were saved and the thin _vin de +Graves_ was replaced by sour Crimean wine at the very time when a whole +forest was cut down in one village, and in another his own oats were +sold to him. He had his privileged thieves; the peasant whom he made +collector of _obrok_ (payment from a serf in lieu of labour) in Moscow +and whom he sent every summer to supervise the village elder, the +market, the garden, the forest, and the field labours, saved enough in +ten years to buy a house in Moscow. From a child I hated this minister +without portfolio; on one occasion he beat an old peasant in the yard in +my presence. I was so furious that I hung on to his beard and almost +fainted. From that time I could not look at him without dislike until he +died in 1845. I several times asked my father where did Shkun get the +money to buy a house. + +‘That’s what sobriety does,’ the old man answered, ‘he never takes a +drop of liquor.’ + +Every year near the time of carnival, the peasants from the Penza +province used to bring from near Kerensk _obrok_ in kind. For a +fortnight a trail of poor-looking wagons were on the road, laden with +pork, sucking pigs, geese, fowls, grain, rye, eggs, butter, and linen. +The arrival of the Kerensk peasants was a holiday for all the +house-serfs; they robbed the peasants and fleeced them at every step +without the slightest right to do so. The coachmen charged them for the +water in the well, and would not let their horses drink without payment. +The women made them pay for warmth in the house, they had to pay homage +to one aristocrat of the servants’ hall with a sucking pig and a towel, +to another with a goose and butter. All the time they stayed in the yard +the servants kept up a feast, holiday dishes were made, sucking pigs +were roasted, and the hall was continually full of the fumes of onion, +burnt fat, and the drink which had just been consumed. For the last two +days of these junketings Bakay did not go into the hall and did not +finish dressing, but sat in the outer kitchen with an old livery coat +thrown over his shoulders, without his waistcoat and jacket. He was +growing visibly thinner and becoming darker and older. My father put up +with all this pretty calmly, knowing that it was inevitable and could +not be altered. + +After the dead provisions had been received, my father—and the most +remarkable point about it is that the practice was repeated yearly—used +to call the cook, Spiridon, and send him to the poultry bazaar and the +Smolensky market to find out the prices; the cook returned with +fabulously small prices, less than half the real ones. My father would +tell him he was a fool and send for Shkun or Slyepushkin. The latter had +a fruit stall at the Ilyinsky Gate. And both considered the cook’s +prices terribly low, made inquiries and brought back prices rather +higher. At last Slyepushkin offered to take the whole lot, eggs and +sucking pigs and butter and rye ‘to save all disturbance to your health, +sir.’ He gave a price I need hardly say somewhat higher than the cook’s. +My father agreed. Slyepushkin would bring him oranges and little cakes +in honour of the bargain, and brought the cook a note for two hundred +roubles. + +This Slyepushkin was in great favour with my father and often borrowed +money from him; he showed his originality in his thorough understanding +of the old man’s character. + +He would ask for five hundred roubles for two months, and a day before +the two months were over would appear in the hall with an Easter cake on +a dish and the five hundred roubles on the Easter cake. My father would +take the money, Slyepushkin would make a bow and ask for his hand to +kiss, which was never given. But three days later Slyepushkin would come +again to borrow money and ask for fifteen hundred roubles. My father +would give it and Slyepushkin would again bring it by the time fixed. My +father used to hold him up as an example, but a week later he would ask +for a bigger sum, and in that way enjoyed the use of an extra five +thousand roubles a year for his business, for the trifling interest of +two or three Easter cakes, a few pounds of figs and Greek nuts and a +hundred oranges and apples from the Crimea. + +In conclusion, I will mention how some hundreds of acres of building +timber were lost in Novoselye. In the ‘forties, M. F. Orlov who, I +remember, had been commissioned by the Countess Anna Alexeyevna to +purchase an estate for her children, began treating for the Tver estate +which had come to my father from the Senator. They agreed on the price +and the business seemed to be settled. Orlov went to look at the land +and then wrote to my father that on the map he had shown him a forest, +but that there was no such forest. + +‘That’s a clever man,’ said my father, ‘he took part in the conspiracy +and wrote a book on finance, but as soon as it comes to business you can +see what a silly fellow he is. These Neckers! Well, I’ll ask Grigory +Ivanovitch to ride over, he’s not a conspirator, but he’s an honest man +and knows his work.’ + +Grigory Ivanovitch, too, went over to Novoselye and brought the news +that there was no forest, but only a semblance of one rigged up; so that +neither from the big house nor the high-road could the clearing catch +the eye. After the land was assigned to him the Senator had been at +least five times to Novoselye, and yet the secret had never leaked out. + +To give a full idea of our manner of life I will describe a whole day +from the morning; the monotony of the days was precisely what was most +deadly; our life went like an English clock regulated to go slowly, +quietly, evenly, loudly recording each second. + +At nine o’clock in the morning the valet who sat in the room next the +bedroom informed Vera Artamonovna, my ex-nurse, that the master was +getting up. She went to prepare the coffee which he always drank alone +in his study. Everything in the house assumed a different aspect, the +servants began sweeping the rooms, or at any rate made a show of doing +something. The hall, until then empty, filled up, and even the big +Newfoundland dog Macbeth sat before the stove and watched the fire +without blinking. + +Over his coffee the old man read the _Moscow News_ and the _Journal de +St. Pétersbourg_. I may mention that he had given orders for the _Moscow +News_ to be warmed, that his hands might not be chilled by the dampness +of the paper, and that he read the political news in the French text, +finding the Russian obscure. At one time he used to get a Hamburg +newspaper, but could not reconcile himself to the fact that the Germans +printed in German characters, and was always pointing out to me the +difference between the French print and the German, saying that these +grotesque Gothic letters with their little tails were bad for the eyes. +Afterwards he subscribed to the _Journal de Francfort_, but in the end +he confined himself to the journals of his own country. + +When he had finished reading he would observe that Karl Ivanovitch +Sonnenberg was in the room. When Nick was fifteen Karl Ivanovitch had +set up a shop, but having neither goods nor customers, after wasting on +this profitable undertaking the money he had somehow scraped up, he +retired from it with the honourable title of ‘merchant of Reval.’ He was +by then over forty, and at that agreeable age he led the life of a bird +of the air or a boy of fourteen, that is, did not know where he would +sleep next day nor on what he would dine. He took advantage of my +father’s being somewhat well-disposed towards him; we shall see at once +what that meant. + +In 1830 my father bought near our house another, bigger, better, and +with a garden. The house had belonged to the Countess Rastoptchin, wife +of the celebrated governor of Moscow. We moved into it; after that he +bought a third house which was quite unnecessary, but was next it. Both +these houses stood empty; they were not let for fear of fire (the houses +were insured) and disturbance from tenants. Moreover they were not kept +in repair, so they were on the sure road to ruin. In one of them the +homeless Karl Ivanovitch was permitted to live on condition that he did +not open the gates after ten o’clock (not a difficult condition, since +the gates were never closed), and that he bought firewood and did not +get it from our household supplies (as a matter of fact he bought it +from our coachman), and that he waited upon my father in the capacity of +a clerk of special commissions, _i.e._ came in the morning to inquire +whether there were any orders, turned up at dinner and, if there were no +one else dining with him, spent the evening entertaining him with news +and conversation. + +Simple as Karl Ivanovitch’s duties might appear to be, my father knew +how to inject so much bitterness into them that my poor merchant of +Reval, accustomed to all the calamities which can fall upon the head of +a man with no money, with no brains, of small stature, pock-marked face +and German nationality, could not always endure it. At intervals of two +years or a year and a half, Karl Ivanovitch, deeply offended, would +declare that ‘this is utterly unbearable,’ would pack up, buy or +exchange various articles of suspicious value and dubious quality, and +set off for the Caucasus. Ill-luck usually pursued him with ferocity. On +one occasion his wretched nag—he was driving with his own horse in +Tiflis and in the Redoubt Kali—fell down not far from the region of the +Don Cossacks; on another, half his luggage was stolen from him; on +another, his two-wheeled gig upset and his French perfumes were spilt +over the broken wheel, unappreciated by any one, at the foot of Elborus; +then he would lose something, and when he had nothing left to lose he +lost his passport. Ten months later Karl Ivanovitch, a little older, a +little more battered, a little poorer, with still fewer teeth and less +hair, would as a rule meekly present himself before my father with a +store of Persian insect powder, of faded silks and rusty Circassian +daggers, and would settle in the empty house again on the condition of +fulfilling the same duties and heating his stove with his own firewood. + +Observing Karl Ivanovitch, my father would at once begin a small attack +upon him. Karl Ivanovitch would inquire after his health, the old man +would thank him with a bow and then after a moment’s thought would +inquire, for instance: ‘Where do you buy your pomade?’ I must here +mention that Karl Ivanovitch, the ugliest of mortals, was a terrible +flirt, considered himself a Lovelace, dressed with an effort at +smartness and wore a curled golden wig. All this, of course, had long +ago been weighed and taken account of by my father. ‘At Bouïs’s on +Kuznitsky Bridge,’ Karl Ivanovitch would answer abruptly, somewhat +piqued, and he would cross one leg over the other like a man ready to +defend himself. + +‘What’s the scent called?’ + +‘Nacht-Violette,’ answered Karl Ivanovitch. + +‘He cheats you, violet is a delicate scent.’ Then in French, ‘_C’est un +parfum_, but that’s something strong, disgusting, they embalm bodies +with something of that sort! My nerves have grown so weak it makes me +positively sick; tell them to give me the eau-de-Cologne.’ + +Karl Ivanovitch would himself dash for the flask. + +‘Oh no, you must call some one else or you will come still closer; I +shall be ill, I shall faint.’ + +Karl Ivanovitch, who was reckoning on the effect of his pomade in the +maids’ room, would be deeply offended. + +After sprinkling the room with eau-de-Cologne my father would invent +commissions; to buy some French snuff and some English magnesia, and to +look at a carriage advertised for sale in the papers (he would never buy +it). Karl Ivanovitch, bowing himself out agreeably and inwardly relieved +to get off, would go away till dinner. + +After Karl Ivanovitch, the cook made his appearance; whatever he bought +or whatever he ordered, my father thought it extremely expensive. + +‘Ough, ough, how expensive! Why, is it because no supplies have come +in?’ + +‘Just so, sir,’ answered the cook, ‘the roads are so bad.’ + +‘Oh very well, till they are in better condition we will buy less.’ + +After this he would sit down to his writing-table and write reports and +orders to the villages, make up his accounts, between whiles scolding +me, receiving the doctors and above all quarrelling with his valet. The +latter was the greatest victim in the whole house. A little, sanguine +man, hasty and hot-tempered, he seemed as though created expressly to +irritate my father and provoke his reprimands. The scenes that were +repeated between them every day might have filled a farce, but it was +all perfectly serious. My father knew very well that the man was +necessary to him and often put up with rude answers from him, but never +ceased trying to train him, in spite of his efforts having been +unsuccessful for thirty-five years. The valet on his side would not have +put up with such a life if he had not had his own recreations; he was as +a rule rather tipsy by dinner-time. My father noticed this, but confined +himself to roundabout allusions to it, advising him, for instance, to +munch a little black bread and salt that he might not smell of vodka. +Nikita Andreyevitch had the habit when he was a little drunk of scraping +with his feet in a peculiar way when he handed the dishes. As soon as my +father noticed this, he would invent some commission for him, would send +him, for instance, to ask the barber Anton if he had changed his +address, adding to me in French, ‘I know that he has not moved, but the +fellow is not sober, he will drop the soup-tureen end smash it, spill +the soup on the cloth and frighten me. Let him go out for an airing. _Le +grand air_ will do him good.’ + +Usually on such occasions the valet made some answer; but if he could +find nothing to say he would go out, muttering between his teeth. Then +his master would call him and in the same calm voice ask him ‘what did +he say?’ + +‘I didn’t address a word to you.’ + +‘To whom were you speaking, then? There is no one but you and me in this +room or the next.’ + +‘To myself.’ + +‘That’s very dangerous, that’s the way madness begins.’ + +The valet would depart in a rage and go to his room; there he used to +read the _Moscow News_ and plait hair for wigs for sale. Probably to +relieve his anger he would take snuff furiously; whether his snuff was +particularly strong or the nerves of his nose were weak I cannot say, +but this was almost always followed by his sneezing violently five or +six times. + +The master rang the bell, the valet flung down his handful of hair and +went in. + +‘Was that you sneezing?’ + +‘Yes, sir.’ + +‘I wanted to bless you.’ And he would make a motion with his hand for +the valet to withdraw. + +On the last day of carnival, all the servants would, according to +custom, come in the evening to beg the master’s forgiveness: on these +solemn occasions my father used to go out into the great drawing-room, +accompanied by his valet. Then he would pretend not to recognise some of +them. + +‘Who is that venerable old man standing there in the corner?’ he would +ask the valet. + +‘The coachman Danilo,’ the valet would answer abruptly, knowing that all +this was only a dramatic performance. + +‘Good gracious! how he has changed. I really believe that it is entirely +from drink that men get old so quickly; what does he do?’ + +‘He hauls the firewood in for the stoves.’ + +The old man assumed an expression of insufferable pain. + +‘How is it you have not learned to talk in thirty years?... Hauls—how +can he haul the firewood in?—firewood is carried in, not hauled in. +Well, Danilo, thank God, the Lord has been pleased to let me see you +once more. I forgive you all your sins for this year, all the oats which +you waste so immoderately, and for not brushing the horses, and do you +forgive me. Go on hauling in firewood while you have the strength, but +now Lent is coming, so take less drink, it is bad for us at our age, and +besides it is a sin.’ He conducted the whole inspection in this style. + +We used to dine between three and four o’clock. The dinner lasted a long +time and was very boring. Spiridon was an excellent cook, but my +father’s economy on the one hand, and his own on the other, rendered the +dinner somewhat meagre, in spite of the fact that there were a great +many dishes. Beside my father stood a red clay bowl into which he +himself put all sorts of pieces for the dogs; moreover, he used to feed +them with his own fork, which was deeply resented by the servants and +consequently by me. Why, it is hard to say.... + +Visitors rarely called upon us and more rarely dined. I remember out of +all those who visited us one man whose arrival to dinner would sometimes +smooth the wrinkles out of my father’s face, N. N. Bahmetyev. He was the +brother of the lame general of that name and was himself a general also, +though long on the retired list. My father and he had been friends as +long ago as the time when both had been officers in the Izmailovsky +regiment. They had both been gay young rakes in the days of Catherine, +and in the reign of Paul had both been court-martialled, Bahmetyev for +having fought a duel with some one and my father for having been his +second; then one of them had gone away to foreign lands as a tourist, +while the other went to Ufa as Governor. There was no likeness between +them. Bahmetyev, a stout, healthy and handsome old man, was fond of +having a good dinner and getting a little drunk after it; was fond of +lively conversation and many other things. He used to boast that in his +day he had eaten as many as a hundred hearth-cakes, and he could when +about sixty devour up to a dozen buckwheat pancakes drowned in a pool of +butter with complete impunity. I have been a witness of these +achievements more than once. + +Bahmetyev had some shadowy influence over my father, or at any rate did +keep him in check. When Bahmetyev noticed that my father’s ill-humour +was beyond bounds, he would put on his hat and say with a military +scrape: ‘Good-bye—you are ill and stupid to-day; I meant to stay to +dinner but I cannot endure sour faces at table! _Gehorsamer +diener!_’ ... and my father by way of explanation would say to me: ‘What +a lively impresario. N. N. still is! Thank God, he’s a healthy man and +cannot understand a suffering Job like me; there are twenty degrees of +frost, but he dashes here all the way from Pokrovka in his sledge as +though it were nothing ... while I thank the Creator every morning that +I wake up alive, that I am still breathing. Oh ... oh ... ough ...! it’s +a true proverb; the well-fed don’t understand the hungry!’ This was the +utmost condescension that could be expected from him. + +From time to time there were family dinners at which the Senator, the +Golohvastovs and others were present, and these dinners were not +casually given, nor for the sake of any pleasure to be derived from +them, but were due to profound considerations of economy and diplomacy. +Thus on the 20th February, the Senator’s name-day, we gave a dinner in +his honour, while on the 24th June, my father’s name-day, a dinner was +given at the Senator’s, an arrangement which, besides setting a moral +example of brotherly love, saved each of them from giving a much bigger +dinner at home. + +Then there were various _habitués_; Sonnenberg would appear _ex +officio_, and having just before dinner swallowed a glass of vodka and a +Reval sardine at home he would refuse a minute glass of some specially +flavoured vodka; sometimes my last French tutor, a miserly old fellow +with an insolent face, fond of talking scandal, would come. Monsieur +Thirié so often made mistakes, pouring wine into his tumbler instead of +beer and drinking it off apologetically, that at last my father said to +him, ‘The _vin de Graves_ stands on your right side, so you won’t make a +mistake again,’ and Thirié, stuffing a huge pinch of snuff into his +broad nose that turned up on one side, scattered the snuff on his plate. + +Among these visitors one was an extremely funny individual. A little +bald old man, invariably dressed in a short and narrow swallow-tail +coat, and in a waistcoat that ended precisely where the waistcoat now +begins, and carrying a thin little cane, he was in his whole figure the +embodiment of a period twenty years earlier, in 1830 of 1810 and in 1840 +of 1820. Dmitri Ivanovitch Pimenov, a civil councillor by grade, was one +of the superintendents of the Sheremetyevsky Almshouse, and was, +moreover, a literary man. Scantily endowed by nature and brought up on +the sentimentalism of Karamzin, on Marmontel[63] and Marivaux,[64] +Pimenov might be said to take a position midway between Shalikov and V. +Panaev.[65] The Voltaire of this honourable phalanx was the head of the +secret police under Alexander, Yakov Ivanovitch de Sanglain; its +promising young man, Pimen Arapov.[66] They were all in close relation +with the universal patriarch Ivan Ivanovitch Dmitriev;[67] he had no +rivals, but there was Vassily Lvovitch Pushkin.[68] Pimenov went every +Thursday to the ancient Dmitriev to discuss beauties of style and the +deterioration of the language of to-day in his house in Sadovy Street. +Pimenov himself had tried the slippery career of Russian literature; at +first he had edited the _Thoughts of the Duc de La Rochefoucauld_, then +he wrote a treatise on feminine beauty and charm. Of this treatise, +which I have not taken in my hand since I was sixteen, I remember only +long comparisons in the style in which Plutarch compares his heroes; of +the fair with the dark, ‘though a fair woman is this and that and the +other, on the other hand a dark woman is this and that and the +other....’ Pimenov’s chief peculiarity lay not in his having edited +books which no one ever read, but in the fact that if he began laughing +he could not stop, and his mirth would grow into a regular fit of +hysterics with sudden outbursts and hollow peals of laughter. He knew +this, and so, when he saw something laughable coming, began to take +measures; brought out a pocket-handkerchief, looked at his watch, +buttoned up his coat, hid his face in his hands, and when the crisis +came, stood up, turned to the wall, leaned against it and writhed in +agony for half an hour or more, then, crimson and exhausted by the +paroxysm, he would sit down mopping the perspiration from his bald head, +though the fit would seize him again long afterwards. Of course my +father had not the faintest respect for him: he was gentle, kind, +awkward, a literary man and poor, and therefore not worth considering on +any ground: but he was fully aware of his convulsive risibility. On the +strength of it he would make him laugh until every one else in the room +was, under his influence, also moved to a sort of unnatural laughter. +The instigator of our mirth would look at us, smiling innocently, as a +man looks at a crowd of noisy puppies. + +Sometimes my father played dreadful tricks on the unfortunate amateur of +feminine charm and beauty. ‘Colonel So-and-so,’ the servant would +announce. + +‘Ask him in,’ my father would say, and turning to Pimenov he would add: +‘Please be on your guard when he is here, Dmitri Ivanovitch; he has an +unfortunate tic and when he talks he makes a strange sound as though he +had a chronic hiccup.’ Thereupon he would give a perfect imitation of +the Colonel. ‘I know you are ready to laugh, please restrain yourself.’ + +This was enough. At the second word the Colonel uttered, Pimenov would +take out his handkerchief, make a parasol of his hands, and at last jump +up. + +The Colonel would look at him in amazement, while my father would say to +me with great composure: ‘What is the matter with Dmitri Ivanovitch? _Il +est malade_, he has spasms; tell them to make haste and get him a glass +of cold water and give him eau-de-Cologne.’ On such occasions Pimenov +would snatch up his hat and go, laughing, until he had reached the +Arbatsky Gates, halting at the cross-roads and leaning against +lamp-posts. + +For several years he came regularly every alternate Sunday to dine with +us, and his punctuality in coming and his unpunctuality if he missed a +Sunday angered my father equally and impelled him to worry Pimenov. Yet +the good-natured man went on coming, and coming on foot from the Red +Gate to old Konyushenny Street till he died, and not at all funnily. +After ailing for a long time, the solitary old bachelor, as he lay +dying, saw his housekeeper carry off all his things, his clothes, even +the linen from his bed, leaving him entirely uncared for. + +But the real _souffre-douleur_ at dinner were various old women, the +poor and casual dependents of Princess Hovansky, my father’s sister. For +the sake of a change, and also partly to find out how everything was +going on in our house, whether there were quarrels in the family, +whether the cook had had a fight with his wife, and whether the master +had found out that Palashka or Ulyasha were about to bring an addition +to the household, they would sometimes come on holidays to spend a whole +day. It must be noted that these widows had forty or fifty years ago, +before they were married, been attached to the household of my father’s +aunt, old Princess Meshtchersky, and afterwards to that of her niece, +and had known my father since those days; that in this interval between +their dependence in their youth and their return in old age, they had +spent some twenty years quarrelling with their husbands, keeping them +from drink, looking after them when they were paralysed, and escorting +them to the cemetery. Some had been trailing from one place to another +in Bessarabia with a garrison officer and a crowd of children, others +had spent years with a criminal charge hanging over their husbands, and +all these experiences of life had left upon them the traces of +government offices and provincial towns; a dread of the powerful of this +earth, a cringing spirit and a sort of dull-witted bigotry. + +Amazing scenes took place with them. + +‘Why is this, Anna Yakimovna; are you ill that you don’t eat anything?’ +my father would ask. Huddling herself together the widow of some +overseer in Kremenchug, a wretched old woman with a worn and faded face, +who always smelt strongly of some plaster, would answer with cringing +eyes and deprecating fingers: ‘Forgive me, Ivan Alexeyevitch, sir, I am +really ashamed, but there, it is my old-fashioned ways, sir. Ha, ha, ha, +it’s the Fast of the Assumption now.’ + +‘Oh, how tiresome! You are always so devout! It’s not what goes into the +mouth, my good woman, that defiles, but what comes out of it; whether +you eat one thing or another, it all goes the same way; now what comes +out of the mouth, you must watch over ... your judgments of your +neighbours. Come, you had better dine at home on such days, or we shall +have a Turk coming next asking for pilau; I don’t keep a restaurant _à +la carte_.’ + +The frightened old woman, who had intended to ask for some dish made of +flour or cereals, would fall upon the kvass and salad, making a great +show of eating a great deal. + +But it is noteworthy that she, or any of the others, had only to eat +meat during a fast for my father, though he never touched Lenten dishes +himself, to say, shaking his head mournfully: ‘I should not have thought +it was right for you, Anna Yakimovna, to forsake the habits of your +forefathers for the last few years of your life. I sin and eat meat, +owing to my many infirmities; but you, thank God, have kept the fasts +all your life and suddenly at your age ... what an example for _them_,’ +and he motioned towards the servants. And the poor old woman had to +attack the kvass and the salad again. + +These scenes made me very indignant; sometimes I was so bold as to +intervene and remind him of the contrary opinion he had expressed. Then +my father would rise from his seat, take off his velvet cap by the +tassel, and, holding it in the air, thank me for the lesson and beg +pardon for his forgetfulness, and then would say to the old lady: ‘It’s +a terrible age! It’s no wonder you eat meat in the fast, since children +teach their parents! What are we coming to? It’s dreadful to think of +it! Luckily you and I won’t live to see it.’ + +After dinner my father lay down to rest for an hour and a half. The +servants at once dispersed to beer-shops and eating-houses. At seven +o’clock tea was served; then sometimes some one would come in, the +Senator more often than any one; it was a time of leisure for all of us. +The Senator usually brought various items of news and told them eagerly. +My father affected complete inattention as he listened to him: he +assumed a serious face, when his brother had expected him to be dying of +laughter, and would cross-question him as though he had not heard the +point, when the Senator had been describing something striking. + +The Senator came in for it in a very different way when he contradicted +or was not of the same opinion as his younger brother (which rarely +happened, however), and sometimes, indeed, when he did not contradict, +if my father was particularly ill-humoured. In these tragi-comic scenes, +what was funniest was the Senator’s genuine heat and my father’s +affected artificial coolness. + +‘Well, you are ill to-day,’ the Senator would say impatiently, and he +would snatch his hat and rush off. Once in his vexation he could not +open the door and kicked it with all his might, saying ‘the confounded +door!’ + +My father went up, coolly opened the door inwards, and in a perfectly +composed voice observed: ‘The door does its duty, it opens inwards, and +you try to open it outwards, and are cross with it.’ It may not be out +of place to mention that the Senator was two years older than my father +and addressed him in the second person singular, while the latter as the +younger brother used the plural form, ‘you.’ + +After the Senator had gone, my father would retire to his bedroom, would +every day inquire whether the gates were closed, would receive an answer +in the affirmative, would express doubts on the subject but do nothing +to make certain. Then began a lengthy routine of washings, fomentations, +and medicines; his valet made ready on a little table by the bed a +perfect arsenal of different objects—medicine-bottles, night-lights, +pill-boxes. The old man as a rule read for an hour Bourienne’s _Mémorial +de Sainte Helène_ and other memoirs; then came the night. + +Such was our household when I left it in 1834, so I found it in 1840, +and so it continued until his death in 1846. + +At thirty when I returned from exile I realised that my father had been +right in many things, that he had unhappily a distressingly good +understanding of men. But it was not my fault that he preached even what +was true in a way so revolting to a youthful heart. His mind chilled by +a long life in a circle of depraved men put him on his guard against +every one, and his callous heart did not crave for reconciliation, and +so he remained in a hostile attitude to every one on earth. + +I found him in 1839, and still more markedly in 1842, weak and really +ill. The Senator was dead, the desolation about him was greater than +ever and he even had a different valet; but he himself was just the +same, only his physical powers were changed, there was the same spiteful +intelligence, the same tenacious memory, he still worried every one over +trifles, and Sonnenberg, still unchanged, camped out in the old house as +before and carried out commissions. + +Only then I appreciated all the desolateness of his life; I looked with +an aching heart at the mournful significance of this lonely abandoned +existence, dying out in the arid, barren, stony wilderness which he had +created about himself, but which it was not in his power to change; he +knew that, he saw death approaching, and, overcoming weakness and +infirmity, he jealously and obstinately controlled himself. I was +dreadfully sorry for the old man, but I could do nothing, he was +unapproachable. + +... Sometimes I passed softly by his study where, sitting in a rough, +uncomfortable, deep armchair, surrounded by his dogs, he would all alone +play with my three-year-old boy. It seemed as though the clenched hands +and stiffened nerves of the old man relaxed at the sight of the child, +and he found rest from the incessant agitation, conflict, and vexation +in which he had kept himself, as his dying hand touched the cradle. + + + + + Chapter 6 + THE KREMLIN DEPARTMENT—MOSCOW UNIVERSITY—OUR SET—THE CHEMIST—THE MALOV + AFFAIR—THE CHOLERA—FILARET—V. PASSEK—GENERAL LISSOVSKY—THE SUNGUROV + AFFAIR + + ‘_Oh, years of boundless ecstasies, + Of visions bright and free! + Where now your mirth untouched by spite, + Your hopeful toil and noisy glee?_’ + OGARYOV: Humorous Verse. + + +In spite of the lame general’s sinister predictions my father put my +name down with N. B. Yussupov for a berth in the Kremlin department. I +signed a paper and there the matter ended; I heard nothing more of the +service, except that three years later Yussupov sent the Palace +architect, who always shouted as though he were standing on the +scaffolding of the fifth storey and there giving orders to workmen in +the basement, to announce that I had received the first grade in the +service. These amazing incidents were, I may remark in passing, useless, +for I rose above the grades received in the service by taking my +degree—it was not worth while taking so much trouble for the sake of two +or three years’ seniority. And meanwhile this supposed post in the +service almost prevented me from entering the university. The Council, +seeing that I was reckoned as in the office of the Kremlin department, +refused me the right to go in for the examination. + +For those in the government service, there were special after-dinner +courses of study, extremely limited in scope and only qualifying for +entrance into the so-called ‘committee examinations.’ All the wealthy +idlers, the young snobs who had learnt nothing, all those who did not +want to serve in the army and were in a hurry to get the grade of +assessor went in for the ‘committee examinations’; they were gold mines +for the old professors, who coached them privately for twenty roubles +the lesson. + +To begin my life in these Caudine Forks of learning was far from suiting +my ideas. I told my father resolutely that if he could not find some way +out of it, I should resign my post in the service. + +My father was angry, said that with my caprices I was preventing him +from making a career for me, and abused the teachers who had put this +nonsense into my head, but, seeing that all this had very little effect +upon me, he made up his mind to go to Yussupov. + +The latter settled the matter in a trice, after the fashion of a great +nobleman and a Tatar. He called his secretary and told him to write me a +leave of absence for three years. The secretary hesitated and hesitated, +and at last, half in terror, submitted that leave of absence for longer +than four months could not be given without the sanction of the Most +High. + +‘What nonsense, my man,’ the prince said to him. ‘Where is the +difficulty? Well, if leave of absence is impossible, write that I +commission him to attend the university courses for three years to +perfect himself in the sciences.’ + +His secretary wrote this and next day I was sitting in the amphitheatre +of the Physico-Mathematical auditorium. + +The University of Moscow and the Lyceum of Tsarskoe Syelo play a +significant part in the history of Russian education and in the life of +the last two generations. + +The Moscow University grew in importance together with the city itself +after 1812. Degraded by Peter the Great from being the royal capital, +Moscow was promoted by Napoleon (partly intentionally, but still more +unintentionally) to being the capital of the Russian people. The people +realised their ties of blood with Moscow from the pain felt at the news +of its being taken by the enemy. From that time a new epoch began for +the city. Its university became more and more the centre of Russian +culture. All the conditions necessary for its development were +combined—historical significance, geographical position, and the absence +of the Tsar. + +The intensified mental activity of Petersburg after the death of Paul +came to a gloomy close on the Fourteenth of December. Nicholas appeared +with five gibbets, with penal servitude, with the white strap and the +light-blue uniform of Benckendorf.[69] + +The tide turned, the blood rushed to the heart, the activity that was +outwardly concealed was surging inwardly. Moscow University remained +firm and was the foremost to stand out in sharp relief against the +general darkness. The Tsar began to hate it from the time of the +Polezhaev affair.[70] He sent A. Pissarev, the major-general of the +‘Kaluga Evenings,’ as director, commanded the students to be dressed in +uniform, commanded them to wear a sword, then forbade them to wear a +sword, condemned Polezhaev to be a common soldier for his verses and +punished Kostenetsky and his comrades for their prose, destroyed the +Kritskys[71] for a bust, sentenced us to exile for Saint-Simonism, then +made Prince Sergey Mihailovitch Golitsyn director, and then took no +further notice of that ‘hot-bed of vice,’ piously advising young men who +had finished their studies at the Lyceum or at the School of +Jurisprudence not to enter it. + +Golitsyn was a surprising person, it was long before he could accustom +himself to the irregularity of there being no lecture when a professor +was ill; he thought the next on the list ought to take his place, so +that it sometimes happened to Father Ternovsky to lecture in the clinic +on women’s diseases and the gynæcologist Richter to discourse on the +Immaculate Conception. + +But in spite of that the university that had fallen into disgrace grew +in influence; the youthful strength of Russia streamed to it from all +sides, from all classes of society, as into a common reservoir; in its +halls they were purified from the superstitions they had picked up at +the domestic hearth, reached a common level, became like brothers and +dispersed again to all parts of Russia and among all classes of its +people. + +Until 1848 the organisation of our universities was purely democratic. +Its doors were open to every one who could pass the examination, who was +neither a serf, a peasant, nor a man excluded from his commune. Nicholas +spoilt all this; he put restrictions on the admission of students, +increased the fees of those who paid their own expenses, and permitted +none to be relieved of payment but poor _noblemen_. All these belonged +to the series of senseless measures which will disappear with the last +breath of that drag on the Russian wheel, together with passports, +religious intolerance and so on.[72] + +The young men of all sorts and conditions coming from above and from +below, from the south and from the north, were quickly fused into a +compact mass of comrades. Social distinctions had not among us the +distressing influence which we find in English schools and barracks; I +am not speaking of the English universities. They exist exclusively for +the aristocracy and for the rich. A student who thought fit to boast +among us of his blue blood or his wealth would have been sent to +Coventry and made the butt of his comrades. + +The external distinctions—and they did not go very deep—that divided the +students arose from other causes. Thus, for instance, the medical +section which was on the other side of the garden was not so closely +united with us as the other faculties; moreover, the majority of the +medical students consisted of seminarists and Germans. The Germans kept +a little apart and were deeply imbued with the Western bourgeois spirit. +All the education of the luckless seminarists, all their ideas were +utterly different from ours, we spoke different languages; brought up +under the yoke of monastic despotism, weighed down by rhetoric and +theology, they envied us our ease and freedom; we were vexed at their +Christian meekness.[73] + +I entered in the section of physics and mathematics in spite of the fact +that I had never had a marked ability, nor much liking for mathematics. +Nick and I had been taught mathematics together by a teacher whom we +loved for his anecdotes and stories; interesting as he was, he could +hardly have developed a passion for his subject. His knowledge of +mathematics extended only to conic sections, _i.e._ exactly as far as +was necessary for preparing High School boys for the university; a real +philosopher, he never had the curiosity to glance at the ‘university +grades’ of mathematics. + +What was particularly remarkable was that he had never read more than +one book on the subject, and that book, Francoeur’s Course, he studied +over and over again for ten years; but being continent by temperament +and disliking superfluous luxury, he never went beyond a certain page. + +I chose the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics because the natural +sciences were taught in that Faculty, and just at that time I developed +a great passion for natural science. + +A rather strange meeting had led me to those studies. + +After the famous division of the family property in 1822, which I have +described, my father’s ‘elder brother’ went to live in Petersburg. For a +long time nothing was heard of him, then suddenly a rumour came that he +was getting married. He was at that time over sixty, and every one knew +that he had a grown-up son besides other children. He married the mother +of his eldest son; the bride, too, was over fifty. With this marriage he +legitimised his son. Why not all the children? It would be hard to say +why, if we had not known the chief object of it all; his one desire was +to deprive his brothers of the inheritance, and this he completely +attained by legitimising the son. + +In the famous inundation of Petersburg in 1824 the old man was drenched +with water in his carriage. He caught cold, took to his bed, and in the +beginning of 1825 he died. + +Of the son there were strange rumours. It was said that he was +unsociable, refused to make acquaintances, sat alone for ever absorbed +in chemistry, spent his life at his microscope, read even at dinner and +hated feminine society. Of him it is said in _Woe from Wit_,[74] + + ‘He is a chemist, he is a botanist, + Our nephew, Prince Fyodor, + He flies from women and even from me.’ + +His uncles, who transferred to him the grudge they had against his +father, never spoke of him except as ‘the Chemist,’ using this word as a +term of disparagement, and assuming that chemistry was a subject that +could not be studied by a gentleman. + +His father used to oppress him dreadfully, not merely insulting him with +the spectacle of grey-headed cynical vice, but actually being jealous of +him as a possible rival in his seraglio. The Chemist on one occasion +tried to escape from this ignoble existence by taking laudanum. The +comrade with whom he used to work at chemistry by chance saved him. His +father was thoroughly frightened, and before his death had begun to +treat his son better. + +After his father’s death the Chemist released the luckless odalisques, +halved the heavy _obrok_ laid by his father on the peasants, forgave all +arrears and presented them gratis with the army receipt for the full +quota of recruits, which the old man used to sell them after sending his +serfs as soldiers. + +A year and a half later he came to Moscow. I longed to see him, for I +liked him both for the way he treated his peasants and on account of the +undeserved dislike his uncles felt for him. + +One morning a small man in gold spectacles, with a big nose, with hair +somewhat thin on the top, and with hands burnt by chemical reagents, +called upon my father. My father met him coldly, sarcastically; his +nephew responded in the same coin and gave him quite as good as he got: +after taking each other’s measure, they began speaking of extraneous +matters with external indifference, and parted politely but with +concealed dislike. My father saw that he was an opponent who would not +give in to him. + +They did not become more intimate later. The Chemist very rarely visited +his uncles; the last time he saw my father was after the Senator’s +death, when he came to ask him for a loan of thirty thousand roubles for +the purchase of land. My father would not lend it. The Chemist was moved +to anger and, rubbing his nose, observed with a smile, ‘There is no risk +whatever in it; my estate is entailed; I am borrowing money for its +improvement. I have no children and we are each other’s heirs.’ The old +man of seventy-five never forgave his nephew for this sally. + +I took to visiting the Chemist from time to time. He lived in an +extremely original way. In his big house on the Tverskoy Boulevard he +used one tiny room for himself and one as a laboratory. His old mother +occupied another little room on the other side of the corridor, the rest +of the house was abandoned and remained exactly as it had been when his +father left it to go to Petersburg. The blackened candelabra, the +wonderful furniture among which were rarities of all sorts, a +grandfather clock said to have been bought by Peter the Great in +Amsterdam, an armchair said to have come from the house of Stanislav +Leszcynski,[75] frames without pictures in them, pictures turned to the +wall, were all left anyhow, filling up three big, unheated and unlighted +drawing-rooms. Servants were usually playing some musical instrument and +smoking in the hall, where in old days they had scarcely dared to +breathe nor say their prayers. A man-servant would light a candle and +escort one through this museum of antiquities, observing every time that +there was no need to take my cloak off as it was very cold in the +drawing-rooms. Thick layers of dust covered the horns and various +curios, the reflections of which moved together with the candle in the +elaborately carved mirrors, straw left from the packing lay undisturbed +here and there together with scraps of paper and bits of string. + +At last we reached the door hung with a rug which led to the terribly +overheated study. In it the Chemist, in a soiled dressing-gown lined +with squirrel fur, was invariably sitting, surrounded by books, phials, +retorts, crucibles, and other apparatus. In that study where Chevalier’s +microscope now reigned supreme and there was always a smell of chlorine, +and where a few years before terrible infamous deeds were perpetrated—in +that study I was born. My father on his return from foreign parts before +his quarrel with his brother stayed for some months in his house, and in +the same house, too, my wife was born in 1817. The Chemist sold the +house two years later, and it chanced that I was in the house again at +evening parties, at Sverbeyev’s, arguing there about Pan-Slavism and +getting angry with Homyakov, who never lost his temper about anything. +The rooms had been done up, but the front entrance, the vestibule, the +stairs, the hall were all untouched, and so was the little study. + +The Chemist’s housekeeping was even less complicated, especially when +his mother had gone away for the summer to their estate near Moscow and +with her the cook. His valet used to appear at four o’clock with a +coffee-pot, pour into it a little strong broth and, taking advantage of +the chemical furnace, would set it there to warm, together with various +poisons. Then he would bring bread and half a woodcock from the +restaurant, and that made up the whole dinner. When it was over the +valet would wash the coffee-pot and it would return to its natural +duties. In the evening, the valet would appear again, take from the sofa +a heap of books, and a tiger-skin that had come down to the Chemist from +his father, bring sheets, pillows and bedclothes, and the study was as +easily transformed into a bedroom as it had been into a kitchen and a +dining-room. + +From the very beginning of our acquaintance the Chemist saw that I was +interested in earnest, and began to persuade me to give up the ‘empty’ +study of literature and the ‘dangerous and quite useless pursuit of +politics,’ and take to natural science. He gave me Cuvier’s speech on +_Geological Cataclysms_ and De Candolle’s _Plant Morphology_. Seeing +that these were not thrown away upon me he offered me the use of his +excellent collection, apparatus, herbariums, and even his guidance. He +was very interesting on his own ground, extremely learned, witty and +even polite; but one could not go beyond the monkeys with him; from +stones to ourangoutangs, everything interested him, but he did not care +to be drawn beyond them, particularly into philosophy, which he regarded +as twaddle. He was neither a conservative nor a reactionary, he simply +did not believe in people, that is, believed that egoism is the sole +source of all action, and thought that it was restrained merely by the +senselessness of some and the ignorance of others. + +I was revolted by his materialism. The superficial, timid, +half-Voltairianism of our fathers was not in the least like the +Chemist’s materialism. His outlook was calm, consistent, complete. He +reminded me of the celebrated answer made by Lalande[76] to Napoleon: +‘Kant accepts the hypothesis of God,’ Bonaparte said to him. ‘Sire,’ +replied the astronomer, ‘in my studies I have never had occasion to make +use of that hypothesis.’ + +The Chemist’s atheism went far beyond the sphere of theology. He +considered Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire[77] a mystic and Oken[78] simply a +degenerate. He closed the works of the natural philosophers with the +same contempt with which my father had closed Karamzin’s _History_. +‘They have invented first causes, spiritual powers, and then are +surprised that they can neither find them nor understand them,’ he said. +This was a second edition of my father, in a different age and +differently educated. + +His views on all the problems of life were still more comfortless. He +thought that there was as little responsibility for good and evil in man +as in the beasts; that it was all a matter of organisation, +circumstances, and the general condition of the nervous system, of which +he said _more was expected than it was capable of giving_. He did not +like family life, spoke with horror of marriage, and naïvely +acknowledged that in the thirty years of his life he had never loved one +woman. However, one warm spot in this frozen man still remained; it +could be seen in his attitude to his old mother; they had suffered a +great deal together at the hands of his father, and their troubles had +united them; he touchingly surrounded her solitary and infirm old age +with tranquillity and attention, as far as he knew how. + +He never advocated his theories, except those that concerned chemistry; +they came out casually or were called for by me. He even showed +reluctance in answering my romantic and philosophic objections; his +answers were brief, and he made them with a smile and with that delicacy +with which a big old mastiff plays with a puppy, allowing him to tease +and only pushing him off with a light pat of his paw. But it was just +that which provoked me most and I would return to the charge without +weariness, never gaining an inch of ground, however. Later on, namely +twelve years afterwards, just as I recalled my father’s observations I +frequently recalled the Chemist’s. Of course, he had been right in +three-quarters of everything against which I argued, but of course I was +right too. There are truths (we have spoken of this already) which like +political rights are not given to those under a certain age. + +The Chemist’s influence made me choose the Faculty of Physics and +Mathematics; perhaps I should have done better to enter in the Medical +Faculty, but there was no great harm in my first acquiring some degree +of knowledge of the differential and integral calculus and then +completely forgetting it. + +Without the natural sciences there is no salvation for the modern man. +Without that wholesome food, without that strict training of the mind by +facts, without that closeness to the life surrounding us, without +humility before its independence, the monastic cell remains hidden in +the soul, and in it the drop of mysticism which may flood the whole +understanding with its dark waters. + +Before I completed my studies the Chemist had gone away to Petersburg, +and I did not see him again until I came back from Vyatka. Some months +after my marriage I went half secretly for a few days to the estate near +Moscow where my father was then living. The object of my going was to +effect a complete reconciliation with him, for he was still angry with +me for my marriage. + +On the way I halted at Perhushkovo where we had so many times broken our +journey in old days. The Chemist was expecting me there and had actually +got a dinner and two bottles of champagne ready for me. In those four or +five years he had not changed at all except for being a little older. +Before dinner he asked me quite seriously: ‘Tell me, please, openly, how +do you find married life, is there anything good in it, or not much?’ I +laughed. ‘What boldness it is on your part,’ he went on. ‘I wonder at +you; in a normal condition a man can never venture on such a terrible +step. Two or three very good matches have been proposed to me, but when +I imagine a woman taking up her abode in my room, setting everything in +order according to her ideas, perhaps forbidding me to smoke my tobacco, +making a fuss and an upset, I am so panic-stricken that I prefer to die +in solitude.’ + +‘Shall I stay the night with you or go on to Perhushkovo?’ I asked him +after dinner. + +‘I have plenty of room here,’ he answered, ‘but for you I think it would +be better to go on, you will reach your father at ten o’clock. You know, +of course, that he is still angry with you; well—in the evening before +going to bed old people’s nerves are usually exhausted and feeble—he +will probably receive you much better this evening than to-morrow; in +the morning you will find him quite ready for battle.’ + +‘Ha, ha, ha! I recognise my teacher in physiology and materialism,’ said +I, laughing heartily, ‘how your remark recalls those blissful days when +I used to go to you like Goethe’s _Wagner_ to weary you with my idealism +and listen with some indignation to your chilling opinions.’ + +‘Since then,’ he answered, laughing too, ‘you have lived enough to know +that all men’s doings depend simply on their nerves and their chemical +composition.’ + +Later on we had some sort of disagreement, probably we were both to +blame.... Nevertheless in 1846 he wrote me a letter. I was then +beginning to be the fashion after the publication of the first part of +_Who is to Blame?_ The Chemist wrote to me that he saw with grief that I +was wasting my talent on ‘idle pursuits!... I forgive you everything for +the sake of your letters on the study of nature. In them I understood +the German philosophy (so far as it is possible for the mind of man to +do so)—why then instead of going on with serious work are you writing +tales?’ I sent him a few friendly lines in reply, and with that our +relations ended. + +If the Chemist’s own eyes ever rest upon these lines, I would beg him to +read them just before going to sleep at night when his nerves are +exhausted, and then I am sure he will forgive me this affectionate +gossip, especially as I keep a very warm and good memory of him. + +And so at last the seclusion of the parental home was over. I was _au +large_. Instead of solitude in our little room, instead of quiet and +half-concealed interviews with Ogaryov alone, I was surrounded by a +noisy family, seven hundred in number. I was more at home in it in a +fortnight than I had been in my father’s house from the day of my birth. + +But the parental roof pursued me even to the university in the shape of +a footman whom my father ordered to accompany me, particularly when I +went on foot. For a whole session I was trying to get rid of my escort +and only with difficulty succeeded in doing so officially. I say +‘officially,’ because Pyotr Fyodorovitch, upon whom the duty was laid, +very quickly grasped, first, that I disliked being accompanied, and, +secondly, that it was a great deal more pleasant for him in various +places of entertainment than in the hall of the Faculty of Physics and +Mathematics, where the only pleasures open to him were conversation with +the two porters and regaling them and himself with snuff. + +With what object was an escort sent with me? Could Pyotr, who from his +youth had been given to getting drunk for several days at a time, have +prevented me from doing anything? I imagine that my father did not even +suppose so, but for his own peace of mind took steps, which were +insufficient but were still steps, like people who do not believe but +take the sacrament. It was part of the old-fashioned education of +landowners. Up to seven years old, it was the rule that I should be led +by the hand up the staircase, which was rather steep; up to eleven, I +was washed in my bath by Vera Artamonovna; therefore, very consistently, +a servant was sent with me when I was a student; until I was twenty-one, +I was not allowed to be out after half-past ten. I was inevitably in +freedom and on my own feet when in exile; had I not been exiled, +probably the same regime would have continued up to twenty-five or even +thirty-five. + +Like the majority of lively boys brought up in solitude, I flung myself +on every one’s neck with such sincerity and impulsiveness, made +propaganda with such senseless imprudence, and was so candidly fond of +every one, that I could not fail to call forth a warm response from lads +almost of the same age. (I was then in my seventeenth year.) + +The sage rule—to be courteous to all, intimate with no one and to trust +no one—did as much to promote this readiness to make friends as the +persistent thought with which we entered the university, the thought +that here our dreams would be accomplished, that here we should sow the +seeds and lay the foundation of a league. We were persuaded that out of +this lecture-room would come the company which would follow in the +footsteps of Pestel and Ryleyev, and that we should be in it. + +They were a splendid set of young men in our year. It was just at that +time that theoretical tendencies were becoming more and more marked +among us. The scholastic method of learning and aristocratic indolence +were alike disappearing, and not yet replaced by that German +utilitarianism which enriches men’s minds with science, as the fields +with manure, for the sake of an increased crop. A considerable group of +students no longer regarded science as a necessary but wearisome +short-cut by which they would come to be collegiate assessors. The +problems that were arising amongst us had no reference whatever to +grades in the service. + +On the other hand, the interest in science had not yet had time to +degenerate into doctrinarianism; science did not draw us away from the +life and suffering around us. Our sympathy with it raised the social +morality of the students, too, in an extraordinary way. We said openly +in the lecture-room everything that came into our heads; manuscript +copies of prohibited poems passed from hand to hand, prohibited books +were read with commentaries, but for all that I do not remember a single +case of tale-bearing or treachery. There were timid young men who turned +away and held aloof, but they too were silent.[79] + +One silly boy, questioned by his mother on the Malov affair, under +threat of the birch told her something. The fond mother—an aristocrat +and a princess—flew to the rector and told him her son’s tale as proof +of his penitence. We heard of this and tormented him so that he could +not remain until the end of his session. + +This affair, for which I too was imprisoned, deserves to be described. + +Malov was a stupid, coarse, and uncultured professor in the political +section. The students despised him and laughed at him. ‘How many +professors have you in your section?’ asked the director of a student in +the political lecture-room. ‘Nine, not counting Malov,’ answered the +student.[80] Well, this professor, who had to be left out of the +reckoning when the others were counted, began to be more and more +insolent in his treatment of the students; the latter made up their +minds to turn him out of the lecture-room. After deliberating together +they sent two delegates to our section to invite me to come with an +auxiliary force. I at once gave the word to go out to battle with Malov, +and several students went with me; when we went into the lecture-room +Malov was on the spot and saw us come in. + +On the faces of all the students could be seen the same fear: that on +that day he might say nothing rude to them. This anxiety was soon over. + +The overflowing lecture-room was restless and a vague subdued hum rose +from it. Malov made some observations; there began a scraping of feet. +‘You express your thoughts like horses, with your legs,’ observed Malov, +probably imagining that horses think with a trot and a gallop, and a +storm arose, whistling, hisses, shouts; ‘Out with him, _pereat_!’ Malov, +pale as a sheet, made a desperate effort to control the uproar but could +not; the students jumped on to the benches, Malov quietly left his chair +and, shrinking together, began to make his way to the door; the students +went after him, saw him through the university court into the street and +flung his goloshes after him. The last circumstance was important, for +the case at once assumed a very different character in the street; but +where in the world are there lads of seventeen or eighteen who would +consider that? + +The University Council was alarmed and persuaded the director to present +the affair as completely closed, and for that reason to put the +ringleaders, or at least some of them, in prison. This was prudent; it +might otherwise easily have happened that the Tsar would have sent an +aide-de-camp who, with a view to gaining a cross, would have turned the +affair into a plot, a conspiracy, a mutiny, and would have suggested +sending all the culprits to penal servitude, which the Tsar would +graciously have commuted to service as common soldiers. Seeing that vice +was punished and virtue triumphant, the Tsar confined himself to +graciously confirming the students’ wishes by authority of the Most High +and dismissed the professor. We had driven Malov out as far as the +university gates and he put him outside them. It was _vae victis_ with +Nicholas, but on this occasion it was not for us to complain. + +And so the affair went on merrily; after dinner next day the porter from +the head office, a grey-headed old man, who conscientiously assumed _à +la lettre_ that the students’ tips were for vodka and therefore kept +himself continually in a condition approximating to drunkenness rather +than sobriety, came to me bringing in the cuff of his coat a note from +the rector; I was instructed to present myself before him at seven +o’clock. After he had gone, a pale and frightened student appeared, a +baron from the Baltic provinces, who had received a similar invitation +and was one of the luckless victims led on by me. He began showering +reproaches upon me and then asked advice as to what he was to say. + +‘Lie desperately, deny everything, except that there was an uproar and +that you were in the lecture-room.’ + +‘But the rector will ask why I was in the political lecture-room and not +in my own.’ + +‘What of it? Why, don’t you know that Rodion Heiman did not come to give +his lecture, so you, not wishing to waste your time, went to hear +another.’ + +‘He won’t believe it.’ + +‘Well, that’s his affair.’ + +As we were going into the university courtyard I looked at my baron, his +plump little cheeks were very pale and altogether he was in a bad way. + +‘Listen,’ I said, ‘you may be sure that the rector will begin with me +and not with you, so you say exactly the same with variations. You did +not do anything in particular, as a matter of fact. Don’t forget one +thing, for making an uproar and for telling lies ever so many of you +will be put in prison, but if you go and tell tales and mix anybody else +up in it before me, I’ll tell the others and we’ll poison your +existence.’ + +The baron promised and kept his word honestly. + +The rector at that time was Dvigubsky, one of the surviving specimens of +the professors before the flood, or to be more accurate, before the +fire, that is, before 1812. They are extinct now; with the directorship +of Prince Obolensky the patriarchal period of Moscow University ended. +In those days the government did not trouble itself about the +university; the professors lectured or did not lecture, the students +attended or did not attend, and went about, not in uniform jackets _ad +instar_ of light-cavalry officers, but in all sorts of outrageous and +eccentric garments, in tiny little caps that would scarcely keep on +their virginal locks. The professors consisted of two groups or classes +who placidly hated each other. One group was composed exclusively of +Germans, the other of non-Germans. The Germans, among whom were +good-natured and learned men such as Loder, Fischer, Hildebrand, and +Heym himself, were as a rule distinguished by their ignorance of the +Russian language and disinclination to learn it, their indifference to +the students, their spirit of Western exclusiveness, their immoderate +smoking of cigars and the immense quantity of decorations which they +invariably wore. The non-Germans for their part knew not a single living +language except Russian, were servile in their patriotism, as uncouth as +seminarists, and, with the exception of Merzlyakov,[81] were treated as +of little account, and instead of an immoderate consumption of cigars +indulged in an immoderate consumption of liquor. The Germans for the +most part hailed from Göttingen and the non-Germans were sons of +priests. + +Dvigubsky was one of the non-Germans: his appearance was so venerable +that a student from a seminary, who came in for a list of classes, went +up to kiss his hand and ask for his blessing, and always called him ‘The +Father Rector.’ At the same time he was wonderfully like an owl with an +Anna ribbon on its neck, in which form another student, who had received +a more worldly education, drew his portrait. When he came into our +lecture-room either with the dean Tchumakov, or with Kotelnitsky, who +had charge of a cupboard inscribed _Materia Medica_, kept for some +unknown reason in the mathematical lecture-room, or with Reiss, who was +bespoken from Germany because his uncle was a very good chemist, and +who, when he read French, used to call a lamp-wick a _bâton de coton_, +and poison, _poisson_, and so cruelly distorted the word ‘lightning’ +that many people supposed he was swearing—we looked at them with round +eyes as at a collection of antiquities, as at the last of the +Abencerrages,[82] representatives of a different age not so near to us +as to Tredyakovsky[83] and Kostrov[84]; the times in which Heraskov[85] +and Knyazhnin[86] were still read, the times of the good-natured +Professor Diltey, who had two little dogs, one which always barked and +the other which never barked, for which reason he very justly called one +Bavardka and the other Prudentka. + +But Dvigubsky was not at all a good-natured professor; he received us +extremely curtly and was rude. I reeled off a fearful rigmarole and was +disrespectful; the baron served up the same story. The rector, +irritated, told us to present ourselves next morning before the Council, +where in the course of half an hour they questioned, condemned and +sentenced us and sent the sentence to Prince Golitsyn for ratification. + +I had scarcely had time to rehearse the trial and the sentence of the +University Senate to the students five or six times in the lecture-room +when all at once the inspector, who was a major in the Russian army and +a French dancing-master, made his appearance with a non-commissioned +officer, bringing an order to seize me and conduct me to prison. Some of +the students went to see me on my way, and in the courtyard there was +already a crowd of young men, so evidently I was not the first taken; as +we passed, they all waved their caps and their hands; the university +soldiers moved them back but the students would not go. + +In the dirty cellar which served as a prison I found two of the arrested +men, Arapetov and Olov; Prince Andrey Obolensky and Rozenheim had been +put in another room; in all, there were six of us punished for the Malov +affair. Orders were given that we should be kept on bread and water; the +rector sent some sort of soup, which we refused, and it was well we did +so. As soon as it got dark and the lecture-rooms emptied, our comrades +brought us cheese, game, cigars, wine, and liqueurs. The soldier in +charge was angry and grumbled, but accepted twenty kopecks and carried +in the provisions. After midnight he went further and let several +visitors come in to us; so we spent our time feasting by night and +sleeping by day. + +On one occasion it somehow happened that the assistant-director Panin, +the brother of the Minister of Justice, faithful to his Horse-Guard +habits, took it into his head to go the round of the Imperial prison in +the university cellars by night. We had only just lighted a candle and +put it under a chair so that the light could not be seen from outside, +and were beginning on our midnight repast, when we heard a knock at the +outer door; not the sort of knock which weakly begs a soldier to open, +which is more afraid of being heard than of not being heard; no, this +was a peremptory knock, a knock of authority. The soldier was petrified; +we hid the bottles and the students in a little cupboard, blew out the +candle and threw ourselves on our trestle-beds. Panin entered. ‘I +believe you are smoking?’ he said, so lost in thick clouds of smoke that +we could hardly distinguish him and the inspector who was carrying a +lantern. ‘Where do they get a light, do you give it them?’ The soldier +swore that he did not. We answered that we had tinder with us. The +inspector undertook to remove it and to take away the cigars, and Panin +withdrew without observing that the number of caps in the room was +double the number of heads. + +On Saturday evening the inspector made his appearance and announced that +I and another one might go home, but that the rest would remain until +Monday. This distinction seemed to me insulting and I asked the +inspector whether I might remain; he drew back a step, looked at me with +the threateningly majestic air with which tsars and heroes in a ballet +depict anger in a dance, and saying, ‘Stay by all means,’ walked away. I +got more into trouble at home for this last sally than for the whole +business. + +And so the first nights I slept away from home were spent in prison. Not +long afterwards it was my lot to have experience of a very different +prison, and there I stayed not eight days but nine months, after which I +went not home but into exile. All that comes later, however. + +From that time forward I enjoyed the greatest popularity in the +lecture-room. From the first I had been accepted as a good comrade. +After the Malov affair, I became, like Gogol’s famous lady, a comrade +‘agreeable in all respects.’ + +Did we learn anything with all this going on, could we study? I imagine +that we did. The teaching was more meagre and its scope narrower than in +the ’forties. It is not the function of a university, however, to give a +complete training in any branch of knowledge; its work is to put a man +in a position to continue study on his own account; its work is to +provoke inquiry, to teach men to ask questions. And this was certainly +done by such professors as M. G. Pavlov, and on the other side, by such +as Katchenovsky. + +But contact with other young men in the lecture-rooms and the exchange +of ideas and opinions did more to develop the students than lectures and +professors.... The Moscow University did its work; the professors whose +lectures contributed to the development of Lermontov, Byelinsky,[87] +Turgenev, Kavelin,[88] and Pirogov[89] may play their game of boston in +tranquillity and still more tranquilly lie under the earth. + +And what original figures, what marvels there were among them—from +Fyodor Ivanovitch Tchumakov, who made formulas to fit in with those in +the text-book with the reckless freedom of the privileged landowner, +adding and removing letters, taking powers for roots and _x_ for the +known quantity, to Gavril Myagkov, who lectured on military tactics. +From perpetually dealing with heroic subjects, Myagkov’s very appearance +had acquired an air of drill and discipline; buttoned up to the throat +and wearing a cravat entirely free from curves, he delivered his +lectures as though giving words of command. ‘Gentlemen!’ he would shout; +‘in the field—of artillery!’ This did not mean that cannons were +advancing into the field of battle, but simply that such was the heading +in the margin. What a pity Nicholas avoided visiting the University! If +he had seen Myagkov, he would certainly have made him Director. + +And Fyodor Fyodorovitch Reiss, who in his chemistry lectures never went +beyond the second person of the chemical divinity, _i.e._ hydrogen! +Reiss, who had actually been made Professor of Chemistry because not he, +but his uncle, had at one time studied that science! Towards the end of +the reign of Catherine, the old uncle had been invited to Russia; he did +not want to come, so sent his nephew instead.... + +Among the exceptional incidents of my course, which lasted four years +(for the University was closed for a whole session during the cholera), +were the cholera itself, the arrival of Humboldt and the visit of +Uvarov. + +Humboldt was welcomed on his return to Moscow from the Urals in a solemn +assembly, held in the precincts of the University by the Society of +Scientific Research, the members of which were various senators and +governors—people, in fact, who took no interest in science, either +natural or unnatural. The fame of Humboldt, a privy councillor of his +Prussian Majesty, on whom the Tsar had graciously bestowed the Anna, and +to whom he had also commanded that equipment and diploma should be +presented free of charge, had reached even them. They were determined +not to disgrace themselves before a man who had been to Mount Chimborazo +and had lived at Sans-Souci. + +To this day we look upon Europeans and upon Europe in the same way as +provincials look upon those who live in the capital, with deference and +a feeling of our own inferiority, flattering them and imitating them, +taking everything in which we are different for a defect, blushing for +our peculiarities and concealing them. The fact is that we were +intimidated by the jeers of Peter the Great, by the insults of Biron, by +the haughty superiority of German officers and French tutors, and we +have not recovered from it. They talk in Western Europe of our duplicity +and wily cunning; they mistake the desire to show off and swagger a bit +for the desire to deceive. Among us the same man is ready to be naïvely +Liberal with a Liberal or to play the Legitimist with a reactionary, and +this with no ulterior motive, simply from politeness and a desire to +please; the bump _de l’approbativité_ is strongly developed in our +skulls. + +‘Prince Dmitri Golitsyn,’ observed Lord Durham, ‘is a true Whig, a Whig +in soul!’ + +Prince D. V. Golitsyn is a respectable Russian gentleman, but why he was +a Whig and in what way he was a Whig I don’t understand. You may be +certain that in his old age the prince wanted to please Durham and so +played the Whig. + +The reception of Humboldt in Moscow and in the University was no jesting +matter. The Governor-General, various military and civic chiefs, and the +members of the Senate, all turned up with ribbons across their +shoulders, in full uniform, and the professors wore swords like warriors +and carried three-cornered hats under their arms. Humboldt, suspecting +nothing, came in a dark-blue coat with gold buttons, and, of course, was +overwhelmed with confusion. From the vestibule to the hall of the +Society of Scientific Research, ambushes were prepared for him on all +sides: here stood the rector, there a dean, here a budding professor, +there a veteran whose career was over and who for that reason spoke very +slowly; every one welcomed him in Latin, in German, in French, and all +this took place in those awful stone tubes, called corridors, in which +one cannot stay for a minute without being laid up with a cold for a +month. Humboldt, hat in hand, listened to everybody and answered +everybody—I feel certain that all the savages among whom he had been, +red-skinned and copper-coloured, caused him less trouble than his Moscow +reception. + +As soon as he reached the hall and sat down, he had to get up again. The +Director, Pissarev, thought it necessary, in brief but vigorous +language, to lay down the law in Russian concerning the services of his +Excellency, the celebrated traveller; after which Sergey Glinka,[90] +‘the officer,’ with a voice of the year 1812, deep and hoarse, recited +his poem which began: + + ‘_Humboldt—Prométhée de nos jours!_’ + +Whilst Humboldt wanted to talk about his observations on the magnetic +needle and to compare his meteorological records on the Urals with those +of Moscow, the rector came up to show him instead something plaited of +the imperial hair of Peter the Great ... and Ehrenberg and Rosa had +difficulty in finding a chance to tell him something about their +discoveries.[91] + +Things are not much better among us in the nonofficial world: ten years +ago Liszt was received in Moscow society in much the same way. Silly +enough things were done in his honour in Germany, but here it took quite +a different character. In Germany, it was all old-maidish exaltation, +sentimentality, all _Blumenstreuen_, while with us it was all servility, +homage paid to power, rigid standing at attention, with us it was all ‘I +have the honour to present myself to your Excellency.’ And in that case, +unfortunately, there was Liszt’s fame as a celebrated Lovelace to add to +it all. The ladies flocked round him, as peasant-boys at the cross-roads +flock round a traveller while his horses are being harnessed, +inquisitively examining himself, his carriage, his cap.... No one +listened to anybody but Liszt, no one spoke to anybody else, nor +answered anybody else. I remember that at one evening party, +Homyakov,[92] blushing for the honourable company, said to me, ‘Please +let us argue about something, that Liszt may see that there are people +in the room not exclusively occupied with him.’ For the consolation of +our ladies I can only say one thing, that in just the same way +Englishwomen dashed about, crowded round, pestered and obstructed other +celebrities such as Kossuth and afterwards Garibaldi. But alas for those +who want to learn good manners from Englishwomen and their husbands! + +Our second ‘famous’ visitor was also in a certain sense ‘the Prometheus +of our day,’ only he stole the light not from Jupiter but from men. This +Prometheus, sung not by Glinka but by Pushkin himself, in his ‘Epistle +to Lucullus,’ was the Minister of Public Instruction, S. S. Uvarov. He +amazed us by the multitude of languages and the variety of subjects with +which he was acquainted; a veritable shopman in the stores of +enlightenment, he had committed to memory patterns of all the sciences, +samples or rather snippets of them. In the reign of Alexander, he wrote +Liberal brochures in French; later on, corresponded on Greek subjects +with Goethe in German. When he became Minister, he discoursed upon +Slavonic poetry of the fourth century, upon which Katchenovsky observed +to him that in those days our forefathers had enough to do to fight the +bears, let alone singing ballads about the gods of Samothrace and the +mercy of tyrants. He used to carry in his pocket, by way of a +testimonial, a letter from Goethe, in which the latter paid him an +extremely odd compliment, saying: ‘There is no need for you to apologise +for your style; you have succeeded in what I never can succeed in +doing—forgetting the German grammar.’ + +So this actual civil Pic-de-la-Mirandole[93] introduced a new kind of +torture. He ordered that the best students should be selected to deliver +a lecture, each on his own subject, instead of the professor. The deans, +of course, selected the liveliest. + +These lectures went on for a whole week. The students had to prepare in +all the subjects of their course, and the deans picked out the student’s +name and the subject by lot. Uvarov invited all the distinguished people +of Moscow. Archimandrites and senators, the Governor-General and Ivan +Ivanovitch Dmitriev—all were present. + +I had to lecture on mineralogy in Lovetsky’s place—and already he is +dead! + + ‘Where’s our old comrade Langeron! + Where’s our old comrade Benigsen! + You, too, are nowhere to be seen, + And you, too, might have never been!’ + +Alexey Leontyevitch Lovetsky was a tall, roughly-hewn, heavily-moving +man with a big mouth and a large face, entirely devoid of expression. +Removing in the corridor his pea-green overcoat adorned with a number of +collars of varying size, such as were worn during the First Consulate, +he would begin, before entering the lecture-room, in an even, +passionless voice (which was in perfect keeping with his stony subject): +‘We concluded in the last lecture all that is necessary concerning the +Siliceous Rocks.’ Then he would sit down and go on: ‘The Argillaceous +Rocks....’ He had created an invariable system for formulating the +qualities of each mineral, from which he never departed; so that it +sometimes happened that the characteristics were entered in the +negative: + +‘Crystallisation—does not crystallise. + +‘Employment—is not employed for any purpose. + +‘Use—injurious to the organism....’ + +He did not, however, avoid poetry, nor moral reflections, and every time +he showed us artificial stones and told us how they were made, he added: +‘Gentlemen, it’s a fraud!’ In dealing with husbandry, he found moral +qualities in a good cock if he ‘crowed well and was attentive to the +hens,’ and a distinct virtue in an aristocratic ram if he had ‘bald +knees.’ He would also tell us touching tales in which flies describe how +on a fine summer evening they walked about a tree and were covered with +resin which turned into amber, and he always added: ‘That, gentlemen, is +prosopopeia!’ + +When the dean summoned me, the audience was rather exhausted; two +mathematical lectures had reduced the listeners, who did not understand +a single word, to apathy and depression. Uvarov asked for something a +little livelier and for a student with a ‘well-balanced tongue.’ +Shtchepkin pointed to me. + +I mounted the platform. Lovetsky was sitting near, motionless, with his +arms on his knees like a Memnon or Osiris, and was looking uneasy. I +whispered to him, ‘What luck that I have to lecture in your room. I +won’t give you away.’ + +‘Don’t boast when you are going into action,’ the worthy professor +responded, scarcely moving his lips and not looking at me. I almost +burst out laughing; but when I looked before me, there was a mist before +my eyes, I felt that I was turning pale and there was a sort of dryness +on my tongue. I had never spoken in public before, the lecture-room was +full of students—they relied upon me; at the table below were the +‘mighty of this world’ and all the professors of our section. I picked +up the question and read in an unnatural voice, ‘Crystallisation, its +conditions, laws and forms.’ + +While I was thinking how to begin, the happy thought occurred to me that +if I made a mistake, the professors might notice it, but they would not +say a word, while the rest of the audience knew nothing about the +subject themselves, and the students would be satisfied so long as I did +not break down in the middle, because I was a favourite. And so in the +name of Haüy, Werner, and Mitscherlich, I delivered my first lecture, +concluding it with philosophic reflections, and all the time addressing +myself to the students and not to the Minister. The students and the +professors shook hands with me and thanked me. Uvarov led me off to be +introduced to Prince Golitsyn and the latter said something, of which I +could catch nothing but the vowel sounds. Uvarov promised me a book in +honour of the occasion, but never sent it. + +The second and third occasions of my appearance in public were very +different. In 1836 I played the part of ‘Ugar’ in the old Russian farce, +while the wife of the colonel of gendarmes was ‘Marfa,’ before all the +_beau-monde_ of Vyatka, including Tyufyaev. We had been rehearsing for a +month, but yet my heart beat violently and my hands trembled, when a +deathly silence followed the overture and the curtain began rising with +a sort of horrid shudder; Marfa and I were waiting behind the scenes. +She was so sorry for me, or else so afraid that I should spoil the +performance, that she gave me an immense glass of champagne, but even +with that I was half dead. + +After making my début under the auspices of a Minister of Education and +a colonel of gendarmes, I appeared without any nervousness or +self-conscious shyness at a Polish meeting in London and that was my +third public appearance. The place of the Minister Uvarov was on that +occasion filled by the ex-Minister, Ledru-Rollin.[94] + +But is not this enough of student reminiscences? I am afraid it may be a +sign of senility to linger so long over them; I will only add a few +details concerning the cholera of 1831. + +Cholera—the word so familiar now in Europe and so thoroughly at home in +Russia that a patriotic poet calls the cholera the one faithful ally of +Nicholas—was heard then for the first time in the North. Every one +trembled before the terrible plague that was moving up the Volga towards +Moscow. Exaggerated rumours filled the imagination with horror. The +disease advanced capriciously, halting, skipping over places, and it +seemed to have missed Moscow, when suddenly the terrible news, ‘The +cholera is in Moscow!’ was all over the city. + +In the morning a student in the political section felt ill, next day he +died in the university hospital. We rushed to look at his body. He was +emaciated, as though after a long illness, the eyes were sunk, the +features were distorted, beside him lay a porter, who had been taken ill +in the night. + +We were informed that the university was to be closed. This order was +read to our section by the professor of technology, Denisov; he was +melancholy, perhaps frightened. Next morning he too died. + +We assembled together from all sections in the big university courtyard; +there was something touching in this crowd of young people bidden to +disperse before the plague. Their faces were pale and particularly full +of feeling; many were thinking of friends and relations. We said +good-bye to the government scholars, who had been separated from us by +quarantine measures, and were being distributed in small numbers in +different houses. And at home we were all met by the stench of chloride +of lime, vinegar—and a diet such as might well have laid a man up, apart +from chloride and cholera. + +Strange to say those gloomy days have remained as it were a time of +ceremonial solemnity in my memory. + +Moscow assumed quite a different aspect. The public activities, unknown +at ordinary times, gave it a new life. There were fewer carriages in the +streets, and gloomy crowds of people stood at the cross-roads and talked +about poisoners. The conveyances that were taking the sick moved at a +walking pace, escorted by police; people drew aside from black hearses +with the dead. Bulletins concerning the disease were printed twice a +day. The town was surrounded by a cordon as in time of war, and the +soldiers shot a poor sacristan who was making his way across the river. +All this absorbed men’s minds, terror of the plague ousted terror of the +authorities; the people murmured, and then there came one piece of news +upon another, that so-and-so had been taken ill, that so-and-so had +died.... + +The Metropolitan, Filaret, arranged a universal service of prayer. On +the same day and at the same hour, all the priests made the round of +their parishes in procession with banners. The terrified inhabitants +came out of their houses and fell on their knees, as the procession +passed, praying with tears for the remission of sins. Even the priests, +accustomed to address God on intimate terms, were grave and moved. Some +of them went to the Kremlin. There in the open air, surrounded by the +higher clergy, knelt the Metropolitan praying that this cup might pass +away. On the same spot six years before, he had held a thanksgiving for +the hanging of the Decembrists. + +Filaret was by way of being a high priest in opposition; on behalf of +what he was in opposition, I never could make out. Perhaps on behalf of +his own personality. He was an intelligent and learned man, and a master +of the Russian language, successfully introducing Church Slavonic into +it; but all this gave him no ground for opposition. The common people +did not like him and called him a freemason, because he was closely +associated with Prince A. N. Golitsyn and was preaching in Petersburg in +the palmy days of the Bible Society. The Synod forbade his catechism +being used in teaching. The clergy under his sway went in terror of his +despotism; possibly it was as rivals that Nicholas and he hated each +other. + +Filaret was very clever and ingenious in humiliating the temporal power; +in his sermons there was the light of that vague Christian socialism for +which Lacordaire and other far-sighted Catholics were distinguished. +From his exalted ecclesiastical tribune, Filaret declared that a man can +never lawfully be the tool of another, that there can be nothing between +men but an exchange of services, and this, he said, in a state in which +half the population were slaves. + +He said to the fettered convicts in the forwarding prison on the Sparrow +Hills: ‘The civil law has condemned you and drives you away, but the +Church hastens after you, longing to say one more word, one more prayer +for you and to give you her blessing on your journey.’ Then comforting +them, he added ‘that they, condemned convicts, had broken with their +past, that a new life lay before them, while among others (probably +there were no others except officials present) there were far greater +criminals,’ and he quoted the example of the robber at Christ’s side. + +Filaret’s sermon at the service on the occasion of the cholera surpassed +all his other efforts; he took as his text how the angel offered David +the choice of war, famine or plague as a punishment; David chose plague. +The Tsar came to Moscow furious, sent the Court Minister, Prince +Volkonsky, to give Filaret a good ‘dressing down’ and threatened to send +him to be Metropolitan in Georgia. The Metropolitan meekly submitted and +sent a new message to all the churches, in which he explained that they +would be wrong to look in the text of his first sermon for an +application to their beloved Emperor, that by David was meant ourselves +defiled by sin. Of course, this made the first sermon intelligible even +to those who had not grasped its meaning at first. + +This was how the Metropolitan of Moscow played at opposition. + +The service had as little effect on the cholera as the chloride of lime; +the disease spread further and further. + +I was in Paris during the severest visitation of cholera in 1849. The +plague was terrible. The hot days of June helped to spread it: the poor +died like flies, the tradespeople fled from Paris while others sat +behind locked doors. The government, exclusively occupied with its +struggles against the revolutionaries, did not think of taking active +measures. The scanty collections raised for relief were insufficient for +the emergency. The poor working people were left abandoned to the +caprice of destiny, the hospitals had not beds enough, the police had +not coffins enough, and in the houses, packed to overflowing with +families, the bodies remained two or three days in inner rooms. In +Moscow it was not like that. + +Prince D. V. Golitsyn, at that time governor-general, a weak but +honourable man, cultured and much respected, aroused the enthusiasm of +Moscow society, and somehow everything was arranged in a private way, +that is, without the special interference of government. A committee was +formed of citizens of standing—wealthy landowners and merchants. Every +member undertook one quarter of Moscow. Within a few days twenty +hospitals had been opened; they did not cost the government a farthing, +everything was done by subscription. Shopkeepers gave gratis everything +needed for the hospitals, bedclothes, linen, and warm clothing for the +patients on recovery. Young men volunteered as superintendents of the +hospitals to ensure that half of these contributions should not be +stolen by the attendants. + +The university did its full share. The whole medical faculty, students +and doctors _en masse_, put themselves at the disposal of the cholera +committee; they were assigned to the different hospitals and remained +there until the cholera was over. For three or four months these +admirable young men lived in the hospitals as orderlies, assistants, +nurses, secretaries, and all this without any remuneration and at a time +when there was such an exaggerated fear of the infection. I remember one +student, a Little Russian, who at the very beginning of the cholera had +asked for leave of absence on account of important family affairs. Leave +is rarely given in term-time, but at last he obtained it; just as he was +about to set off, the students went to the hospitals. The Little Russian +put his leave in his pocket and went with them. When he came out of the +hospital his leave was long overdue and he was the first to laugh over +his trip. + +Moscow, apparently so drowsy and apathetic, so absorbed in scandal and +piety, weddings, and nothing at all, always wakes up when it is +necessary, and is equal to the occasion when the storm breaks over +Russia. + +In 1612 she was joined in blood-stained nuptials with Russia, and their +union was welded in fire in 1812. + +She bowed her head before Peter because the future of Russia lay in his +brutal clutch. But with murmurs and disdain Moscow received within her +walls the woman stained with her husband’s blood, that impenitent Lady +Macbeth, that Lucretia Borgia without her Italian blood, the Russian +Empress of German birth[95]—and scowling and pouting, she quietly +withdrew from Moscow. + +Scowling and pouting, Napoleon waited for the keys of Moscow at the +Dragomilovsky Gate, impatiently playing with his cigar-holder and +tugging at his glove. He was not accustomed to enter foreign towns +unescorted. + +‘But my Moscow came not forth,’ as Pushkin says; but set fire to +herself. + +The cholera came and again the people’s city showed itself full of heart +and energy! + +In August 1830, we went to Vassilyevskoe, stopped, as we always did, at +the Radcliffian[96] castle of Perhushkovo, and, after feeding ourselves +and our horses, were preparing to continue our journey. Bakay, with a +towel round his waist like a belt, had already shouted: ‘Off!’ when a +man galloped up on horseback, signalling to us to stop, and one of the +Senator’s postillions, covered with dust and sweat, leapt off his horse +and handed my father an envelope. In the envelope was the news of the +Revolution of July! There were two pages of the _Journal des Débats_ +which he had brought with a letter; I read them over a hundred times and +got to know them by heart, and for the first time I was bored in the +country. + +It was a glorious time, events came quickly. Scarcely had the meagre +figure of Charles X. had time to disappear behind the mists of Holyrood, +when Belgium flared up, the throne of the Citizen King tottered, and a +warm revolutionary spirit began to be apparent in debates and +literature. Novels, plays, poems, all once more became propaganda and +conflict. + +At that time we knew nothing of the artificial stage-setting of the +revolution in France, and we took it all for the genuine thing. + +Any one who cares to see how strongly the news of the revolution of July +affected the younger generation should read Heine’s description of how +he heard in Heligoland ‘that the great Pan of the Pagans is dead.’ There +was no sham ardour there, Heine at thirty was as enthusiastic, as +childishly excited, as we were at eighteen. + +We followed step by step every word, every event, the bold questions and +abrupt answers, the doings of General Lafayette, and the doings of +General Lamarque; we not only knew every detail concerning them but +loved all the leading men (the Radical ones, of course) and kept their +portraits, from Manuel[97] and Benjamin Constant to Dupont de l’Eure[98] +and Armand Carrel.[99] + +In the midst of this ferment all at once, like a bomb exploding close +by, the news of the rising in Warsaw overwhelmed us. This was not far +away, this was at home, and we looked at each other with tears in our +eyes, repeating our favourite line: + + ‘Nein! es sind keine leere Träume!’ + +We rejoiced at every defeat of Dibitch; refused to believe in the +failures of the Poles, and I at once added to my shrine the portrait of +Thaddeus Kosciuszko. + +It was just then that I saw Nicholas for the second time and his face +was still more strongly imprinted on my memory. The nobles were giving a +ball in his honour. I was in the gallery of the Assembly Hall and could +stare at him to my heart’s content. He had not yet begun to wear a +moustache. His face was still young, but the change in it since the time +of the Coronation struck me. He stood morosely by a column, staring +coldly and grimly before him, without looking at any one. He had grown +thinner. In those features, in those pewtery eyes one could read the +fate of Poland and indeed of Russia also. He was shaken, frightened, he +doubted[100] the security of his throne and was ready to revenge himself +for what he had suffered, for his fear and his doubts. + +With the pacification of Poland all the restrained malignancy of the man +was let loose. Soon we, too, felt it. + +The network of espionage cast about the university from the beginning of +the reign began to be drawn tighter. In 1832 a Pole who was a student in +our section was a victim. Sent to the university as a government +scholar, not at his own initiative, he had been put in our course; we +made friends with him; he was discreet and melancholy in his behaviour, +we never heard a rash word from him, but we never heard a word of +weakness either. One morning he was missing from the lectures, next day +he was missing still. We began to make inquiries; the government +scholars told us in secret that he had been fetched away at night, that +he had been summoned before the authorities, and then people had come +for his papers and belongings and had told them not to speak of it. +There the matter ended, _we never heard anything of the fate of this +luckless young man_.[102] + +A few months passed when suddenly there was a report in the lecture-room +that several students had been seized in the night; among them were +Kostenetsky, Kolreif, Antonovitch and others; we knew them well, they +were all excellent fellows. Kolreif, the son of a Protestant pastor, was +an extremely gifted musician. A court martial was appointed to try them; +this meant in plain language that they were doomed to perish. We were +all in a fever of suspense to know what would happen to them, but from +the first they too vanished without trace. The storm that was crushing +the rising blades of corn was everywhere. We no longer had a foreboding +of its approach, we felt it, we saw it, and we huddled closer and closer +together. + +The danger strung up our tense nerves, made our hearts beat faster and +made us love each other with greater devotion. There were five of us at +first and now we met Vadim Passek. + +In Vadim there was a great deal that was new to us. We had all with +slight variations had a similar bringing up, that is, we knew nothing +but Moscow and our country estates, we had all learned out of the same +books, had lessons from the same tutors, and been educated at home or at +a boarding-school preparatory for the university. Vadim had been born in +Siberia during his father’s exile, in the midst of want and privation. +His father had been himself his teacher. He had grown up in a large +family of brothers and sisters, under a crushing weight of poverty but +in complete freedom. Siberia had put its imprint on him, which was quite +unlike our provincial stamp; he was far from being so vulgar and petty, +he was distinguished by more sturdiness and a tougher fibre. Vadim was a +savage in comparison with us. His daring was of another kind, unlike +ours, more that of the _bogatyr_, and sometimes conceited; the +aristocracy of misfortune had developed a peculiar self-respect in him; +but he knew how to love others too, and gave himself to them without +stint. He was bold—even reckless to excess—a man born in Siberia, and in +an exiled family too, has an advantage over us in not being afraid of +Siberia. + +Vadim from family tradition hated the autocracy with his whole soul, and +he took us to his heart as soon as we met. We made friends very quickly. +Though, indeed, at that time, there was neither ceremony nor reasonable +precaution, nothing like it, to be seen in our circle. + +‘Would you like to make the acquaintance of Ketscher, of whom you have +heard so much?’ Vadim said to me. + +‘I certainly should.’ + +‘Come to-morrow, then, at seven o’clock; don’t be late, he’ll be with +me.’ + +I went—Vadim was not at home. A tall man with an expressive face and a +good-naturedly menacing look behind his spectacles was waiting for him. +I took up a book, he took up a book. ‘But perhaps you,’ he said as he +opened it, ‘perhaps you are Herzen?’ + +‘Yes; and you Ketscher?’ + +A conversation began and grew more and more eager.... + +And from that minute (which may have been about the end of 1831) we were +inseparable friends; from that minute the anger and sweetness, the laugh +and shout of Ketscher have resounded at all the stages, in all the +incidents of our life. + +Our meeting with Vadim introduced a new element into our fraternity. + +We met as before most frequently at Ogaryov’s. His invalid father had +gone to live on his estate in Penza. Ogaryov lived alone on the lowest +storey of their house at the Nikitsky Gate. This was not far from the +University, and all were particularly attracted there. Ogaryov had that +magnetic attraction which forms the first thread of crystallisation in +every mass of casually meeting atoms, if only they have some affinity. +Wherever such men are flung down, they imperceptibly become the heart of +the organism. + +But besides his bright, cheerful room, furnished with red and gold +striped hangings, always haunted by the smoke of cigars and the smell of +punch and other—I was going to say—edibles and beverages, but I stopped, +because there rarely were any edibles except cheese—well, besides +Ogaryov’s ultra-student-like abode where we argued for nights together, +and sometimes caroused for nights also, another house, in which almost +for the first time we learnt to respect family life, became more and +more our favourite resort. + +Vadim often left our conversations and went off home; he missed his +mother and sisters if he did not see them for long together. To us who +lived heart and soul in comradeship, it was strange that he could prefer +his family to our company. + +He introduced us to it. In that family everything bore traces of the +Tsar’s _persecution_; only yesterday it had come from Siberia, it was +ruined, harassed, and at the same time full of that dignity which +misfortune lays, not upon every sufferer, but on the faces of those who +have known how to bear it. + +Their father had been seized in the reign of Paul in consequence of some +political treachery, flung into the Schlüsselburg and exiled to Siberia. +Alexander brought back thousands of those exiled by his insane father, +but Passek was forgotten. He was the nephew of that Passek who took part +in the murder of Peter III., and who was afterwards governor-general in +the Polish provinces, and he might have claimed part of an inheritance +which had already passed into other hands, and it was those ‘other +hands’ which kept him in Siberia. + +While in the Schlüsselburg Passek married the daughter of one of the +officers in the garrison there. The young girl knew that things would go +hard with her, but she was not deterred by fear of exile. At first they +struggled on somehow in Siberia, selling the last of their belongings, +but their poverty grew more and more terrible, and the more rapidly so +as their family increased. Weighed down by privation, by hard work, +deprived of warm clothing and at times even of bread, they yet succeeded +in coming through and in bringing up a whole family of young lions; the +father transmitted to them his proud, indomitable spirit and faith in +himself, the secret of fortitude in misfortune; he educated them by his +example, the mother by her self-sacrifice and bitter tears. The sisters +were in no way inferior to the brothers in heroic fortitude. Yes—why be +afraid of words—they were a family of heroes. What they had all borne +for one another, what they had done for the family was incredible, and +always with head erect, not in the least crushed. + +In Siberia the three sisters had only one pair of shoes; they used to +keep them for going on walks, that strangers might not see the extremity +of their need. + +At the beginning of 1826 Passek received permission to return to Russia. +It was winter, and it was no easy matter to move with such a family, +without fur coats, without money, from the province of Tobolsk, while on +the other hand the heart yearned for Russia: exile is more than ever +insufferable after it is over. Our martyrs struggled back somehow; a +peasant woman, who had nursed one of the children during the mother’s +illness, brought her hard-earned savings to help them on the way, asking +only that they would take her too; the drivers brought them to the +Russian frontier for a trifle, or for nothing; some of the family walked +while others were driven, and the young people took turns; so they made +the long winter journey from the Urals to Moscow. Moscow was the dream +of the young ones, their hope—and there hunger awaited them. + +While forgiving Passek, the government never thought of returning him +some part of his property. Exhausted by his efforts and privations, the +old man took to his bed; they knew not where to find bread for the +morrow. + +At that moment Nicholas celebrated his coronation, banquet followed upon +banquet, Moscow was like a heavily decorated ballroom, everywhere +lights, shields, and gay attire.... The two elder sisters, without +consulting any one, wrote a petition to Nicholas, describing the +position of the family, and begged him to inquire into the case and +restore their property. They left the house secretly in the morning and +went to the Kremlin, squeezing their way to the front, and awaited the +Tsar, ‘crowned and exalted on high.’ When Nicholas came down the steps +of the red staircase, the two girls quietly stepped forward and offered +the petition. He passed by, pretending not to see them; an aide-de-camp +took the paper and the police led them away. + +Nicholas was about thirty at the time and already was capable of such +heartlessness. This coldness, this caution is characteristic of little +commonplace natures, cashiers, and petty clerks. I have often noticed +this unyielding firmness of character in postal officials, salesmen of +theatre and railway tickets, and people who are continually bothered and +interrupted at every minute. They learn not to see a man, though he is +standing by. But how did this autocratic clerk train himself not to see, +and what need had he not to be a minute late for a function? + +The girls were kept in custody until evening. Frightened and insulted, +they besought the police superintendent to let them go home, where their +absence must have upset the whole family. Nothing was done about the +petition. + +The father could endure no more, his sufferings had been too great; he +died. The children were left with their mother, struggling on from day +to day. The greater the need, the harder the sons worked; all three +finished their university course brilliantly and took their degrees. The +two elder ones went off to Petersburg; there, being excellent +mathematicians, they gave lessons in addition to their work in the +service (one in the Admiralty and the other in the Engineers) and, +denying themselves everything, sent the money they earned home to the +family. + +I vividly remember the old mother in her dark gown and white cap; her +thin, pale face was covered with wrinkles, she looked far older than she +was, only her eyes retained something of her youth; so much gentleness, +love, anxiety, and so many past tears could be seen in them. She adored +her children; she was rich, famous, young in them; with deep and devout +feeling she spoke of them in her weak voice, which sometimes broke and +quivered with suppressed tears. + +When they were all gathered together in Moscow and sitting round their +simple repast, the old woman was beside herself with joy; she walked +round the table, looked after their wants, and, suddenly stopping, would +gaze at all her young people with such pride, with such happiness, and +then lift her eyes to me as though asking: ‘They really are fine, aren’t +they?’ At such times I longed to throw myself on her neck and kiss her +hands; and, moreover, they really were all of them very handsome, too. + +She was happy then, why did she not die at one of those dinners?... + +In two years, she had lost the three elder sons. One died, gloriously, +his heroism acknowledged by his enemies in the midst of victory and +glory, though it was not for his own cause he sacrificed his life. He +was the young general killed by the Circassians at Dargo. Laurels do not +heal a mother’s grief.... The others did not have so happy an end; the +hardness of Russian life weighed upon them, weighed upon them till it +crushed them. Poor mother! and poor Russia! + +Vadim died in February 1843. I was with him at the end, and for the +first time looked upon the death of a man dear to me, and at the same +time death in its full horror, in all its meaningless fortuitousness, in +all its blind, immoral injustice. + +Ten years before his death Vadim married my cousin[103] and I was best +man at his wedding. Married life and the change in his habits parted us +somewhat. He was happy in his private life, but unfortunate in his +outward circumstances, and unsuccessful in his undertakings. Not long +before our arrest, he went to Harkov, where he had been promised a +lecturer’s chair at the university. His going there saved him indeed +from prison, but his name was not forgotten by the police. Vadim was +refused the post. The assistant-director admitted to him that they had +received a document by which they were forbidden to give him the chair, +on account of connections with evilly-disposed persons of which the +government had obtained knowledge. + +Vadim was left without a post, that is, without bread—that was his +Vyatka. + +We were exiled. Relations with us were dangerous. Black years of poverty +followed for him; in seven years of struggle to get a bare living, in +mortifying contact with coarse and heartless people, far from friends +and from all possibility of corresponding with them, his health gave +way. + +‘Once we had spent all our money to the last farthing,’ his wife told me +afterwards; ‘on the previous evening I had tried to get hold of ten +roubles somehow, but had not succeeded. I had already borrowed from +every one from whom it was possible to borrow a little. In the shops +they refused to give us provisions except for cash, we thought of +nothing but what would the children have to eat next day. Vadim sat +gloomily by the window, then he got up, took his hat and said he would +like a walk. I saw that he was very much depressed; I felt frightened, +but still I was glad that he should distract his mind a little. When he +was gone I flung myself on the bed and wept very bitterly, then I began +thinking what to do—everything we had of the slightest value, our rings +and our spoons, had long ago been pawned; I saw no resource left but to +apply to my people and beg their bitter, cold assistance. Meanwhile +Vadim wandered aimlessly about the streets and so reached Petrovsky +Boulevard. As he passed by Shiryaev’s shop it occurred to him to inquire +whether the bookseller had sold even one copy of his book; he had been +in the shop five days before, but had found nothing for him; he walked +despondently into the shop. + +‘Very glad to see you,’ Shiryaev said to him, ‘there is a letter from +our Petersburg agent, he has sold three hundred roubles’ worth of your +book; would you like to have the money?’ And Shiryaev counted him out +fifteen gold roubles. Vadim lost his head in his delight, rushed into +the first restaurant for provisions, bought a bottle of wine and fruit +and dashed home in a cab in triumph. At the moment I was watering the +remainder of some broth for the children, and was meaning to put a +little aside for him and to assure him that I had already had some, when +he suddenly came in with the parcel and the bottle, gay and joyous.’ And +she sobbed and could not utter another word. + +After my exile I met him casually in Petersburg and found him very much +changed. He kept his convictions, but he kept them like a warrior who +will not let the sword drop out of his hand, though he feels that he is +wounded to death. He was by then exhausted and looked coldly into the +future. So, too, I found him in Moscow in 1842, his circumstances had +somewhat improved, his work had begun to be appreciated; but all this +came too late—it was like the epaulettes of Polezhaev or the release of +Kolreif—granted not by the Russian Tsar but by Russian life. + +Vadim was wasting away; in the autumn of 1842 tuberculosis was +discovered, that terrible disease which I was destined to see once +again. + +A month before his death I began to notice with horror that his mental +faculties were growing dimmer and weaker, like candles smouldering out +and leaving the room darker and gloomier. Soon it was with difficulty +and effort that he could find the words for incoherent speech, then he +scarcely spoke at all and only inquired anxiously for his medicines and +whether it was not time to take them. + +At three o’clock one night in February, Vadim’s wife sent for me; the +sick man was very bad, he had asked for me. I went in to him and gently +took his hand, his wife mentioned my name; he gazed long and wearily at +me but did not recognise me and closed his eyes. The children were +brought in; he looked at them but I think did not recognise them either. +His moaning became more painful, he would subside for minutes and then +suddenly give a prolonged sigh and groan; then a bell pealed in a +neighbouring church, Vadim listened and said, ‘That’s matins,’ after +that he did not utter another word.... His wife knelt sobbing by the +dead man’s bedside; a good, kind lad, one of their university comrades, +who had been looking after him of late, bustled about, moving back the +medicine table, raising the curtains.... I went away—it was bright and +frosty, the rising sun shone brilliantly on the snow as though something +good had happened; I went to order the coffin. + +When I went back a deathlike stillness reigned in the little house, the +dead man in accordance with Russian custom lay on a table in the +drawing-room, at a little distance from it sat his friend, the artist +Rabus, making a pencil sketch of him through his tears; beside the dead +man stood a tall woman with silently folded arms and an expression of +infinite sorrow; no artist could have moulded a nobler and finer figure +of grief. The woman was not young, but retained traces of a stern, +majestic beauty; she stood motionless, wrapped in a long black velvet +cloak lined with ermine fur. + +I stopped in the doorway. + +Two or three minutes passed in the same stillness, when all at once she +bent down, warmly kissed the dead man on the forehead, and said, +‘Farewell! farewell, friend Vadim,’ and with resolute steps walked into +the inner rooms. Rabus went on drawing, he nodded to me, we had no +inclination to speak. I sat down by the window in silence. + +That woman was Madame E. Tchertkov, the sister of Count Zahar +Tchernyshev, exiled for the Fourteenth of December. + +The Simonovsky archimandrite, Melhisedek, of his own accord offered a +grave within the precincts of his monastery. Melhisedek had once been a +humble carpenter and a desperate dissenter, had afterwards gone back to +orthodoxy, become a monk, been made Father Superior and afterwards +archimandrite. With all that, he remained a carpenter, that is, he kept +his heart and his broad shoulders and his red, healthy face. He knew +Vadim and respected him for his historical researches concerning Moscow. + +When the dead man’s body arrived before the monastery gates, they were +opened and Melhisedek came out with all the monks to meet the martyr’s +poor coffin with soft, mournful chanting, and to follow it to the grave. +Not far from Vadim’s grave lie the ashes of another dear friend, +Venevitinov,[104] with the inscription ‘How well he knew life, how +little he lived!’ How well Vadim, too, knew life! + +This was not enough for fate. Why did the old mother live so long? She +had seen the end of their exile, had seen her children in all the beauty +of their youth, in all the brilliance of their talent, what more had she +to live for! Who prizes happiness should seek an early death. Happiness +that lasts is no more to be found than ice which never melts. + +Vadim’s eldest brother died a few months after the second, Diomid, had +been killed; he caught cold, neglected his illness, and his undermined +organism succumbed. He was barely forty and he was the eldest. + +These three graves of three friends cast long dark shadows over the +past; the last months of my youth are seen through funeral crape and the +smoke of incense.... + +A year passed, the trial of my university comrades was over. They were +found guilty (just as we were later on, and later still the Petrashevsky +group[105]) of a design to form a secret society, and of criminal +conversations; for this they were sent as common soldiers to Orenburg. +Nicholas made an exception of one of them, Sungurov. He had completed +his studies and was in the service, married and had children. He was +condemned to deprivation of rights of property and exile to Siberia. + +‘What could a handful of young students do, they ruined themselves for +nothing!’ All that is very sensible, and people who argue in that way +ought to be gratified at the _good sense_ of the young generation that +followed us. After our affair which followed that of Sungurov, fifteen +years passed in tranquillity before the Petrashevsky affair, and it was +those fifteen years from which Russia is only just beginning to recover +and by which two generations were ruined, the elder lost in debauchery, +and the younger, poisoned from childhood, whose sickly representatives +we are seeing to-day. + +After the Decembrists, all attempts to form societies were, indeed, +unsuccessful; the scantiness of our forces and the vagueness of our aims +pointed to the necessity for another kind of work—preparatory, +spiritual. All that is true. + +But what would young men be made of who could wait for solutions to +theoretical problems while calmly looking on at what was being done +around them, at the hundreds of Poles clanking their fetters on the +Vladimir Road, at serfdom, at the soldiers flogged in the Hodynsky Field +by some General Lashkevitch, at fellow-students lost and never heard of +again? For the moral purification of the generation, as a pledge of the +future, they were bound to be so indignant as to be senseless in their +attempts and disdainful of danger. The savage punishments inflicted on +boys of sixteen or seventeen served as a terrible lesson and in a way a +hardening process; the cruel blows aimed at every one of us by a +heartless monster dispelled for good all rosy hopes of indulgence for +youth. It was dangerous to jest with Liberalism, and no one could dream +of playing at conspiracy. For one carelessly concealed tear over Poland, +for one boldly uttered word, there were years of exile, of the white +strap,[106] and sometimes even of the fortress; that was why it was +important that those words were uttered and that those tears were shed. +Young people perished sometimes, but they perished without checking the +mental activity that was solving the sphinx riddle of Russian life, +indeed they even justified its hope. + +Our turn came now. Our names were already on the list of the secret +police. The first play of the light-blue cat with the mouse began as +follows. + +When our condemned comrades were being sent off to Orenburg by étape, on +foot without sufficient warm clothing, Ogaryov in our circle, I. +Kireyevsky in his, got up subscriptions. All the condemned men were +without money. Kireyevsky brought the money collected to the commander, +Staal, a good-natured old man of whom I shall have more to say later. +Staal promised to give the money and asked Kireyevsky, ‘But what are +these lists for?’ ‘The names of those who subscribed,’ answered +Kireyevsky, ‘and the amounts.’ ‘You do believe that I will give them the +money?’ asked the old man. ‘Of course.’ ‘And I imagine that those who +have given it to you trust you. And so what is the use of our keeping +their names?’ With these words Staal threw the lists into the fire, and, +of course, he did very well. + +Ogaryov himself took the money to the barracks, and this went off +without a hitch, but the prisoners took it into their heads to send +their thanks from Orenburg to their comrades, and, as a government +official was going to Moscow, they seized the opportunity and asked him +to take a letter, which they were afraid to trust to the post. The +official did not fail to take advantage of this rare chance for proving +all the ardour of his loyal sentiments and presented the letter to the +general of gendarmes in Moscow. + +The general of gendarmes at this time was Lissovsky, who was appointed +to the post when A. A. Volkov went out of his mind imagining that the +Poles wanted to offer him the crown of Poland (an ironical trick of +destiny to send a general of gendarmes mad over the crown of the +Jagellons![107]). + +Lissovsky, himself a Pole, was neither spiteful nor ill-disposed: having +wasted his property over cards and a French actress, he philosophically +preferred the place of general of gendarmes in Moscow to a place in the +debtors’ prison of the same city. + +Lissovsky summoned Ogaryov, Ketscher, S. Vadim, I. Obolensky and others, +and charged them with being in relations with political criminals. On +Ogaryov’s observing that he had not written to any one, and that if any +one had written to him he could not be responsible for it, and that, +moreover, no letter had reached him, Lissovsky answered: ‘You got up a +subscription for them, _that’s still worse_. As it is the first offence +the Sovereign is _so merciful_ as to _pardon_ you; only I warn you, +gentlemen, a strict supervision will be kept over you; be careful.’ + +Lissovsky looked round at all with a significant glance, and his eyes +resting upon Ketscher, who was taller and a little older than the rest +and who raised his eyebrows so fiercely, he added: ‘You, my good sir, +ought to be ashamed in your position.’ It might have been supposed that +Ketscher was vice-chancellor of the Russian Heraldry Office, while as a +matter of fact he was only a humble district doctor. + +I was not sent for, probably my name was not in the letter. + +This threat was like a promotion, a consecration, a winning of our +spurs. Lissovsky’s advice threw oil on the fire, and as though to make +their future task easier for the police we put on velvet _bérets à la_ +Karl Sand[108] and tied tricolor scarves round our necks. + +Colonel Shubensky, who was quietly and softly with velvet steps creeping +into Lissovsky’s place, pounced upon his weakness with us; we were to +serve him for a step in his promotion—and we did so serve him. + +But first I will add a few words concerning the fate of Sungurov and his +companions. Nicholas let Kolreif return ten years later from Orenburg, +where his regiment was stationed. He pardoned him on the ground of his +being in consumption, just as, because he was in consumption, Polezhaev +was promoted to be an officer, and because he was dead Bestuzhev was +given a cross. Kolreif returned to Moscow and died in the arms of his +old, grief-stricken father. + +Kostenetsky distinguished himself in the Caucasus and was promoted to +the rank of an officer. It was the same with Antonovitch. The fate of +the luckless Sungurov was incomparably more dreadful. On reaching the +first étape on the Sparrow Hills, Sungurov asked leave from the officer +in charge to go out into the fresh air, as the hut, packed to +overflowing with exiles, was suffocating. The officer, a young man of +twenty, went out himself into the road with him. Sungurov, choosing a +favourable moment, turned off the road and disappeared. Probably he knew +the locality well. He succeeded in getting away from the officer, but +next day the gendarmes got on his track. When Sungurov saw that it was +impossible to escape, he cut his throat. The gendarmes took him to +Moscow unconscious and losing blood. + +The unfortunate officer was degraded to the ranks. + +Sungurov did not die. He was tried again, this time not as a political +prisoner, but as a runaway convict: half his head was shaved: it is an +original method (probably inherited from the Tatars) in use for +preventing escapes and it shows even more than corporal punishment the +complete contempt for human dignity of the Russian legislature. To this +external disgrace the sentence added one stroke of the lash within the +walls of the prison. Whether this sentence was carried out I do not +know. After that, Sungurov was sent to Nertchinsk to the mines. + +I heard his name pronounced once more and then it vanished for ever. + +In Vyatka I once met in the street a young doctor, a fellow-student at +the university, who was on his way to some post in a factory. We talked +of old days and common acquaintances. + +‘My God!’ said the doctor, ‘do you know whom I saw on my way here in the +Nizhni-Novgorod Province? I was sitting in the posting-station waiting +for horses. It was very nasty weather. An étape officer, in charge of a +party of convicts, came in to get warm. We got into conversation; +hearing that I was a doctor, he asked me to go to the étape to look at +one of the convicts and see whether he were shamming or really were +seriously ill. I went, of course, with the intention of declaring in any +case that the convict was ill. In the small étape there were eighty men +in chains, shaven and unshaven, women and children; they all moved apart +as the officer went up, and we saw, lying on straw in a corner on the +dirty floor, a figure wrapped in a convict’s greatcoat. + +‘“This is the invalid,” said the officer. + +‘I had no need to lie, the poor wretch was in a high fever; emaciated +and exhausted by prison and the journey, with half his head shaven and +his beard uncut, he looked terrible as he stared about aimlessly, and +continually asked for water. + +‘“Well, brother, are you very bad?” I said to the sick man, and added to +the officer: “it is impossible for him to go on.” + +‘The sick man fixed his eyes upon me and muttered “Is that you?”—he +mentioned my name. “You don’t know me?” he added in a voice which went +to my heart like a knife. + +‘“Forgive me,” I said, taking his dry and burning hand, “I can’t recall +you.” + +‘“I am Sungurov,” he answered. + +‘Poor Sungurov!’ repeated the doctor, shaking his head. + +‘Well, did they leave him?’ I asked. + +‘No, but they got a cart for him.’ + +After I had written this I learned that Sungurov died at Nertchinsk. His +property which consisted of two hundred and fifty souls in the +Bronnitsky district near Moscow, and four hundred souls in the Arzamas +district of the Nizhni-Novgorod Province, _went to pay for the keep of +him and his comrades in prison while awaiting trial_. + +His family was ruined; the first care of the authorities, however, was +to diminish it. _Sungurov’s wife was seized with her two children, and +spent six months_ in the Pretchistensky prison, and her baby died there. +May the rule of Nicholas be damned for ever and ever! Amen! + + + + + Chapter 7 + THE END OF MY STUDIES—THE SCHILLER PERIOD—EARLY YOUTH AND + BOHEMIANISM—SAINT-SIMONISM AND N. POLEVOY + + +Before the storm had broken over our heads my time at the university was +coming to an end. The ordinary anxieties, the nights without sleep spent +in trying to learn useless things by heart, the superficial study in a +hurry and the thought of the examination stifling all interest in +science—all that was as it always is. I wrote a dissertation on +astronomy for the gold medal, but only got the silver one. I am certain +that I am incapable of understanding now what I wrote then, and that it +was worth its weight—in silver. + +It sometimes happens to me to dream that I am a student going in for an +examination—I think with horror how much I have forgotten and feel that +I shall be plucked,—and I wake up rejoicing from the bottom of my heart +that the sea and passports, and years and crimes cut me off from the +university, that no one is going to torture me, and no one dare give me +a disgusting minimum. And, indeed, the professors would be surprised +that I should have gone so far back in so few years. One did, indeed, +express this to me.[109] + +After the final examination the professors shut themselves up to reckon +the marks, while we, excited by hopes and doubts, hung about the +corridors and entrance in little groups. Sometimes some one would come +out of the council-room. We rushed to learn our fate, but for a long +time it was not settled. At last Heiman came out. ‘I congratulate you,’ +he said to me, ‘you are a graduate.’ ‘Who else, who else?’ ‘So-and-so, +and So-and-so.’ I felt at once sad and gay; as I went out at the +university gates I thought that I should not go out at them again as I +had yesterday and every day; I was shut out of the university, of that +common home where I had spent four years, so youthfully and so well; on +the other hand I was comforted by the feeling of being accepted as +completely grown-up, and, why not admit it? by the title of graduate I +had gained all at once.[110] + +Alma Mater! I am so greatly indebted to the university, and lived in its +life and with it so long after I had finished my studies, that I cannot +think of it without love and respect. It cannot charge me with +ingratitude, though in relation with the university gratitude is easy, +it is inseparable from the love and bright memories of youth ... and I +send it my blessing from this far-off foreign land! + +The year we spent after taking our degrees made a glorious end to early +youth. It was one prolonged feast of friendship, exchange of ideas, +inspiration, carousing.... + +A little group of university friends who had succeeded in surviving did +not part, but went on living in their common sympathies and fancies, and +no one thought of his material prospects or future career. I should not +think well of this in men of mature age, but I prize it in the young. +Youth when it has not been sapped by the moral corruption of +petty-bourgeois ideas is everywhere impractical, and is especially bound +to be so in a young country which is full of such great strivings and +has attained so little. Moreover, to be impractical need not imply +anything false, everything turned toward the future is bound to have a +share of idealism. If it were not for the impractical characters, all +the practical people would remain at the same dull stage of perpetual +repetition. + +Some enthusiasm preserves a man from real degradation far more than all +the moral admonitions in the world. I remember youthful orgies, moments +of revelry that sometimes went beyond bounds, but I do not remember one +really immoral affair in our circle, nothing of which a man would have +to feel seriously ashamed, which he would try to forget and conceal. +Everything was done openly, and what is bad is rarely done openly. Half, +more than half, of the heart was turned away from idle sensuality and +morbid egoism, which concentrate on impure thoughts and accentuate vice. + +I consider it a great misfortune for a nation when their young +generation has no youth; we have already observed that being young is +not enough. The most grotesque period of German student life is a +hundred times better than the petty-bourgeois maturity of young men in +France and England. To my mind the elderly Americans of fifteen are +simply disgusting. + +In France there was at one time a brilliant aristocratic youth, and +later on a brilliant revolutionary youth. All the St. Justs[111] and +Hoches,[112] Marceaux and Desmoulins,[113] the heroic children who grew +up on the gloomy poetry of Jean-Jacques, were real youth. The Revolution +was the work of young men, neither Danton nor Robespierre nor Louis XVI. +himself outlived their thirty-fifth year. With Napoleon the young men +were turned into orderlies, with the Restoration, ‘the revival of old +age,’—youth was utterly incompatible—everything became mature, +businesslike, that is, petty-bourgeois. + +The last youths of France were the Saint-Simonists and the Fourierists. +The few exceptions cannot alter the prosaically dull character of French +youth. Escousse and Lebras[114] shot themselves because they were young +in a society of old men. Others struggled like fish thrown out of the +water on to the muddy bank, till some fell at the barricades, others +were caught in the Jesuit snares. + +But since youth asserts its rights, the greater number of young +Frenchmen work off their youth in a Bohemian period, that is, if they +have no money, live in little cafés with little grisettes in the +Quartier Latin, and in grand cafés with grand lorettes, if they have +money. Instead of a Schiller period, they have a Paul de Kock period; in +it, strength, energy, everything young is rapidly and rather wretchedly +wasted and the man is ready—for a _commis_ in a commercial house. The +Bohemian period leaves at the bottom of the soul one passion only—the +thirst for money, and the whole future is sacrificed to it, there are no +other interests; these practical people laugh at theoretical questions +and despise women (the result of numerous conquests over those whose +trade it is to be conquered). As a rule, the Bohemian period is passed +under the guidance of some worn-out sinner, of some faded celebrity, +_d’un vieux prostitué_, living at some one else’s expense, an actor who +has lost his voice, or a painter whose hands tremble, and he is the +model who is imitated in accent, in dress, and above all in a haughty +view of human affairs and a profound understanding of good fare. + +In England the Bohemian period is replaced by a paroxysm of charming +originalities and amiable eccentricities. For instance, senseless +tricks, absurd squandering of money, ponderous practical jokes, heavy, +but carefully concealed vice, profitless trips to Calabria or Quito, to +the North and to the South—with horses, dogs, races, and stuffy dinners +by the way, then a wife and an enormous number of fat and rosy babies; +business transactions, the _Times_, Parliament, and the old port which +weighs them to the earth. + +We played pranks too and we caroused, but the fundamental tone was not +the same, the diapason was too elevated. Mischief and dissipation never +became our goal. Our goal was faith in our vocation; supposing that we +were mistaken, still, believing it as a fact, we respected in ourselves +and in each other the instruments of the common cause. And in what did +our feasts and orgies consist? Suddenly it would occur to us that in +another two days it would be the sixth of December, St. Nikolay’s day. +The supply of Nikolays was terrific, Nikolay Ogaryov, Nikolay S——, +Nikolay Ketscher, Nikolay Sazonov.... + +‘I say, who is going to celebrate the name-day?’ + +‘I! I!...’ + +‘I will next day then.’ + +‘That’s all nonsense, what’s the good of next day? We will keep it in +common, by subscription! And what a feast it will be!’ + +‘Yes! yes! at whose rooms are we to assemble?’ + +‘S—— is ill, so it’s clear it must be at his.’ + +And so plans and calculations are made, and it is incredibly absorbing +for the future guests and hosts. One Nikolay drives off to Yar’s to +order supper, another to Materne’s for cheese and salami. Wine, of +course, is bought in Petrovka from Depré’s, on whose price-list Ogaryov +wrote the epigram: + + ‘De près ou de loin, + Mais je fournis toujours.’ + +Our inexperienced taste went no further than champagne, and was so young +that we sometimes even preferred _Rivesaltes mousseux_ to champagne. I +once saw the name on a wine-list in Paris, remembered 1833 and tried a +bottle, but, alas, even my memories did not help me to drink more than a +glass. + +Before the festive day, the wines would be tried, and so it would be +necessary to send a messenger for more, as it appeared they were liked. + +While we are on the subject, I cannot refrain from describing what +happened to Sokolovsky. He was perpetually without money and immediately +spent everything he received. A year before his arrest, he arrived in +Moscow and stayed with S——. He had, I remember, succeeded in selling the +manuscript of _Heveri_, and so resolved to give a feast not only for us +but also _pour les gros bonnets_, _i.e._ invited Polevoy, Maximovitch, +and others. On the morning of the previous day, he set out with +Polezhaev, who was at that time in Moscow with his regiment, to make +purchases, bought cups and even a samovar and all sorts of unnecessary +things and finally wines and eatables, that is, pasties, stuffed +turkeys, and soon. In the evening we arrived at S——’s. Sokolovsky +suggested uncorking one bottle, and then another, and by the end of the +evening, it appeared that there was no more wine and no more money. +Sokolovsky had spent everything he had left over after paying some small +debts. Sokolovsky was mortified, but controlled his feeling; he thought +and thought, then wrote to the _gros bonnets_ that he had been taken +seriously ill and was putting off the feast. + +For the celebration of the four name-days, I wrote out a complete +programme, which was deemed worthy of the special attention of the +inquisitor Golitsyn, who asked me at the committee whether the programme +had really been carried out. + +‘_À la lettre_,’ I replied. He shrugged his shoulders as though he had +spent his whole life in the Smolny Convent or keeping Good Friday. + +After supper as a rule a vital question, a question that aroused +controversy arose, _i.e._ how to prepare the punch. Other things were +usually eaten and drunk in good faith, like the voting in Parliament, +without dispute, but in this every one must have a hand and, moreover, +it was after supper.... ‘Light it—don’t light it yet—light it how?—put +it out with champagne or Sauterne?—put the fruit and pineapple in while +it is burning or afterwards?’ + +‘Evidently when it is burning, and then the whole aroma will go into +punch.’ + +‘But, I say, the pineapple will swim, the edges will be scorched, it is +simply a waste.’ + +‘That’s all nonsense,’ Ketscher would shout louder than all, ‘but what’s +not nonsense is that you must put out the candles.’ + +The candles were put out; all the faces looked blue, and the features +seemed to quiver with the movement of the flame. And meantime the +temperature in the little room was becoming tropical. Every one was +thirsty and the punch was not ready. But Joseph the Frenchman sent from +Yar’s was ready; he had prepared something, the antithesis of punch, an +iced beverage of various wines _à la base de cognac_. A genuine son of +the ‘_grand peuple_,’ he explained to us, as he put in the French wine, +that it was so good because it had twice passed the Equator. ‘_Oui, oui, +messieurs, deux fois l’équateur, messieurs!_’ + +When the beverage remarkable for its arctic iciness had been finished +and in fact there was no need of more drink, Ketscher shouted, stirring +the fiery lake in the soup-tureen and making the last lumps of sugar +melt with a hiss and a wail, ‘It’s time to put it out! time to put it +out!’ + +The flame turns red with the champagne, and races over the surface of +the punch with a look of despair and foreboding. + +Then comes a voice of despair, ‘But I say, old man, you’re mad, the wax +is melting right into the punch.’ + +‘Well, you try holding the bottle yourself in such heat so that the wax +does not melt.’ + +‘Well, something ought to have been wrapped round it first,’ the +distressed voice continues. + +‘Cups, cups, have you enough? How many are there of us? Nine, ten, +fourteen, yes, yes!’ + +‘Where’s one to find fourteen cups?’ + +‘Well any one who hasn’t got a cup must take a glass.’ + +‘The glasses will crack.’ + +‘Never, never, you’ve only to put a spoon in them.’ + +Candles are brought, the last flicker of flame runs across the middle, +makes a pirouette and vanishes. + +‘The punch is a success!’ + +‘It is a great success!’ is said on all sides. + +Next day my head aches—I feel sick. That’s evidently from the punch, too +mixed! And on the spot I make a sincere resolution never to drink punch +for the future; it is a poison. + +Pyotr Fyodorovitch comes in. + +‘You came home in somebody else’s hat, our hat is a much better one.’ + +‘The devil take it entirely.’ + +‘Should I run to Nikolay Mihailovitch’s Kuzma?’ + +‘Why, do you imagine some one went home without a hat?’ + +‘It would be just as well anyway.’ + +At this point I guess that the hat is only a pretext, and that Kuzma has +invited Pyotr Fyodorovitch to the field of battle. + +‘You go and see Kuzma; only first ask the cook to let me have some sour +cabbage.’ + +‘So, Alexandr Ivanitch, the gentlemen kept their name-days in fine +style?’ + +‘Yes, indeed, there hasn’t been such a supper in our time.’ + +‘So we shan’t be going to the university to-day?’ + +My conscience pricks me and I make no answer. + +‘Your papa was asking me, “How is it,” says he, “he is not up yet?” +Without thinking, I said, “His honour’s head aches; he complained of it +from early morning, so I did not even pull up the blinds.” “Well,” said +he, “you did right there.”’ + +‘But do let me go to sleep, for Christ’s sake. You want to go and see +Kuzma, so go.’ + +‘This minute, this minute, sir; first I’ll run for the cabbage.’ + +A heavy sleep closes my eyes again; two or three hours later I wake up +much better. What are they doing there? I wonder. Ketscher and Ogaryov +stayed the night. It’s vexatious that punch has such an effect on the +head, for it must be owned it’s very nice. It is a mistake to drink +punch by the glassful; henceforth and for ever I will certainly drink no +more than a small cupful. + +Meantime my father has already finished interviewing the cook and +reading the newspapers. + +‘You have a headache to-day?’ + +‘Yes, a bad one.’ + +‘Perhaps you have been working too hard?’ And as he asks the question I +can see that he has his doubts already. + +‘I forgot though, I believe you spent the evening with Nikolasha[115] +and Ogaryov.’ + +‘Of course.’ + +‘Did they regale you with anything ... for the name-day? Madeira in the +soup again? Ah, I don’t like all that. Nikolasha is too fond of wine I +know, and where he gets that weakness from I don’t understand. Poor +Pavel Ivanovitch ... why, on the twenty-ninth of June, his name-day, he +would invite all the relations and have a dinner in the regular way, +quiet and proper. But the fashion nowadays, champagne and sardines in +oil, it’s a disgusting sight. As for that luckless young Ogaryov, I say +nothing about him, he is alone and abandoned! Moscow ... with plenty of +money, his coachman Eremey “goes to fetch wine.” The coachman’s glad to, +he gets ten kopecks at the shop for it.’ + +‘Yes, I lunched with Nikolay Pavlovitch. But I don’t think that that’s +why my head aches. I will go for a little walk; that always does me +good.’ + +‘By all means; you will dine at home, I hope.’ + +‘Of course, I am only going out for a little.’ + +To explain the Madeira in the soup, it must be said that about a year +before the famous celebration of the four name-days, Ogaryov and I had +gone off for a spree in Easter-week and, to get out of dining at home, I +had said that I had been invited to dinner by Ogaryov’s father. + +My father disliked my friends as a rule; he used to call them by the +wrong surnames, invariably making the same mistake, thus he never failed +to call S—— Sakeny and Sazonov, Snaziny. He liked Ogaryov least of all, +both because he wore his hair long and because he smoked without asking +his leave. On the other hand, he regarded him as a distant cousin and so +could not distort the name of a relation. Moreover, his father, Platon +Bogdanovitch, belonged both by family and by fortune to the little +circle of persons recognised by my father, and he liked my being +intimate with the family. He would have liked it better still, if Platon +Bogdanovitch had had no son. + +And so to refuse the invitation was considered impossible. + +Instead of settling ourselves in Platon Bogdanovitch’s respectable +dining-room, we set off first to the Prices’ booth (I was delighted +later on to meet this family of acrobats in Geneva and in London). There +was a little girl there, over whom we raved and whom we had named +Mignon. + +After gazing at Mignon and resolving to see her again in the evening, we +set off to dine at Yar’s. I had a gold piece and Ogaryov about the same. +We were at that time complete novices and so, after long consultation, +we ordered fish soup with champagne in it, a bottle of Rhine-wine, and +some tiny bird, so that when we got up from the dinner, which was +frightfully expensive, we were quite hungry and so went off to look at +Mignon again. + +When my father said good-night to me, he observed that he thought I +smelt of wine. + +‘That must be because there was Madeira in the soup.’ ‘_Au madère_—that +must be Platon Bogdanovitch’s son-in-law’s idea; _cela sent les casernes +de la garde_.’ + +From that time forth, if my father fancied that I had been drinking, or +that my face was red, he would be sure to say to me, ‘I suppose you have +had Madeira in your soup to-day!’ + +And so I hastened off to S——’s. + +Ogaryov and Ketscher were, of course, on the spot. Ketscher, looking +tousled, was displeased with some arrangements that were being made and +was criticising them severely. Ogaryov, on the homeopathic system of +driving out one nail with another, was drinking up what was left, not +merely after the supper but after the foraging of Pyotr Fyodorovitch, +who was already singing, whistling, and playing a tattoo in S——’s +kitchen. + +Recalling the days of our youth, of all our circle, I do not remember a +single incident which would weigh on the conscience, which one would be +ashamed to think of. And that applies to all our friends without +exception. + +There were, of course, Platonic dreamers and disillusioned youths of +seventeen among us. Vadim even wrote a drama in which he tried to depict +‘the terrible ordeal of his spent heart.’ The drama began like this: ‘A +garden—house in distance—windows lighted—storm raging—no one in +sight—garden gate not fastened, it flaps to and fro and creaks.’ + +‘Are there any characters in the drama besides the gate in the garden?’ +I asked Vadim. + +And Vadim, rather nettled, said, ‘You’re always playing the fool! It’s +not a jest, it’s the record of my heart; if you go on like that I won’t +read it’—and proceeded to read it. + +There were follies, too, that were not at all Platonic; even some that +ended not in writing plays but in the chemist’s shop. But there were no +vulgar intrigues ruining a woman or humiliating a man, there were no +kept mistresses (indeed the vulgar word for them did not exist among +us). Tranquil, secure, prosaic, petty-bourgeois vice, vice by contract, +passed our circle by. + +‘Then you do admit the worse form of vice, prostitution?’ I shall be +asked. + +Not I, but you do! that is, not you individually, but all of you. It is +so firmly established in the social structure that it asks for no +sanction from me. + +Social enthusiasm, general theories, were our salvation; and not they +alone but also a high development of scientific and artistic interest. +Like fumigating paper, they burnt out the grease spots. I have preserved +some of Ogaryov’s letters of that period, and the background of our +lives can be easily judged from them. On June 7, 1833, Ogaryov, for +instance, wrote to me: + +‘I believe we know each other, I believe we can be open. You will not +show my letters to any one else. And so tell me—for some time past I +have been so absolutely brimming over, I may say, suffocated with +sensations and thoughts, that I fancy, it’s more than fancy, the idea +sticks in my head, that it is my vocation to be a poet, a creative +artist or a musician, _alles eins_, but I feel that I must live in that +thought, for I have a feeling in myself that I am a poet;—granted that I +have written rubbish so far, yet the fire in my soul, the exuberance of +my feelings, gives me the hope that I shall write decently (excuse the +vulgar expression). Tell me, friend, am I to believe in my vocation? You +know me, maybe, better than I know myself, and will not make a +mistake.’—_June 7, 1833._ + +‘You write: but you are a poet, a real poet! Friend, can you conceive +all that those words do for me? And so all that I feel, to which I +strive, in which I live is not an illusion! It is not an illusion! Are +you telling the truth? It is not the delirium of fever—that I feel. You +know me better than any one, don’t you? I certainly feel that you do. +No, this exalted life is not the delirium of fever, not the illusion of +imagination, it is too exalted for deception, it is real, I live in it, +I cannot imagine myself with any other life. Why don’t I understand +music, what a symphony would rise out of my soul now! One can catch the +stately _adagio_, but I have no power to express myself; I want to say +more than has been said, _presto, presto_, I want a tempestuous, +irrepressible _presto_. _Adagio_ and _presto_, the two extremes. Away +with these compromises, _andante_, _allegro_, _moderato_, faltering or +feeble-minded, they can neither speak strongly nor feel +strongly.’—TCHERTKOVO, _Aug. 18, 1833_. + + +We have grown out of the habit of this enthusiastic bubble of youth and +it is strange to us, but in these lines, written by a youth under +twenty, it can clearly be seen that he is insured against vulgar vice +and vulgar virtue, and that even if he is not saved from the mire, he +will come out of it unsullied. + +It is not lack of self-confidence, it is the hesitation of faith, it is +the passionate desire for confirmation, for the superfluous word of +love, so precious to us. Yes, it is the uneasiness of creative +conception, it is the anxious searchings of a soul in travail. + +‘I cannot yet,’ he writes in the same letter, ‘catch the notes which are +resounding in my soul, physical incapacity limits the imagination. But, +hang it all! I am a poet, poetry whispers the truth to me where I could +not have grasped it with cold reason.’ + +So ends the first part of our youth; the second begins in prison. But +before we go on to it, I must say something of the tendencies, of the +ideas, with which it found us. + +The period that followed the suppression of the Polish insurrection +educated us rapidly. We were not merely troubled that Nicholas had grown +to his full stature and was firmly established in severity; we began +with inward horror to discover that in Europe, too, and especially in +France, to which we looked for our political watchword and battle-cry, +things were not going well; we began to look upon our theories with +suspicion. + +The childish liberalism of 1826, which gradually passed into the French +political theory expounded by the Lafayettes and Benjamin Constant and +sung by Béranger, lost its magic power over us after the ruin of Poland. + +Then one section of the young people, and among them Vadim, threw +themselves into a close and earnest study of Russian history. + +Another set took to the study of German philosophy. + +Ogaryov and I belonged to neither of these sets. We had grown too +closely attached to certain ideas to part with them readily. + +Our faith in revolution of the festive Béranger stamp was shaken, but we +looked for something which we could find neither in the _Chronicle_ of +Nestor[116] nor in the transcendental idealism of Schelling. + +In the midst of this ferment, in the midst of surmises, of confused +efforts to understand the doubts which frightened us, the pamphlets of +Saint Simon and his followers, their tracts and their trial came into +our hands. They impressed us. + +Critics, superficial and not superficial, have laughed enough at Father +Enfantin[117] and his apostles; the time has now come for some +recognition of these forerunners of socialism. + +These enthusiastic youths with their strange waistcoats and their +budding beards made a magnificent and poetic appearance in the midst of +the petty-bourgeois world. They heralded a new faith, they had something +to say, they had something in the name of which to judge the old order +of things, fain to judge them by the Code Napoleon and the religion of +Orleans. + +On the one hand came the emancipation of woman, the call to her to join +in common labour, the giving of her destiny into her own hands, alliance +with her as with an equal. + +On the other hand the justification, the _redemption_ of the flesh, +_Réhabilitation de la chair_! + +Grand words, involving a whole world of new relations between human +beings; a world of health, a world of spirit, a world of beauty, the +world of natural morality, and therefore of moral purity. Many have +scoffed at emancipation of women and at the recognition of the rights of +the flesh, giving to those words a filthy and vulgar meaning; our +monastically depraved imagination fears the flesh, fears woman. +Simple-hearted people grasped that the purifying sanctification of the +flesh is the death knell of Christianity; the religion of life had come +to replace the religion of death, the religion of beauty to replace the +religion of castigation and mortification by prayer and fasting. The +crucified body had risen again in its turn and was no longer ashamed; +man attained a harmonious unity and divined that he was a whole being +and not made up like a pendulum of two different metals restraining each +other, that the enemy bound up with him had disappeared. + +What courage was needed in France to proclaim in the hearing of all +those words of deliverance from the spiritual ideas which are so strong +in the minds of the French and so completely absent from their conduct! + +The old world, ridiculed by Voltaire, undermined by the Revolution, but +fortified, patched up and made secure by the petty-bourgeois for their +own personal convenience, had never experienced this before. It tried to +judge the heretics on the basis of its secret conspiracy of hypocrisy, +but these young men unmasked it. They were accused of being apostates +from Christianity, and they pointed above their judge’s head to the holy +picture that had been covered with a curtain after the Revolution of +1830. They were charged with justifying sensuality, and they asked their +judge, was his life chaste? + +The new world was pushing at the door, and our hearts opened wide to +meet it. Saint-Simonism lay at the foundation of our convictions and +remained so in its essentials unalterably. + +Impressionable, genuinely youthful, we were easily caught up in its +mighty current and passed early over that boundary at which whole crowds +of people remain standing with their hands folded, go back or seek from +side to side a ford—to cross the ocean! + +But not all ventured with us. Socialism and Realism remain to this day +the touchstones flung on the paths of revolution and science. Groups of +travellers, tossed up against these rocks by the current of events, or +by process of reasoning, immediately divide and make two everlasting +parties which, in various disguises, cut across the whole of history, +across all upheavals, across innumerable political parties and even +circles of no more than a dozen youths. One stands for logic, the other +for history; one for dialectics, the other for embryology. One is more +correct, the other more practical. + +There can be no talk of choice; it is harder to bridle thought than any +passion, it leads one on unconsciously; any one who can chain it by +feeling, by dreams, by dread of consequences, will chain it, but not all +can. If thought gets the upper hand in any one, he does not inquire +about its practicability, or whether it will make things easier or +harder; he seeks the truth, and inflexibly, impartially lays down his +principles, as the Saint-Simonists did at one time, as Proudhon does to +this day. + +Our circle drew in closer. Even then, in 1833, the Liberals looked at us +askance, as having strayed from the true path. Just before we went to +prison, Saint-Simonism became a barrier between N. A. Polevoy and me. +Polevoy was a man of extraordinarily ingenious and active mind, which +readily absorbed every kind of nutriment; he was born to be a +journalist, a chronicler of successes, of discoveries, of political and +learned controversies. I made his acquaintance at the end of my time at +the university—and was sometimes in his house and at his brother +Ksenofont’s. This was the time when his reputation was at its highest, +the period just before the prohibition of the _Telegraph_. + +This man who lived in the latest discovery, in the question of the hour, +in the last novelty, in theories and in events, and who changed like a +chameleon, could not, for all the liveliness of his mind, understand +Saint-Simonism. For us Saint-Simonism was a revelation, for him it was +insanity, a silly Utopia, hindering social development. To all my +rhetoric, my expositions and arguments, Polevoy was deaf; he lost his +temper and grew vindictive. Opposition from a student was particularly +annoying to him, for he greatly prized his influence on the young, and +saw in this dispute that it was slipping away from him. + +On one occasion, offended by the absurdity of his objections, I observed +that he was just as old-fashioned a Conservative as those against whom +he had been fighting all his life. Polevoy was deeply offended by my +words and, shaking his head, said to me: ‘The time will come when you +will be rewarded for a whole lifetime of toil and effort by some young +man’s saying with a smile, “Be off, you are behind the times.”’ I felt +sorry for him and ashamed of having hurt his feelings, but at the same +time I felt that his sentence could be heard in his melancholy words. +They were not those of a mighty champion, but of an exhausted and aged +gladiator. I realised then that he would not advance, and was incapable +of standing still at the same point with a mind so active and a basis so +insecure. + +You know what happened to him afterwards: he set to work upon his +_Parasha, the Siberian_.[118] + +What luck a timely death is for a man who can at the right moment +neither leave the stage nor move forward! I have thought that looking at +Polevoy, looking at Pius IX., and at many others! + + + + + Appendix + A. POLEZHAEV + + +To complete the gloomy record of that period, I ought to add a few +details about A. Polezhaev. + +As a student, Polezhaev was renowned for his excellent verses. Amongst +other things he wrote a humorous parody of ‘_Onyegin_,’ called +‘_Sashka_,’ in which, regardless of proprieties, he attacked many things +in a jesting tone, in very charming verses. + +In the autumn of 1826, Nicholas, after hanging Pestel, Muravyov, and +their friends, celebrated his coronation in Moscow. For other sovereigns +these ceremonies are occasions for amnesties and pardons: Nicholas, +after celebrating his apotheosis, proceeded again to ‘strike down the +foes of the father-land,’ like Robespierre after his ‘Fête-Dieu.’ + +The secret police brought him Polezhaev’s poem. + +And so at three o’clock one night, the rector woke Polezhaev, told him +to put on his uniform and go to the office. There the director was +awaiting him. After looking to see that all the necessary buttons were +on his uniform and no unnecessary ones, he invited Polezhaev without any +explanation to get into his carriage and drove off with him. + +He conducted him to the Minister of Public Instruction. The latter put +Polezhaev into his carriage and he too drove him off—but this time +straight to the Tsar. + +Prince Lieven left Polezhaev in the drawing-room—where several courtiers +and higher officials were already waiting although it was only six +o’clock in the morning—and went into the inner apartments. The courtiers +imagined that the young man had distinguished himself in some way and at +once entered into conversation with him. A senator suggested that he +might give lessons to his son. + +Polezhaev was summoned to the study. The Tsar was standing leaning on +the bureau and talking to Lieven. He flung a searching and malignant +glance at the newcomer; there was a manuscript in his hand. + +‘Did you write these verses?’ he inquired. + +‘Yes,’ answered Polezhaev. + +‘Here, prince,’ the Tsar continued, ‘I will give you a specimen of +university education, I will show you what young men learn there. Read +the manuscript aloud,’ he added, addressing Polezhaev. + +The agitation of the latter was so great that he could not read. +Nicholas’s eyes were fixed immovably upon him. I know them and know +nothing so terrible, so hopeless, as those colourless, cold, pewtery +eyes. + +‘I cannot,’ said Polezhaev. + +‘Read!’ shouted the imperial drum-major. + +That shout restored Polezhaev’s faculties; he opened the manuscript. +Never, he told us, had he seen ‘_Sashka_’ so carefully copied and on +such splendid paper. + +At first it was hard for him to read; then as he got more and more into +the spirit of the thing, he read the poem in a loud and lively voice. At +particularly startling passages, the Tsar made a sign with his hand to +the Minister and the latter covered his eyes with horror. + +‘What do you say to that?’ Nicholas inquired at the end of the reading. +‘I will put a stop to this corruption; these are the _last traces, the +last remnants_; I will root them out. What is his record?’ + +The minister, of course, knew nothing of his record, but some human +feeling must have stirred in him, for he said: ‘He has an excellent +record, your Majesty.’ + +‘That record has saved you, but you must be punished, as an example to +others. Would you like to go into the army?’ + +Polezhaev was silent. + +‘I give you a chance of clearing your name in the army. Well?’ + +‘I must obey,’ answered Polezhaev. + +The Tsar went up to him, laid his hand on his shoulder and, saying to +him, ‘Your fate is in your own hands, if I forget you you can _write_ to +me,’ _kissed him on the forehead_. + +I made Polezhaev repeat the story of the kiss a dozen times, it seemed +to me so incredible. He swore that it was true. + +From the Tsar, he was led off to Dibitch, who lived on the spot in the +palace. Dibitch was asleep; he was awakened, came out yawning, and, +after reading the paper handed to him, asked the aide-de-camp: ‘Is this +he?’—‘Yes, your Excellency.’ + +‘Well! it’s a capital thing; you will serve in the army. I have always +been in the army, and you see what I’ve risen to, and maybe you’ll be +made a field-marshal.’ This stupid, inappropriate, German joke was +Dibitch’s equivalent to a kiss. Polezhaev was led off to the camp and +handed over to the soldiers. + +Three years passed. Polezhaev remembered the Tsar’s words and wrote him +a letter. No answer came. A few months later he wrote a second; again +there was no answer. Convinced that his letters did not reach the Tsar, +he ran away, and ran away in order to present a petition in person. He +behaved carelessly, saw his old friends in Moscow and was entertained by +them; of course, that could not be kept secret. In Tver he was seized +and sent back to his regiment, as a runaway soldier, on foot and in +chains. The court martial condemned him to run the gauntlet; the +sentence was despatched to the Tsar for ratification. + +Polezhaev wanted to kill himself before the punishment. After searching +in vain in his prison for a sharp instrument, he confided in an old +soldier who liked him. The soldier understood him and respected his +wishes. When the old man learned that the answer had come, he brought +him a bayonet and, as he gave him it, said through his tears: ‘I have +sharpened it myself.’ + +The Tsar did not confirm Polezhaev’s sentence. + +Then it was that he wrote the fine poem beginning: + + ‘I perished lonely, + No help was nigh. + My evil genius + Passed mocking by.’[119] + +Polezhaev was sent to the Caucasus. There for distinguished service he +was promoted to be a non-commissioned officer. Years and years passed; +his hopeless, dreary position broke him down; become a police poet and +sing the glories of Nicholas he could not, and that was the only way of +escape from the army. + +There was, however, another means of escape, and he preferred it; he +drank to win forgetfulness. There is a terrible poem of his, ‘To Vodka.’ + +He succeeded in getting transferred to a regiment of the Carabineers +stationed in Moscow. This was a considerable alleviation of his lot, but +malignant consumption had already laid its grip upon him. + +It was at this period that I made his acquaintance, about 1833. He +struggled on another four years and died in the military hospital. + +When one of his friends went to ask for the body for burial, no one knew +where it was; the military hospital did a trade in corpses; they sold +them to the university and to the Medical Academy, made them into +skeletons, and so on. At last he found poor Polezhaev’s body in a +cellar; he was lying under a heap of others and the rats had gnawed off +one foot. + +After his death, his poems were published, and his portrait in a +soldier’s uniform was to have been included in the edition. The censor +thought this unseemly, and the poor martyr was portrayed with the +epaulettes of an officer—he had been promoted in the hospital. + + + + + PART II + PRISON & EXILE + (1834–1838) + + + + + Chapter 8 + A PREDICTION—OGARYOV’S ARREST—A FIRE—A MOSCOW LIBERAL—M. F. ORLOV—THE + GRAVEYARD + + +One day in the spring of 1834, I arrived at Vadim’s in the morning and +found neither him nor any of his brothers and sisters at home. I went +upstairs to his little room and sat down to write. + +The door softly opened and Vadim’s mother came in; her footsteps were +barely audible; looking weary and ill she went up to an armchair and +said to me, as she sat down: ‘Go on writing, go on writing, I came to +see whether Vadya had come in; the children have gone for a walk and +downstairs it is so empty, I felt sad and frightened. I’ll stay here a +little, I won’t hinder you, go on with your work.’ + +Her face was pensive and I could see in it even more clearly than usual +the imprint of what she had suffered in the past and of that suspicious +apprehensiveness in regard to the future, that distrust of life, which +is always left after great and prolonged misfortunes. + +We began to talk. She told me something about Siberia: ‘I have had very +many troubles to bear and I have more to see yet,’ she added, shaking +her head, ‘my heart bodes nothing good.’ + +I thought how sometimes, after hearing our bold talk and demagogic +conversation, she would turn pale, sigh softly, go out of the room and +for a long time not utter a word. + +‘You and your friends,’ she went on, ‘you are going the sure road to +ruin. You will ruin Vadya, yourself, and all of them; I love you, too, +you know, like a son.’ A tear ran down her wasted cheek. + +I did not speak. She took my hand and, trying to smile, added: ‘Don’t be +angry, my nerves are overwrought; I understand it all, you go your path, +there is no other for you, and, if there were, you would none of you be +the same. I know that, but I cannot get over my alarm; I have been +through so many troubles that I have no strength to face fresh ones. +Mind you don’t say a word to Vadya about this, he would be distressed, +he would talk to me.... Here he is,’ she added, hurriedly wiping away +her tears and once more asking me with her eyes to say nothing. + +Poor mother! Noble, great-hearted woman! It is as fine as Corneille’s +‘qu’il mourût!’ + +Her prediction was soon fulfilled; happily this time the storm passed +over the heads of her family, but it brought the poor woman much sorrow +and alarm. + +‘Taken? What do you mean?’ I asked, jumping out of bed and feeling my +head to make sure that I was awake. + +‘The police-master came in the night with the district policeman and +Cossacks, about two hours after you left, seized all the papers and took +Nikolay Platonovitch.’ It was Ogaryov’s valet speaking. I could not +imagine what pretext the police had invented; of late everything had +been quiet. Ogaryov had only arrived a day or two before ... and why had +they taken him and not me? + +It was impossible to remain doing nothing; I dressed and went out of the +house with no definite aim. It was the first trouble that had befallen +me. I felt sick, I was tortured by my impotence. + +As I wandered about the streets, I thought, at last, of a friend V—— +whose social position made it possible for him to find out what was the +matter and, perhaps, to help. He lived a terrible distance away in a +summer villa beyond the Vorontsov Field; I got into the first cab I came +across and galloped off to him. It was before seven in the morning. + +I had made the acquaintance of V—— about a year and a half before; he +was in his way a lion in Moscow. He had been educated in Paris, was +wealthy, intelligent, cultured, witty, free-thinking, had been clapped +into the Peter-Paul fortress over the affair of the Fourteenth of +December and was among those afterwards acquitted; he had had no +experience of exile, but the glory of the affair clung to him. He was in +the government service and had great influence with the +governor-general, Prince Golitsyn, who was fond of men of a free way of +thinking, particularly if they expressed their views fluently in French. +The prince was not strong in Russian. + +V—— was ten years older than we, and surprised us by his practical +remarks, his knowledge of political affairs, his French eloquence and +the ardour of his Liberalism. He knew so much and in such detail, talked +so charmingly and so easily; his opinions were so clearly defined; he +had answers, good advice, explanations for everything. He had read +everything, all the new novels, treatises, magazines, and poetry, was +moreover a devoted student of zoology, wrote out schemes of reform for +Prince Golitsyn and drew out plans for children’s books. His Liberalism +was of the purest, trebly-distilled essence, of the left wing between +that of Mauguin and of General Lamarque. + +His study was hung with portraits of all the revolutionary celebrities +from Hampden and Bailly[120] to Fieschi[121] and Armand Carrel. A whole +library of prohibited books was to be found under this revolutionary +shrine. + +A skeleton, a few stuffed birds, some dried amphibians, and insides of +animals preserved in spirit, gave a serious tone of study and reflection +to the over-impetuous character of the room. + +We used to look with envy at his experience and knowledge of men; his +refined ironical manner of arguing had a great influence on us. We +looked upon him as a capable revolutionary, as a statesman _in spe_. + +I did not find V—— at home, he had gone to town overnight for an +interview with Prince Golitsyn. His valet told me he would certainly be +home within an hour and a half. I waited. + +V——’s summer villa was a splendid one. The study in which I sat waiting +was a lofty, spacious room, and an immense door led to the verandah and +into the garden. It was a hot day, the fragrance of trees and flowers +came in from the garden, children were playing in front of the house +with ringing laughter. Wealth, abundance, space, sunshine and shadow, +flowers and greenery ... while in prison it is cramped, stifling, dark. +I do not know how long I had been sitting there absorbed in bitter +thoughts, when suddenly the valet called me from the verandah with a +peculiar animation. + +‘What is it?’ I inquired. + +‘Oh, come here and look.’ + +I went out to the verandah, not to wound him by refusal, and stood +petrified. A whole semi-circle of houses were blazing away, as though +they had been set fire to at the same moment. The fire was spreading +with incredible rapidity. + +I remained on the verandah; the valet gazed with a sort of nervous +pleasure at the fire, saying: ‘It’s going finely—look, that house on the +right is beginning to burn, it’s certainly beginning to burn.’ + +A fire has something revolutionary about it; it laughs at property and +levels fortunes. The valet understood that instinctively. + +Half an hour later half the horizon was covered with smoke, red behind +and greyish-black above. That day Lefortovo was burned down. It was the +first of a series of cases of incendiarism, which went on for five +months, and we shall speak of them again. + +At last V—— arrived. He was at his best, charming and cordial; he told +me about the fire by which he had driven and about the general belief +that it was a case of arson, and added, half in jest: ‘It’s +Pugatchovism. You’ll see, we shan’t escape, they will put us on a +stake.’ + +‘Before they put us on a stake,’ I answered, ‘I am afraid they will put +us on a chain. Do you know that last night the police seized Ogaryov?’ + +‘The police—what are you saying?’ + +‘That’s what I have come to you about. Something must be done; go to +Prince Golitsyn, find out what’s the matter and ask permission for me to +see him.’ + +Receiving no answer, I glanced at V——, but where he had been, it seemed +as though an elder brother were sitting with a livid face and sunken +features; he was moaning and moving uneasily. + +‘What’s the matter?’ + +‘There, I told you; I always said what it would lead to.... Yes, yes, we +might have expected it. Oh dear, oh dear!... I am not to blame in +thought nor in act, but very likely they will put me in prison too, and +that is no joking matter; I know what the fortress is like.’ + +‘Will you go to the prince?’ + +‘Upon my word, whatever for? I advise you as a friend, don’t even speak +of Ogaryov; keep as quiet as you can, or it will be bad for you. You +don’t know how dangerous these things are; my sincere advice is, keep +out of it, do your utmost and you won’t help Ogaryov, but you will ruin +yourself. That’s what autocracy means—no rights, no defence; are the +lawyers and judges any use?’ + +On this occasion I was not disposed to listen to his bold opinions and +startling criticisms. I took my hat and went away. + +At home I found everything in agitation. Already my father was angry +with me on account of Ogaryov’s arrest. Already the Senator was on the +spot, rummaging among my books, taking away what he thought dangerous, +and in a very bad humour. + +On the table I found a note from M. F. Orlov inviting me to dinner. +Could he not do something for us? I was beginning to be discouraged by +experience: still there was no harm in trying. + +Mihail Fyodorovitch Orlov was one of the founders of the celebrated +League of Welfare,[122] and that he had not reached Siberia was not his +own fault, but was due to his brother, who enjoyed the special favour of +Nicholas and had been the first to gallop with his Horse Guards to the +defence of the Winter Palace on December the Fourteenth. Orlov was sent +to his estate in the country, and a few years later was allowed to live +in Moscow. During his solitary life in the country he studied political +economy and chemistry. The first time I met him he talked of his new +system of nomenclature in chemistry. All energetic people who begin +studying a subject late in life show an inclination to move the +furniture about and rearrange it to suit themselves. His nomenclature +was more complicated than the received French system. I wanted to +attract his attention, and by way of gaining his favour began proving to +him that his system was good, but the old one was better. + +Orlov contested the point and then agreed. + +My effort to please succeeded: from that time we were on intimate terms. +He saw in me a rising possibility; I saw in him a veteran of our views, +a friend of our heroes, a noble figure in our lives. + +Poor Orlov was like a lion in a cage. Everywhere he knocked himself +against the bars, he had neither space to move nor work to do and was +consumed by a thirst for activity. + +After the fall of France, I more than once met people of the same sort, +people who were disintegrated by the craving for public activity and +incapable of occupying themselves within the four walls of their study +or in home life. They do not know how to be alone; in solitude they are +attacked with ennui, they become whimsical, quarrel with their last +friends, see intrigues against them on all hands, and themselves +intrigue to find out all these non-existent plots. + +A stage and spectators are as necessary to them as the air they breathe; +in the public view they really are heroes and will endure the +unendurable. They must have noise, clamour, applause, they want to make +speeches, to hear their enemies’ replies, they crave the stimulus of +struggle, the fever of danger, and without these tonics they are +miserable, they pine, let themselves go and grow heavy, break out and +make mistakes. Such is Ledru-Rollin, who, by the way, has a look of +Orlov in the face, particularly since he has grown moustaches. + +Orlov was very handsome; his tall figure, fine carriage, handsome, manly +features and completely bare skull, altogether gave an indescribable +attractiveness to his appearance. His bust would make a good contrast to +the bust of A. P. Yermolov, whose frowning, quadrangular brow, thick +thatch of grey hair, and eyes piercing the distance gave him that beauty +of the warrior chieftain, grown old in battles, which won Maria +Kotcheby’s heart in Mazeppa. + +Orlov was so bored that he did not know what to begin upon. He tried +founding a glass factory, in which mediæval stained glass was made, +costing him more than he sold it for; and began writing a book ‘on +credit’—no, that was not the way his heart yearned to go, and yet it was +the only way open to him. The lion was condemned to wander idly between +Arbat and Basmanny Street, not even daring to let his tongue move +freely. + +It was terribly pitiful to see Orlov trying to become a learned man, a +theorist. His intelligence was clear and brilliant, but not at all +speculative, and he got entangled at once among newly invented systems +in long-familiar subjects—like his chemical nomenclature for instance. +He was a complete failure in everything abstract, but with intense +exasperation applied himself to metaphysics. + +Careless and incontinent of speech, he was continually making mistakes; +carried away by his first impression, which was always chivalrously +lofty, he would suddenly remember his position and turn back half way. +He was an even greater failure in these diplomatic countermarches than +in metaphysics and nomenclature; and, having got into one difficulty, he +would get into two or three more in trying to right himself. He was +blamed for this; people are so superficial and inattentive that they +look more to words than to acts, and attach more weight to separate +mistakes than to the drift of the whole character. What is the use of +blaming a man from the point of view of Roman virtue, one must blame the +melancholy surroundings in which any noble feeling must be communicated +by contraband, underground, and behind locked doors; and, if one says a +word aloud, one is wondering all day how soon the police will come.... + +There was a large party at the dinner. I happened to sit beside General +Raevsky, the brother of Orlov’s wife. He too had been under a ban since +the Fourteenth of December; the son of the celebrated N. N. Raevsky, he +had as a boy of fourteen been with his brother at Borodino by his +father’s side; later on, he died of wounds in the Caucasus. I told him +about Ogaryov, and asked him whether Orlov could do anything and whether +he would care to do it. + +A cloud came over Raevsky’s face, but it was not the look of tearful +cowardice which I had seen in the morning, but a mixture of bitter +memories and repulsion. + +‘There is no question of caring or not caring,’ he answered, ‘only I +doubt whether Orlov can do much; after dinner go to the study and I will +bring him to you. So then,’ he added after a pause, ‘your turn has come; +all are dragged down to that black pit.’ + +After questioning me, Orlov wrote a letter to Prince Golitsyn asking for +an interview. + +‘The prince,’ he told me, ‘is a very decent man; if he won’t do +anything, he will at least tell us the truth.’ + +Next day I went for an answer. Prince Golitsyn said that Ogaryov had +been arrested by order of the Tsar, that a committee of inquiry had been +appointed, and that the material evidence was some supper on the 24th +June, at which seditious songs had been sung. I could make nothing of +it. That day was my father’s name-day; I had spent the whole day at home +and Ogaryov had been with us. + +It was with a heavy heart that I left Orlov; he, too, was troubled; when +I gave him my hand he stood up, embraced me, pressed me warmly to his +broad chest and kissed me. + +It was as though he felt that we were parting for long years. + +I only saw him once afterwards, six years later. He was smouldering out. +The look of illness on his face, the melancholy and a sort of new +angularity in it struck me; he was gloomy, was conscious that he was +breaking up, knew things were all going wrong—and saw no way of +salvation. Two months later, he died, the blood curdled in his veins. + +... There is a wonderful monument in Lucerne; carved by Thorwaldsen in +natural rock. A dying lion is lying in a hollow; he is wounded to death, +the blood is streaming from a wound, in which the fragment of an arrow +is sticking; he has laid his gallant head upon his paw, he is moaning, +there is a look in his eyes of unbearable pain; around there is a +wilderness, with a pond below, all shut in by mountains, trees, and +greenery; people pass by without seeing that here a royal beast is +dying. + +Once after sitting some time on the seat facing the stone agony, I was +suddenly reminded of my last visit to Orlov. + +Driving home from Orlov, I passed the house of the chief police-master, +and the idea occurred to me to ask him openly for permission to see +Ogaryov. + +I had never in my life been in the house of a police official. I was +kept waiting a long time; at last the head police-master came out. My +request surprised him. + +‘What grounds have you for asking this permission?’ + +‘Ogaryov is my cousin.’ + +‘Your cousin?’ he asked, looking straight into my face. I did not +answer, but I, too, looked straight into his Excellency’s face. + +‘I cannot give you permission,’ he said; ‘your cousin is _au secret_. I +am very sorry!’ + +Uncertainty and inactivity were killing me. I had hardly a friend in +town, I could find out absolutely nothing. It seemed as though the +police had forgotten or overlooked me. It was very, very dreary. But +just when the whole sky was overcast with grey storm-clouds and the long +night of exile and prison was approaching, a ray of light came to me. + +A few words of deep sympathy uttered by a girl of seventeen whom I had +looked upon as a child raised me up again. + +For the first time in my story a woman’s figure appears ... and +precisely one woman’s figure appears throughout all my life. + +The passing fancies of youth and spring that had stirred my soul paled +and vanished before it, like pictures in the mist; and no fresh ones +came. + +We met in a graveyard. She stood leaning against a tombstone and spoke +of Ogaryov, and my grief was comforted. + +‘Till to-morrow,’ she said and gave me her hand, smiling through her +tears. + +‘Till to-morrow,’ I answered ... and stood a long time looking after her +retreating figure. + +That was on the nineteenth of July 1834. + + + + + Chapter 9 + ARREST—AN IMPARTIAL WITNESS—THE OFFICE OF THE PRETCHISTENSKY POLICE + STATION—A PATRIARCHAL JUDGE + + +‘Till to-morrow,’ I repeated, as I fell asleep.... I felt +extraordinarily light-hearted and happy. + +Between one and two in the night, my father’s valet woke me; he was not +dressed and was panic-stricken. + +‘An officer is asking for you.’ + +‘What officer?’ + +‘I don’t know.’ + +‘Well, I do,’ I told him and flung on my dressing-gown. + +In the doorway of the drawing-room, a figure was standing wrapped in a +military greatcoat; by the window I saw a white plume, behind there were +other persons,—I distinguished the cap of a Cossack. + +It was the police-master, Miller. + +He told me that by an order of the military governor-general, which he +held in his hand, he must look through my papers. Candles were brought. +The police-master took my keys; the district police superintendent and +his lieutenant began rummaging among my books and my linen. The +police-master busied himself among my papers; everything seemed to him +suspicious, he laid them all on one side and all at once turned to me +and said: ‘I must ask you to dress meanwhile; you’ll come along with +me.’ + +‘Where?’ I asked. + +‘To the Pretchistensky police station,’ answered the police-master in a +soothing voice. + +‘And then?’ + +‘There is nothing more in the governor-general’s instructions.’ + +I began to dress. + +Meanwhile the panic-stricken servants had awakened my mother. She rushed +out of her bedroom and was coming to my room, but was stopped by a +Cossack at the drawing-room door. She uttered a shriek, I shuddered and +ran to her. The police-master left the papers and came with me to the +drawing-room. He apologised to my mother, let her pass, swore at the +Cossack, who was not to blame, and went back to the papers. + +Then my father came up. He was pale but tried to maintain his studied +indifference. The scene was becoming painful. My mother sat in the +corner, weeping. My old father spoke of irrelevant matters with the +police-master, but his voice shook. I was afraid that I could not stand +this for long and did not want to afford the local police superintendent +the satisfaction of seeing me in tears. + +I pulled the police-master by the sleeve, ‘Let us go!’ + +‘Let us go,’ he said with relief. My father went out of the room and +returned a minute later. He brought a little ikon and put it round my +neck, saying that his father had given it to him with his blessing on +his deathbed. I was touched: this _religious_ gift showed me the degree +of terror and distress in the old man’s heart. I knelt down while he was +putting it on; he helped me up, embraced me and blessed me. + +The ikon was a picture in enamel of the head of John the Baptist on a +charger. What this was—example, advice, or prophecy?—I don’t know, but +the significance of the ikon struck me. + +My mother was almost unconscious. + +All the servants accompanied me down the staircase weeping and rushing +to kiss me or my hand. I felt as though I were present at my own +funeral. The police-master scowled and hurried on. + +When we went out at the gate he collected his company; he had with him +four Cossacks, two police superintendents and two ordinary policemen. + +‘Allow me to go home,’ a man with a beard who was sitting in front of +the gate asked the police-master. + +‘You can go,’ said Miller. + +‘What man is that?’ I asked, getting into the droshky. + +‘The impartial witness; you know that without an impartial witness the +police cannot enter a house.’ + +‘Then why did you leave him at the gate?’ + +‘It’s a mere form! It’s simply keeping the man out of bed for nothing,’ +observed Miller + +We drove accompanied by two Cossacks on horseback. + +There was no special room for me in the police station. The +police-master directed that I should be put in the office until the +morning. He himself took me there; he flung himself in an easy chair +and, yawning wearily, muttered: ‘It’s a damnable service. I’ve been at +the races since three o’clock in the afternoon, and here I’ll be busy +with you till morning. I bet it’s past three already and to-morrow I +must go with the report at nine.’ + +‘Good-bye,’ he added a minute later, and went out. A non-commissioned +officer locked me in, observing that if I wanted anything I could knock +at the door. + +I opened the window. The day was already beginning and the wind of +morning was rising; I asked the non-commissioned officer for water and +drank off a whole jugful. There was no thinking of sleep. Besides there +was nowhere to lie down; apart from the dirty leather chair and one easy +chair, there was nothing in the office but a big table heaped up with +papers and in the corner a little table still more heaped up with +papers. The dim night-light hardly lighted the room, but made a +flickering patch of light on the ceiling that grew paler and paler with +the dawn. + +I sat down in the place of the police superintendent and took up the +first paper that was lying on the table, a document relating to the +funeral of a serf of Prince Gagarin’s and a medical certificate that he +had died according to all the rules of medical science. I picked up +another—it was a set of police regulations. I ran through it and found a +paragraph which stated that ‘Every arrested man has the right within +three days after his arrest to know the ground of his arrest or to be +released.’ I noted this paragraph for my own benefit. + +An hour later I saw through the window our butler bringing me a pillow, +bedclothes, and a greatcoat. He asked something of the non-commissioned +officer, probably permission to come in to me; he was a grey-headed old +man, to two or three of whose children I had stood godfather as a small +boy. The non-commissioned officer gave him a rough and abrupt refusal; +one of our coachmen was standing near. I shouted to them from the +window. The non-commissioned officer fussed about and told them to be +off. The old man bowed to me and shed tears; the coachman, as he lashed +the horses, took off his hat and wiped his eyes, the droshky rattled +away and my tears fell in streams, my heart was brimming over; they were +the first and last tears I shed while I was in prison. + +Towards morning the office began to fill up, the clerk arrived still +drunk from the evening before, a consumptive-looking individual with red +hair, a look of brutal vice on his pimpled face. He wore a very dirty, +badly-cut and shiny coat of a brick colour. After him another extremely +free-and-easy individual in the greatcoat of a non-commissioned officer +arrived. He at once addressed me with the question: + +‘Were you taken at the theatre or what?’ + +‘I was arrested at home.’ + +‘Did Fyodor Ivanovitch himself arrest you?’ + +‘Who’s Fyodor Ivanovitch?’ + +‘Colonel Miller.’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘I understand.’ He winked to the red-haired man who showed no interest +whatever. The free-and-easy individual did not continue the +conversation—he saw that I had been taken neither for disorderly conduct +nor drunkenness, so lost all interest in me, or perhaps was afraid to +enter into conversation with a dangerous prisoner. + +Not long afterwards various sleepy-looking police officials made their +appearance and then came people with grievances and legal complaints. + +The keeper of a brothel brought a complaint against the owner of a +beer-shop, that he had publicly insulted her in his shop in such +language, as, being a woman, she could not bring herself to utter before +the police. The shopkeeper swore that he had not used such language. The +woman swore that he had uttered the words more than once and very +loudly, and added that he had raised his hand against her and that, if +she had not ducked, he would have cut her face open. The shopkeeper +declared that, in the first place, she had not paid what she owed him, +and, in the second, had insulted him in his own shop and, what’s more, +threatened that he should be thrashed within an inch of his life by her +followers. + +The brothel-keeper, a tall, untidy woman with puffy eyes, screamed in a +loud shrill voice and was extremely talkative. The man made more use of +mimicry and gesture than of words. + +The police Solomon, instead of judging between them, scolded them both +vigorously. + +‘The dogs are too well fed, that’s why they run mad,’ he said; ‘the +beasts should sit quiet at home and be thankful we say nothing and leave +them in peace. An important matter, indeed! They quarrel and run at once +to trouble the police. And you’re a fine lady! as though it were the +first time—what’s one to call you if not a bad word with the trade you +follow?’ + +The shopkeeper shook his head and shrugged his shoulders to express his +profound gratification. The police officer at once pounced upon him and +said, ‘What do you go barking behind your counter for, you dog? Do you +want to go to the lock-up? You’re a foul-tongued brute, and lifting your +ugly paw too—do you want a taste of the birch, eh?’ + +For me this scene had all the charm of novelty and it remained imprinted +on my memory for ever, it was the first case of patriarchal Russian +justice I had seen. + +The brothel-keeper and the police continued shouting until the police +superintendent came in. Without inquiring why these people were there or +what they wanted, he shouted in a still more savage voice: ‘Get out, be +off, this isn’t a public bath-house or a pot-house!’ + +Having driven ‘the scum’ out he turned to the police, ‘You ought to be +ashamed to allow such disorder! How many times I have said to you the +place won’t be held in proper respect, low creatures like that will turn +it into a perfect Bedlam, you are too easy-going with these scoundrels. +What man is this?’ he asked about me. + +‘A prisoner brought in by Fyodor Ivanovitch, here is the document +concerning him.’ + +The superintendent ran through the document, looked at me, met with +disapproval the direct and unflinching gaze which I fixed upon him, +prepared at the first word to give as good as I got, and said ‘Excuse +me.’ + +The affair of the brothel-keeper and the beer-shop man began again. She +insisted on making a deposition on oath. A priest arrived. I believe +they both made sworn statements; I did not see the end of it. I was +taken away to the head police-master’s. I do not know why; no one said a +word to me; then again I was brought back to the police station, where a +room had been prepared for me under the watch tower. The +non-commissioned officer observed that if I wanted anything to eat, I +had better send out to buy it, that the government ration had not been +fixed yet and that it would not be for another two days; moreover, that +it consisted of two or three kopecks of silver and that the better-class +prisoners did not claim it. + +There was a dirty sofa standing by the wall; it was past midday, I felt +fearfully tired, flung myself on the sofa and slept like the dead. When +I woke up, all was quiet and serene in my heart. I had been worn out of +late by uncertainty about Ogaryov, now my turn too had come, the danger +was no longer far off, but was all about me, the storm-cloud was +overhead. This first persecution was to be our consecration. + + + + + Chapter 10 + UNDER THE WATCH TOWER—THE LISBON POLICEMAN—THE INCENDIARIES + + +A man soon becomes used to prison, if he only has some inner resources. +One quickly becomes used to the peace and complete freedom in one’s +cage—no anxieties, no distractions. + +At first, books were not allowed; the superintendent assured me that it +was forbidden to take books from my home. I asked him to buy me some. +‘Something instructive, a grammar now, I might get, perhaps, but for +anything more you must ask the general.’ The suggestion that I should +wile away the time by reading a grammar was extremely funny, +nevertheless I caught at it eagerly, and asked the superintendent to buy +me an Italian grammar and lexicon. I had two red notes with me, I gave +him one; he at once sent an officer for the books and gave him a letter +to the chief police-master in which, on the strength of the paragraph I +had read, I asked him to let me know the cause of my arrest or to +release me. + +The local superintendent, in whose presence I wrote the letter, tried to +persuade me not to send it. + +‘It’s a mistake, sir, upon my soul, it’s a mistake to trouble the +general; he’ll say “they are restless people,” it will do you harm and +be no use whatever.’ + +In the evening the policeman appeared and told me that the head +police-master had bidden him tell me that I should know the cause of my +arrest in due time. Then he pulled out of his pocket a greasy Italian +grammar, and added, smiling, ‘it luckily happened that there was a +dictionary in it so there was no need to buy one.’ Not a word was said +about the change. I was on the point of writing to the chief +police-master again, but the rôle of a miniature Hampden at the +Pretchistensky police station struck me as too funny. + +Ten days after my arrest a little swarthy, pock-marked policeman +appeared at ten o’clock in the evening with an order for me to dress and +set off to the committee of inquiry. + +While I was dressing the following ludicrously vexatious incident +occurred. My dinner was sent me from home, a servant gave it to the +non-commissioned officer below and he sent it up to me by a soldier. +They were allowed to send me from home about a bottle of wine a day. N. +Sazonov took advantage of this permission to send me a bottle of +excellent Johannisberg. The soldier and I ingeniously uncorked the +bottle with two nails, the wine had a delicate fragrance that was +apparent at a distance. I looked forward to enjoying it for the next +three or four days. + +One must be in prison to know how much childishness remains in a man and +what comfort can be found in trifles, from a bottle of wine to a trick +at the expense of one’s guard. + +The pock-marked policeman sniffed out my bottle and turning to me asked +permission to taste a little. I was vexed; however, I said that I should +be delighted. I had no wine-glass. The monster took a tumbler, filled it +incredibly full and drank it without taking breath; this way of imbibing +spirits and wine only exists among Russians and Poles; I have seen no +other people in all Europe who could empty a tumbler at a gulp or even +toss off a wine-glassful. To make the loss of the wine still more +bitter, the pock-marked policeman wiped his lips with a snuffy blue +handkerchief, adding ‘First-class Madeira.’ I looked at him with hatred +and spitefully rejoiced that he had not been vaccinated and nature had +not spared him the smallpox. + +This connoisseur of wines conducted me to the chief police-master’s +house in Tverskoy Boulevard, showed me into a side-room and left me +alone there. Half an hour later, a stout man with a lazy, good-natured +air came into the room from the inner apartments; he threw a portfolio +of papers on the table and sent the gendarme standing at the door away +on some errand. + +‘I suppose,’ he said to me, ‘you are concerned with the case of Ogaryov +and the other young men who have lately been arrested?’ + +I said I was. + +‘I happened to hear about it,’ he went on, ‘it’s a strange case, I don’t +understand it.’ + +‘I’ve been a fortnight in prison in connection with the case and I don’t +understand it, and, what’s more, I simply know nothing about it.’ + +‘A good thing, too,’ he said, looking intently at me; ‘and mind you +don’t know anything about it. You must forgive me, if I give you a bit +of advice; you’re young, your blood is still hot, you long to speak out, +that’s the trouble, don’t forget that you know nothing about it, that’s +the only safe line.’ + +I looked at him in surprise, his face expressed nothing evil; he guessed +what I felt and with a smile said, ‘I was a Moscow student myself twelve +years ago.’ + +A clerk of some sort came in; the stout man addressed him and, after +giving him his orders, went out with a friendly nod to me, putting his +finger on his lips. I never met the gentleman afterwards and I do not +know who he was, but I found out the value of his advice. + +Then a police-master came in, not Miller, but another called Tsinsky, +and summoned me to the committee. In a large rather handsome room, five +men were sitting at a table, all in military uniform, with the exception +of one decrepit old man. They were smoking cigars and gaily talking +together, lolling in easy chairs, with their uniforms unbuttoned. The +chief police-master was presiding. + +When I went in, he turned to a figure sitting meekly in a corner, and +said, ‘If you please, father.’ Only then I noticed that there was +sitting in a corner an old priest with a grey beard and a reddish-blue +face. The priest was half-asleep and yawning with his hand over his +mouth; his mind was far away and he was longing to get home. In a +drawling, somewhat chanting voice he began exhorting me, talking of the +sin of concealing the truth before the persons appointed by the Tsar, +and of the uselessness of such duplicity considering the all-hearing ear +of God; he did not even forget to refer to the everlasting texts, to the +effect that all power is from God and that we must render to Cæsar the +things that are Cæsar’s. In conclusion, he said that I must put my lips +to the Gospel and the Holy Cross in confirmation of the oath (which, +however, I had not given, and he did not insist on my taking) to reveal +the whole truth sincerely and openly. + +When he had finished he began hurriedly wrapping up the Gospel and the +Cross. Tsinsky, barely rising from his seat, told him that he could go. +After this he turned to me and translated the spiritual advice into +secular language: ‘I will only add one thing to the priest’s words—it’s +useless for you to deny the truth, even if you wish to do so.’ He +pointed to the heaps of papers, letters, and portraits which were +intentionally scattered about the table. ‘Only an open confession can +mitigate your lot; to be at liberty or in Bobruisk in the Caucasus +depends on yourself.’ + +The questions were put to me in writing: the naïveté of some of them was +amazing: ‘Do you know of the existence of any secret society? Do you +belong to any secret society, literary or otherwise? Who are its +members? Where do they meet?’ + +To all these it was extremely easy to answer by the single word: ‘No.’ + +‘I see you know nothing,’ said Tsinsky after looking through the +answers. ‘I have warned you, you are making your position more +difficult.’ + +With that the first examination ended. + +... Eight years later, in a different part of the very house in which +this took place, there was living the sister of the new chief +police-master, a woman who had once been very handsome, and whose +daughter was a beauty. + +I used to visit there; and every time I passed through the room in which +Tsinsky and Co. had tried and examined us; then and afterwards, there +hung in it the portrait of Paul, whether as a reminder of the depths of +degradation to which a man may be brought by unbridled passion and the +misuse of power, or as an incitement of the police to every sort of +brutality, I do not know, but there he was, cane in hand, snub-nosed and +scowling. I stopped every time before that portrait, in old days as a +prisoner, later on as a visitor. The little drawing-room close by, full +of the fragrance of beauty and femininity, seemed somehow out of place +in this stern house of strict discipline and police examinations; I felt +unable to be myself there, and somehow regretful that the blossom that +was unfolding so beautifully should flower against the gloomy brick wall +of a police office. The things that we said and that were said by the +little circle of friends that gathered round them sounded so ironical, +so surprising to the ear, within those walls accustomed to hear +interrogations, secret information, and reports of wholesale police +raids, within those walls which alone separated us from the whisper of +policemen, the sighs of prisoners, the clank of gendarmes’ spurs and +Cossacks’ sabres.... + +A week or two later, the little pock-marked policeman came and took me +to Tsinsky again. In the vestibule several men in fetters, surrounded by +soldiers with guns, were sitting or lying down; in the lobby also there +were several men of different classes, unchained but strictly guarded. +The little policeman told me that they were all incendiaries. Tsinsky +was out at the fire and we had to await his return; we had arrived +between nine and ten in the evening; no one had asked for me by one +o’clock in the night, and I was still sitting very quietly in the lobby +with the incendiaries. First one and then another of them was sent for, +the police ran backwards and forwards, chains clanked, and the soldiers +were so bored that they rattled their guns and did drill exercises. +About one o’clock Tsinsky arrived, sooty and grimy, and hurried straight +to his study without stopping. Half an hour passed, my policeman was +sent for; he came back looking pale and upset, with his face twitching +convulsively. Tsinsky poked his head out of the door after him and said: +‘The whole committee has been waiting for you all the evening, Monsieur +Herzen; this blockhead brought you here when you were wanted at Prince +Golitsyn’s. I am very sorry you have had to wait here so long, but it is +not my fault. What is one to do with such men? I believe he has been +fifty years in the service and he is still an idiot. Come, be off home +now,’ he added, changing to a much ruder tone as he addressed the +policeman. + +The little man repeated all the way home: ‘O Lord, what a misfortune! a +man has no thought, no notion what is happening to him, he will be the +death of me now, he would take no notice if you had not been kept +waiting there, but of course it is a disgrace to him. O Lord, how +unlucky!’ + +I forgave him my wine, particularly when he told me that he had not been +nearly so frightened when he had been almost drowned near Lisbon. This +last remark was so unexpected that I was overcome with senseless +laughter: ‘Dear me, how very strange! However did you get to Lisbon?’ +The old man had been for over twenty-five years a naval officer. One +cannot but agree with the minister who assured Captain Kopeykin[123] +that: ‘It has never happened yet among us in Russia that a man who has +deserved well of his country should be left without recognition.’ + +Fate had saved him at Lisbon only to be abused by Tsinsky like a boy, +after forty years’ service. + +He was scarcely to blame. + +The committee of inquiry formed by the governor-general did not please +the Tsar; he appointed a new one presided over by Prince Sergey +Mihailovitch Golitsyn. The members of this committee were the Moscow +Commandant, Staal, the other Prince Golitsyn, the colonel of gendarmes, +Shubensky, and Oransky, the ex-auditor. + +In the instructions from the chief police-master nothing was said about +the committee having been changed; it was very natural that the hero of +Lisbon should have taken me to Tsinsky. + +There was great excitement at the police station also; three fires had +taken place that evening—and the committee had sent twice to inquire +what had become of me and whether I had escaped. Anything that Tsinsky +had left unsaid in his abuse the police station superintendent made up +now to the hero of Lisbon; which, indeed, was only to be expected, since +the superintendent was himself partly to blame, not having inquired +where I was to be sent. In a corner in the office, some one was lying on +the chairs, moaning; I looked, it was a young man of handsome +appearance, neatly dressed, he was spitting blood and moaning; the +police doctor advised his being taken to the hospital as early as +possible in the morning. + +When the non-commissioned officer took me to my room, I extracted from +him the story of the wounded man. He was an ex-officer of the Guards, he +had an intrigue with some maid-servant and had been with her when a +lodge of the house caught fire. This was the time of the greatest panic +in regard to arson; indeed, not a day passed without my hearing the bell +ring the alarm three or four times; from my window I saw the glare of +two or three fires every night. To avoid compromising the girl, the +officer climbed over the fence as soon as the alarm was sounded, and hid +in the stable of the next house, waiting for an opportunity to get off. +A little girl who was in the yard saw him and told the first policeman +who galloped up that he was hidden in the stable; they rushed in with a +crowd of people and dragged the officer out in triumph. He was so badly +beaten that he died next morning. + +The people who had been captured were sorted out; about half were +released, the others were detained on suspicion. The police-master, +Bryantchaninov, used to ride over every morning and cross-examine them +for three or four hours. Sometimes the victims were thrashed or beaten, +then their wailing, screams and entreaties, and the moaning of the women +reached me, together with the harsh voice of the police-master and the +monotonous reading of the clerk. It was awful, intolerable. At night I +dreamed of those sounds and woke in a frenzy at the thought that the +victims were lying on straw only a few paces from me, in chains, with +lacerated wounds on their backs, and in all probability quite innocent. + +To know what the Russian prisons, the Russian law-courts and the Russian +police are like, one must be a peasant, a house-serf, a workman, or an +artisan. + +Political prisoners, who for the most part belong to the nobility, are +kept in close custody and punished savagely, but their fate cannot be +compared with the fate of the poor. With them the police do not stand on +ceremony. To whom can the peasant or the workman go afterwards to +complain, where can he find justice? + +So terrible is the disorder, the brutality, the arbitrariness and the +corruption of Russian justice and of the Russian police that a man of +the humbler class who falls into the hands of the law is more afraid of +the process of law itself than of any punishment. He looks forward with +impatience to the time when he will be sent to Siberia; his martyrdom +ends with the beginning of his punishment. And let us remember that +three-quarters of the people taken up by the police on suspicion are +released on trial, and that they have passed through the same agonies as +the guilty. + +Peter III. abolished torture and the Secret Chamber. + +Catherine II. abolished torture. + +Alexander I. abolished it once more. + +Answers given ‘under intimidation’ are not recognised by law. The +officer who tortures the accused man renders himself liable to severe +punishment. + +And yet all over Russia, from the Behring Straits to Taurogen, men are +tortured; where it is dangerous to torture by flogging, they are +tortured by insufferable heat, thirst, and salted food. In Moscow the +police put an accused prisoner with bare feet on a metal floor in a +temperature of ten degrees of frost; he died in the hospital which was +under the supervision of Prince Meshtchersky, who told the story with +indignation. The government knows all this, the governors conceal it, +the Senate connives at it, the ministers say nothing, the Tsar, and the +synod, the landowners and the priests all agree with Selifan[124] that +‘there must be thrashing for the peasants are too fond of their ease, +order must be kept up.’ + +The committee appointed to investigate the cases of incendiarism was +investigating, that is, thrashing, for six months and had thrashed out +nothing in the end. The Tsar was incensed and ordered that the thing was +to be finished in three days. The thing was finished in three days. +Culprits were found and condemned to punishment by the knout, by +branding, and by exile to penal servitude. The porters from all the +houses gathered together to look at the terrible punishment of ‘the +incendiaries.’ By then it was winter and I was at that time in the +Krutitsky Barracks. The captain of gendarmes, a good-natured old man who +had been present at the punishment, told me the details. The first man +condemned to the knout told the crowd in a loud voice that he swore he +was innocent, that he did not know himself what he had answered under +torture, then taking off his shirt he turned his back to the crowd and +said: ‘Look, good Christians!’ + +A moan of horror ran through the crowd, his back was a dark-blue striped +wound, and on that wound he was to be beaten with the knout. The murmurs +and gloomy aspect of the crowd made the police hurry. The executioners +dealt the legal number of blows, while others did the branding and +others riveted fetters, and the business seemed to be finished. But this +scene impressed the inhabitants; in every circle in Moscow people were +talking about it. The governor-general reported upon it to the Tsar. The +Tsar ordered a new trial to be held, and the case of the incendiary who +had protested before the punishment to be particularly inquired into. + +Several months afterwards, I read in the papers that the Tsar, wishing +to compensate two who had been punished by the knout, though innocent, +ordered them to be given two hundred roubles a lash, and to be provided +with a special passport testifying to their innocence in spite of the +branding. These two were the man who had spoken to the crowd and one of +his companions. + +The story of the fires in Moscow in 1834, cases similar to which +occurred ten years later in various provinces, remains a mystery. That +the fires were caused by arson there is no doubt; fire, ‘the red cock,’ +is in general a very national means of revenge among us. One is +continually hearing of the burning by peasants of their owners’ houses, +cornstacks, and granaries, but what was the cause of the incendiarism in +Moscow in 1834 no one knows, and, least of all, the members of the +committee of inquiry. + +Before 22nd August, Coronation Day, some practical jokers dropped +letters in various places in which they informed the inhabitants that +they need not bother about an illumination, that there would be a fine +flare-up. + +The cowardly Moscow authorities were in a great fluster. The police +station was filled with soldiers from early morning and a squadron of +Uhlans were stationed in the yard. In the evening patrols on horse and +on foot were incessantly moving about the streets. Artillery was kept in +readiness. Police-masters galloped up and down with Cossacks and +gendarmes. Prince Golitsyn himself rode about the town with his +aides-de-camp. The military appearance of modest Moscow was strange and +affected the nerves. Till late at night I lay in the window under my +watch tower and looked into the yard.... The Uhlans who had been hurried +to the place were sitting in groups, near their horses, some were +mounted on their horses. Officers were walking about; looking +disdainfully at the police, aides-de-camp with yellow collars arrived +continually, looking anxious and, after doing nothing, went away again. + +There were no fires. + +After this the Tsar himself came to Moscow. He was displeased with the +inquiry into our case which was only beginning, was displeased that we +were left in the hands of the ordinary police, was displeased that the +incendiaries had not been found—in fact, he was displeased with +everything and with every one. + +We soon felt the presence of the Most High. + + + + + Chapter 11 + KRUTITSKY BARRACKS—GENDARMES’ TALES—OFFICERS + + +Three days after the Tsar’s arrival, late in the evening—all these +things are done in darkness to avoid disturbing the public—a police +officer came to me with instructions to collect my belongings and set +off with him. + +‘Where are we going?’ I asked. + +‘You will see,’ was the policeman’s intelligent and polite reply. After +this, of course, I collected my things and set off without continuing +the conversation. + +We drove on and on for an hour and a half, at last we passed the Simonov +Monastery and stopped at a heavy stone gate, before which two gendarmes +with carbines were pacing up and down. This was the Krutitsky Monastery, +converted into a barracks of gendarmes. + +I was led into a little office. The clerks, the adjutants, the officers +were all in light blue. The officer on duty, in a casque and full +uniform, asked me to wait a little and even suggested that I should +light the pipe I held in my hand. After this he proceeded to write an +acknowledgment of having received a prisoner; giving it to the +policeman, he went away and returned with another officer. ‘Your room is +ready,’ said the latter, ‘come along.’ A gendarme held a candle for us, +we went down the stairs and took a few steps across the courtyard into a +long corridor lighted by a single lantern; on both sides were little +doors, one of them the officer on duty opened; it led into a tiny +guardroom behind which was a small, dark, cold room that smelt like a +cellar. The officer who conducted me then turned to me, saying in French +that he was ‘_désolé d’être dans la nécessité_’ of searching my pockets, +but military service, duty, his instructions.... After this eloquent +introduction, he very simply turned to the policeman and indicated me +with his eyes. The policeman on the spot thrust an incredibly large and +hairy hand into my pockets. I observed to the police officer that this +was quite unnecessary, that I would myself, if he liked, turn my pockets +inside out without such violent measures; moreover, what could I have +after six weeks imprisonment? + +‘We know,’ said the polite officer with a smile of inimitable +self-complacency, ‘how things are done in the police station.’ The +officer on duty also smiled sarcastically. However, they told the +policeman he need only look. I pulled out everything I had. + +‘Scatter all your tobacco on the table,’ said the officer who was +_désolé_. + +In my tobacco pouch I had a penknife and a pencil wrapped up in paper; +from the very beginning I had been thinking about them and, as I talked +to the officer, I played with the tobacco pouch, until I got the +penknife into my hand. I held it through the material of the pouch, and +boldly shook the tobacco out on the table. The policeman poured it in +again. The penknife and pencil had been saved; so there was a lesson for +the officer for his proud disdain of the ordinary police. + +This incident put me in the best of humours and I began gaily +scrutinising my new domain. + +Some of the monks’ cells, built three hundred years ago and sunk into +the earth, had been turned into secular cells for political prisoners. + +In my room there was a bedstead without a mattress, a little table, on +it a jug of water, and beside it a chair, a thin tallow candle was +burning in a big copper candlestick. The damp and cold pierced to one’s +bones; the officer ordered the stove to be lighted, and then they all +went away. A soldier promised to bring some hay; meanwhile, putting my +greatcoat under my head, I lay down on the bare bedstead and lit my +pipe. + +A minute later I noticed that the ceiling was covered with ‘Prussian’ +beetles. They had seen no light for a long time and were running towards +it from all directions, crowding together, hurrying, falling on to the +table, and then racing headlong, backwards and forwards, along the edge +of the table. + +I disliked black beetles, as I did every sort of uninvited guest; my +neighbours seemed to me horribly disgusting, but there was nothing to be +done, I could not begin by complaining about the black beetles and my +nerves had to submit. Two or three days later, however, all the +‘Prussians’ moved next door to the soldier’s room, where it was warmer; +only occasionally a stray beetle would run in, prick up his whiskers and +scurry back to get warm. + +Though I continually asked the gendarme, he still kept the stove closed. +I began to feel unwell and giddy, I tried to get up and knock to the +soldier; I did actually get up, but with that all I remember ended.... + +When I came to myself I was lying on the floor with a splitting +headache. A tall gendarme was standing with his hands folded, staring at +me blankly, as in the well-known bronze statuettes a dog stares at a +tortoise. + +‘You have been finely suffocated, your honour,’ he said, seeing that I +had recovered consciousness. ‘I’ve brought you horse-radish with salt +and kvass; I have already made you sniff it, now you must drink it up.’ +I drank it, he lifted me up and laid me on the bed; I felt very faint, +there were double windows and no pane that opened in them; the soldier +went to the office to ask permission for me to go into the yard; the +officer on duty told him to say that neither the colonel nor the +adjutant were there, and that he could not take the responsibility. I +had to remain in the room full of charcoal fumes. + +I got used even to the Krutitsky Barracks, conjugating the Italian verbs +and reading some wretched little books. At first my confinement was +rather strict; at nine o’clock in the evening, at the last note of the +bugle, a soldier came into my room, put out the candle and locked the +door. From nine o’clock in the evening until eight next morning I had to +sit in darkness. I have never been a great sleeper, and in prison where +I had no exercise, four hours’ sleep was quite enough for me; and not to +have candles was a real affliction. Moreover, the sentry uttered every +quarter of an hour from both sides of the corridor a loud, prolonged +shout. + +A few weeks later Colonel Semyonov (brother of the celebrated actress, +afterwards Princess Gagarin) allowed them to leave me a candle, forbade +anything to be hung over the window, which was below the level of the +courtyard, so that the sentry could see everything that was being done +in the cell, and gave instructions that the sentries should not shout in +the corridor. + +Then the commanding officer gave us permission to have ink and to walk +in the courtyard. Paper was given in a fixed amount on condition that +none of the leaves were torn. I was allowed once in twenty-four hours to +go, accompanied by a soldier and the officer on duty, into the yard, +which was enclosed by a fence and surrounded by a cordon of sentries. + +Life passed quietly and monotonously, the military punctuality gave it a +mechanical regularity like the cæsura in verse. In the morning, with the +assistance of the gendarme, I prepared coffee on the stove; at nine +o’clock the officer on duty, in gloves, enormous gauntlets, in a casque +and a greatcoat, appeared, clanking his sabre and bringing in with him +several cubic feet of frost. At one, the gendarme brought a dirty napkin +and a bowl of soup, which he always held by the edge, so that his two +middle fingers were perceptibly cleaner than the others. We were fed +fairly decently, but it must not be forgotten that we were charged two +roubles a day for our keep, which in the course of nine months’ +imprisonment ran up to a considerable sum for persons of no means. The +father of one prisoner said quite simply that he had not the money; he +received the cool reply that it would be stopped out of his salary. If +he had not been receiving a salary, it is extremely probable that he +would have been put in prison. + +In conclusion, I ought to observe that a rouble and a half was sent to +Colonel Semyonov at the barracks for our board from the ordnance house. +There was almost a fuss about this; but the adjutant, who got the +benefit of it, presented the gendarmes’ division with boxes for first +performances or benefit nights, and with that the matter ended. + +After sunset there followed a complete stillness, which was not +disturbed by the footsteps of the soldiers crunching over the snow +before the window, nor the far-away calls of the sentries. As a rule I +read until one o’clock and then put out my candle. Sleep carried me into +freedom, sometimes it seemed as though I woke up feeling—ough, what a +horrible dream I have had—prison and gendarmes—and I would rejoice that +it was all a dream; and then, all at once, there would be the clank of a +sabre in the corridor, or the officer on duty would open the door, +accompanied by a soldier with a lantern, or the sentry would shout +inhumanly, ‘Who goes there?’ or a bugle under my very window would +outrage the morning air with its shrill reveille.... + +In moments of dullness when I was disinclined to read, I would talk with +the gendarmes who guarded me, particularly with the old fellow who had +looked after me when I was overcome by the charcoal fumes. The colonel +used, as a sign of favour, to free his old soldiers from regular +discipline, and set them to the easy duty of guarding a prisoner; a +corporal, who was a spy and a rogue, was set over them. Five or six +gendarmes made up the whole staff. + +The old man, of whom I am speaking, was a simple, good-hearted creature, +given to all sorts of kind actions, for which he had probably had to pay +a good deal in his life. He had passed through the campaign of 1812, his +chest was covered with medals, he had served his full time and remained +in the army of his own free will, not knowing where to go. ‘Twice,’ he +told me, ‘I wrote to my home in the Mogilev province, but I got no +answer, so it seems as though there were none of my people left: and so +I feel a little uneasy to go home, one would stay there a bit and then +wander off like a lost spirit, going hither and thither to beg one’s +bread.’ How barbarously and mercilessly the army is organised in Russia +with its monstrous term of service! A man’s private life is everywhere +sacrificed without the slightest scruple and with no compensation. + +Old Filimonov had pretensions to a knowledge of German which he had +studied in winter quarters after the taking of Paris. He very +felicitously adapted German words to the Russian spirit, calling a +horse, _fert_, eggs, _yery_, fish, _pish_, oats, _ober_, pancakes, +_pankutie_. + +There was a naïveté about his stories which made me sad and +thoughtful. In Moldavia during the Turkish campaign of 1805 he was in +the company of a captain, the most good-natured man in the world, who +looked after every soldier as though he were his own son and was +always foremost in action. ‘A Moldavian girl had captivated him and +then we saw our captain was in trouble, for, do you know, he noticed +that the girl was making up to another officer. So one day he called +me and a comrade—a splendid soldier, he had both his legs blown off +afterwards at Maly-Yaroslavets—and began telling us how the Moldavian +girl had treated him and asked would we care to help him and give her +a lesson. “To be sure, sir,” we said, “we are always glad to do our +best for your honour.” He thanked us and pointed out the house in +which the officer lived, saying, “You wait on the bridge at night; she +will certainly go to him, you seize her without any noise and drop her +in the river.” “That is easily done, your honour,” we said, and my +comrade and I got a sack ready. We were sitting there when towards +midnight the Moldavian girl runs up. “Why, you are in a hurry, madam,” +said we, and gave her one on the head. She never uttered a squeal, +poor dear, and we popped her into the sack and over into the river; +and next day the captain went to the officer and said: “Don’t you be +angry with your Moldavian girl, we detained her a little, and now she +is in the river, and I am ready for a little fun with you with the +sabre or with pistols, which you like.” So they hacked at each other. +The officer gave our captain a bad cut on the chest, the poor, dear +man pined away and a few months later gave up his soul to God.’ + +‘And the Moldavian girl was drowned, then?’ I asked. + +‘Yes, she was drowned,’ answered the soldier. + +I looked with surprise at the childish carelessness with which the old +gendarme told me this story. And he, as though guessing what I felt or +thinking of it for the first time, added, to soothe me and pacify his +conscience: ‘A heathen woman, sir, as good as not christened, that sort +of people.’ + +On every Imperial holiday the gendarmes are given a glass of vodka. The +sergeant allowed Filimonov to refuse his share for five or six times and +to receive them all at once. Filimonov scored on a wooden tally-stick +how many glasses he had missed, and on the most important holiday would +go for them. He would pour this vodka into a bowl, would crumble bread +into it and eat it with a spoon. After this meal he would light a big +pipe with a tiny mouthpiece, filled with tobacco of incredible strength +which he used to cut up himself, and therefore rather wittily call +‘Self-Cut.’ As he smoked he would fold himself up in a little window, +bent double—there were no chairs in the soldiers’ rooms—and sing this +song: + + ‘The maids come out into the meadow + Where was an anthill and a flower.’ + +As he got more drunk the words would become more inarticulate until he +fell asleep. Imagine the health of a man who had been twice wounded and +at over sixty could still survive such feasts! + +Before I leave these Flemish barrack scenes _à la_ Wouverman[125] and _à +la_ Callot,[126] and this prison gossip, which is like the reminiscences +of all prisoners, I will say a few words about the officers. + +The greater number among them were rather good-natured men, by no means +spies, but men who had by chance come into the gendarmes’ division. +Young noblemen with little or no education and no fortune, who did not +know where to lay their heads, they were gendarmes because they had +found no other job. They performed their duties with military +exactitude, but I never observed a trace of zeal in any of them, except +the adjutant, but then he, of course, was an adjutant. + +When the officers had made my acquaintance, they did all sorts of little +things to alleviate my lot, and it would be a sin to complain of them. + +One young officer told me that in 1831 he was sent to find and arrest a +Polish landowner, who was in hiding somewhere in the neighbourhood of +his estate. He was charged with being in relations with revolutionary +emissaries. From evidence that the officer collected, he found out where +the landowner must be hidden, went there with his company, put a cordon +round the house and entered it with two gendarmes. The house was +empty—they walked through the rooms, peeping into everything and found +no one anywhere, but yet some traces showed clearly that there had been +persons in the house lately. Leaving the gendarmes below, the young man +went a second time up to the attic; looking round attentively he saw a +little door which led to a loft or some little cupboard; the door was +fastened on the inside, he pushed it with his foot, it opened, and a +tall, handsome woman stood facing him. She pointed in silence to a man +who held in his arms a girl of about twelve, who was almost unconscious. +This was the Pole with his wife and child. The officer was embarrassed. +The tall woman noticed this and asked him: ‘And will you have the +cruelty to ruin them?’ The officer apologised, saying the usual +commonplaces about the inviolability of his military oath, and his duty, +and, at last, in despair, seeing that his words had no effect, ended +with the question: ‘What am I to do?’ The woman looked proudly at him +and said, pointing to the door: ‘Go down and say there is no one here.’ +‘Upon my word, I don’t know how it happened and what was the matter with +me, but I went down from the attic and told the corporal to collect the +men. A couple of hours later we were looking vigorously in another part, +while he was making his way over the frontier. Well, woman! I admit it!’ + +Nothing in the world can be more narrow-minded and more inhuman than +wholesale condemnation of entire classes in accordance with the label, +the moral catalogue, the leading characteristics of the class. Names are +dreadful things. Jean Paul Richter says with absolute truth: ‘If a child +tells a lie, frighten him with his bad conduct, tell him he has told a +lie, but don’t tell him he is a liar. You destroy his moral confidence +in himself by defining him as a liar. “That is a murderer,” we are told, +and at once we fancy a hidden dagger, a brutal expression, evil designs, +as though murder were a permanent employment, the trade of the man who +has happened once in his life to kill some one. One cannot be a spy or +trade in the vice of others and remain an honest man, but one may be a +police officer without losing all human dignity; just as one may +conceivably find women of a tender heart and even nobility of character +in the unhappy victims of “public incontinence.”’ + +I have an aversion for people who cannot, or will not, take the trouble +to go beyond the name, to step across the barrier of crime, of a +complicated false position, but either chastely turn aside, or harshly +thrust it all away from them. This is usually done by cold, abstract +natures, egoistic and revolting in their purity, or base, vulgar natures +who have not yet happened, or have not needed, to show themselves in +practice. They are through sympathy at home in the dirty depths into +which others have sunk. + + + + + Chapter 12 + THE INVESTIGATION—GOLITSYN SENIOR—GOLITSYN JUNIOR—GENERAL + STAAL—SOKOLOVSKY—SENTENCE + + +But with all this what of our case, what of the investigation and the +trial? + +They were no more successful in the new committee than in the old. The +police had been on our track for a long time, but in their zeal and +impatience could not wait to find anything adequate, and did something +silly. They had sent a retired officer called Skaryatka to lead us on +and catch us; he made acquaintance with almost all of our circle, but we +very soon guessed what he was and held aloof from him. Other young men, +for the most part students, had not been so cautious, but these others +had no serious connection with us. + +One student, on completing his studies, gave a supper to his friends on +24th June 1834. Not one of us was at the festivity, indeed not one of us +had been invited. The young men drank too much, played the fool, danced +the mazurka, and among other things sang Sokolovsky’s well-known song on +the accession of Nicholas: + + ‘The Emperor of Russia + Has gone to realms above, + The operating surgeon + Slit his belly open. + + ‘The Government is weeping + And all the people weep; + There’s coming to rule over us + Constantine the freak. + + ‘But to the King of Heaven, + Almighty God above, + Our Tsar of blessed memory + Has handed a petition. + + ‘When He read the paper, + Moved to pity, God + Gave us Nicholas instead, + The blackguard, the....’[127] + +In the evening Skaryatka suddenly remembered that it was his name-day, +told a tale of how advantageously he had sold a horse, and invited the +students to his quarters, promising them a dozen of champagne. They all +went, the champagne appeared, and the host, staggering, proposed that +they should once more sing Sokolovsky’s song. In the middle of the +singing the door opened and Tsinsky with the police walked in. All this +was crude, stupid, clumsy, and at the same time unsuccessful. + +The police wanted to catch us; they were looking for external evidence +to involve in the case some five or six men whom they had already +marked, and only succeeded in catching twenty innocent persons. + +It is not easy, however, to disconcert the Russian police. Within a +fortnight they arrested us as implicated in the supper case. In +Sokolovsky’s possession they found letters from S——, in S——’s possession +letters from Ogaryov, and in Ogaryov’s possession my letters. +Nevertheless, nothing was discovered. The first investigation failed. To +ensure the success of the second, the Tsar sent from Petersburg the +choicest of the inquisitors, A. F. Golitsyn. + +This kind of person is rare in Russia. It is represented among us by +Mordvinov, the famous head of the Third Section, Pelikan, the rector of +Vilna, and a few accommodating Letts and degraded Poles.[128] But +unluckily for the inquisition, Staal, the Commandant of Moscow, was +appointed the first member. Staal, a straightforward military man, a +gallant old general, went into the case and found that it consisted of +two circumstances that had no connection with each other: the affair of +the supper party, for which the police ought to be punished, and the +arrest for no apparent reason of persons whose only guilt, so far as +could be seen, lay in certain half-expressed opinions, for which it +would be both difficult and absurd to try them. + +Staal’s opinion did not please Golitsyn junior. The dispute between them +took a bitter character; the old warrior flared up, wrathfully struck +the floor with his sabre and said: ‘Instead of ruining people, you had +better draw up a report on the advisability of closing all the schools +and universities; that would warn other unfortunate youths; however, you +can do what you like, but you must do it without me. I won’t set foot in +the committee again.’ With these words the old man hurriedly left the +room. + +The Tsar was informed of this the same day. + +In the morning when the commandant appeared with his report, the Tsar +asked him why he would not attend the committee; Staal told him why. + +‘What nonsense!’ replied the Tsar, ‘to quarrel with Golitsyn, for shame! +I trust you will attend the committee as before.’ + +‘Sire,’ answered Staal, ‘spare my grey hairs. I have lived to reach them +without the slightest stain on my honour. My zeal is known to your +Majesty, my blood, the remnant of my days are yours, but this is a +question of my honour—my conscience revolts against what is being done +in the committee.’ + +The Tsar frowned. Staal bowed himself out, and was not once in the +committee afterwards. + +This anecdote, the accuracy of which is not open to the slightest doubt, +throws great light on the character of Nicholas. How was it that it did +not enter his head that if a man whom he could not but respect, a brave +warrior, an old man who had won his position, so obstinately besought +him to spare his honour, the case could not be quite clean? He could not +have done less than insist on Staal’s explaining the matter in the +presence of Golitsyn. He did not do this, but gave orders that we should +be confined more strictly. + +When he had gone there were only enemies of the accused in the +committee, presided over by a simple-hearted old man, Prince S. M. +Golitsyn, who knew as little about the case nine months after it had +begun as he did nine months before it began. He preserved a dignified +silence, very rarely put in a word, and at the end of an examination +invariably asked: ‘May we let him go?’ ‘We may,’ Golitsyn junior would +answer, and the senior would say with dignity to the prisoner, ‘You may +go.’ + +My first examination lasted four hours. + +The questions were of two kinds. The object of the first was to discover +a manner of thinking, ‘in opposition to the spirit of government, +revolutionary opinions, imbued with the pernicious doctrines of Saint +Simon,’ as Golitsyn junior and the auditor Oransky expressed it. + +These questions were easy, but they were hardly questions. In the papers +and letters that had been seized, the opinions were fairly simply +expressed; the questions could in reality only relate to the substantial +fact of whether a man had or had not written the words in question. The +committee thought it necessary to add to every written phrase, ‘How do +you explain the following passage in your letter?’ + +Of course it was useless to explain; I wrote evasive and empty phrases +in reply. In one letter the auditor discovered the phrase: ‘All +constitutional parties lead to nothing, they are contracts between a +master and his slaves; the problem is not to make things better for the +slaves, but to put an end to their being slaves.’ When I had to explain +this phrase I observed that I saw no obligation to defend constitutional +government, and that, if I had defended it, it would have been charged +against me. + +‘A constitutional form of government may be attacked from two sides,’ +Golitsyn junior observed in his nervous hissing voice; ‘you do not +attack it from the point of view of monarchy, or you would not talk +about slaves.’ + +‘In that I err in company with the Empress Catherine II., who ordered +that her subjects should not be called slaves.’ + +Golitsyn, breathless with anger at this ironical reply, said: ‘You seem +to imagine that we are assembled here to conduct scholastic arguments, +that you are defending a thesis in the university.’ + +‘With what object, then, do you ask for explanations?’ + +‘You appear not to understand what is wanted of you.’ + +‘I don’t understand.’ + +‘What obstinacy there is in all of them,’ Golitsyn senior, the +president, added, shrugging his shoulders and glancing at Shubensky, the +colonel of gendarmes. I smiled. ‘Just like Ogaryov,’ the simple-hearted +president observed. + +A pause followed, the committee was assembled in Golitsyn senior’s +library; I turned to the bookshelves and began examining the books. +Among other things there was an edition in many volumes of the works of +Saint Simon. ‘Here,’ I said, turning to the president, ‘is it not +unjust? I am being tried on account of Saint-Simonism, while you, +prince, have twenty volumes of his works.’ + +As the good-natured old man had never read anything in his life, he +could not think what to answer. But Golitsyn junior looked at me with +the eyes of a viper and asked: ‘Don’t you see that those are the memoirs +of the Duc de Saint Simon of the time of Louis XIV.?’ + +The president with a smile gave me a nod that signified, ‘Well, my boy, +you put your foot in it, didn’t you?’ and said, ‘You can go.’ + +While I was in the doorway the president asked: ‘Is he the one who wrote +about Peter the Great, that thing you were showing me?’ + +‘Yes,’ answered Shubensky. + +I stopped. + +‘_Il a des moyens_,’ observed the president. + +‘So much the worse. Poison in clever hands is all the more dangerous,’ +added the inquisitor; ‘a very pernicious and quite incorrigible young +man.’ + +My sentence lay in those words. + +Apropos of Saint Simon. When the police-master seized Ogaryov’s books +and papers, he laid aside a volume of Thiers’ _History of the French +Revolution_, then found a second volume, a third, up to an eighth. At +last he could bear it no longer, and said: ‘Good Lord, what a number of +revolutionary books ... and here is another,’ he added, giving the +policeman Cuvier’s _Discours sur les Révolutions du Globe Terrestre_.’ + +The second kind of question was more complicated. In them all sorts of +police traps and inquisitional tricks were made use of to confuse, +entangle, and involve one in contradictions. Hints of evidence given by +others and all sorts of moral tests were employed. It is not worth while +to repeat them, it is enough to say that all their devices did not draw +any of the four of us into conflicting statements. + +After I had received my last question, I was sitting alone in the little +room in which we wrote. All at once the door opened and Golitsyn junior +walked in with a gloomy and anxious face. ‘I have come,’ he said, ‘to +have a few words with you before your evidence is completed. My late +father’s long connection with yours makes me take a special interest in +you. You are young and may still make a career; to do so you must clear +yourself of this affair ... and fortunately it depends on yourself. Your +father has taken your arrest deeply to heart and is living now in the +hope that you will be released: Prince Sergey Mihailovitch and I have +just been speaking about it and we are genuinely ready to do all we can; +give us the means of assisting you.’ + +I saw the drift of his words, the blood rushed to my head, I gnawed my +pen with vexation. He went on: ‘You are going straight under the white +strap, or to the fortress, on the way you will kill your father; he will +not survive the day when he sees you in the grey overcoat of a soldier.’ + +I tried to say something but he interrupted me: + +‘I know what you want to say. Have a little patience! That you had +designs against the government is evident. To merit the mercy of the +Most High you must give proofs of your penitence. You are obstinate, you +give evasive answers and from a false sense of honour you spare men of +whom we know more than you do and _who have not been so discreet as +you_[129]; you will not help them, and they will drag you down with them +to ruin. Write a letter to the committee, simply, frankly, say that you +feel your guilt, that you were led away by your youth, name the +unfortunate, misguided men who have led you astray.... Are you willing +at this easy price to purchase your future and your father’s life?’ + +‘I know nothing and have not a word to add to my evidence,’ I replied. + +Golitsyn got up and said coldly: ‘As you please, it is not our fault!’ +With that the examination ended. + +In the January or February of 1835 I was before the committee for the +last time. I was summoned to read through my answers, to add to them if +I wished, and to sign them. + +Only Shubensky was present. When I had finished reading them over I said +to him: ‘I should like to know what charge can be made against a man +upon these questions and upon these answers? Under what article of the +Code do you bring me?’ + +‘The Imperial Code is drawn up for criminals of a different kind,’ +observed the light-blue colonel. + +‘That’s a different point. After reading over all these literary +exercises, I cannot believe that that makes up the whole charge on +account of which I have been in prison over six months.’ + +‘But do you really imagine,’ replied Shubensky, ‘that we believe you +that you have not formed a secret society?’ + +‘Where is the society?’ + +‘It is your luck that no traces have been found, that you have not +succeeded in doing anything. We stopped you in time, that is, to speak +plainly, we have saved you.’ + +It was the story of the locksmith’s wife and her husband in Gogol’s +_Inspector General_ over again. + +When I had signed, Shubensky rang the bell and told them to summon the +priest. The priest came up and wrote below my signature that all the +evidence had been given by me voluntarily and without any compulsion. I +need hardly say that he had not been present at the examination, and +that he had not even the decency to ask me how it had been. (It was my +impartial witness outside the gate again!) + +At the end of the investigation, prison conditions were somewhat +relaxed. Members of our families could obtain permits for interviews. So +passed another two months. + +In the middle of March our sentence was ratified. No one knew what it +was; some said we were being sent to the Caucasus, others that we should +be taken to Bobruisk, others again hoped that we should all be released +(this was the sentence which was proposed by Staal and sent separately +by him to the Tsar; he advised that our imprisonment should be taken as +equivalent to punishment). + +At last, on 20th March, we were all assembled at Prince Golitsyn’s to +hear our sentence. This was a gala day for us. We saw each other for the +first time after our arrest. + +Noisily, gaily embracing and shaking hands, we stood surrounded by a +cordon of gendarmes and garrison officers. This meeting cheered us all +up; there was no end to the questions and the anecdotes. + +Sokolovsky was present, pale and somewhat thinner, but as brilliantly +amusing as ever. + +The author of _The Fabric of the World_ and of _Heveri_ and other rather +good poems, had naturally great poetic talent, but was not wildly +original enough to dispense with culture, nor sufficiently well-educated +to develop his talent. A charming rake, a poet in life, he was not in +the least a political man. He was amusing, charming, a merry companion +in merry moments, a ‘bon vivant,’ fond of having a good time, as we all +were, perhaps a little too much so. + +Having dropped accidentally from a carousal into prison, Sokolovsky +behaved extremely well, he grew up in confinement. The auditor of the +committee, a pedant, a pietist, a detective, who had grown thin and +grey-headed in envy and slander, not daring from religion and devotion +to the throne to understand the last two verses of his poem in their +grammatical sense, asked Sokolovsky ‘to whom do those rude words at the +end of the song refer?’ + +‘Rest assured,’ said Sokolovsky, ‘not to the Tsar, and I would +particularly draw your attention to that extenuating circumstance.’ + +The auditor shrugged his shoulders, turned up his eyes to the ceiling +and after gazing a long time in silence at Sokolovsky took a pinch of +snuff. + +Sokolovsky was arrested in Petersburg and sent to Moscow without being +told where he was being taken. The police often perpetrate these jests +among us, and quite unnecessarily. It is the form their creative fancy +takes. There is no occupation in the world so prosaic, so revolting that +it has not its artistic yearnings, its craving for decoration and +adornment. Sokolovsky was taken straight to prison and put into a dark +cell. Why was he put in prison while we were kept in barracks? + +He had two or three shirts with him and nothing else at all. In England +every one on being brought into prison is at once put into a bath, but +with us they take every precaution against cleanliness. + +If Dr. Haas had not sent Sokolovsky a bundle of his own linen he would +have been crusted with dirt. + +Dr. Haas was a very original eccentric person. The memory of this ‘crazy +and fanatical’ man ought not to be lost in the rubbish heap of official +necrologies describing the virtues of persons of the first two grades +which no one ever heard of before their death. + +A thin little, waxen-looking old man, in a black, swallow-tail coat, +short trousers, black silk stockings and shoes with buckles, he looked +as though he had just come out of some drama of the eighteenth century. +In this _grand gala_ of funerals and weddings, and in the agreeable +climate of the northern latitude of fifty-nine degrees, Haas used every +week to drive to the étape on the Sparrow Hills when a batch of convicts +were being sent off. In the capacity of prison doctor he had access to +them, he used to go to inspect them and always brought with him a basket +full of all manner of things, provisions and dainties of all +sorts—walnuts, cakes, oranges, and apples, for the women. This aroused +the wrath and indignation of the benevolent ladies who were afraid of +giving pleasure by philanthropy, and afraid of being more charitable +than was necessary to save the convicts from dying of hunger and cold. + +But Haas was not easy to move, and after listening mildly to reproaches +for his ‘foolish spoiling of the female convicts,’ would rub his hands +and say: ‘Be so kind to see, gracious madam, a bit of bread, a copper +every one will give them, but a sweet or an orange for long they will +see not, no one gives them, that I can from your words deduce; I do them +this pleasure for that it will not a long time be repeated.’ + +Haas lived in the hospital. A patient came before dinner to consult him. +Haas examined him and went into his study to write some prescription. On +his return he found neither the patient nor the silver forks and spoons +which had been lying on the table. Haas called the porter and asked him +if any one had come in besides the patient. The porter grasped the +position, rushed out and returned a minute later with the spoons and the +patient, whom he had stopped with the help of another hospital porter. +The rascal fell at the doctor’s feet and besought mercy. Haas was +overcome with confusion. + +‘Go for the police,’ he said to one of the porters, and to the other, +‘and you send the secretary here at once.’ + +The porters, pleased at the capture and at their share in the business +altogether, ran off, and Haas, taking advantage of their absence, said +to the thief, ‘You are a false man, you have deceived and tried to rob +me. God will judge you ... and now run quickly to the back gates before +the porters come back ... but stay, perhaps you have no money, here is +half a rouble, but try to reform your soul; from God you will not escape +as from the policeman.’ + +At this even the members of his own household protested. But the +incorrigible doctor maintained his point: ‘Theft is a great vice; but I +know the police, I know how they torment them—they will question him, +they will flog him; to give up one’s neighbour to the lash is a far +worse vice; besides, who can tell, perhaps what I have done may touch +his heart!’ + +His friends shook their heads and said, ‘_Er hat einen raptus_’; the +benevolent ladies said, ‘_C’est un brave homme mais ce n’est pas tout à +fait en règle, cela_,’ and tapped their foreheads. And Haas rubbed his +hands and went his own way. + +... Sokolovsky had hardly finished his anecdotes, when several others +speaking at once began to tell theirs; it was as though we had all +returned from a long journey—there was no end to the questions, jokes, +and witticisms. + +Physically, S—— had suffered more than the rest; he was thin and had +lost part of his hair. He had been at his mother’s in the country in the +Tambov province when he heard that we had been arrested, and at once set +off for Moscow, for fear that his mother should be alarmed by a visit of +the gendarmes, but he caught cold on the way and reached home in a high +fever. The police found him in bed, and it was impossible to move him to +the police station. He was placed under arrest at home, a soldier of the +police station was put on guard in the bedroom and the local police +superintendent was told off to act as brother-of-mercy by the patient’s +bedside, so that on recovering consciousness after delirium he met the +attentive glance of the one, or the battered countenance of the other. + +At the beginning of the winter he was moved to the Lefortovsky Hospital; +it appeared there was not a single empty private room for a prisoner, +but such trifles were not deemed worth considering; a corner screened +off apart, with no stove, was found, the sick man was put in this +southern verandah and a sentry told off to watch him. What the +temperature in this hole was in winter may be judged from the fact that +the sentry was so benumbed with cold at night that he would go into the +corridor to warm himself at the stove, begging S—— not to tell of it. +The hospital authorities themselves saw that such tropical quarters were +impossible in a latitude so near the pole, and moved S—— to a room near +the one in which frost-bitten patients were rubbed. + +Before we had time to describe and listen to half our adventures, the +adjutants began suddenly bustling about, the gendarmes’ officers drew +themselves up, and the police set themselves to rights: the door opened +solemnly and little Prince Sergey Mihailovitch Golitsyn walked in _en +grande tenue_ with a ribbon across his shoulder; Tsinsky was in a +uniform of the suite, even the auditor, Oransky, put on some sort of +pale-green civil-military uniform for the joyful occasion. The +commandant, of course, had not come. + +Meanwhile the noise and laughter had risen to such a pitch that the +auditor came fiercely into the room and observed that loud conversation +and, above all, laughter seemed a flagrant disrespect to the will of the +Most High, which we were about to hear. + +The doors were opened. Officers divided us into three groups: in the +first was Sokolovsky, the painter Utkin, and an officer called Ibaev; we +were in the second; in the third, _tutti frutti_. + +The sentence regarding the first category was read aloud. It was +terrible; condemned for high treason, they were sent to the +Schlüsselburg for an indefinite period. When Oransky, drawling to give +himself dignity, read with emphasis that for ‘insulting the Majesty and +Most August Family, _et cetera_,’ Sokolovsky observed: ‘Well, I never +insulted the family.’ + +Among his papers besides this poem were found some resolutions written +in jest as though by the Grand Duke Michael Pavlovitch, with intentional +mistakes in spelling, and those orthographical errors helped to convict +him. + +Tsinsky, to show that he could be free and easy and affable, said to +Sokolovsky after the sentence: ‘Hey, have you ever been in Schlüsselburg +before?’ ‘Last year,’ Sokolovsky answered promptly, ‘as though I knew +what was coming, I drank a bottle of Madeira there.’ Two years later +Utkin died in the fortress. Sokolovsky, half dead, was released and sent +to the Caucasus; he died at Pyatigorsk. Some remnant of shame and +conscience led the government after the death of two to transfer the +third to Perm. Ibaev only died in the spiritual sense: he became a +mystic. + +Utkin, ‘a free artist confined in prison,’ as he described himself at +the examinations, was a man of forty; he had never taken part in any +kind of political affair, but, being of a generous and impulsive +temperament, he gave free rein to his tongue in the committee and was +abrupt and rude in his answers. For this he was done to death in a damp +cell, in which the water trickled down the walls. + +Ibaev’s greater guilt lay in his epaulettes. Had he not been an officer, +he would never have been so punished. The man had happened to be present +at some supper party, had probably drunk too much and sung like all the +rest, but certainly neither more nor louder than the others. + +Our turn came. Oransky wiped his spectacles, cleared his throat, and +began reverently announcing the will of the Most High. The Tsar, after +examining the report of the committee and taking into special +consideration the youth of the criminals, _commanded that we should not +be brought to trial_, and informed us that by law we ought, as men +guilty of high treason by singing seditious songs, to lose our lives or, +alternatively, to be sentenced to penal servitude for life. Instead of +this, the Tsar in his infinite mercy forgave the greater number of the +guilty, leaving them in their present abode under the supervision of the +police. The more guilty among them he commanded to be put under +reformatory treatment, which consisted in being sent to civilian duty +for an indefinite period to remote provinces, to live under the +superintendence of the local police authorities. + +It appeared that there were six of the ‘more guilty’: Ogaryov, S——, +Lahtin, Obolensky, Sorokin, and I. I was to be sent to Perm. Among those +condemned was Lahtin, who had not been arrested at all. When he was +summoned to the committee to hear the sentence, he supposed that it was +as a warning, to be punished by hearing how others were punished. The +story was that some one of Prince Golitsyn’s circle, being angry with +Lahtin’s wife, had prepared this agreeable surprise for him. A man of +delicate health, he died three years later in exile. + +When Oransky had finished reading, Colonel Shubensky stepped forward. In +choice language and in the style of Lomonossov he informed us that it +was due to the good offices of the noble gentleman who had presided at +the committee that the Tsar had been so merciful. + +Shubensky waited for all of us to thank Prince Golitsyn, but this did +not come off. + +Some of those who were pardoned nodded, stealing a stealthy glance at us +as they did so. + +We stood with folded arms, making not the slightest sign that our hearts +were touched by the Imperial and princely mercy. + +Then Shubensky thought of another dodge and, addressing Ogaryov, said: +‘You are going to Penza; do you imagine that that is by chance? Your +father is lying paralysed at Penza and the prince besought the Tsar to +fix that town, that your being near might to some extent alleviate the +blow of your exile for him. Do you not think you have reason to thank +the prince?’ + +There was no help for it, Ogaryov made a slight bow. This was what they +were trying to get. + +The good-natured old man was pleased at this, and next, I don’t know +why, he summoned me. I stepped forward with the devout intention of not +thanking him whatever he or Shubensky might say; besides, I was being +sent farther away than any and to the nastiest town. + +‘You are going to Perm,’ said Prince Golitsyn. I said nothing. He was +disconcerted and, to say something, added, ‘I have an estate there.’ + +‘Would you care to send some commission through me to your steward?’ I +asked with a smile. + +‘I do not give commissions to people like you—Carbonari,’ added the +resourceful old man. + +‘Then what do you wish of me?’ + +‘Nothing.’ + +‘I thought you called me.’ + +‘You can go,’ Shubensky interposed. + +‘Allow me,’ I replied, ‘since I am here to remind you that you told me, +Colonel, last time I was before the committee, that no one accused me of +being connected with the supper-party affair. Yet in the sentence it is +stated that I was one of those guilty in connection with that affair. +There is some mistake here.’ + +‘Do you wish to protest against the decision of the Most High?’ observed +Shubensky. ‘You had better take care that Perm is not changed to +something worse. I shall order your words to be taken down.’ + +‘I meant to ask you to do so. In the sentence the words occur “on the +report of the committee.” I am protesting against your report and not +against the will of the Most High. I appeal to the prince: there was no +question in my case of a supper party or of songs, was there?’ + +‘As though you do not know,’ said Shubensky, beginning to turn pale with +wrath, ‘that you are ten times more guilty than those who were at the +supper party. He now’—he pointed to one of those who had been +pardoned—‘in a state of intoxication sang some filthy song, but +afterwards he begged forgiveness on his knees with tears. But you are +still far from a sign of penitence.’ + +The gentleman at whom the colonel pointed said nothing, but hung his +head and flushed crimson.... + +It was a good lesson, much good his meanness did him!... + +‘Excuse me, it is not the point whether my guilt is greater or not,’ I +went on, ‘but, if I am a murderer, I don’t want to be considered a +thief. I don’t want it to be said of me, even in justification, that I +did something in a “state of intoxication,” as you expressed it just +now.’ + +‘If I had a son who showed such stubbornness I would myself beg the Tsar +to send him to Siberia.’ + +At this point the chief police-master interposed some incoherent +nonsense. It is a pity that Golitsyn junior was not present, it would +have been an opportunity for his eloquence. + +It all ended, of course, in nothing. + +Lahtin went up to Prince Golitsyn and begged that his departure might be +deferred. ‘My wife is with child,’ he said. + +‘I am not responsible for that,’ answered Golitsyn. + +A wild beast, a mad dog when it bites, looks grave and sticks up its +tail, but this crazy aristocrat, though he had the reputation of a +good-natured man, was not ashamed to make this vulgar joke. + +We were left once more for a quarter of an hour in the room, and, in +spite of the zealous upbraidings of the gendarmes and police officers, +warmly embraced one another and took a long farewell. Except Obolensky I +saw none of them again until I came back from Vyatka. + +Departure was before us. + +Prison had been a continuation of our past; but our departure into the +wilds was a complete break with it. + +Our youthful existence in our circle of friends was over. + +Our exile would probably last several years. Where and how should we +meet, and should we ever meet?... + +I regretted my old life, and I had to leave it so abruptly ... without +saying good-bye. I had no hope of seeing Ogaryov. Two of my friends had +succeeded in seeing me during the last few days, but that was not enough +for me. + +If I could but once again see my youthful comforter and press her hand, +as I had pressed it in the graveyard.... I longed both to take leave of +my past and to greet my future in her person.... + +We did see each other for a few minutes on the 9th of April 1835, on the +day before I was sent off into exile. + +For years I kept that day sacred in my memory; it was one of the +happiest moments in my life. + +Why must the thought of that day and of all the bright days of my past +bring back so much that is terrible?... The grave, the wreath of +dark-red roses, two children holding my hand—torches, crowds of exiles, +the moon, the warm sea under the mountain-side, the words that I did not +understand and that wrung my heart.... + +All is over! + + + + + Chapter 13 + EXILE—THE MAYOR AT POKROVO—THE VOLGA—PERM + + +On the morning of the 10th of April an officer of gendarmes took me to +the house of the governor-general. There, in the private part of the +building, my relatives were allowed to come and say good-bye to me. + +Of course it was all awkward and wrung the heart; the prying spies and +clerks, the reading of the instructions to the gendarme who was to take +me, the impossibility of saying anything without witnesses: in fact, +more distressing and painful surroundings could not be imagined. + +I heaved a sigh of relief when at last the carriage rolled off along +Vladimirka. + + ‘Per me si va nella città dolente, + Per me si va nel eterno dolore——’ + +At a station somewhere I wrote those two lines, which apply equally well +to the portals of Hell and the Siberian high-road. + +Seven versts from Moscow there is a restaurant called ‘Perov’s’; there +one of my most intimate friends had promised to wait for me. I suggested +to the gendarme a drink of vodka. It was a long way from the town. We +went in, but my friend was not there. I tried every device to linger in +the tavern; at last the gendarme would stay no longer and the driver was +starting the horses—when suddenly a troika dashed up straight to the +restaurant. I flew to the door ... two strangers, merchants’ sons, out +for a spree, noisily dismounted from the chaise. I looked into the +distance—not one moving point, not one man could be seen on the road to +Moscow ... it was bitter to get in and drive off. I gave the driver +twenty kopecks, and we flew like an arrow from the bow. + +We drove without stopping; the gendarme had been ordered to do not less +than two hundred versts in the twenty-four hours. This would have been +quite endurable at any time but the beginning of April. In places the +road was covered with ice, in places with mud and water; moreover, as we +drove towards Siberia it got worse and worse at every station. + +The first incident of my journey was at Pokrovo. + +We had lost several hours owing to the ice which was floating down the +river and cutting off all communication with the opposite bank. The +gendarme was in a nervous fidget; all at once the superintendent of the +posting-station at Pokrovo announced that there were no horses. The +gendarme pointed out that in the permit he was instructed to give them +couriers’ horses if there were no post horses. The superintendent +replied that those horses had been taken by the Deputy Minister of Home +Affairs. I need hardly say that the gendarme began to quarrel and made a +row. The superintendent ran to try and get private horses and the +gendarme went with him. + +I got tired of waiting for them in the superintendent’s dirty room. I +went out at the gate and began walking in front of the house. It was my +first walk unescorted by a soldier after nine months’ imprisonment. + +I had walked up and down for half an hour when suddenly I was met by a +man wearing a uniform with epaulettes and a blue _pour le mérite_ on his +neck. He looked at me with marked persistence, passed me, and at once +turning back asked me with a fierce air: ‘Is it you who are being taken +by a gendarme to Perm?’ + +‘Yes,’ I answered without stopping. + +‘Excuse me, excuse me, but how dare he?...’ + +‘With whom have I the honour to speak?’ + +‘I am the mayor,’ answered the stranger in a voice which betrayed a +profound sense of the dignity of that public position. ‘Upon my soul! I +am expecting the Deputy Minister from hour to hour, and here there are +political prisoners walking about the streets. What an ass your gendarme +is!’ + +‘Will you please address yourself to the gendarme in person.’ + +‘It is not a matter of addressing myself, I’ll arrest him. I’ll order +him a hundred strokes and send you on with a policeman.’ + +I nodded without waiting for him to finish his speech and strode rapidly +back into the station. + +From the window I could hear him fuming at the gendarme and threatening +all sorts of things. The gendarme apologised but did not seem much +frightened. Three minutes later they both came in. I was sitting turned +toward the window and did not look at them. + +From the mayor’s questions to the gendarme, I saw that he was consumed +by the desire to find out for what offence, how and why, I was being +sent into exile. I remained obstinately silent. The mayor began +addressing me and the gendarme indiscriminately: ‘No one cares to enter +into our position. Do you suppose it is pleasant for me to have to swear +at a soldier and cause unpleasantness to a man whom I have never seen in +my life? It is the responsibility! The mayor is in charge of the town. +Whatever happens, I have to answer for it; if government funds are +stolen, it is my fault; if the church is burnt down, it is my fault; if +there are a great many men drunk in the street, it is my fault; if there +is not enough liquor drunk, it is my fault too’ (the last phrase pleased +him very much and he went on in a more cheerful tone). ‘It’s a good +thing you met me, but if you had met the Minister and you walking up and +down, he would have asked, how is this, a political prisoner out for a +walk? Put the mayor under arrest....’ + +At last I was weary of his eloquence and, turning to him, I said: ‘Do +what your duty requires, but I beg you to spare me your admonitions. I +see from what you say that you expect me to bow to you; it is not my +habit to bow to strangers.’ + +The mayor was confused. + +‘It is always like that among us,’ A—— A—— used to say; ‘whichever is +first to begin scolding and shouting always gets the best of it. If you +allow an official to raise his voice, you are lost; hearing himself +yelling, he becomes a wild beast. If at his first rude word you begin +shouting, he is invariably scared and gives way, thinking you are a +determined person and that such persons had better not be irritated too +much.’ + +The mayor sent the gendarme to inquire about horses and, turning to me, +observed by way of apology: ‘I have acted like this for the sake of the +soldier; you don’t know what our soldiers are like—one must not allow +the slightest slackness, but, believe me, I can discriminate—allow me to +ask you what unlucky chance....’ + +‘At the conclusion of our trial we were forbidden to speak of it.’ + +‘In that case.... Of course.... I do not venture ...’ and the mayor’s +eyes expressed agonies of curiosity. He paused. + +‘I had a distant relative, he was a year in the Peter-Paul fortress. You +see, I, too—excuse me, it worries me. I believe you are still angry? I +am a military man, stern, accustomed to the service; I went into the +regiment at seventeen. I have a hasty temper, but it is all over in a +minute. I won’t touch your gendarme, the devil take him entirely....’ + +The gendarme came in with the reply that the horses could not be driven +in from the grazing-ground in less than an hour. + +The mayor informed him that he forgave him on my intercession. Then +turning to me he added: + +‘And to show that you are not angry, you will not refuse my request. I +live only two doors away; allow me to ask you to take pot-luck at lunch +with me.’ + +This was so funny after our encounter that I went to the mayor’s and ate +his dried sturgeon and caviare and drank his vodka and Madeira. + +He became so affable that he told me all his domestic affairs, even +describing his wife’s illness which had lasted seven years. After +luncheon he took with proud satisfaction a letter from a vase standing +on the table and gave me to read ‘a poem’ by his son, deemed worthy of +being read in public at the examination for the Cadet School. After +obliging me with such marks of complete confidence, he adroitly passed +to an indirect question about my case. This time I partly gratified his +curiosity. + +This mayor reminded me of the secretary of the district court of whom +our friend Shtchepkin used to tell: ‘Nine police-captains came and went, +but the secretary remained unchanged, and went on managing the district +as before. “How is it you get on with all of them?” Shtchepkin asked +him. “Oh, it’s nothing; with God’s help we get round them somehow. Some +certainly were hot-tempered at first, would stamp with their forelegs +and their hindlegs, shout, swear for all they were worth, say they’d +kick me out, and they’d report me to the governor—well, as you see, I +know my place, one holds one’s tongue and thinks; give him time, he’ll +be broken in! This is just first being in harness! And, as a matter of +fact, they can be driven all right!”’ + +When we reached Kazan the Volga was in all the glory of the spring +floods. The whole distance from Uslon to Kazan we had to float on a +punt, the river had overflowed for fifteen versts or more. It was a +cloudy day. The ferry had broken down, a number of carts and conveyances +of all sorts were waiting on the bank. The gendarme went to the station +superintendent and asked for a punt. The man gave it reluctantly, saying +that it would be better to wait, that it was not safe to cross. The +gendarme was in a hurry because he was drunk and because he wanted to +show his power. + +They put my carriage on a little punt and we floated off. The weather +seemed calmer. Half an hour later the Tatar put up a sail, when suddenly +the storm began to rage again. We were carried along with such violence +that, running upon a log, we crashed against it so that the wretched +punt was broken and the water poured over the deck. The position was +disagreeable; however, the Tatar succeeded in getting the punt on to a +sandbank. A merchant’s barge came into sight. We shouted to it and asked +them to send a boat; the bargemen heard us and floated by without doing +anything. + +A peasant came up with his wife in a little canoe made out of a +tree-trunk, asked us what was the matter, and, remarking ‘Well, what of +it? Stop up the hole and go your way rejoicing. What’s there to mope +about? It’s because you are a Tatar, I suppose, you can’t do anything,’ +climbed on to the punt. + +The Tatar certainly was very much alarmed. First, when the water had +poured over the sleeping gendarme, the latter had leapt up and at once +began beating the Tatar. Secondly, the boat was government property, and +the Tatar kept repeating: ‘Here it will go to the bottom, what will +become of me! what will become of me!’ + +I comforted him by saying that if it went to the bottom he would go with +it. + +‘It is all right, master, if I drown, but how if I don’t?’ + +The peasant and the others stopped up the hole with all sorts of things. +The peasant struck it with his axe and knocked in some little plank; +then, up to his waist in the water, helped to drag the punt off the +sandbank and we were soon floating off into the channel of the Volga. +The river rushed us along savagely. The wind and the sleet cut the face, +the cold penetrated to the bone, but soon the monument of Ivan the +Terrible began to stand out from the fog and the floods of water. It +seemed as though the danger were over, when suddenly the Tatar shouted +in a plaintive voice, ‘A leak, a leak!’ and the water began pouring +vigorously in at the hole that had been stuffed up. We were in the very +centre of the river, the punt moved more and more slowly, one could +foresee that it would soon sink altogether. The Tatar took off his cap +and prayed. My valet, overcome with terror, wept and said: ‘Farewell, +mother, I shall not see you again.’ The gendarme swore and vowed to +thrash them all as soon as they got to the bank. + +At first I too was frightened; besides, the wind and the rain added +confusion and uproar. But the thought that it was absurd that I should +perish without having _done anything_, that youthful ‘_Quid timeas, +Caesarem vehis!_’ got the upper hand and I calmly awaited the end, +convinced that I could not perish between Uslon and Kazan. Later on, +life breaks us of this proud confidence and punishes us for it; that is +why youth is bold and full of heroism, while with the years a man grows +cautious and is rarely carried away. + +A quarter of an hour later, we were ashore near the walls of the Kazan +Kremlin, drenched and shivering. I went into the nearest tavern, drank +off a glass of foaming wine, ate a fried egg, and set off to the +post-office. + +In villages and little towns there is a room at the posting-station for +travellers, in big towns every one puts up at hotels and there is +nothing at the posting-stations for travellers. I was taken to the +posting-station. The superintendent of the station showed me his room; +there were women and children in it and a sick and bedridden old man; +there was absolutely not a corner where I could change my clothes. I +wrote a letter to the general of gendarmes and asked him to assign a +room to me somewhere that I might get warm and dry my clothes. + +An hour later the gendarme returned and said that Count Apraxin had +ordered that a room should be given me. I waited a couple of hours; no +one came and I sent the gendarme off again. He came back with the answer +that Colonel Pol, to whom the General had given the order to find me a +room, was playing cards at the Nobles’ Club and that a room could not be +found me till next day. + +This was barbarous; and I wrote a second letter to Count Apraxin asking +him to send me on immediately, saying that I might find shelter at the +next posting-station. The Count was graciously pleased to be in bed, and +the letter was left until the morning. There was nothing for it. I took +off my wet clothes and lay down on the table of the post-office wrapped +in the greatcoat of the ‘elder’; for a pillow I took a thick book and +laid some linen upon it. + +In the morning I sent out for some breakfast. The post-office officials +were by now assembling. The clerk in charge submitted to me that it +really was not the right thing to have breakfast in a public office, +that it did not matter to him personally, but that the postmaster might +not like it. + +I answered him jocosely that a man cannot be turned out who has no right +to go, and if he has no right to go he is obliged to eat and drink where +he is detained.... + +Next day Count Apraxin gave me permission to remain three days in Kazan +and to put up at the hotel. + +I spent those three days wandering about the town with the gendarme. The +Tatar women with their covered faces, their broad-cheeked husbands, +mosques of the true faith side by side with orthodox churches, all was +suggestive of Asia and the East. In Vladimir, in Nizhni there is a +feeling of nearness to Moscow, here of remoteness from her. + +In Perm I was taken straight to the governor. He was holding a great +reception; his daughter was being married that day to an officer. He +insisted on my going in, and I had to present myself to the whole +society of Perm in a dirty travelling coat, covered with mud and dust. +The governor, after talking all sorts of nonsense, forbade me to make +acquaintance with the Polish exiles and ordered me to come to him in a +few days, saying that then he would find me work in the office. + +This governor was a Little Russian; he did not oppress the exiles, and +altogether was a harmless person. He was improving his position somehow +on the sly, like a mole working unseen underground; he was adding grain +to grain and laying by a little hourly for a rainy day. + +From some inexplicable idea of discipline, he used to order all the +exiles who lived in Perm to appear before him at ten o’clock in the +morning on Saturdays. He would come out with his pipe and a list, verify +whether we were all present, and, if any one was not, send a policeman +to find out the reason and, after saying scarcely anything to any one, +would dismiss us. In this way in his reception-room I became acquainted +with all the Polish exiles, whose acquaintance he had warned me I must +not make. + +The day after my arrival the gendarme went away, and for the first time +since my arrest I found myself in freedom. + +In freedom ... in a little town on the Siberian frontier, with no +experience, with no conception of the surroundings in which I had to +live. + +From the nursery I had passed into the lecture-room, from the +lecture-room to a circle of friends—it had all been theories, dreams, my +own people, no practical responsibilities. Then prison to let it all +settle. Practical contact with life was beginning here near the Ural +Mountains. + +It began at once; the day after my arrival, I went with a porter from +the governor’s office to look for a lodging and he took me to a big +house of one storey. In spite of my protesting that I was looking for a +very little house or, still better, part of a house, he obstinately +insisted on my going in. + +The landlady made me sit down on her sofa and, learning that I came from +Moscow, asked if I had seen Mr. Kabrit in Moscow. I told her that I had +never even heard the name. + +‘How is that?’ observed the old woman; ‘I mean Kabrit,’ and she +mentioned his Christian name and his father’s name. ‘Upon my word, sir, +why, he was our vice-governor!’ + +‘But I have been nine months in prison, perhaps that is why I have not +heard of him,’ I said, smiling. + +‘Maybe that is it. So you will take the house, my good sir?’ + +‘It is too big, much too big; I told the man so.’ + +‘You can’t have too much of a good thing,’ she said. + +‘That is so, but you will want more rent for so much of a good thing.’ + +‘Ah, my good sir, but who has talked to you about my price? I have not +said a word about it yet.’ + +‘But I know that such a house cannot be cheap.’ + +‘How much will you give?’ + +To get rid of her, I said that I would not give more than three hundred +and fifty roubles. + +‘Well, I would be thankful for that. Bid the man bring your bits of +trunks, darling, and take a little glass of Teneriffe.’ + +Her price seemed to me fabulously low. I took the house, and, just as I +was on the point of going, she stopped me. ‘I forgot to ask you, are you +going to keep your own cow?’ + +‘Good Heavens, no!’ I answered, almost appalled by her question. + +‘Well, then, I will let you have cream.’ + +I went away thinking with horror where I was and what I was that I could +be considered capable of keeping my own cow. But before I had time to +look round, the governor informed me that I was transferred to Vyatka +because another exile who had been allotted to Vyatka had asked to be +transferred to Perm, where he had relations. The governor wanted me to +leave the next day. This was impossible; thinking to remain some time in +Perm, I had bought all sorts of things and I had to sell them even at +half-price. After various evasive answers, the governor gave me +permission to remain forty-eight hours, exacting a promise that I would +not seek an opportunity of seeing the other exiles. + +I was preparing to sell my horse and all sorts of rubbish the next day +when suddenly the police-master appeared with an order to leave within +twenty-four hours. I explained to him that the governor had given me an +extension of time. The police-master showed me the instructions, in +which he certainly was directed to see me off within twenty-four hours. +The document had been signed that very day and, consequently, after the +conversation with me. + +‘Ah,’ said the police-master, ‘_I_ understand, I understand; our fine +gentleman wants to throw the responsibility on me.’ + +‘Let us go and confront him with it.’ + +‘Let us!’ + +The governor said that he had forgotten the permission he had given me. +The police-master asked slyly whether he wished him to make a fresh copy +of the instructions. + +‘Is it worth while?’ the governor remarked simply. + +‘We have caught him,’ said the police-master, gleefully rubbing his +hands, ‘the scribbling soul!’ + +The Perm police-master belonged to a special type of military men turned +into officials. They are men who have had the luck in the army to come +in contact with a bayonet or to be hit by a bullet, and so to be given +such posts as that of local police-master or executive clerk. + +In the regiment they have acquired certain airs of frankness, have +learnt by heart various phrases about the inviolability of honour and +the noble feelings, and also sarcastic jeers at the ‘scribbling gentry.’ +The younger among them have read Marlinsky[130] and Zagoskin,[131] know +the beginning of the _Prisoner of the Caucasus_ and _Voynarovsky_, and +often repeat verses. Some, for instance, will say every time they see a +man smoking: + + ‘The amber smoked between his lips.’ + +They are all without exception deeply and volubly conscious that their +position is far inferior to their merits, that only poverty keeps them +in this ‘world of ink,’ that if it were not for their wounds and lack of +means, they would be commanding army corps or have the rank of +adjutant-generals. Every one of them will quote a striking instance of +some old comrade and say: ‘Why, Kreits, or Ridiger, was made a cornet +with me. We lodged together. Called each other Petrusha and Alyosha—but +there, I’m not a German, you see, and I had no backing—so I can stay a +policeman. Do you imagine it’s easy for an honourable man with our ideas +to do police work?’ + +Their wives are even louder in their complaints, and with heavy hearts +go to Moscow every year to put money into the bank, on the pretext that +a mother or aunt is ill and wants to see them for the last time. + +And so they live in comfort for fifteen years. The husband, railing +against his destiny, thrashes the police, beats the workpeople, cringes +to the governor, screens thieves, steals legal documents, and repeats +verses from the _Fountain of Bahtchisaray_.[132] The wife, complaining +of destiny and provincial life, grabs everything she can get, takes +tribute from petitioners and shops, and raves over moonlight nights. + +I have made this digression because at first I was taken in by these +gentry and believed they really were rather better than the rest, which +is far from being the case.... + +I brought away from Perm one personal memory which is dear to me. + +At one of the governor’s inspections of the exiles a Polish priest +invited me to go and see him. I found several Poles there. One of them +sat in silence pensively smoking a little pipe; misery, hopeless misery, +was apparent on every feature of his face. He was round-shouldered, even +crooked, his face was of the irregular Polish-Lithuanian type which at +first surprises and then attracts. The greatest of the Poles, Thaddeus +Kosciuszko, had just such features. The clothes of the Pole, whose name +was Tsihanovitch, gave evidence of terrible poverty. + +A few days later I was walking along the deserted boulevard with which +Perm is bounded on one side; it was in the second half of May, the young +leaves were opening, the birches were in flower (I remember the whole +avenue was of birches), and there was no one anywhere. Our provincials +are not fond of _platonic_ walks. After strolling for some time, I saw +at last on the other side of the boulevard, that is, where the open +country began, a man botanising or perhaps simply gathering the scanty +and monotonous flowers of that region. When he raised his head I +recognised Tsihanovitch and went up to him. + +Later on I saw a good deal of the victims of the Polish insurrection; +their record is particularly rich in martyrs—Tsihanovitch was the first. +When he told me how he had been persecuted by executioners in the +uniform of adjutant-generals—those tools with which the brutality of the +savage despot of the Winter Palace fights—then our discomforts, our +prison, and our trial seemed to me paltry. + +At that time in Vilna the commanding officer _on the side of the +victorious enemy_ was the celebrated renegade Muravyov, who immortalised +himself by the historic declaration, ‘that he belonged to the Muravyovs +who hanged and not the Muravyovs who are hanged.’ For Nicholas’ narrow, +vindictive outlook, men of feverish ambition and coarse callousness were +always the best fitted or, at any rate, the most sympathetic. + +The generals who sat in the torture chamber and tormented the +emissaries, their friends or the friends of their friends, behaved to +the prisoners like blackguards, with no breeding, no feeling of +delicacy, and at the same time were very well aware that all their +doings were covered by the military coat of Nicholas, soaked in the +blood of the Polish martyrs and the tears of Polish mothers.... This +Passion Week of a whole people still awaits its Luke or its Matthew.... +But let them know: one torturer after another will be shamed at the bar +of history and leave his name there. That will be the portrait gallery +of the period of Nicholas by way of pendant to the gallery of the +generals of 1812. + +Muravyov spoke to the prisoners as though they were of a lower class, +and swore at them in the language of the market. Once he was so carried +away by fury that he went up to Tsihanovitch and would have taken him by +the shoulder and perhaps have struck him, but met the fettered +prisoner’s eyes, was abashed, and went on in a different tone. + +I guessed what those eyes must have looked like; when he told me the +story three years after the event, his eyes glowed, the veins stood out +on his forehead and on his bowed neck. + +‘What could you have done in chains?’ + +‘I could have torn him to pieces with my teeth, I could have beaten him +to death with my skull, with my chains,’ he said, trembling. + +Tsihanovitch was sent at first to Verhoturye, one of the remotest towns +of the province of Perm, lost in the Ural Mountains, buried in snow and +so far from every road that in winter there was scarcely any means of +communication. I need hardly say that living in Verhoturye was worse +than in Omsk or Krasnoyarsk. Being in complete solitude, Tsihanovitch +occupied himself with the study of natural science, collected the scanty +flora of the Ural Mountains, and at last received permission to move to +Perm; and this was a great amelioration of his lot. Again he heard the +sound of his own language and met with comrades in misfortune. His wife, +who had remained in Lithuania, wrote that she was setting off to _walk_ +to him from the province of Vilna. + +When I was transferred so unexpectedly to Vyatka, I went to say good-bye +to Tsihanovitch. The little room in which he lived was almost completely +empty. A small, old trunk stood beside the meagre bed, a wooden table +and a chair made up the rest of the furniture. It reminded me of my cell +in the Krutitsky Barracks. + +The news of my departure grieved him, but he was so used to +disappointments that a minute later he said to me with a smile that was +almost bright: ‘That’s just what I love nature for; wherever a man may +be, she cannot be taken from him.’ + +I wanted to leave him something as a souvenir. I took a little stud out +of my shirt and asked him to accept it. + +‘It won’t suit my shirt, but I shall keep your stud to the end of my +days and I will wear it at my funeral.’ + +Then he sank into thought and all at once began rapidly rummaging in his +trunk. He found a little bag, from it drew out an iron chain made in a +peculiar way, and, tearing several links off, gave them to me with the +words: ‘That chain is very precious to me, the most sacred memories of a +certain time are connected with it. I do not give you all, but take +these links. I never thought that I, an exile from Lithuania, would +present them to a Russian exile.’ + +I embraced him and said good-bye. + +‘When are you going?’ he asked. + +‘To-morrow morning, but I will not invite you; a gendarme is always +sitting in my lodging.’ + +‘And so a good journey to you; may you be happier than I.’ + +At nine o’clock next morning the police-master turned up at my lodgings +and began hurrying me off. The Perm gendarme, a far more manageable +person than the Krutitsky one, was busy getting the carriage ready, not +concealing his joy at the hope of being able to be drunk for three +hundred and fifty versts. Everything was ready. I glanced casually into +the street; Tsihanovitch was passing, I rushed to the window. + +‘Well, thank God,’ he said, ‘this is the fourth time I have walked past +to say good-bye to you, if only from a distance, and still you did not +see me.’ + +With eyes full of tears I thanked him. This tender, womanly attention +deeply touched me; but for this meeting I should have had nothing to +regret in Perm! + +On the day after we left Perm there was a heavy, unceasing downpour of +rain from dawn, such as is common in forest districts; at two o’clock we +reached a very poor village in the province of Vyatka. There was no +house at the posting-station. Votyaks[133] (who could not read or write) +performed the duties of overseer, looked through the permit for horses, +saw whether there were two seals or one, shouted ‘Aïda, aïda!’ and +harnessed the horses, I need hardly say, twice as quickly as it would +have been done had there been a superintendent. I wanted to get dry and +warm and to have something to eat. Before we reached the village, the +Perm gendarme agreed to my suggestion that we should rest for a couple +of hours. When I went into the stifling hut, without a chimney, and +found that it was absolutely impossible to get anything, that there was +not even a pot-house for five versts, I regretted our decision and was +on the point of asking for horses. + +While I was thinking whether to go on or not to go on, a soldier came in +and reported that the officer at the étape had sent to invite me to a +cup of tea. + +‘With the greatest pleasure. Where is your officer?’ + +‘In the hut near by, your honour,’ and the soldier made the familiar +left-about-turn. I followed him. + +A short, elderly officer with a face that bore traces of many anxieties, +petty cares, and fear of his superiors, met me with all the genial +hospitality of deadly boredom. He was one of those unintelligent, +good-natured soldiers who work in the service for twenty-five years +without promotion and without reasoning about it, as old horses serve, +who probably suppose that it is their duty at dawn to put on their +harness and drag something. + +‘Whom are you taking, and where?’ + +‘Oh, don’t ask, for it is heart-rending. Well, I suppose my superiors +know all about it; it is our duty to carry out orders and we are not +responsible, but, looking at it as a man, it is an ugly business.’ + +‘Why, what is it?’ + +‘You see, they have collected a crowd of cursed little Jew boys of eight +or nine years old. Whether they are taking them for the navy or what, I +can’t say. At first _the orders were to drive them to Perm, then there +was a change and we are driving them to Kazan_. I have taken them over a +hundred versts. The officer who handed them over said it was dreadful, +and that’s all about it; a third were left on the way’ (and the officer +pointed to the earth). ‘Not half will reach their destination,’ he +added. + +‘Have there been epidemics, or what?’ I asked, deeply moved. + +‘No, not epidemics, but they just die off like flies. A Jew boy, you +know, is such a frail, weakly creature, like a skinned cat; he is not +used to tramping in the mud for ten hours a day and eating dried +bread—then again, being among strangers, no father nor mother nor +petting; well, they cough and cough until they cough themselves into +their graves. And I ask you, what use is it to them? What can they do +with little boys?’ + +I made no answer. + +‘When do you set off?’ I asked. + +‘Well, we ought to have gone long ago, but it has been raining so +heavily.... Hey, you there! tell the small fry to form up.’ + +They brought the children and formed them into regular ranks: it was one +of the most awful sights I have ever seen, those poor, poor children! +Boys of twelve or thirteen might somehow have survived it, but little +fellows of eight and ten.... No painting could reproduce the horror of +that scene. + +Pale, exhausted, with frightened faces, they stood in thick, clumsy, +soldiers’ overcoats, with stand-up collars, fixing helpless, pitiful +eyes on the garrison soldiers who were roughly getting them into ranks. +The white lips, the blue rings under their eyes looked like fever or +chill. And these sick children, without care or kindness, exposed to the +icy wind that blows straight from the Arctic Ocean, were going to their +graves. + +And note that they were being taken by a kind-hearted officer who was +obviously sorry for the children. What if they had been taken by a +military political economist? + +I took the officer’s hand and, saying ‘Take care of them,’ rushed to my +carriage. I wanted to sob and felt that I could not control myself. + +What monstrous crimes are secretly buried in the archives of the +infamous reign of Nicholas! We are used to them, they are committed +every day, committed as though nothing were wrong, unnoticed, lost in +the terrible distance, noiselessly sunk in the silent bogs of +officialdom or shrouded by the censorship of the police. + +Have we not seen with our own eyes seven hungry peasants from Pskov, who +were being forcibly removed to the province of Tobolsk and were pitched +without food or night’s lodging in the Tverskoy Square in Moscow until +Prince D. V. Golitsyn ordered them to be cared for at his own expense? + + + + + Chapter 14 + VYATKA—THE OFFICE AND DINING-ROOM OF HIS EXCELLENCY—K. Y. TYUFYAEV + + +The Governor of Vyatka did not receive me, but sent word that I was to +present myself next morning at ten. + +I found in the room next morning the district police-captain, the +police-master, and two officials: they were all standing talking in +whispers and looking uneasily at the door. The door opened and there +walked in a short, broad-shouldered old man with a head set on his +shoulders like a bull-dog’s, and with big jaws, which completed his +resemblance to that animal and, moreover, wore a perpetual grin; the +elderly and at the same time satyr-like expression of his face, the +quick little grey eyes, and the sparse, stiff hair made an incredibly +disgusting impression. + +To begin with, he gave the district police-captain a good dressing down +for the state of the roads on which he had driven the day before. The +district police-captain stood with his head somewhat bowed in token of +respect and submission, and replied to everything as servants used to do +in old days, ‘I obey, your Excellency.’ + +When he had done with the district police-captain, he turned to me. He +looked at me insolently and asked: + +‘Did you finish your studies at the Moscow University?’ + +‘I took my degree.’ + +‘And then served?’ + +‘In the Kremlin department.’ + +‘Ha, ha, ha! a fine sort of service! Of course, you had plenty of time +there for supper parties and singing songs. Alenitsyn!’ he shouted. + +A scrofulous-looking young man walked in. + +‘Here, my boy, here is a graduate of the Moscow University. I expect he +knows everything except his duties in the service; it is His Majesty’s +pleasure that he should learn them with us. Take him into your office +and send me a special report on him. To-morrow you will come to the +office at nine o’clock, and now you can go. But stay, I forgot to ask +how you write.’ + +I did not understand for the moment. + +‘Come, your handwriting.’ + +‘I have nothing with me.’ + +‘Bring paper and pen,’ and Alenitsyn handed me a pen. + +‘What am I to write?’ + +‘What you like,’ observed the secretary. ‘Write, “On inquiry it +appears——”’ + +‘Well, you won’t be corresponding with the Tsar,’ the governor remarked, +laughing ironically. + +Before I left Perm I had heard a great deal about Tyufyaev, but he far +surpassed all my expectations. + +What does not Russian life produce! + +Tyufyaev was born at Tobolsk. His father was possibly a convict and +belonged to the poorest class of artisan. At thirteen, young Tyufyaev +joined a troupe of travelling acrobats who wandered from fair to fair, +dancing on the tight-rope, turning somersaults, and so on. With these he +travelled from Tobolsk to the Polish provinces, entertaining the good +Russian people. There, I do not know why, he was arrested, and as he had +no passport he was treated as a vagrant, and sent on foot with a party +of convicts back to Tobolsk. His mother was by then a widow and was +living in great poverty. The son rebuilt the stove with his own hands +when it was broken: he had to find some calling; the boy had learned to +read and write, and he was engaged as a copying clerk in the local +court. + +Being naturally of a free-and-easy character and having developed his +abilities by a many-sided education in the troupe of acrobats and the +party of convicts with whom he had passed from one end of Russia to the +other, he became an energetic and practical man. + +At the beginning of the reign of Alexander some sort of inspector came +to Tobolsk. He needed capable clerks, and some one recommended Tyufyaev. +The inspector was so well pleased with him that he proposed taking him +along to Petersburg. Then Tyufyaev, whose ambition, to use his own +words, had never risen above the post of secretary in a district court, +formed a higher opinion of himself, and with iron will resolved to make +his career. + +And he did make it. Ten years later we find him the indefatigable +secretary of Kankrin, who was at that time a general in the +commissariat. A year later he was superintending a department in +Araktcheyev’s secretariat which superintended all Russia. He was with +Araktcheyev in Paris at the time when it was occupied by the allied +troops. Tyufyaev spent the whole time sitting in the secretariat of the +expeditionary army and literally did not see one street in Paris. He sat +day and night collating and copying papers with his worthy colleague, +Kleinmihel. + +Araktcheyev’s secretariat was like those copper mines into which men are +only sent to work for a few months, because if they remain longer they +die. Even Tyufyaev was tired at last in that factory of orders and +decrees, of regulations and commands, and began asking for a quieter +post. Araktcheyev could not fail to like a man like Tyufyaev, a man free +from higher pretensions, from all interests and opinions, formally +honest, devoured by ambition, and regarding obedience as the foremost +human virtue. Araktcheyev rewarded Tyufyaev with the post of deputy +governor. A few years later he made him governor of the Perm Province. +The province, through which Tyufyaev had once walked on a rope and once +tied to a rope, lay at his feet. + +A governor’s power increases in direct ratio to his distance from +Petersburg, but it increases in geometrical progression in the provinces +where there are no nobility, as in Perm, Vyatka, and Siberia. Such a +region was just what Tyufyaev wanted. + +He was an Oriental satrap, only an active, restless one, meddling in +everything and for ever busy. Tyufyaev would have been a ferocious +Commissaire of the Convention in 1794, a Carrier.[134] + +Dissolute in his life, coarse in nature, intolerant of the slightest +contradiction, his influence was extremely pernicious. He did not take +bribes, though he did make his fortune, as it appeared after his death. +He was severe to his subordinates, he punished without mercy those who +were detected in wrongdoing, yet his officials were more dishonest than +anywhere. He carried the abuse of influence to an incredible point; for +instance, when he sent an official to an inquiry he would (that is, if +he were interested in the case) tell him that probably this or that +would be discovered, and woe to the official if something else were +discovered. + +Perm was still full of the fame of Tyufyaev; there was a party of his +adherents there, hostile to the new governor, who, of course, had +surrounded himself with his own partisans. + +On the other hand, there were people who hated him. One of them, a +rather original product of the warping influences of Russian life, +particularly warned me what Tyufyaev was like. I am speaking of a doctor +in one of the factories. This doctor, whose name was Tchebotarev, an +intelligent and very nervous man, had made an unfortunate marriage soon +after he had completed his studies, then he was transferred to +Ekaterinburg and without any experience plunged into the bog of +provincial life. Though placed in a fairly independent position in these +surroundings, he yet was mastered by them; all his resistance took the +form of sarcasms at the expense of the officials. He laughed at them to +their faces, he said the most insulting things with grimaces and +affectation. Since no one was spared, no one particularly resented the +doctor’s spiteful tongue. He made himself a social position by his +attacks and forced a flabby set of people to put up with the lash with +which he chastised them incessantly. I was warned that he was a good +doctor, but crazy and extremely impertinent. + +His gossip and jokes were neither coarse nor pointless; quite the +contrary, they were full of humour and concentrated bitterness; it was +his poetry, his revenge, his outcry of anger and, to some extent, +perhaps, of despair. He had studied the circle of officials as an artist +and as a doctor, and, encouraged by their cowardice and lack of +resource, took any liberty he liked with them. + +At every word he would add, ‘It won’t make a ha’p’orth of difference to +you.’ + +Once in joke I remarked upon his repeating this. + +‘Why are you surprised?’ the doctor replied. ‘The object of everything +that is said is to convince. I am in haste to add the strongest argument +that exists. Convince a man that to kill his own father will not make a +ha’p’orth of difference and he will kill him.’ + +Tchebotarev never refused to lend small sums of a hundred or two hundred +roubles. When any one asked him for a loan, he would take out his +notebook and inquire the exact date when the borrower would return the +money. + +‘Now,’ he would say, ‘allow me to make a bet of a silver rouble that you +won’t repay it then.’ + +‘Upon my soul,’ the other would object, ‘what do you take me for?’ + +‘It makes not a ha’p’orth of difference what I take you for,’ the doctor +would answer, ‘but the fact is I have been keeping a record for six +years, and not one person has paid me up to time yet, and hardly any one +has repaid me later either.’ + +The day fixed would pass and the doctor would very gravely ask for the +silver rouble he had won. + +A spirit-tax contractor at Perm was selling a travelling coach. The +doctor presented himself before him and made the following speech: ‘You +have a coach to sell, I need it; you are a wealthy man, you are a +millionaire, every one respects you for it and I have therefore come to +pay you my respects also; as you are a wealthy man, it makes not a +ha’p’orth of difference to you whether you sell the coach or not, while +I need it very much and have very little money. You want to squeeze me, +to take advantage of my necessity and ask fifteen hundred for the coach. +I offer you seven hundred roubles. I shall be coming every day to +bargain with you and in a week you will let me have it for seven-fifty +or eight hundred; wouldn’t it be better to begin with that? I am ready +to give it.’ + +‘Much better,’ answered the astonished spirit-tax contractor, and he let +him have the coach. + +Tchebotarev’s anecdotes and mischievous tricks were endless. I will add +two more. + +‘Do you believe in magnetism?’ a rather intelligent and cultured lady +asked him in my presence. + +‘What do you mean by magnetism?’ + +The lady talked some vague nonsense in reply. + +‘It makes not a ha’p’orth of difference to you whether I believe in +magnetism or not, but if you like I will tell you what I have seen in +that way.’ + +‘Please do.’ + +‘Only listen attentively.’ + +After this he described in a very lively and interesting way the +experiments of a Harkov doctor, an acquaintance of his. + +In the middle of the conversation, a servant brought some lunch in on a +tray. As he was going out, the lady said to him, ‘You have forgotten to +bring the mustard.’ Tchebotarev stopped. ‘Go on, go on,’ said the lady, +a little scared already, ‘I am listening.’ + +‘Has he brought the salt?’ + +‘So you are angry already,’ said the lady, turning crimson. + +‘Not in the least. I assure you I know that you were listening +attentively. Besides, I know that, however intelligent a woman is and +whatever is being talked about, she can never rise above the kitchen—so +how could I dare to be angry with you personally?’ + +At Countess Polier’s factory he asked a lad, one of his patients there, +to enter his service. The boy was willing, but the foreman said that he +could not let him go without permission from the countess. Tchebotarev +wrote to the lady. She told the foreman to let the lad have his passport +on condition that the doctor paid five years’ _obrok_ in advance. The +doctor promptly wrote to the countess that he agreed to her terms, but +asked her as a preliminary to decide one point that troubled him, _i.e._ +from whom could he recover the money if Encke’s Comet should, +intersecting the earth’s orbit, turn it out of its course—which might +occur a year and a half before the term fixed. + +On the day of my departure for Vyatka the doctor appeared early in the +morning and began with the following foolishness: ‘Like Horace, once you +sang, and to this day you are translated.’[135] Then he took out his +notebook and asked if I would not like some money for the journey. I +thanked him and refused. + +‘Why won’t you take any? It won’t make a ha’p’orth of difference to +you.’ + +‘I have money.’ + +‘That’s bad,’ he said; ‘the end of the world must be at hand.’ He opened +his notebook and wrote down: ‘After fifteen years of practice I have for +the first time met a man who won’t borrow, even though he is going +away.’ + +Having finished playing the fool, he sat down on my bed and said +gravely: ‘You are going to a terrible man. Be on your guard against him +and keep as far away from him as you can. If he likes you it will be a +poor recommendation; if he dislikes you, he will ruin you by slander, by +calumny, and I don’t know what, but he will ruin you, and it won’t make +a ha’p’orth of difference to him.’ + +With this he told me an incident the truth of which I had an opportunity +of verifying afterwards from documents in the secretariat of the +Minister of Home Affairs. + +Tyufyaev carried on an open intrigue with the sister of a poor +government clerk. The brother was made a laughing-stock and he tried to +break off the liaison, threatened to report it to the authorities, tried +to write to Petersburg—in fact, made such a to-do that on one occasion +the police seized him and brought him before the provincial authorities +to be certified as a lunatic. + +The provincial authorities, the president of the court, and the +inspector of the medical board, an old German who was very much liked by +the working people and whom I knew personally, all found that Petrovsky, +as the man was called, was mad. + +Our doctor knew Petrovsky, who was a patient of his. He was asked as a +matter of form. He told the inspector that Petrovsky was not mad at all, +and that he proposed that they should make a fresh inquiry into the +case, otherwise he would have to pursue the matter further. The local +authorities were not at all opposed to this, but unluckily Petrovsky +died in the madhouse before the day fixed for the second inquiry, +although he was a sturdy young fellow. + +The report of the case reached Petersburg. Petrovsky’s sister was +arrested (why not Tyufyaev?) and a secret investigation began. Tyufyaev +dictated the answers; he surpassed himself on this occasion. To hush it +up at once and to ward off the danger of a second involuntary journey to +Siberia, Tyufyaev instructed the girl to say that her brother had been +on bad terms with her ever since, carried away by youth and +inexperience, she had been seduced by the Emperor Alexander on his visit +to Perm, for which she had received five thousand roubles through +General Solomka. + +Alexander’s habits were such that there was nothing incredible in the +story. To find out whether it was true was not easy, and in any case +would have created a great deal of scandal. To Count Benckendorf’s +inquiry, General Solomka answered that so much money had passed through +his hands that he could not remember the five thousand. + +‘_La regina ne aveva molto!_’ says the Improvisatore in Pushkin’s +_Egyptian Nights_.... + +So this estimable pupil of Araktcheyev’s and worthy comrade of +Kleinmihel’s, acrobat, vagrant, copying clerk, secretary, and governor, +this tender heart, and disinterested man who put the sane into a +madhouse and did them to death there, the man who slandered the Emperor +Alexander to divert the attention of the Emperor Nicholas, was now +undertaking to train me in the service. + +I was almost completely dependent upon him. He had only to write some +nonsense to the minister and I should have been sent off to some place +in Irkutsk. No need to write, indeed he had the right to send me to any +outlandish town, Kay or Tsarevo-Santchursk, without any discussion, +without any formalities. Tyufyaev dispatched a young Pole to Glazov +because the ladies preferred dancing the mazurka with him to dancing it +with his Excellency. + +In this way Prince Dolgoruky was transferred from Perm to Verhoturye. +The latter place, lost in the mountains and the snows, is reckoned in +the province of Perm, though it is as bad as Beryozov for climate and +worse for desolation. + +Prince Dolgoruky was one of the aristocratic scamps of the wrong sort +such as are rarely met with in our day. He played all sorts of pranks in +Petersburg, pranks in Moscow, and pranks in Paris. + +His life was spent in this. He was an Izmailov on a small scale, a +Prince E. Gruzinsky without his band of runaways at Lyskovo, that is, a +spoilt, insolent, repulsive jester, a great gentleman and a great +buffoon at once. When his doings went beyond all bounds, he was ordered +to live in Perm. + +He arrived in two carriages; in one he travelled with his dog, in the +other, his French cook with his parrots. The people of Perm were +delighted at the arrival of a wealthy visitor, and soon all the town was +crowding into his dining-room. Dolgoruky got up an affair with a young +lady at Perm; the latter, suspecting some infidelity, appeared +unexpectedly at the prince’s house one morning and found him with his +housemaid. This led to a scene which ended in the faithless lover taking +his riding-whip from the wall; the lady, seeing his intention, took to +flight, he followed her, scantily attired in a dressing-gown; overtaking +her in the little square in which the battalion were usually drilled, he +gave the jealous lady three or four lashes with the whip and calmly +returned home as though he had done his duty. + +Such charming pranks brought down upon him the censure of his Perm +friends, and the authorities decided to send this mischievous urchin of +forty to Verhoturye. On the eve of departure he gave a splendid dinner, +and in spite of their differences the officials came to it. Dolgoruky +promised to give them some wonderful pie for dinner. + +The pie certainly was excellent and vanished with incredible rapidity. +When nothing but scraps were left, Dolgoruky turned pathetically to his +guests and said: ‘Never let it be said that I grudged you anything at +parting. I ordered my Gardi to be killed yesterday for the pie.’ + +The officials looked at one another in horror, and looked round them for +the big Dane they knew so well; he was not to be seen. The prince saw +what they felt and bade the servant bring the rejected remnants of Gardi +and his skin; the rest of him was in the stomachs of the Perm officials. +Half the town was ill with horror. + +Meanwhile Dolgoruky, pleased at having had a joke at the expense of his +friends, drove in triumph to Verhoturye. A third conveyance carried a +whole poultry yard, a poultry yard travelling with post horses! On the +way he carried off the ledgers from several posting-stations, mixed them +up, altered the entries and almost drove the posting superintendents out +of their minds, for even with their books they did not find it easy to +make their accounts balance. + +The stifling emptiness and numbness of Russian life, strangely combined +with the liveliness and even turbulence of the Russian character, +develops every sort of eccentricity among us. + +In Suvorov’s habit of crowing like a cock, just as in Prince Dolgoruky’s +dog-pie, in the savage deeds of Izmailov,[136] in the half-voluntary +madness of Mamonov,[137] in the violent crimes of Tolstoy ‘the +American,’ I detect a kindred note, familiar to us all, though weakened +in us by education, or directed to some other end. + +I knew Tolstoy personally and just at the date when he lost his daughter +Sarra, an exceptional girl with marked poetic gifts. One glance at the +old man’s exterior, at his forehead covered with grey curls, at his +sparkling eyes and athletic frame revealed how much energy and vigour +nature had bestowed on him. He had developed only turbulent passions and +evil propensities, and that is not surprising; everything vicious is +allowed among us to develop for a long time without hindrance, while for +humane passions a man is sent to a garrison or Siberia at the first +step.... He rioted, gambled, fought, mutilated people and ruined +families for twenty years on end, till at last he was sent to Siberia, +from which he ‘returned an Aleutian’ as Griboyedov says, that is, he +made his way through Kamtchatka to America, and thence obtained +permission to return to Russia. Alexander pardoned him, and from the day +after his arrival he carried on the same life as before. Married to a +gypsy girl belonging to the Moscow camp and famous for her voice, he +turned his house into a gambling den, spent all his time in orgies, all +his nights at cards, and wild scenes of greed and drunkenness took place +beside the cradle of the little Sarra. The story goes that on one +occasion, to prove the nicety of his aim, he made his wife stand on the +table and shot through the heel of her shoe. + +His last prank almost sent him to Siberia again. He had long been angry +with an artisan; he seized him in his house, bound him hand and foot, +and pulled out one of his teeth. Will it be believed that this incident +took place only ten or twelve years ago? The injured man lodged a +complaint. Tolstoy bribed the police and the judge, and the man was put +in prison for making a false accusation. At that time a well-known +Russian literary tan, N. F. Pavlov, was serving on the prison +commission. The artisan told him his story, the inexperienced official +took it up, Tolstoy was scared in earnest, the case was obviously going +to end in his condemnation; but great is the God of Russia. Count Orlov +wrote to Prince Shtcherbatov a secret report, in which he advised him to +hush up the case, so as not to allow the _open triumph of a man of +inferior rank over a member of the higher classes_. To Pavlov, Count +Orlov gave the advice to resign his post.... This is almost more +incredible than the extraction of the tooth. I was in Moscow at the time +and knew the imprudent official well. But let us return to Vyatka. + +The government office was incomparably worse than prison. Not that the +actual work was great, but the stifling atmosphere, as of the Cave of +Dogs, of that scene of corruption, and the terrible, stupid waste of +time made the office insufferable. Alenitsyn did not worry me, he was, +indeed, more polite than I expected; he had been at the Kazan High +School and consequently had a respect for a graduate of the Moscow +University. + +There were some twenty clerks in the office. For the most part they were +persons of no education and no moral conceptions; sons of clerks and +secretaries, accustomed from their cradle to regard the service as a +source of profit, and the peasants as soil that yielded revenue, they +sold their services, took twenty kopecks and quarter-roubles, cheated +for a glass of wine, demeaned themselves and did all sorts of shabby +things. My valet gave up going to the ‘billiard room,’ saying that the +officials cheated there worse than anybody, and one could not give them +a lesson because they were ‘officers.’ So with these people, whom my +servant did not beat only on account of their rank, I had to sit every +day from nine in the morning until two, and from five to eight in the +evening. + +Besides Alenitsyn, who was the head of the office, there was a +head-clerk of the table at which I was put, who was also not a spiteful +creature, though drunken and illiterate. At the same table sat four +clerks. I had to talk to and become acquainted with these, and, indeed, +with all the others, too. Apart from the fact that these people would +have paid me out sooner or later for being ‘proud’ if I had not, it is +simply impossible to spend several hours of every day with the same +people without making their acquaintance. Moreover, it must not be +forgotten that provincials make up to any one from outside and +particularly to any one who comes from the capital, especially if there +is some interesting story connected with him. + +After spending the whole day in this bondage, I would sometimes come +home with all my faculties in a state of stupefaction and fling myself +on the sofa, worn out, humiliated, and incapable of any work or +occupation. I heartily regretted my Krutitsky cell with its charcoal +fumes and black beetles, with a gendarme on guard and a lock on the +door. There I had freedom, I did what I liked and no one interfered with +me; instead of these vulgar sayings, dirty people, mean ideas and coarse +feelings, there had been the stillness of death and unbroken leisure. +And when I remembered that after dinner I had to go again, and again +to-morrow, I was at times overcome by fury and despair and tried to find +comfort in drinking wine and vodka. + +And then, to make things worse, one of my fellow-clerks would look in +‘on his way’ and relieve his boredom by staying on talking until it was +time to go back to the office. + +Within a few months, however, the position became somewhat easier. + +Prolonged steady persecution is not in the Russian character unless a +personal or mercenary element comes in; and that is not because the +government does not want to stifle and crush a man, but is due to the +Russian carelessness, to our _laissez-aller_. Russians in authority are +as a rule ill-bred, coarse, and insolent; it is easy to provoke them to +rudeness, but persistent oppression is not in their line, they have not +enough patience for it, perhaps because it yields them no profit. + +In the first heat to display, on the one hand, their zeal, on the other, +their power, they do all sorts of stupid and unnecessary things, then, +little by little, they leave a man in peace. + +So it was with the office. The Ministry of Home Affairs had at that time +a craze for statistics: it had given orders for committees to be formed +everywhere, and had issued programmes which could hardly have been +carried out even in Belgium or Switzerland; at the same time, all sorts +of elaborate tables with maxima and minima, with averages and various +deductions from the totals for periods of ten years (made up on evidence +which had not been collected even a year beforehand!), with moral +remarks and meteorological observations. Not a farthing was assigned for +the expenses of the committees and the collection of evidence; all this +was to be done from love for statistics through the rural police and put +into proper shape in the government office. The clerks, overwhelmed with +work, and the rural police, who hate all peaceful and theoretical tasks, +looked upon a statistics committee as a useless luxury, as a caprice of +the ministry; however, the reports had to be sent in with tabulated +results and deductions. + +This business seemed overwhelmingly difficult to the whole office; it +was simply impossible; but no one troubled about that, all they worried +about was that there should be no occasion for reprimands. I promised +Alenitsyn to prepare a preface and introduction, and to draw up +summaries of the tables with eloquent remarks introducing foreign words, +quotations, and striking deductions, if he would allow me to undertake +this very severe work not at the office but at home. Alenitsyn, after +parleying with Tyufyaev, agreed. + +The introduction to my record of the work of the committee, in which I +discussed their hopes and their plans, for in reality nothing had been +done at all, touched Alenitsyn to the depths of his soul. Tyufyaev +himself thought it was written in masterly style. With that my labours +in the statistical line ended, but they put the committee under my +supervision. They no longer forced the hard labour of copying upon me, +and the drunken head-clerk who had been my chief became almost my +subordinate. Alenitsyn only insisted, from some consideration of +propriety, that I should go every day for a short time to the office. + +To show the complete impossibility of real statistics, I will quote the +facts sent from the town of Kay. There, among various absurdities, were +for instance the entries: Drowned—2. Causes of drowning not known—2, and +in the column of totals these two figures were added together and the +figure 4 was entered. Under the heading of extraordinary incidents +occurred the following tragic anecdote: So-and-so, artisan, having +deranged his intelligence by stimulating beverages, hanged himself. +Under the heading of morality of the town’s inhabitants was the entry: +‘There are no Jews in the town of Kay.’ To the inquiry whether sums had +been allotted for the building of a church, a stock exchange, or an +almshouse, the answer ran thus: ‘For the building of a stock exchange +was assigned—nothing.’ + +The statistics that saved me from work at the office had the unfortunate +consequence of bringing me into personal relations with Tyufyaev. + +There was a time when I hated that man; that time is long past and the +man himself is past. He died on his Kazan estates about 1845. Now I +think of him without anger, as of a peculiar wild beast met in a forest +which ought to have been tamed, but with which one could not be angry +for being a beast. At the time I could not help coming into conflict +with him; that was inevitable for any decent man. Chance helped me or he +would have done me great injury; to owe him a grudge for the harm he did +not do me would be absurd and paltry. + +Tyufyaev lived alone. His wife was separated from him. The governor’s +favourite, the wife of a cook who for no fault but being married to her +had been sent away to the country, was, with an awkwardness which almost +seemed intentional, kept out of sight in the back rooms of his house. +She did not make her appearance officially, but officials who were +particularly devoted to the governor—that is, particularly afraid of not +being so—formed a sort of court about the cook’s wife ‘who was in +favour.’ Their wives and daughters paid her stealthy visits in the +evening and did not boast of doing so. This lady was possessed of the +same sort of tact as distinguished one of her brilliant +predecessors—Potyomkin; knowing the old man’s disposition and afraid of +being replaced, she herself sought out for him rivals that were not a +danger to her. The grateful old man repaid this indulgent love with his +devotion and they got on well together. + +All the morning Tyufyaev worked and was in the office of the +secretariat. The poetry of life only began at three o’clock. Dinner was +for him no jesting matter. He liked a good dinner and he liked to eat it +in company. Preparations were always made in his kitchen for twelve at +table; if the guests were less than half that number he was mortified; +if there were no more than two visitors he was wretched; if there was no +one at all, he would go off on the verge of despair to dine in his +Dulcinea’s apartments. To procure people in order to feed them to +repletion is not a difficult task, but his official position and the +terror he inspired in his subordinates did not permit them freely to +enjoy his hospitality, nor him to turn his house into a tavern. He had +to confine himself to councillors, presidents (but with half of these he +was on bad terms), rich merchants, spirit-tax contractors, and the few +visitors to the town and ‘oddities,’ who were something in the style of +the _capacités_ whom Louis-Philippe wanted to introduce into elections. +Of course I was an oddity of the first magnitude in Vyatka. + +Persons exiled ‘for their opinions’ to remote towns are somewhat feared, +but are never confounded with ordinary mortals. ‘Dangerous people’ have +for provincials the same attraction that notorious Lovelaces have for +women and courtesans for men. ‘Dangerous people’ are far more shunned by +Petersburg officials and wealthy Moscow people than by provincials and +especially by Siberians. + +Those who were exiled in connection with the Fourteenth of December were +looked upon with immense respect. The first visit on New Year’s Day was +paid by officials to the widow of Yushnevsky. The senator Tolstoy when +taking a census of Siberia was guided by evidence received from the +exiled Decembrists in checking the facts furnished by the officials. + +Minih[138] from his tower in Pelymo superintended the affairs of the +Tobolsk Province. Governors used to go to consult him about matters of +importance. + +The working people are still less hostile to exiles: they are always on +the side of those who are punished. The word ‘convict’ disappears near +the Siberian frontier and is replaced by the word ‘unfortunate.’ In the +eyes of the Russian peasant legal sentence is no disgrace to a man. The +peasants of the Perm Province, living along the main road to Tobolsk, +often put out kvass, milk, and bread in a little window in case an +‘unfortunate’ should be secretly passing that way from Siberia. + +By the way, speaking of exiles, Polish exiles begin to be met beyond +Nizhni and their number rapidly increases after Kazan. In Perm there +were forty, in Vyatka not less; there were besides several in every +district town. + +They lived quite apart from the Russians and avoided all contact with +the inhabitants. There was great unity among them, and the rich shared +with the poor like brothers. + +I never saw signs of either hatred or special goodwill towards them on +the part of the inhabitants. They looked upon them as outsiders—the more +so, as scarcely a single Pole knew Russian. + +One tough old Sarmatian, who had been an officer in the Uhlans under +Poniatowski and had taken part in Napoleon’s campaigns, received +permission in 1837 to return to his Lithuanian domains. On the eve of +his departure he invited me and several Poles to dinner. After dinner my +cavalry officer came up to me, glass in hand, embraced me, and with a +warrior’s simplicity whispered in my ear, ‘Oh, why are you a Russian!’ I +did not answer a word, but this observation sank deeply into my heart. I +realised that _this_ generation could never set Poland free. + +From the time of Konarski,[139] the Poles have come to look quite +differently upon the Russians. + +As a rule Polish exiles are not oppressed, but the position is awful for +those who have no private means. The government gives those who have +nothing _fifteen roubles a month_; with that they must pay for lodging, +food, clothes, and fuel. In the bigger towns, in Kazan and Tobolsk, it +is possible to earn something by giving lessons or concerts, playing at +balls, drawing portraits and teaching dancing. In Perm and Vyatka they +had no such resources. And in spite of that they would ask nothing from +Russians. + +Tyufyaev’s invitations to his rich Siberian dinners were a real +infliction to me. His dining-room was the same thing as the office only +in another form, less dirty but more vulgar, because it had the +appearance of free will and not of compulsion. + +Tyufyaev knew his guests through and through, despised them, showed them +his claws at times, and altogether treated them as a master treats his +dogs, at one time with excessive familiarity, at another with a rudeness +which was beyond all bounds—and yet he invited them to his dinners and +they came to them in trembling and in joy, demeaning themselves, talking +scandal, listening, trying to please, smiling, bowing. + +I blushed for them and felt ashamed. + +Our friendship did not last long. Tyufyaev soon perceived that I was not +fit for ‘aristocratic’ Vyatka society. + +A few months later he was displeased with me, a few months later still +he hated me, and I not only went no more to his dinners but even gave up +going to him at all. The visit of the Tsarevitch saved me from his +persecution, as we shall see later on. + +I must note that I had done absolutely nothing to deserve first his +attentions and invitations, and afterwards his anger and disapproval. He +could not endure to see in me a man who behaved independently, though +not in the least insolently; I was always _en règle_ with him, and he +demanded obsequiousness. He loved his power jealously. He had earned it +and he exacted not only obedience but an appearance of absolute +subordination. In this, unhappily, he was typically national. + +A landowner says to his servant, ‘Hold your tongue; I won’t put up with +your answering me!’ + +The head of a department observes, turning pale with anger, to a clerk +who has made some criticism, ‘You forget yourself; do you know to whom +you are speaking?’ + +The Tsar sends men to Siberia ‘for opinions,’ buries them in dungeons +for a poem—and all three of them are readier to forgive stealing and +bribe-taking, murder and robbery, than the impudence of human dignity +and the insolence of an independent word. + +Tyufyaev was a true servant of the Tsar. He was thought highly of, but +not highly enough. Byzantine servility was in him wonderfully combined +with official discipline. Obliteration of self, renunciation of will and +thought before authority went hand in hand with savage oppression of +subordinates. He might have been a civilian Kleinmihel, his ‘zeal’ might +in the same way have conquered everything, and he might in the same way +have plastered the walls with the dead bodies of men, have dried the +palace with human lungs, and have thrashed the young men of the +engineering corps even more severely for not being informers. + +Tyufyaev had an intense secret hatred for everything aristocratic; he +had gained it from bitter experience. The hard labour of Araktcheyev’s +secretariat had been his first refuge, his first deliverance. Till then +his superiors had never offered him a chair, but had employed him on +menial errands. When he served in the commissariat, the officers had +persecuted him in military fashion and one colonel had horsewhipped him +in the street in Vilna.... All this had entered into the copying clerk’s +soul and rankled there; now he was governor and it was his turn to +oppress, to keep men standing, to address them familiarly, to shout at +them, and sometimes to bring nobles of ancient lineage to trial. + +From Perm, Tyufyaev had been transferred to Tver. The nobles of that +province could not, for all their submissiveness and servility, put up +with him. They petitioned the minister Bludov to remove him. Bludov +transferred him to Vyatka. + +There he was quite at home again. Officials and contractors, +factory-owners and government clerks, a free hand with no one to +interfere.... Every one trembled before him, every one remained standing +in his presence, every one offered him drink and gave him dinners, every +one waited on his slightest wish; at weddings and name-day parties, the +first toast was ‘To the health of his Excellency!’ + + + + + Chapter 15 + OFFICIALS—SIBERIAN GOVERNORS-GENERAL—A RAPACIOUS POLICE-MASTER—AN +ACCOMMODATING JUDGE—A ROASTED POLICE-CAPTAIN—A TATAR MISSIONARY—A BOY OF + THE FEMALE SEX—THE POTATO TERROR, ETC. + + +One of the most melancholy results of the revolutionising of Russia by +Peter the Great was the development of the official class. An +artificial, hungry, and uncultivated class, capable of doing nothing but +‘serving,’ knowing nothing but official forms, it constitutes a kind of +civilian clergy, officiating in the courts and the police forces, and +sucking the blood of the people with thousands of greedy and unclean +mouths. + +Gogol lifted one corner of the curtain and showed us Russian officialdom +in all its ugliness; but Gogol cannot help conciliating by his laughter; +his immense comic talent gets the upper hand of his indignation. +Moreover, in the fetters of the Russian censorship, he could scarcely +touch upon the melancholy side of that foul underworld, in which the +destinies of the unhappy Russian people are forged. + +There, somewhere in grimy offices, from which we make haste to get away, +shabby men write and write on grey paper, and copy on to stamped +paper—and persons, families, whole villages are outraged, terrified, +ruined. A father is sent into exile, a mother to prison, a son for a +soldier, and all this breaks like a thunderclap upon them, unexpected, +for the most part undeserved. And for the sake of what? For the sake of +money. A tribute must be paid ... or an inquiry will be held concerning +some dead drunkard, burnt up by spirits and frozen to death. And the +head-man collects and the village elder collects, the peasants bring +their last kopeck. The police-inspector must live; the police-captain +must live and keep his wife too; the councillor must live and educate +his children, the councillor is an exemplary father. + +Officialdom reigns supreme in the north-east provinces of Russia and in +Siberia. There it flourishes unhindered, unsupervised ... it is so +terribly far off, every one shares in the profits, stealing becomes _res +publica_. Even the cannon-shots of the Imperial power cannot destroy +these foul, boggy trenches hidden under the snow. All the measures of +government are weakened, all its intentions are distorted; it is +deceived, fooled, betrayed, sold, and all under cover of loyal servility +and with the observance of all the official forms. + +Speransky[140] tried to ameliorate the lot of the Siberian people. He +introduced everywhere the collegiate principle, as though it made any +difference whether the officials stole individually or in gangs. He +discharged the old rogues by hundreds and engaged new ones by hundreds. +At first he inspired such terror in the rural police that they actually +bribed the peasants not to make complaints against them. Three years +later the officials were making their fortunes by the new forms as well +as they had done by the old. + +Another eccentric individual was General Velyaminov. For two years he +struggled at Tobolsk trying to check abuses, but, seeing the +hopelessness of it, threw it all up and quite gave up attending to +business. + +Others, more judicious, did not make the attempt, but got rich +themselves and let others get rich. + +‘I will abolish bribe-taking,’ said Senyavin, the Governor of Moscow, to +a grey-headed peasant who had lodged a complaint against some obvious +injustice. The old man smiled. + +‘What are you laughing at?’ asked Senyavin. + +‘Why, you must forgive me, sir,’ answered the peasant; ‘it put me in +mind of one fine young fellow who boasted he would lift a cannon, and he +really did try, but he did not lift it for all that.’ + +Senyavin, who told the story himself, belonged to that class of +unpractical men in the Russian service who imagine that rhetorical +sallies on the subject of honesty and despotic persecution of two or +three rogues can remedy so universal a disease as Russian bribe-taking, +which grows freely under the shadow of the censorship. + +There are only two remedies for it, publicity, and an entirely different +organisation of the whole machinery, the introduction again of the +popular elements of the arbitration courts, verbal proceedings, sworn +witnesses, and all that the Petersburg administration detests. + +Pestel, the Governor-General of Western Siberia, father of the +celebrated Pestel put to death by Nicholas, was a real Roman proconsul +and one of the most violent. He carried on an open system of plunder in +the whole region which was cut off by his spies from Russia. Not a +single letter crossed the border without the seal being broken, and woe +to the man who should dare to write anything about his rule. He kept +merchants of the first guild for a year at a time in prison in chains; +he tortured them. He sent officials to the borders of Eastern Siberia +and left them there for two or three years. + +For a long time the people bore it; at last an artisan of Tobolsk made +up his mind to bring the position of affairs to the knowledge of the +Tsar. Afraid of the ordinary routes, he went to Kyahta and from there +made his way with a caravan of tea across the Siberian frontier. He +found an opportunity at Tsarskoe Syelo of giving Alexander his petition, +beseeching him to read it. Alexander was amazed and impressed by the +terrible things he read in it. He sent for the man, and after a long +talk with him was convinced of the melancholy truth of his report. +Mortified and somewhat embarrassed, he said to him: ‘You can go home +now, my friend; the thing shall be inquired into.’ + +‘Your Majesty,’ answered the man, ‘I will not go home now. Better +command me to be put in prison. My conversation with your Majesty will +not remain a secret and I shall be killed.’ + +Alexander shuddered and said, turning to Miloradovitch, who was at that +time Governor-General in Petersburg: + +‘You will answer to me for him.’ + +‘In that case,’ observed Miloradovitch, ‘allow me to take him into my +own house.’ And the man actually remained there until the case was +ended. + +Pestel almost always lived in Petersburg. You may remember that the +proconsuls as a rule lived in Rome. By means of his presence and +connections, and still more by the division of the spoils, he avoided +all sorts of unpleasant rumours and scandals.[141] + +The Imperial Council took advantage of Alexander’s temporary absence at +Verona or Aachen to come to the intelligent and just decision that since +the matter related to Siberia the case should be handed to Pestel to +deal with, as he was on the spot. Miloradovitch, Mordvinov, and two +others were opposed to this decision, and the case was brought before +the Senate. + +The Senate, with that outrageous injustice with which it continually +judges cases relating to the higher officials, exonerated Pestel but +exiled Treskin, the civilian governor of Tobolsk, and deprived him of +his grade and rank. Pestel was only relieved of his duty. + +After Pestel, Kaptsevitch, a man of the school of Araktcheyev, was sent +to Tobolsk. Thin, bilious, a tyrant by nature and a tyrant because he +had spent his whole life in the army, a man of restless activity, he +brought external discipline and order into everything, fixed maximum +prices for goods, but left everyday affairs in the hands of robbers. In +1824 the Tsar wanted to visit Tobolsk. Through the Perm provinces runs +an excellent broad high-road, which has been in use for ages and is +probably good owing to the nature of the soil. Kaptsevitch made a +similar road to Tobolsk in a few months. In the spring, in the time of +alternate thaw and frost, he forced thousands of workmen to make the +road by levies from villages near and far; epidemics broke out among +them, half the workmen died, but ‘zeal can accomplish everything’—the +road was made. + +Eastern Siberia is still more slackly governed. It is so far away that +news scarcely reaches Petersburg. Bronevsky, the Governor-General in +Irkutsk, was fond of firing cannon-balls into the town when ‘he was +merry.’ And another high official used when he was drunk to perform a +service in his house in full vestments and in the presence of the chief +priest. Anyway the noisiness of the one and the devoutness of the other +were not so pernicious as Pestel’s blockade and Kaptsevitch’s ceaseless +activity. + +It is a pity that Siberia is so badly governed. The choice of its +governors-general has been particularly unfortunate. I do not know what +Muravyov is like; he is celebrated for his intelligence and ability; the +others were good for nothing. Siberia has a great future; it is looked +upon merely as a cellar, in which there are great stores of gold, of +fur, and other goods, but which is cold, buried in snow, poor in the +means of life, without roads or population. That is not true. + +The dead hand of the Russian government, that does everything by +violence, everything with the stick, cannot give the living impetus +which would carry Siberia forward with American rapidity. We shall see +what will happen when the mouths of the Amur are opened for navigation +and America meets Siberia near China. + +I said long ago that the _Pacific Ocean is the Mediterranean of the +future_.[142] In that future the part played by Siberia, the land that +lies between the ocean, Southern Asia, and Russia, will be extremely +important. Of course Siberia is bound to extend to the Chinese frontier. +People cannot freeze and shiver in Beryozov and Yakutsk when there are +Krasnoyarsk, Minusinsk, and other such places. + +Even the Russian immigration into Siberia has elements in its nature +that suggest a different development. Generally speaking, the Siberian +race is healthy, well-grown, intelligent, and extremely practical. The +Siberian children of settlers know nothing of the landowners’ power. +There is no noble class in Siberia and at the same time there is no +aristocracy in the towns; the officials and the officers, who are the +representatives of authority, are more like a hostile garrison stationed +there by a victorious enemy than an aristocracy. The immense distances +save the peasants from frequent contact with them; money saves the +merchants, who in Siberia despise the officials and, though outwardly +giving way to them, take them for what they are—their clerks employed in +civil affairs. + +The habit of using firearms, inevitable for a Siberian, is universal. +The dangers and emergencies of his daily life have made the Siberian +peasant more warlike, more resourceful, readier to offer resistance than +the Great Russian. The remoteness of churches leaves his mind freer from +superstition than in Russia, he is cold to religion and most often a +dissenter. There are remote villages which the priest visits only three +or four times a year and then christens, buries, marries, and hears +confessions wholesale. + +On this side of the Ural Mountains things are done more discreetly, and +yet I could fill volumes with anecdotes of the abuse of power and the +roguery of the officials, heard in the course of my service in the +office and dining-room of the governor. + +‘Well, he was a master at it, my predecessor,’ the police-master of +Vyatka said to me in a moment of confidential conversation. ‘Well, of +course, that’s the way to get on, only you have got to be born to it; he +was a regular Seslavin,[143] a Figner in his own way, I may say,’ and +the eyes of the lame major, promoted to be a police-master for his +wounds, sparkled at the memory of his glorious predecessor. + +‘A gang of robbers turned up not far from the town, and once or twice +news reached the authorities of merchants’ goods being stolen, or money +being seized from a contractor’s steward. The governor was in a great +taking and wrote off one order after another. Well, you know the rural +police are cowards; they are equal to binding a wretched little thief +and bringing him to justice—but this was a gang and maybe with guns. The +rural police did nothing. The governor sends for the police-master and +says: “I know that it is not your duty, but your efficiency makes me +turn to you.” + +‘The police-master had information about the business beforehand. +“General,” said he, “I will set off in an hour, the robbers must be at +this place and that place; I’ll take soldiers with me, I shall find them +at this place and that place, and within a few days I shall bring them +in chains to the prison.” Why, it was like Suvorov with the Austrian +Emperor! And indeed, no sooner said than done—he fairly pounced on them +with the soldiers, they had no time to hide their money, the +police-master took it all and brought the robbers to the town. + +‘The police inquiry began. The police-master asked them: “Where is your +money?” + +‘“Why, we gave it to you, sir, into your very hands,” answered two of +the robbers. + +‘“Gave it to me?” says the police-master in amazement. + +‘“Yes, to you, to you,” shout the robbers. + +‘“What insolence!” says the police-master to the inspector, turning pale +with indignation. “Why, you scoundrels, you’ll be saying next, I +suppose, that I stole it with you. I’ll teach you to insult my uniform; +I’m a cornet of Uhlans and won’t allow a slur on my honour!” + +‘He has them flogged, saying “Confess where you have hidden the money.” +At first they stick to their story, only when he gives the order for +them to have a second pipeful, the ringleader shouts: “We are guilty, we +spent the money.” + +‘“You should have said so long ago,” said the police-master, “instead of +talking such nonsense; you won’t take me in, my man.” + +‘“Well, to be sure, we ought to come to your honour for a lesson and not +you to us. We couldn’t teach you anything!” muttered the old robber, +looking with admiration at the police-master. + +‘And do you know he got the Vladimir ribbon for that business.’ + +‘Excuse me,’ I asked, interrupting the praises of the great +police-master, ‘what is the meaning of “a second pipeful”?’ + +‘That’s just a saying among us. It’s a dreary business you know, +flogging, so as you order it to begin, you light your pipe and it is +usually over by the time you have smoked it—but in exceptional cases we +sometimes order our friends to be treated to two pipefuls. The police +are used to it, they know pretty well how much to give.’ + +Of the Figner above mentioned, there were regular legends current in +Vyatka. He performed miracles. Once, I do not remember the occasion, +some general-adjutant or minister arrived, and the police-master wanted +to show that he did not wear the Uhlan cross for nothing and that he +could spur his horse as smartly as any one. To this end he applied to +one of the Mashkovtsevs, rich merchants of that region, asking him to +give him his valuable grey saddle-horse. Mashkovtsev would not give it. + +‘Very good,’ said Figner, ‘you won’t do such a trifle for me of your own +accord, so I’ll take the horse without your permission.’ + +‘Well, we shall see about that,’ said Gold. + +‘Yes, we shall see,’ said Steel.[144] + +Mashkovtsev locked up the horse and put two men on guard, and on that +occasion the police-master was unsuccessful. + +But in the night, as though of design, an empty barn belonging to +spirit-tax contractors, and adjoining the Mihailovitch house, took fire. +The police-master and the police did their work admirably; to save +Mashkovtsev’s house, they even pulled down the wall of his stable and +carried off the horse in dispute without a hair of his tail or of his +mane singed. Two hours later, the police-master, parading on a white +stallion, went to receive the thanks of the highest authority for his +exemplary management of the fire. After this no one doubted that the +police-master could do anything. + +The governor Ryhlevsky was driving from an assembly; at the moment when +his carriage was starting, the driver of a small sledge carelessly got +between the traces of the back pair and the front pair of horses; this +led to a minute’s confusion, which did not, however, prevent Ryhlevsky +from reaching home perfectly comfortably. Next day the governor asked +the police-master if he knew whose coachman it was who had driven into +his traces, and said that he ought to be reprimanded. + +‘That coachman, your Excellency, will never drive into your traces +again; I gave him a good lesson,’ the police-master answered, smiling. + +‘But whose man is he?’ + +‘Councillor Kulakov’s, your Excellency.’ + +At that moment the old councillor, whom I found and left councillor of +the provincial government, walked into the governor’s. + +‘You must forgive us,’ said the governor to him, ‘for having given your +coachman a lesson.’ + +The astonished councillor looked at him inquiringly, unable to +understand. + +‘You see he drove into my traces yesterday. You see if he is allowed +to....’ + +‘But, your Excellency, I was at home all day yesterday, and my wife too, +and the coachman was at home.’ + +‘What’s the meaning of this?’ asked the governor. + +‘I am very sorry, your Excellency. I was so busy yesterday, my head was +in a whirl, I quite forgot about the coachman, and I confess I did not +dare to report that to your Excellency. I meant to see about him at +once.’ + +‘Well, you are a regular police-master, there is no doubt about it!’ +observed Ryhlevsky. + +Side by side with this rapacious official, I will describe another of +the opposite breed—a tame, soft, sympathetic official. + +Among my acquaintances was one venerable old man, a police-captain +dismissed from his position by a Committee of Inquiry instituted by the +Senators’ revision. He spent his time drawing up petitions and getting +up cases, which was just what he was forbidden to do. This man, who had +been in the service immemorial ages, had stolen, doctored official +documents, and collected false evidence in three provinces, twice been +tried, and so on. This veteran of the rural police liked to tell amazing +anecdotes about himself and his colleagues, not concealing his contempt +for the degenerate officials of the younger generation. + +‘They’re giddy-pates,’ he said; ‘of course they take what they can get, +there is no living without it, but it is no use looking for cleverness +or knowledge of the law in them. I’ll tell you, for instance, about one +friend of mine. He was a judge for twenty years and only died last year. +He was a man of brains! And the peasants don’t remember evil against +him, though he has left his family a bit of bread. He had quite a +special way of his own. If a peasant came along with a petition, the +judge would admit him at once and be as friendly and pleasant as you +please. + +‘“What is your name, uncle, and what was your father’s?” + +‘The peasant would bow and say, “Yermolay, sir, and my father was called +Grigory.” + +‘“Well, good health to you, Yermolay Grigoryevitch, from what parts is +the Lord bringing you here?” + +‘“We are from Dubilovo.” + +‘“I know, I know. You have a mill, I fancy, on the right from the +track.” + +‘“Yes sir, the mill of our commune.” + +‘“A well-to-do village; the land is good, black soil.” + +‘“We don’t complain against God, kind sir.” + +‘“Well, that is as it should be. I’ll be bound you have a good-sized +family, Yermolay Grigoryevitch?” + +‘“Three sons and two daughters, and I have married the elder to a young +fellow who has been with us five years.” + +‘“I daresay you have grandchildren by now?” + +‘“Yes, there are little ones, your honour.” + +‘“And thank God for it! increase and multiply. Well, Yermolay +Grigoryevitch, it is a long way you have come, let us have a glass of +birch wine.” + +‘The peasant makes a show of refusing. The judge fills a glass for him, +saying, “Nonsense, nonsense, my man, the holy Fathers have nothing +against wine and oil to-day.” + +‘“It’s true there is nothing against it, but wine brings a man to every +trouble.” Then he crosses himself, bows, and drinks the birch wine. + +‘“With such a family, Grigoryevitch, I’ll be bound life is hard? To feed +and clothe every one of them you can’t manage with one wretched nag or +cow; there would not be milk enough.” + +‘“Upon my word, sir, what could I do with only one horse? I have three, +I did have a fourth, a roan, but it was bewitched about St. Peter’s +fast; the carpenter in our village, Dorofey, may God be his judge, hates +to see another man well off and has an evil eye.” + +‘“It does happen, it does happen. And you have big grazing lands, of +course; I’ll be bound you keep sheep?” + +‘“To be sure, we have sheep too.” + +‘“Ah, I’ve been too long talking with you. It’s the Tsar’s service, +Yermolay Grigoryevitch, it is time I was in the Court. Had you come +about some little business or what?” + +‘“Yes, your honour.” + +‘“Well, what is it? some quarrel? Make haste and tell me, old man! it is +time I was going.” + +‘“Well, kind sir, trouble has come upon me in my old age. Just at +Assumption, we were in the tavern and came to high words with a peasant +of a neighbouring village, such a mischievous man, he is always stealing +our wood. We had hardly said a word before he swung his fist and gave me +a punch in the chest. ‘Keep your blows for your own village,’ I said to +him, and just to make an example, I would have given him a push, but, +being drunk perhaps, or else it was the devil in it, hit him in the +eye—and, well, I spoilt his eye, and he is gone with the church elder +straight to the inspector—wants to have me up to be tried in the court.” + +‘While he tells this story, the judge—our Petersburg actors are nothing +to him—grows graver and graver, makes his eyes look dreadful, and does +not say a word. + +‘The peasant sees and turns pale, lays his hat at his feet and takes out +a towel to mop his face. The judge still sits silent and turns over the +leaves of a book. + +‘“So I have come here to you, kind sir,” says the peasant in a changed +tone. + +‘“What can I do in the matter? What a position! And what did you hit him +in the eye for?” + +‘“That’s true indeed, sir, what for.... The evil one confounded me.” + +‘“It’s a pity! a great pity! to think that a household must be ruined! +Why, what will become of the family without you, all young people and +little grandchildren, and I am sorry for your old woman, too.” + +‘The peasant’s legs begin to tremble. + +‘“Well, kind sir, what have I brought on myself?” + +‘“Look here, Yermolay Grigoryevitch, read for yourself ... or perhaps +you are no great reader? Well, here is the article on maiming and +mutilation ... to be punished by flogging and exile to Siberia.” + +‘“Don’t let a man be ruined! Don’t destroy a Christian! Cannot something +be done?...” + +‘“What a fellow! Can we go against the law? Of course, it is all in +human hands. Well, instead of thirty strokes we might give five.” + +‘“But about Siberia?...” + +‘“That’s not in our power to decide, my good man.” + +‘The peasant pulls out of his bosom a little bag, takes out of the bag a +bit of paper, out of the paper two and then three gold pieces, and with +a low bow lays them on the table. + +‘“What’s this, Yermolay Grigoryevitch?” + +‘“Save me, kind sir.” + +‘“Nonsense, nonsense, what do you mean? Sinful man that I am, I do +sometimes accept a token of gratitude. My salary is small, so one is +forced to, but if one accepts it, it must be for something! How can I +help you? It would be a different thing if it were a rib or a tooth, but +a blow on the eye! Take your money back.” + +‘The peasant is crushed. + +‘“I’ll tell you what; shall I talk to my colleagues and write to the +governor’s office? Very likely the case will come into the courts of +justice, there I have friends, they can do anything, only they are a +different sort of people, you won’t get off for three gold pieces +there.” + +‘The peasant begins to recover his faculties. + +‘“You needn’t give me anything. I am sorry for your family, but it is no +use your offering them less than two grey notes.” + +‘“But, kind sir, as God is above, I don’t know where I am to turn to get +such a mint of money—four hundred roubles—these are hard times.”’ + +‘“Yes, I expect it is difficult. We could diminish the punishment in +view of your penitence, and taking into consideration that you were not +sober ... and, there, you know people get on all right in Siberia. There +is no telling how far you may have to go.... Of course, if you were to +sell a couple of horses and one of the cows, and the sheep, you might +make it up. But it would take you a time to make up that money again! On +the other hand, if you do keep the horses, you’ll have to go off +yourself to the ends of the earth. Think it over, Grigoryevitch; there +is no hurry, we can wait till to-morrow, but it is time I was going,” +adds the judge, and puts the gold pieces he had refused into his pocket, +saying, “This is quite unnecessary. I only take it not to offend you.”’ + +‘Next morning you may be sure the old screw brings three hundred and +fifty roubles in all sorts of old-fashioned coins to the judge. + +‘The judge promises to look after his interests: the peasant is tried +and tried and properly scared and then let off with some light +punishment, or with a warning to be careful in future, or with a note +that he is to be kept under police supervision, and he remembers the +judge in his prayers for the rest of his life. + +‘That’s how they used to do in old days,’ the discharged +police-inspector told me; ‘they did things properly.’ + +The peasants of Vyatka are, generally speaking, not very long-suffering, +and for that reason the officials consider them fractious and +troublesome. The rural police find their real gold mine in the Votyaks, +the Mordvahs, and the Tchuvashes; they are pitiful, timid, dull-witted +people. Police inspectors pay double to the governor for appointments in +districts populated by these Finnish tribes. + +The police and the officials do incredible things with these poor +creatures. + +If a land-surveyor crosses a Votyak village on some commission, he +invariably halts in it, takes an astrolabe out of his cart, sticks a +post into the ground and stretches a chain. Within an hour the whole +village is in a turmoil. ‘The surveyors, the surveyors!’ the peasants +say with the horror with which in 1812 they used to say, ‘The French, +the French!’ The village elder comes with the commune to do homage. And +the surveyor measures everything and writes it down. The elder entreats +him not to measure, not to do them injury. The surveyor demands twenty +or thirty roubles. The Votyaks are greatly relieved, they collect the +money—and the surveyor goes on to the next Votyak village. + +If a dead body comes into the hands of the police, they take it about +with them for a fortnight, if it is frosty weather, from one Votyak +village to another, and in each one declare that they have just picked +it up, and that an inquest and inquiry will be held in their village. +The Votyaks buy them off. + +A few years before I came to the district, a police-inspector who had +acquired a taste for taking bribes brought a dead body into a big +Russian village and demanded, I remember, two hundred roubles. The +village elder called the commune together. The commune refused to give +more than a hundred. The police official would not give way. The +peasants lost their tempers and shut him with his two clerks in the hut +which serves as the parish office, and in their turn threatened to burn +them. The police-inspector did not believe in the threat. The peasants +surrounded the hut with straw and, as an ultimatum, passed a +hundred-rouble note in at the window on a stake. The heroic +police-inspector still insisted on another hundred. Then the peasants +set fire to the straw all round the hut and the three Mucius Scaevolas +of the rural police were burnt to death. This affair was afterwards +brought before the senate. + +The Votyak villages are as a rule much poorer than the Russian ones. + +‘You live poorly, brother,’ I said to a Votyak while I was waiting for +horses in a stuffy, smoky little hut all on the slant with its windows +looking into the back-yard. + +‘Can’t be helped, master! We are poor, we save money for bad times.’ + +‘Well, it would be hard for times to be worse, old man,’ I said to him, +pouring out a glass of rum. ‘Drink, and forget your troubles.’ + +‘We do not drink,’ answered the Votyak, looking eagerly at the glass and +suspiciously at me. + +‘Nonsense! come, take it.’ + +‘Drink yourself first.’ + +I drank and then the Votyak drank. + +‘And what are you?’ he asked. ‘From the government on business?’ + +‘No,’ I answered, ‘on a journey; I am going to Vyatka.’ + +This considerably reassured him and, looking round carefully, he added +by way of explanation, ‘it is a black day when the police-inspector and +the priest come to us.’ + +I should like to add something concerning the latter. Our priests are +being more and more transformed into clerical police, as might indeed be +expected from the Byzantine meekness of our Church and the spiritual +supremacy of the Tsar. + +The Finnish tribes were partly christened before the time of Peter the +Great and partly in the reign of Elizabeth, while a section of them have +remained heathen. The greater number of those christened in the reign of +Elizabeth secretly adhere to their savage, gloomy religion.[145] + +Every two or three years the police-inspector or the rural police +superintendent go through the villages accompanied by a priest, to +discover which of the Votyaks have confessed and been absolved, and +which have not and why not. They are oppressed, thrown into prison, +flogged, and made to pay fines; and, above all, the priest and the +police-inspector search for any proof that they have not given up their +old rites. Then the spiritual spy and the police missionary raise a +storm, exact an immense bribe, give them a ‘black day,’ and so depart +leaving everything as before, to repeat their procession with cross and +rods a year or two later. + +In 1835 the Most Holy Synod thought it fitting to do apostolic work in +the Vyatka Province and convert the Tcheremiss heathen to orthodoxy. + +This conversion is a type of all the great reforms carried out by the +Russian government, a façade, scene-painting, _blague_, deception, a +magnificent report, while somebody steals and some one else is flogged. + +The Metropolitan, Filaret, sent an energetic priest as a missionary. His +name was Kurbanovsky. Consumed by the Russian disease of ambition, +Kurbanovsky threw himself warmly into the work. He determined at all +costs to force the grace of God upon the Tcheremisses. At first he tried +preaching, but he soon got tired of that. And, indeed, does one make +much way by that old method? + +The Tcheremisses, seeing the position of affairs, sent to him their +priests, wild, fanatical and adroit. After a prolonged parleying, they +said to Kurbanovsky: ‘In the forest are white birch-trees, tall pines +and firs, there is also the little juniper. God suffers them all and +bids not the juniper be a pine-tree. And so are we among ourselves, like +the forest. Be ye the white birch, we will remain the juniper; we will +not trouble you, _we will pray for the Tsar_, will pay the taxes and +send recruits, but we will not change our holy things.’[146] + +Kurbanovsky saw that there was no making them hear reason, and that the +success of Cyril and Methodius[147] would not be vouchsafed him, and he +appealed to the local police-captain. The latter was highly delighted. +He had long been eager to display his devotion to the Church. He was an +unbaptized Tatar, _i.e._ a Mahommedan of the true faith, by name +Devlet-Kildeyev. + +The police-captain took a band of soldiers and set off to attack the +Tcheremisses with the Word of God. Several villages were duly +christened. The apostle Kurbanovsky performed the thanksgiving service +and went meekly off to receive his reward. To the Tatar apostle the +government sent the Vladimir Cross for the propagation of Christianity! + +Unfortunately, the Tatar missionary was not on good terms with the +mullah at Malmyzho. The mullah was not at all pleased that a son of the +true faith of the Koran should preach the Gospel so successfully. In +Ramadan, the police-captain, heedlessly affixing the cross to his +button, appeared at the mosque and of course took up his stand before +all the rest. The mullah had only just begun reading the Koran through +his nose, when all at once he stopped, and said that he dare not +continue in the presence of a Mussulman who had come into the mosque +wearing a Christian emblem. + +The Tatars raised a murmur, the police-captain was overcome with +confusion and either withdrew or removed the cross. + +I afterwards read in the _Journal of the Ministry of Home Affairs_ about +the brilliant conversion of the Tcheremisses. The article referred to +the zealous co-operation of Devlet-Kildeyev. Unluckily they forgot to +add that his zeal for the Church was the more disinterested as his faith +in Islam was so firm. + +Before the end of my time at Vyatka, the Department of Crown Property +was stealing so impudently that a commission of inquiry was appointed, +which sent inspectors about the province. With that began the +introduction of new regulations concerning Crown peasants. + +Governor Kornilov had the appointment of the officials for this +inspection in his hands. I was one of those appointed. What things it +was my lot to read! Melancholy, and amusing, and disgusting. The very +headings of the cases moved me to amazement. + +‘Relating to the disappearance of the house of the Parish Council, no +one knows where, and of the gnawing of the plan of it by mice.’ + +‘Relating to the loss of twenty-two government quit-rent articles, +_i.e._ of fifteen versts of land.’ + +‘Relating to the re-enumeration of the peasant boy Vassily among the +feminine sex.’ This last was so strange that I at once read the case +from cover to cover. + +The father of this supposed Vassily wrote in his petition to the +governor that fifteen years ago he had a daughter born, whom he had +wanted to call Vassilisa, but that the priest, being ‘in liquor,’ +christened the girl Vassily and so entered it on the register. The +circumstance apparently troubled the peasant very little. But when he +realised that it would soon come to his family to furnish a recruit and +pay the poll tax, he reported on the matter to the mayor and the rural +police superintendent. The case seemed very suspicious to the police. +They had previously refused to listen to the peasant, saying that he had +let ten years pass. The peasant went to the governor, the latter +arranged a solemn examination of the boy of the feminine sex by a doctor +and a midwife.... At this point a correspondence suddenly sprang up with +the Consistory, and the priest, the successor of the one who, when ‘in +liquor,’ had failed to note this trifling difference, appeared on the +scene, and the case went on for years and the girl was left under +suspicion of being a man until the end. + +Do not imagine that this is an absurd figment of my fancy; not at all, +it is quite in harmony with the spirit of the Russian autocracy. + +In the reign of Paul some colonel of the Guards in his monthly report +entered an officer as dead who was dying in the hospital. Paul struck +him off the list as dead. Unluckily the officer did not die, but +recovered. The colonel persuaded him to withdraw to his country estate +for a year or two, hoping to find an opportunity to rectify the error. +The officer agreed, but unfortunately for the colonel the heirs who had +read of their kinsman’s death in the _Army Gazette_ refused on any +consideration to acknowledge that he was living, and, inconsolable at +their loss, insisted on bringing the matter before the authorities. When +the living corpse saw that he was likely to die a second time, not +merely on paper but from hunger, he went to Petersburg and sent in a +petition to Paul. The Tsar wrote with his own hand on the petition: +‘Forasmuch as a decree of the Most High has been promulgated concerning +this gentleman, the petition must be refused.’ + +This is even better than my Vassilisa-Vassily. Of what consequence was +the crude fact of life beside the decree of the Most High? Paul was the +poet and dialectician of autocracy! + +Foul and loathsome as this morass of officialdom is, I must add a few +words more about it. To bring it into the light of day is the least poor +tribute one can pay to those who have suffered and perished, unknown and +uncomforted. + +The government readily gives the higher officials waste lands by way of +reward. There is no great harm in that, though it would be more sensible +to keep these reserves to provide for the increase of population. The +regulations that govern the fixing of the boundaries of these lands are +fairly detailed; forests containing building timber, the banks of +navigable rivers, indeed the banks of any river, must not be given away, +nor under any circumstances may lands be so assigned that are being +cultivated by peasants, even though the peasants have no right to the +land except that of long usage.[148] + +All these restrictions of course are only on paper. In reality the +assignment of land to private owners is a terrible source of plunder and +oppression of the peasants. Great noblemen in receipt of rents used +either to sell their rights to merchants, or try through the provincial +authorities to gain some special privilege contrary to the regulations. +Even Count Orlov himself was _by chance_ assigned a main road and the +pasture lands on which cattle droves are pastured in the Province of +Saratov. + +It is therefore no wonder that one fine morning the peasants of the +Darovsky parish in Kotelnitchesky district had their lands cut off right +up to their barns and houses and given as private property to some +merchants who had bought the lease of them from a kinsman of Count +Kankrin. The merchants fixed a rent for the land. This led to a lawsuit. +The Court of Justice, bribed by the merchants and afraid of Kankrin’s +kinsman, confused the issues of the case. But the peasants were +determined to persist with it. They elected two hard-headed peasants +from amongst themselves and sent them to Petersburg. The case was +brought before the Senate. The land-surveying department perceived that +the peasants were in the right and consulted Kankrin. The latter simply +admitted that the land had been irregularly apportioned, but urged that +it would be difficult to restore it, because it _might_ have changed +hands since then, and that its present owners _might_ have made various +improvements. And therefore his Excellency proposed that, considering +the vast amount of Crown property available, the peasants should be +assigned a full equivalent in a different part. This satisfied every one +except the peasants. In the first place, it is no light matter to bring +fresh land under cultivation, and, in the second, the fresh land turned +out to be swampy and unsuitable. As the peasants were more interested in +growing corn than in shooting grouse and woodcock, they sent another +petition. + +Then the Court of Justice and the Ministry of Finance made a new case +out of the old one, and finding a law which authorised them, if the land +that was assigned turned out to be unsuitable, to add as much as another +half of the amount to it, ordered the peasants to be given another half +swamp in addition to the swamp they already had. + +The peasants sent another petition to the Senate, but, before their case +had come up for investigation, the land-surveying department sent them +plans of their new land, with the boundaries marked and coloured, with +stars for the points of the compass and appropriate explanations for the +lozenges, marked R.R.Z., and the lozenges marked Z.Z.R., and, what was +of more consequence, a demand for so much rent per acre. The peasants, +seeing that far from giving them land, they were trying to squeeze money +out of them for the bog, refused point-blank to pay. The police-captain +reported it to Tyufyaev, who sent a punitory expedition under the +command of the Vyatka police-master. The latter arrived, seized a few +persons, flogged them, restored order in the district, took the money, +handed over the _guilty parties_ to the Criminal Court, and was hoarse +for a week afterwards from shouting. Several men were punished with the +lash and sent into exile. + +Two years later the Tsarevitch passed through the district, the peasants +handed him a petition; he ordered the case to be investigated. It was +upon this that I had to draw up a report. Whether any good came of this +re-investigation I do not know. I have heard that the exiles were +brought back, but whether the land was restored I cannot say. + +In conclusion, I must mention the celebrated story of the potato mutiny +and how Nicholas tried to bring the blessings of Petersburg civilisation +to the nomad gypsies. + +Like the peasantry of all Europe at one time, the Russian peasants were +not very ready to plant potatoes, as though an instinct told the people +that this was a poor kind of food which would give them neither health +nor strength. However, on the estates of decent landowners and in many +crown villages, ‘earth apples’ had been planted long before the Potato +Terror. But anything that is done of itself is distasteful to the +Russian Government. Everything must be done under terror of the stick +and the drill-sergeant, to the beating of drums. + +The peasants of the Kazan and of part of the Vyatka province planted +potatoes in their fields. When the potatoes were lifted, the idea +occurred to the Ministry to set up a central potato-pit in each +_volost_. Potato-pits were ratified, potato-pits were prescribed, +potato-pits were dug; and at the beginning of winter the peasants, much +against their will, took the potatoes to the central pit. But when the +following spring the authorities tried to make them plant frozen +potatoes, they refused. There cannot, indeed, be a more flagrant insult +to labour than a command to do something obviously absurd. This refusal +was represented as a mutiny. The Minister Kisselyov sent an official +from Petersburg; he, being an intelligent and practical man, exacted a +rouble apiece from the peasants of the first _volost_ and allowed them +not to plant frozen potatoes. + +He repeated this proceeding in the second _volost_ and the third, but in +the fourth, the elder told him point-blank that he would neither plant +the potatoes nor pay him anything. ‘You have let off these and those,’ +he told the official; ‘it’s clear you must let us off too.’ The official +would have concluded the business with threats and thrashings, but the +peasants snatched up stakes and drove away the police; the military +governor sent Cossacks. The neighbouring _volosts_ took the peasants’ +part. + +It is enough to say that it came to using grape-shot and bullets. The +peasants left their homes and dispersed into the woods; the Cossacks +drove them out of the bushes like game; then they were caught, put into +irons, and sent to be court-martialled at Kosmodemiansk. + +By a strange accident the old major in charge there was an honest, +good-natured man; in the simplicity of his heart, he said that the +official sent from Petersburg was solely to blame. Every one pounced +upon him, his voice was hushed up, he was suppressed; he was intimidated +and even put to shame for ‘trying to ruin an innocent man.’ + +And the inquiry followed the usual Russian routine: the peasants were +flogged during the examination, flogged as a punishment, flogged as an +example, flogged to extort money, and a whole crowd of them sent to +Siberia. + +It is worth noting that Kisselyov passed through Kosmodemiansk during +the inquiry. He might, it may be thought, have looked in at the court +martial or have sent for the major. + +He did not do so! + +The famous Turgot, seeing the hatred of the peasants for the potatoes, +distributed seed-potatoes among contractors, purveyors, and other +persons under government control, sternly forbidding them to give them +to the peasants. At the same time he gave them secret orders not to +prevent the peasants from stealing them. In a few years a large part of +France was under potatoes. + +_Tout bien pris_, is not that better than grape-shot, Pavel +Dmitrievitch? + +In 1836 a gypsy camp came to Vyatka and settled in a field. These +gypsies had wandered as far as Tobolsk and Irbit and had invariably, +accompanied by their trained bear and entirely untrained children, led +their free nomadic existence from time immemorial, engaged in +horse-doctoring, fortune-telling, and petty pilfering. They peacefully +sang songs and robbed hen-roosts, but all at once the governor received +instructions from the Most High that if gypsies were found without +passports (not a single gypsy had ever had a passport, and that Nicholas +and his men knew perfectly well) they were to be given a fixed time +within which they were to inscribe themselves as citizens of the village +or town where they happened to be at the date of the decree. + +At the expiration of the time limit, it was ordained that those fit for +military service should be taken for soldiers and the rest sent into +exile, all but the children of the male sex. + +This senseless decree, which recalled biblical accounts of the +persecution and punishment of whole races and the slaughter of all the +males among them, disconcerted even Tyufyaev. He communicated the absurd +decree to the gypsies and wrote to Petersburg that it could not be +carried out. To inscribe themselves as citizens they would need both +money for the officials and the consent of the town or village, which +would also have been unwilling to accept the gypsies for nothing. It was +necessary, too, that the gypsies should themselves have been desirous of +settling on the spot. Taking all this into consideration, Tyufyaev—and +one must give him credit for it—asked the Ministry to grant +postponements and exemptions. + +The Ministry answered by instructions that at the expiration of the time +limit this Nebuchadnezzar-like decree should be carried out. Most +unwillingly Tyufyaev sent a company of soldiers with orders to surround +the gypsy camp; as soon as this was done, the police arrived with the +garrison battalion, and what happened, I am told, was beyond all +imagination. Women with streaming hair ran about in a frenzy, screaming +and weeping, and falling at the feet of the police; grey-headed old +mothers clung to their sons. But order triumphed and the police-master +took the boys and took the recruits—while the rest were sent by étape +somewhere into exile. + +But when the children had been taken, the question arose what was to be +done with them and at whose expense they were to be kept. + +In old days there were foundling hospitals in connection with the +Department of Public Charity which cost the government nothing. But the +Prussian chastity of Nicholas abolished them as detrimental to morals. +Tyufyaev advanced money of his own and asked the Minister for +instructions. Ministers never stick at anything. They ordered that the +boys, until further instructions, were to be put into the charge of the +old men and women maintained in the almshouses. + +Think of placing little children in charge of moribund old men and +women, making them breathe the atmosphere of death—forcing old people +who need peace and quiet to look after children for nothing! + +What imagination! + +While I am on the subject I must describe what happened some eighteen +months later to the elder of my father’s village in the province of +Vladimir. He was a peasant of intelligence and experience who carried on +the trade of a carrier, had several teams of three horses each, and had +been for twenty years the elder of a little village that paid _obrok_ to +my father. + +Some time during the year I spent in Vladimir, the neighbouring peasants +asked him to deliver a recruit for them. Bringing the future defender of +his country on a rope, he arrived in the town with great self-confidence +as a man proficient in the business. + +‘This,’ said he, combing with his fingers the fair, grizzled beard that +framed his face, ‘is all the work of men’s hands, sir. Last year we +pitched on our lad, such a wretched sickly fellow he was—the peasants +were much afraid he wouldn’t do. “And how much, good Christians, will +you go to? A wheel will not turn without being greased.” We talked it +over and the _mir_ decided to give twenty-five gold pieces. I went to +the town and after talking in the government office I went straight to +the president—he was a sensible man, sir, and had known me a long time. +He told them to take me into his study and he had something the matter +with his leg, so he was lying on the sofa. I put it all before him and +he answered me with a laugh, “that’s all right, that’s all right, you +tell me how many _of them_ you have brought—you are a skinflint, I know +you.” I put ten gold pieces on the table and made him a low bow—he took +the money in his hand and kept playing with it. “But I say,” he said, “I +am not the only one whom you will have to pay, what more have you +brought?” “Another ten,” I told him. “Well,” he said, “you can reckon +yourself what you must do with it. Two to the doctor, two to the army +receiver, then the clerk, and all sorts of other little tips won’t come +to more than three—so you had better leave the rest with me and I will +try to arrange it all.”’ + +‘Well, did you give it to him?’ + +‘To be sure I did—and they took the boy all right.’ + +Accustomed to such reckonings and calculations and also, perhaps, to the +five gold pieces of which he had given no account, the elder was +confident of success. But there may be many mishaps between the bribe +and the hand that takes it. Count Essen, one of the Imperial adjutants, +was sent to Vladimir for the levy of recruits. The elder approached him +with his gold pieces. Unfortunately the Count had, like the heroine of +Pushkin’s _Nulin_, been reared ‘not in the traditions of his fathers,’ +but in the school of the Baltic aristocracy, which instils German +devotion to the Russian Tsar. Essen was angered, shouted at him and, +what was worse, rang the bell; the clerk ran in and gendarmes made their +appearance. The elder, who had never suspected the existence of men in +uniform who would not take bribes, lost his head so completely that he +did not deny the charge, did not vow and swear that he had never offered +money, did not protest, might God strike him blind and might another +drop never pass between his lips, if he had thought of such a thing! He +let himself be caught like a sheep and led off to the police station, +probably regretting that he had offered the general too little and so +offended him. + +But Essen, not satisfied with the purity of his own conscience, nor the +terror of the luckless peasant, and probably wishing to eradicate +bribery _in Russland_, to punish vice and set a salutary example, wrote +to the police, wrote to the governor, wrote to the recruiting office of +the elder’s criminal attempt. The peasant was put in prison and +committed for trial. Thanks to the stupid and grotesque law which metes +out the same punishment to the honest man who gives a bribe to an +official and to the official himself who takes the bribe, things looked +black for him and the elder had to be saved at all costs. + +I rushed to the governor; he refused to intervene in the matter; the +president and councillors of the Criminal Court shook their heads, +panic-stricken at the interference of the Imperial adjutant. The latter +himself, relenting, was the first to declare that he ‘wished the man no +harm, that he only wanted to give him a lesson, that he ought _to be +tried and then let off_.’ When I told this to the police-master, he +observed: ‘The fact is, none of these gentry know how things are done, +he should have simply sent him to me. I would have given the fool a good +drubbing—to teach him to mind what he is about—and would have sent him +about his business. Every one would have been satisfied, and now you are +in a nice mess with the Criminal Court.’ + +These two comments express the Russian conception of law so neatly and +strikingly that I cannot forget them. + +Between these pillars of Hercules of the national jurisprudence, the +elder had fallen into the deepest gulf, that is, into the Criminal +Court. A few months later the verdict was prepared that the elder after +being punished with the lash should be exiled to Siberia. His son and +all his family came to me, imploring me to save their father, the head +of the family. I myself felt fearfully sorry for the peasant, ruined +though perfectly innocent. I went again to the president and the +councillors, pointing out to them that they were doing themselves harm +by punishing the elder so severely; that they knew themselves very well +that no business was ever done without bribes; that, in fact, they would +have nothing to eat if they did not, like true Christians, consider that +every gift is perfect and every giving is a blessing. Entreating, +bowing, and sending the elder’s son to bow still lower, I succeeded in +gaining half of my object. The elder was condemned to a few strokes of +the lash within prison walls, was allowed to remain in his home, but was +forbidden to act as an agent for the other peasants. + +I sighed with relief when I saw that the governor and the prosecutor had +agreed to this, and went to the police to ask for some mitigation of the +severity of the flogging; the police, partly because they were flattered +at my coming myself to ask them a favour, partly through compassion for +a man who was suffering for something that concerned them all so +intimately, promised me to make it a pure formality. + +A few days later the elder appeared, thinner and greyer than before. I +saw that for all his delight he was sad about something and weighed down +by some oppressive thought. + +‘What are you worrying about?’ I asked him. + +‘Well, I wish they’d settle it once for all.’ + +‘I don’t understand.’ + +‘I mean, when will they punish me?’ + +‘Why, haven’t they punished you?’ + +‘No.’ + +‘Then how is it they have let you go? You are going home, aren’t you?’ + +‘Home, yes; but I fancy the secretary read something about punishment.’ + +I could really make nothing of it, and at last asked him whether they +had given him any sort of paper. He gave it me. The whole verdict was +written in it, and at the end it was stated that, having received the +punishment of the lash within the prison walls in accordance with the +sentence of the Criminal Court, he was given his certificate and let out +of prison. + +I laughed. + +‘Well, you have been flogged already, then!’ + +‘No, sir, I haven’t.’ + +‘Well, if you are dissatisfied, go back and ask them to punish you; +perhaps the police will enter into your position.’ + +Seeing that I was laughing, the old man smiled too, shaking his head +dubiously and adding: ‘Well, well, strange doings!’ + +‘How irregular!’ many people will say; but they must remember that it is +only through such irregularity that life is possible in Russia. + + + + + Chapter 16 + ALEXANDER LAVRENTYEVITCH VITBERG + + +Among the grotesque and dirty, petty and loathsome scenes and figures, +affairs and cases, in this setting of official routine and red-tape, I +recall the noble and melancholy features of an artist, who was crushed +by the government with cold and callous cruelty. + +The leaden hand of the Tsar did not merely strangle a work of genius in +its infancy, did not merely destroy the very creation of the artist, +entangling him in judicial snares and police traps, but tried to snatch +from him his honourable name together with his last crust of bread and +to brand him as a taker of bribes and a pilferer of government funds. + +After ruining and disgracing A. L. Vitberg, Nicholas exiled him to +Vyatka. It was there that we met. + +For two years and a half I lived with the great artist and saw the +strong man, who had fallen a victim to the autocracy of red-tape +officialdom and barrack-discipline, which measures everything in the +world by the footrule of the recruiting officer and the copying clerk, +breaking down under the weight of persecution and misery. + +It cannot be said that he succumbed easily; he struggled desperately for +full ten years. He came into exile still hoping to confound his enemies +and justify himself, he came in fact still ready for conflict, bringing +plans and projects. But he soon discerned that all was over. + +Perhaps even this discovery would not have overwhelmed him, but he had +at his side a wife and children and ahead of him years of exile, +poverty, and privation; and Vitberg was turning grey, growing old, +growing old not by days but by hours. When I left him in Vyatka at the +end of two years he was quite ten years older. + +Here is the story of this long martyrdom. + +The Emperor Alexander did not believe in his victory over Napoleon, he +was oppressed by the fame of it and genuinely gave the glory to God. +Always disposed to mysticism and melancholy, in which many people saw +the fretting of conscience, he gave way to it particularly after the +series of victories over Napoleon. + +When ‘the last soldier of the enemy had crossed the frontier,’ Alexander +issued a proclamation in which he vowed to raise in Moscow an immense +temple to the Saviour. Plans for such a temple were invited, and an +immense competition began. + +Vitberg was at that time a young artist who had just completed his +studies and gained the gold medal for painting. A Swede by origin, he +was born in Russia and at first was educated in the Engineers’ Cadet +Corps. The artist was enthusiastic, eccentric, and given to mysticism: +he read the proclamation, read the appeal for plans, and flung aside all +other pursuits. For days and nights he wandered about the streets of +Petersburg, tortured by a persistent idea; it was too strong for him, he +locked himself up in his own room, took a pencil and set to work. + +To no one in the world did the artist confide his design. After some +months of work, he went to Moscow to study the city and the surrounding +country and set to work again, shutting himself up for months together +and keeping his design a secret. + +The date of the competition arrived. The plans were numerous, there were +designs from Italy and from Germany and our Academicians sent in theirs. +And the unknown youth sent in his among the rest. Weeks passed before +the Emperor examined the plans. These were the forty days in the +wilderness, days of temptation, doubt, and agonising suspense. + +Vitberg’s colossal design, filled with religious poetry, impressed +Alexander. He came to a stop before it, and it was the first of which he +inquired the authorship. They broke open the sealed envelope and found +the unknown name of an Academy pupil. + +Alexander wanted to see Vitberg. He had a long talk with the artist. His +bold and fervent language, his genuine inspiration and the mystic tinge +of his convictions impressed the Emperor. ‘You speak in stones,’ he +observed, examining Vitberg’s design again. + +That very day his design was accepted and Vitberg was chosen to be the +architect and the director of the building committee. Alexander did not +know that with the laurel wreath he was putting a crown of thorns on the +artist’s head. + +There is no art more akin to mysticism than architecture; abstract, +geometrical, mutely musical, passionless, it lives in symbol, in emblem, +in suggestion. Simple lines, their harmonious combination, rhythm, +numerical relations, make up something mysterious and at the same time +incomplete. The building, the temple, is not its own object, as is a +statue or a picture, a poem, or a symphony; a building requires an +inmate; it is a place mapped and cleared for habitation, an environment, +the shield of the tortoise, the shell of the mollusc; and the whole +point of it is that the receptacle should correspond with its spirit, +its object, its inmate, as the shell does with the tortoise. The walls +of the temple, its vaults and columns, its portal and façade, its +foundations and its cupola must bear the imprint of the divinity that +dwells within it, just as the convolutions of the brain are imprinted on +the bone of the skull. + +The Egyptian temples were their holy books. The obelisks were sermons on +the high-road. Solomon’s temple was the Bible turned into architecture; +just as St. Peter’s at Rome is the architectural symbol of the escape +from Catholicism, of the beginning of the lay world, of the beginning of +the secularisation of mankind. + +The very building of temples was so invariably accompanied by mystic +rites, symbolical utterances, mysterious consecrations that the mediæval +builders looked upon themselves as something apart, a kind of +priesthood, the heirs of the builders of Solomon’s temple, and made up +secret guilds of stonemasons, which afterwards passed into Freemasonry. + +From the time of the Renaissance architecture loses its peculiar mystic +character. The Christian faith is struggling with philosophic doubt, the +Gothic arch with the Greek pediment, spiritual holiness with worldly +beauty. What gives St. Peter’s its lofty significance is that in its +colossal proportions Christianity struggles towards life, the church +becomes pagan and on the walls of the Sistine Chapel Michael Angelo +paints Jesus Christ as a broad-shouldered athlete, a Hercules in the +flower of his age and strength. + +After St. Peter’s, church architecture deteriorated completely and was +reduced at last to simple repetition, on a larger or smaller scale, of +the ancient Greek peripteras and of St. Peter’s. + +One Parthenon is called St. Madeleine’s in Paris; the other is the +Exchange in New York. + +Without faith and without special circumstances, it was hard to create +anything living: there is something of artificiality, of hypocrisy, of +anachronism, about all new churches, such as the five-domed cruet-stands +with onions instead of corks in them in the Indo-Byzantine manner, which +Nicholas builds, with Ton for architect, or the angular Gothic churches +offensive to the aristocratic eye, with which the English decorate their +towns. + +But the circumstances under which Vitberg created his design, his +personality, and the state of mind of the Emperor were all exceptional. + +The war of 1812 had caused a violent upheaval in men’s minds in Russia; +it was long after the deliverance of Moscow before the ferment of +thought and nervous irritation could subside. Events outside Russia, the +taking of Paris, the story of the Hundred Days, the suspense, the +rumours, Waterloo, Napoleon sailing over the ocean, the mourning for +fallen kinsmen, the apprehension over the living, the returning troops, +the soldiers going home, all produced a great effect even on the +coarsest natures. Imagine a youthful artist, a mystic, gifted with +creative force and at the same time a fanatic, under the influence of +all that had happened, under the influence of the Tsar’s appeal and his +own genius. + +Near Moscow, between the Mozhaisk and Kaluga roads, there is a slight +eminence which rises above the whole city. These are the Sparrow Hills +of which I have spoken in my first reminiscences of childhood. The city +lies stretched at their foot, and one of the most picturesque views of +Moscow is from their top. Here Ivan the Terrible, at that time a young +profligate, stood weeping and watching his capital burn; here the priest +Sylvester appeared before him and with stern words transformed that +monster of genius for twenty years. + +Napoleon with his army skirted this hill, here his strength was broken, +it was at the foot of the Sparrow Hills that his retreat began. + +Could a better spot be found for a temple to commemorate the year 1812 +than the furthest point which the enemy reached? + +But this was not enough, the hill itself was to be turned into the lower +part of the temple; the open ground down to the river was to be +encircled by a colonnade, and on this base, built on three sides by +nature itself, a second and a third temple were to be raised, making up +a marvellous whole. + +Vitberg’s temple, like the chief dogma of Christianity, was threefold +and indivisible. + +The lower temple carved out of the hill had the form of a parallelogram, +a coffin, a body, it was a heavy portico supported by almost Egyptian +columns, it merged into the hill, into rough, unhewn nature. This temple +was lighted up by lamps in tall Etrurian candelabra, and the daylight +filtered sparsely into it through the second temple, passing through a +transparent picture of the Nativity. In this crypt all the heroes who +had fallen in 1812 were to be laid at rest. An eternal requiem was to be +sung for those slain on the field of battle, the names of all of them +from the generals to the private soldiers were to be carved upon the +walls. + +Upon this tomb, upon this graveyard, the second temple—the temple of +outstretched hands, of life, of suffering, of labour, was laid out in +the form of a Greek cross with the four ends equal. The colonnade +leading to it was decorated with statues from figures of the Old +Testament. At the entrance stood the prophets, they stood outside the +temple pointing the way which they were not destined to tread. The whole +story of the Gospels and of the Acts of the Apostles was depicted within +this temple. + +Above it, crowning it and completing it, was a third temple in the form +of a dome. This temple, brightly lighted, was the temple of the spirit +of untroubled peace, of eternity, expressed in its circular plan. Here +there were neither pictures nor sculpture, only on the outside it was +encircled by a ring of archangels and was covered by a colossal cupola. + +I am now giving from memory Vitberg’s leading idea. He had it worked out +to the minutest detail and everywhere perfectly in harmony with +Christian theology and architectural beauty. + +The marvellous man spent his whole life over his design. During the ten +years that he was on his trial he was occupied with nothing else and, +though harassed by poverty and privation in exile, he devoted several +hours every day to his temple. He lived in it, he did not believe that +it would never be built; memories, consolations, glory, all were in the +artist’s portfolio. + +Perhaps one day some other artist, after the martyr’s death, will shake +the dust off those sheets and with reverence publish that record of +martyrdom, in which was spent and wasted a life full of strength, for a +moment gladdened by the radiance of glory, then worn out and crushed +between a drill-sergeant Tsar, serf-senators, and pettifogging +ministers. + +The design was a work of genius, terrifying, staggering; that was why +Alexander chose it, that was why it ought to have been carried out. It +was said that the hill could not have borne the weight of the temple. I +find that incredible in face of all the new resources of the American +and English engineers, the tunnels which a train takes eight minutes to +pass through, the hanging bridges, and so on. + +Miloradovitch advised Vitberg to make the thick columns of the lower +temple of single blocks of granite. On this some one observed that it +would be very expensive to bring the granite blocks from Finland. ‘That +is just why we ought to get them,’ answered Miloradovitch, ‘if there +were a quarry in the river Moskva there would be nothing wonderful in +having them.’ + +Miloradovitch was a warrior poet and he understood poetry in general. +Grand things are done by grand means. + +Only nature does great things for nothing. + +Even those who have no doubt of Vitberg’s honesty find great fault with +him for having undertaken the duty of directing operations, though he +was an inexperienced young artist who knew nothing of official business. +He ought to have confined himself to the part of architect. That is +true. + +But it is easy to make such criticisms sitting at home in one’s study. +He undertook it just because he was young, inexperienced, and an artist; +he undertook it because after his design had been accepted, everything +seemed easy to him; he undertook it because the Tsar himself had +proposed it to him, encouraged him, supported him. Is there any man +whose head would not have been turned?... Are there any so prudent, so +sober, so self-restrained? Well, if there are, they do not design +colossal temples nor do they make ‘stones speak’! + +It need hardly be said that Vitberg was surrounded by a crowd of rogues, +men who look on Russia as a field for plunder, on the service as a +profitable line of business, on a public post as a lucky chance to make +a fortune. It was easy to understand that they would dig a pit under +Vitberg’s feet. But that, after falling into it, he should be unable to +get out again, was due also to the envy of some and the wounded vanity +of others. + +Vitberg’s colleagues on the committee were the metropolitan Filaret, the +Governor-General of Moscow, and the Senator Kushnikov; they were all +offended to begin with by being associated with a young upstart, +especially as he gave his opinion boldly and objected if he did not +agree. + +They helped to get him into trouble, they helped to slander him and with +cold-blooded indifference completed his ruin afterwards. + +They were helped in this by the fall of the mystically-minded minister +Prince A. N. Golitsyn, and afterwards by the death of Alexander. +Together with the fall of Golitsyn came the collapse of Freemasonry, of +the Bible societies, of Lutheran pietism, which in the persons of +Magnitsky at Kazan and of Runitch in Petersburg ran to grotesque +extremes, to savage persecutions, to hysterical antics, to complete +dementia and goodness knows what strange doings. + +Savage, coarse, ignorant orthodoxy was supreme. It was preached by Fotiy +the archimandrite of Novgorod, who lived on intimate (not physically, of +course) terms with Countess Orlov. The daughter of the celebrated Alexey +Grigoryevitch who strangled Peter III., she hoped to win the redemption +of her father’s soul by devoting herself to frenzied fanaticism, by +giving up to Fotiy and his monks the greater part of her enormous +estates, which had been forcibly snatched from the monasteries by +Catherine. + +But the one thing in which the Petersburg government is persistent, the +one thing in which it does not change, however its principles and +religions may change, is its unjust oppression and persecution. The +violence of the Runitches and the Magnitskys was turned against the +Runitches and the Magnitskys. The Bible Society, only yesterday +patronised and approved—the prop of morality and religion, was to-day +closed and sealed, and its members put almost on the level with +counterfeit coiners; the _Messenger of Zion_, only yesterday recommended +to all fathers of families, was more severely prohibited than Voltaire +and Diderot, and its editor, Labzin, was exiled to Vologda. + +Prince A. N. Golitsyn’s fall involved Vitberg; everyone fell upon him, +the committee complained of him, the metropolitan was offended and the +governor-general was displeased. His answers were ‘insolent’ +(‘insolence’ is one of the principal charges in the indictment of him); +his subordinates were thieves—as though there were any one in the +government service who was not a thief. Though indeed it is likely that +there was more thieving among Vitberg’s subordinates than among others; +he had had no practice in superintending houses of correction and +official thieves. + +Alexander commanded Araktcheyev to investigate the case. He was sorry +for Vitberg; he let him know through one of his attendants that he +believed in his rectitude. + +But Alexander died and Araktcheyev fell. Under Nicholas, Vitberg’s case +at once took a turn for the worse. It was dragged on for ten years with +terrible absurdities. On the points on which he was found guilty by the +Criminal Court he was acquitted by the Senate. On those on which he was +acquitted by the Court he was found guilty by the Senate. The committee +of ministers found him guilty on all the charges. The Tsar, taking +advantage of the ‘most precious privilege of monarchs to show mercy and +remit punishment,’ added exile to Vyatka to his sentence. + +And so Vitberg was sent into exile, dismissed from the service ‘for +abuse of the confidence of the Emperor Alexander and causing loss to the +treasury.’ He was fined, I believe, a million roubles, all his property +was seized and sold by public auction, and a rumour was circulated that +he had transferred countless millions to America. + +I lived in the same house with Vitberg for two years and remained on +intimate terms with him up to the time I left Vyatka. He had not saved +the barest crust of bread; his family lived in the most awful poverty. + +To give an idea of this case and of all similar ones in Russia, I will +quote two little details which have remained in my memory. + +Vitberg bought for timber for the temple a copse from a merchant called +Lobanov; before the trees were felled Vitberg saw another wood, also +Lobanov’s, nearer to the river and asked him to exchange the one he had +sold for the second one. The merchant consented. The trees were felled +and the timber floated down the river. Later on more timber was needed, +and Vitberg bought the first wood again. This was the celebrated +accusation of having twice over bought the same copse. Poor Lobanov was +put in prison for it and died there. + +The second instance came before my own eyes. Vitberg bought an estate +for the temple. His idea was that the peasants bought with the land for +the temple should be bound to furnish a certain number of workmen for +it, and by this means should obtain complete freedom for themselves and +their villages. It is amusing that our serf-owning senators found a +suggestion of slavery in this measure! + +Among other things, Vitberg wanted to buy my father’s estate in the +Ruzsky district on the bank of the Moskva. Marble had been found on it, +and Vitberg asked permission to make a geological survey to discover +what amount of it there was. My father gave permission. Vitberg went off +to Petersburg. + +Three months later my father learnt that quarrying was going forward on +an immense scale, that the peasants’ cornfields were heaped up with +marble. He protested; no notice was taken. A protracted lawsuit began. +At first they tried to throw all the blame on Vitberg, but unluckily it +appeared that he had given no orders, and that it all had been done by +the committee in his absence. + +The case was taken before the Senate. To the general surprise the +Senate’s decision was not very far from common-sense. The marble +quarried was to remain the property of the landowner as compensation for +the ruined cornfields. The government money spent on quarrying and +labour, mounting to a hundred thousand roubles, was to be made good by +those who signed the contract for the work. Those who signed were Prince +Golitsyn, Filaret, and Kushnikov. There was of course a great clamour +and outcry. The case was taken before the Tsar. He had his system of +justice. He directed that the offenders should be excused payment +because—he wrote it with his own hand, as is printed in the minutes of +the Senate—‘The members of the committee did not know what they were +signing.’ Even if we admit that the metropolitan was professionally +bound to show a meek spirit, what are we to think of the other two grand +gentlemen who accepted the Imperial favour on grounds so courteously and +graciously explained? + +But from whom was the hundred thousand to be taken? Government property, +they say, is not burnt in the fire nor drowned in the water. It is only +stolen, we might add. No need to hesitate, an adjutant-general was sent +off post-haste to Moscow to investigate the question. + +Strekalov investigated everything, set everything straight, arranged and +settled it all in a few days: the marble was to be taken from the +landowner to make good the sum paid for the quarrying; if, however, the +landowner wished to retain the marble he was required to pay the hundred +thousand. The landowner needed no compensation, because the value of his +property was increased by the discovery of a new form of wealth upon it +(this was the _chef-d’œuvre_!), but for the damaged fields of the +peasants so many kopecks per dessyatin were to be allotted in accordance +with the law of flooded meadows and ruined hayfields passed by Peter I. + +The person really punished in this case was my father. There is no need +to add that the quarrying of this marble was nevertheless brought up +against Vitberg in his indictment. + +Two years after Vitberg’s exile the merchants of Vyatka formed a project +of building a new church. + +Nicholas, desirous of killing all spirit of independence, of +individuality, of imagination, and of freedom, everywhere and in +everything, published a whole volume of designs for churches sanctioned +by the Most High. If any one wanted to build a church he was absolutely +obliged to select one of the approved plans. He is said to have +forbidden the writing of Russian operas, considering that even those +written by the adjutant Lvov, in the very office of the secret police, +were good for nothing. But that was not enough: he ought to have +published a collection of musical airs sanctioned by the Most High! + +The Vyatka merchants after turning over the approved plans had the +boldness to differ from the Tsar’s taste. The design they sent in +astonished Nicholas; he sanctioned it and sent instructions to the +provincial authorities to see that the architect’s ideas were faithfully +carried out. + +‘Who made this design?’ he asked the secretary. + +‘Vitberg, your Majesty.’ + +‘What, the same Vitberg?’ + +‘The same, your Majesty.’ + +And behold, like a bolt from the blue, comes permission for Vitberg to +return to Moscow or Petersburg. The man had asked leave to clear his +character and it had been refused; he made a successful design, and the +Tsar bade him return—as though any one had ever doubted his artistic +ability.... + +In Petersburg, almost perishing of want, he made one last effort to +defend his honour. It was utterly unsuccessful. Vitberg asked the +assistance of A. N. Golitsyn, but the latter thought it impossible to +raise the case again, and advised Vitberg to write a very touching +letter to the Tsarevitch begging for financial assistance. He undertook +to do his best for him with the assistance of Zhukovsky,[149] and +promised to get him a thousand silver roubles. + +Vitberg refused. + +I was in Petersburg for the last time in the beginning of the winter of +1846 and there saw Vitberg. He was completely crushed. Even his old +wrath against his enemies which I had liked so much had begun to die +down; he had no more hope, he did nothing to escape from his position, +blank despair was bringing him to his end, his life was shattered, he +was waiting for death. If this was what Nicholas wanted he may be +satisfied. + +Whether the victim is still living I do not know, but I doubt it. + +‘If it were not for my family, my children,’ he said at parting, ‘I +would escape from Russia and go begging alms about the world. With the +Vladimir cross on my neck I would calmly hold out to passers-by the hand +pressed by the Emperor Alexander and tell them of my design and the fate +of an artist in Russia!’ + +‘They shall hear in Europe of your fate, poor martyr,’ I thought; ‘I +will answer for that.’ + +The society of Vitberg was a great solace to me in Vyatka. A grave +serenity and a sort of solemnity gave something priestly to his manner. +He was a man of very pure morals and in general more disposed to +asceticism than indulgence; but his severity did not detract from the +wealth and luxuriance of his artistic nature. He could give to his +mysticism so plastic a form and so artistic a colouring that criticism +died away on one’s lips; one was sorry to analyse, to dissect the +shining images and misty pictures of his imagination. + +Vitberg’s mysticism was partly due to his Scandinavian blood, it was the +same coldly-thought-out dreaminess which we see in Swedenborg, and which +is like the fiery reflection of sunbeams in the icy mountains and snows +of Norway. + +Vitberg’s influence made me waver, but my realistic temperament +nevertheless gained the upper hand. I was not destined to rise into the +third heaven, I was born a quite earthly creature. No tables turn at the +touch of my hands nor do rings shake at my glance. The daylight of +thought is more akin to me than the moonlight of phantasy. But I was +more disposed to mysticism at the period when I was living with Vitberg +than at any other time. Separation, exile, the religious exaltation of +the letters I received, the love which was filling my soul more and more +intensely, and at the same time the oppressive feeling of remorse, all +reinforced Vitberg’s influence. + +And for two years afterwards I was under the influence of ideas of a +mystical socialist tinge, drawn from the Gospel and Jean-Jacques, after +the style of French thinkers like Pierre Leroux.[150] + +Ogaryov plunged into the sea of mysticism even before I did. In 1833 he +was beginning to write the words for Gebel’s[151] oratorio, _The Lost +Paradise_. In the idea of a “Lost Paradise,” Ogaryov wrote to me, ‘there +is the whole history of humanity’; so at that time, he too mistook the +paradise of the ideal that we are seeking for a paradise we have lost. + +In 1838 I wrote historical scenes in the religious socialist spirit, and +at the time took them for dramas. In some I pictured the conflict of the +pagan world with Christianity. In them Paul going to Rome raised a dead +youth to new life. In others I described the conflict of the official +Church with the Quakers and the departure of William Penn to America to +the new world.[152] + +The mysticism of the gospel was soon replaced in me by the mysticism of +science; fortunately I rid myself of the second also. + +But to return to our modest little town of Hlynov, the name of which +was, I don’t know why, perhaps from Finnish patriotism, changed by +Catherine II. to Vyatka. + +In the desolation of my Vyatka exile, in the filthy atmosphere of +government clerks, in that gloomy remote place, separated from all who +were dear to me and put defenceless in the power of the governor, I +spent many exquisite sacred moments, and met many warm hearts and +friendly hands. + +Where are you? What has happened to you, my friends of that snowy +region? It is twenty years since we met. I dare say you have grown old +as I have, you are marrying your daughters, you don’t now drink +champagne by the bottle and liqueur by the little glass. Which of you +has grown rich, which of you has come to ruin, who is high up in the +service, who is paralysed? Above all, is the memory of our old talks +still living in you, are those chords which vibrated so eagerly with +love and indignation still vibrating within you? + +I have remained the same, that you know; I dare say news of me reaches +you even from the banks of the Thames. Sometimes I think of you, always +with love; I have some letters of that time, some of them are +exceedingly dear to me and I like reading them over. + +‘I am not ashamed to own to you that I am passing through a very bitter +time,’ a young man wrote to me on the 26th of January 1838. ‘Help me for +the sake of that life to which you called me, help me with your advice. +I want to study, tell me of books, tell me anything you like, I will do +all I can, give me a chance; it will be too bad of you if you don’t help +me.’ + +‘I bless you,’ another wrote to me after I had gone away, ‘as the +husbandman blesses the rain that has made fruitful his arid soil.’ + +It is not from vanity that I have quoted these lines, but because they +are very precious to me. For the sake of those youthful appeals and +youthful love, for the sake of the yearnings aroused in those hearts, +one could well resign oneself to nine months’ imprisonment and three +years’ exile to Vyatka. + +And then twice a week the post from Moscow came in; with what excitement +I waited by the post-office while the letters were sorted, with what a +tremor I broke the seal and looked in the letter from home for a tiny +note on thin paper written in a wonderfully fine and elegant hand. + +I never read it in the post-office, but walked quietly home, deferring +the minute of reading it, happy in the mere thought that there was a +letter. + +Those letters were all kept. I left them in Moscow. I long to read them +over again and dread to touch them.... + +Letters are more than memories, the very essence of events still lives +in them; they are the very past just as it was, preserved and unfaded. + +... Should one know it, see it all again? Should one touch with wrinkled +hands one’s wedding garment? + + + + + Chapter 17 + THE TSAREVITCH AT VYATKA—THE FALL OF TYUFYAEV—I AM TRANSFERRED TO + VLADIMIR—THE POLICE-CAPTAIN AT THE POSTING-STATION + + +The Tsarevitch will visit Vyatka! The Tsarevitch is travelling about +Russia to show himself and look at the country! This news interested +all, but the governor, of course, more than any one. He was worried and +did a number of incredibly stupid things: ordered the peasants along the +high-road to be dressed in holiday attire, ordered the fences to be +painted and the sidewalks to be repaired in the towns. At Orlov a poor +widow who owned a small house told the mayor that she had no money to +repair the sidewalk and he reported this to the governor. The latter +ordered that the planks should be taken from her floors (the sidewalks +there are made of wood), and that, should they not be sufficient, the +repairs should be made at the government expense and the money recovered +from her afterwards, even if it were necessary to sell her house by +public auction. The sale did not take place, but the widow’s floors were +broken up. + +Fifty versts from Vyatka there was the spot in which the wonder-working +ikon of St. Nicholas of Hlynov appeared to the people of Novgorod. When +emigrants from Novgorod settled at Hlynov (now Vyatka) they brought the +ikon, but it disappeared and turned up again on the Great river fifty +versts from Vyatka. They fetched it back again, and at the same time +took a vow that if the ikon would stay they would carry it every year in +a solemn procession to the Great river. This was the chief summer +holiday in the Vyatka province; I believe it was on the 23rd of May. For +twenty-four hours the ikon was travelling down the river in a +magnificent boat with the bishop and all the clergy in full vestments +accompanying it. Hundreds of boats and craft of all sorts filled with +peasants, men and women, Votyaks, and artisans, made up a +bright-coloured procession following the sailing image, and foremost of +all was the governor’s decked boat covered with red cloth. This barbaric +ceremony was a very fine show. Tens of thousands of people from +districts near and far were awaiting the image on the banks of the Great +river. They were all camping in noisy crowds about a small village, and +what was most strange, crowds of heathen Votyaks, Tcheremisses, and even +Tatars came to pray to the image, and, indeed, the festival is a +thoroughly pagan ceremony. Outside the monastery-wall Votyaks and +Russians bring sheep and calves to be sacrificed; they are killed on the +spot, a monk reads a service over them, blesses and consecrates the +meat, which is sold at a special window within the precincts. The meat +is distributed in pieces to the people; in old days it used to be given +for nothing, now the monks charge a few kopecks for every piece. So that +a peasant who has presented a whole calf has to pay something for a +piece for his own consumption. In the monastery-yard sit whole crowds of +beggars, the halt, the blind, and the lame, who raise a lamentation in +chorus. Lads—priests’ sons or boys from the town—sit on the tombstones +near the church with inkpots and cry: ‘Who wants to be prayed for?’ +Peasant girls and women surround them, mentioning names, and the lads, +saucily scratching with their pens, repeat: ‘Marya, Marya, Akulina +Stepanida, Father Ioann, Matryona.... Well, Auntie, you have got a lot; +you’ve shelled out two kopecks, we can’t take less than five; such a +family—Ioann, Vassilisa, Iona, Marya, Yevpraxyea, Baby Katerina....’ + +In the church there is a great crush and strange preferences are shown; +one peasant woman will hand her neighbour a candle with exact +instructions to put it up ‘for our visitor,’ another for ‘our host.’ The +Vyatka monks and deacons are continually drunk during the whole time of +this procession. They stop at the bigger villages on the way, and the +peasants regale them enough to kill them. + +So this popular holiday, to which the peasants had been accustomed for +ages, the governor proposed to change to an earlier date, wishing to +entertain the Tsarevitch who was to arrive on the 19th of May; he +thought there would be no harm in St. Nicholas going on his visit three +days earlier. The consent of the bishop was of course necessary; +fortunately the bishop was an amenable person, and found nothing to +protest against in the governor’s intention of changing the festival of +the 23rd of May to the 19th. + +The governor sent a list of his ingenious plans for the reception of the +Tsarevitch to the Tsar—as though to say, see how we fête your son. On +reading this document the Tsar flew into a rage, and said to the +Minister of Home Affairs: ‘The governor and the bishop are fools, leave +the holiday as it was.’ The Minister gave the governor a good scolding, +the Synod did the same to the bishop, and St. Nicholas went on his visit +according to his old habits. + +Among various instructions from Petersburg, orders came that in every +provincial town an exhibition should be held of the various natural +products and handicrafts of the district, and that the things exhibited +should be arranged according to the three natural kingdoms. This +division into animal, vegetable, and mineral greatly worried the +officials, and Tyufyaev himself to some extent. That he might not make a +mistake he made up his mind in spite of his dislike to summon me to give +advice. ‘Now, for instance, honey,’ he said, ‘where would you put honey? +or a gilt frame—how are you to decide where it is to go?’ Seeing from my +answers that I had wonderfully precise information concerning the three +natural kingdoms, he offered me the task of arranging the exhibition. + +While I was busy placing wooden vessels and Votyak dresses, honey and +iron sieves, and Tyufyaev went on taking the most ferocious measures for +the entertainment of his Imperial Highness at Vyatka, the Highness in +question was graciously pleased to stay at Orlov, and the news of the +arrest of the Orlov mayor burst like a clap of thunder on the town. +Tyufyaev turned yellow, and there was an uncertainty apparent in his +gait. + +Five days before the Tsarevitch arrived in Orlov, the mayor wrote to +Tyufyaev that the widow whose floor had been broken up to make the +sidewalk was making a fuss, and that So-and-so, a wealthy merchant and a +prominent person in the town, was boasting that he would tell the +Tsarevitch everything. Tyufyaev disposed of the latter very adroitly; he +told the mayor to have doubts of his sanity (the precedent of Petrovsky +pleased him), and to send him to Vyatka to be examined by the doctors; +this business could be delayed till the Tsarevitch had left the province +of Vyatka, and that would be the end of it. The mayor did as he was bid, +the merchant was put in the hospital at Vyatka. + +At last the Tsarevitch arrived. He gave Tyufyaev a frigid bow, did not +invite him to visit him, but at once sent for the doctor, Dr. Enohin, to +inquire concerning the arrested merchant. He knew all about it. The +Orlov widow had given him her petition, the other merchants and artisans +told him all that was going on. Tyufyaev’s face was more awry than ever. +Things looked black for him. The mayor said straight out that he had +written instructions from the governor for everything. + +Dr. Enohin declared that the merchant was perfectly sane. Tyufyaev was +lost. + +Between seven and eight in the evening the Tsarevitch visited the +exhibition with his suite. Tyufyaev conducted him, explaining things +incoherently, getting into a muddle and speaking of the ancient Siberian +prince Tohtamysh as though he were a tsar. Zhukovsky and Arsenyev, +seeing that things were not going well, asked me to show them the +exhibition. I led them round. + +The Tsarevitch’s expression had none of that narrow severity, that cold +merciless cruelty which was characteristic of his father; his features +were more suggestive of good nature and listlessness. He was about +twenty, but was already beginning to grow stout. + +The few words he said to me were friendly and very different from the +hoarse, abrupt tones of his uncle Constantine and the menacing +intonations of his father, which made the listener almost faint with +terror. + +When he had gone away, Zhukovsky and Arsenyev began asking me how I had +come to Vyatka. They were surprised to hear a Vyatka official speak like +a gentleman. They at once offered to speak of my position to the +Tsarevitch, and did in fact do all that they could for me. The +Tsarevitch approached the Tsar for permission for me to return to +Petersburg. The Tsar replied that that would be unfair to the other +exiles, but, in consideration of the Tsarevitch’s representations, he +ordered me to be transferred to Vladimir, which was geographically an +improvement, being seven hundred versts nearer home. But of that later. + +In the evening there was a ball. The musicians who had been sent for +expressly from one of the factories arrived dead drunk; the governor +arranged that they should be locked up for twenty-four hours before the +ball, escorted straight from the police station to their seats in the +orchestra and not allowed to leave them till the ball was over. + +The ball was a stupid, awkward, extremely poor and extremely gaudy +affair, as balls always are in little towns on exceptional occasions. +Police officers fussed about, government clerks in uniform huddled +against the walls, ladies flocked round the Tsarevitch as savages do +round travellers.... Apropos of the ladies, in one little town a +_goûter_ was arranged after the exhibition. The Tsarevitch took nothing +but one peach, the stone of which he threw on the window-sill. All at +once a tall figure saturated with spirits stepped out from the crowd of +officials; it was the district assessor, notoriously a desperate +character, who with measured steps approached the window, picked up the +stone and put it in his pocket. + +After the ball or the _goûter_, he approached one of the ladies of most +consequence and offered her the stone gnawed by royalty; the lady +accepted it with enthusiasm. Then he approached a second, then a third, +all were in ecstasies. + +The assessor had bought five peaches, cut out the stones, and made six +ladies happy. Which had the real one? Each was suspicious of the +genuineness of her own stone.... + +After the departure of the Tsarevitch, Tyufyaev with a weight on his +heart prepared to exchange his autocratic power for the chair of a +senator; but worse than that happened. + +Three weeks later the post brought from Petersburg papers addressed to +the governor of the province. Everything was turned upside down in the +secretariat; the registrar ran to say that they had received a decree; +the office manager rushed to Tyufyaev, the latter gave out that he was +ill and would not go to the office. Within an hour we learned that he +had been dismissed _sans phrase_. + +The whole town was delighted at the fall of the governor; there was +something stifling, unclean, about his rule, a fetid odour of red tape, +but for all that it was disgusting to look at the rejoicings of the +officials. + +Yes, every ass gave a parting kick to this wounded boar. The meanness of +men was just as apparent as at the fall of Napoleon, though the +catastrophe was on a different scale. Of late I had been on terms of +open hostility with him, and he would have certainly sent me off to some +obscure little town, if he had not been sent away himself. I had held +aloof from him, and I had no reason to change my behaviour in regard to +him. But the others, who only the day before had been cap in hand at the +sight of his carriage, eagerly anticipating his wishes, fawning on his +dog and offering snuff to his valet, now barely greeted him and made an +outcry all over the town against the irregularities, the guilt of which +they shared with him. This is nothing new, it has been repeated so +continually in every age and every place that we must accept this +meanness as a common trait of humanity and at any rate feel no surprise +at it. + +The new governor, Kornilov, arrived. He was a man of quite a different +type: a tall, stout, lymphatic man about fifty with a pleasantly smiling +face and cultured manner. He expressed himself with extraordinary +grammatical correctness at great length with a precision and clarity +calculated by its very excess to obscure the simplest subject. He had +been at the Lyceum of Tsarskoe Syelo, had been a schoolfellow of +Pushkin’s, had served in the Guards, bought the new French books, liked +talking of important subjects, and gave me De Tocqueville’s book on +_Democracy in America_ on the day after his arrival. + +The change was very great. The same rooms, the same furniture, but +instead of a Tatar _baskak_, with the exterior of a Tunguz and the +habits of a Siberian—a _doctrinaire_, rather a pedant, but at the same +time quite a decent man. The new governor was intelligent, but his +intelligence seemed somehow to shed light without giving warmth, like a +bright, winter day which is pleasant though one does not look for fruits +from it. Moreover, he was a terrible formalist—not in a pettifogging +way, but ... how shall I express it?... it was formalism of a higher +sort, but just as tiresome as any other. + +As the new governor was really married, the house lost its +ultra-bachelor and polygamous character. Of course this brought all the +councillors back to their lawful spouses; bald old men no longer boasted +of their conquests among the fair, but, on the contrary, alluded +tenderly to their faded, angularly-bony, or monstrously fat wives. + +Kornilov had some years before coming to Vyatka been promoted to be +civil governor somewhere, straight from being a colonel in the +Semyonovsky or Izmailovsky regiment. He went to his province knowing +nothing of his duties. To begin with, like all novices he set to work to +read everything. One day a document came to him from another province +which he could make nothing of, though he read it two or three times. He +called the secretary and gave it him to read. The secretary could not +explain the business clearly either. + +‘What will you do with that document,’ Kornilov asked him, ‘if I pass it +on to the office?’ + +‘I shall hand it in to the third table, it’s in their section.’ + +‘Then the head-clerk of the third table knows what to do?’ + +‘To be sure he does, your Excellency, he has been in charge of that +table for seven years.’ + +‘Send him to me.’ + +The head-clerk came in. Kornilov handing him the paper asked what was to +be done. The head-clerk glanced through the document and informed him +that they ought to make an inquiry in the palace of justice and send a +notification to the police-captain. + +‘But notify what?’ + +The head-clerk was nonplussed, and at last admitted that it was +difficult to express it in words, but that it was easy to write it. + +‘Here is a chair, I beg you to write your answer.’ + +The head-clerk took up the pen and without hesitation briskly scribbled +off two documents. + +The governor took them, read them once, read them twice, but could make +nothing of it. ‘I saw,’ he told me, smiling, ‘that it really was an +answer to the document, and crossing myself I signed it. Nothing more +was heard of the business—the answer was completely satisfactory.’ + +The news of my transfer to Vladimir came just before Christmas; I was +soon ready and set off. + +My parting with Vyatka society was very warm. In that remote town I had +made two or three friends among the young merchants. Every one wanted to +show sympathy and kindness to the exile. Several sledges accompanied me +as far as the first posting-station, and in spite of all my efforts to +prevent it my sledge was filled up with a perfect load of all sorts of +provisions and wine. Next day I reached Yaransk. + +From Yaransk the road goes through endless pine forests. It was +moonlight and very frosty at night. The little sledge flew along the +narrow road. I have never seen such forests since, they go on in that +way unbroken as far as Archangel, and sometimes reindeer come through +them to the Vyatka province. The forest was for the most part of large +trees; the pines, of remarkable straightness, ran past the sledge like +soldiers, tall and covered with snow from under which their black +needles stuck out like bristles; one would drop asleep and wake up again +and still the regiments of pines would be marching rapidly by, sometimes +shaking off the snow. The horses were changed at little clearings; there +was a tiny house lost among the trees, the horses were tied up to a +trunk, the bells would begin tinkling, two or three Tcheremiss boys in +embroidered shirts would run out, looking sleepy. The Votyak driver +would swear at his companion in a husky alto, shout ‘Aïda,’ begin +singing a song on two notes, and again pines and snow, snow and pines. + +Just as I drove out of the Vyatka province it was my lot to take my last +farewell of the official world, and it showed itself in all its glory +_pour la clôture_. + +We stopped at a posting-station, the driver began unharnessing the +horses, when a tall peasant appeared in the porch and asked: + +‘Who has arrived?’ + +What’s that to do with you?’ + +‘Why, the police-captain told me to inquire, and I am the messenger of +the rural court.’ + +‘Well then, go into the station hut, my travelling permit is there.’ + +The peasant went away and came back a minute later, saying to the +driver, ‘He is not to have horses.’ + +This was too much. I jumped out of the sledge and went into the hut. A +half-tipsy police-captain was sitting on a bench, dictating to a +half-tipsy clerk. A man with fetters on his hands and feet was sitting +or rather lying on another bench in the corner. Several bottles, +glasses, tobacco ash, and bundles of papers were scattered about. + +‘Where is the police-captain?’ I asked in a loud voice as I went in. + +‘The police-captain’s here,’ answered the half-tipsy man whom I +recognised as Lazarev, a man I had seen in Vyatka. As he spoke he fixed +a rude and impudent stare upon me, and all at once rushed at me with +open arms. + +I must explain that after Tyufyaev’s downfall the officials, seeing that +I was on rather good terms with the governor, had began making up to me. + +I stopped him with my hand and asked him very gravely, ‘How could you +give orders that I shouldn’t have horses. What nonsense is this, +stopping travellers on the high-road?’ + +‘Why, I was joking; upon my soul, aren’t you ashamed to be angry! Here, +horses, order the horses! Why are you standing there, you rascal?’ he +shouted to the messenger. ‘Please have a cup of tea with rum.’ + +‘Thank you.’ + +‘But haven’t we any champagne....’ He hurried to the bottles, they were +all empty. + +‘What are you doing here?’ + +‘An inquiry, this fine fellow here has killed his father and sister with +an axe, in a quarrel, through jealousy.’ + +‘So that’s why you are drinking together?’ + +The police-captain was disconcerted. I glanced at the Tcheremiss; he was +a young fellow of twenty, with nothing ferocious about his face, which +was typically oriental, with shining, narrow eyes and black hair. + +It was all so disgusting that I went out into the yard again. The +police-captain ran out after me with a glass in one hand and a bottle of +rum in the other, and pressed me to have a drink. + +To get rid of him I drank some; he caught hold of my hand and said: ‘I +am sorry, there, I am sorry! there it is, but I hope you won’t speak of +it to his Excellency, don’t ruin an honourable man!’ With that the +police-captain _seized my hand and kissed it_, repeating a dozen times +over: ‘For God’s sake don’t ruin an honourable man.’ I pulled away my +hand in disgust and said to him: + +‘Oh get away, as though I were likely to tell him.’ + +‘But how can I be of service to you?’ + +‘See they make haste and harness the horses.’ + +‘Look alive,’ he shouted, ‘Aïda, aïda!’ and he himself began dragging at +the straps and harness. + +This incident is vividly imprinted on my memory. In 1841, when I was for +the last time in Petersburg, I had to go to the secretariat of the +Minister of Home Affairs to try and get a passport. While I was talking +to the head-clerk of the table, a gentleman passed ... shaking hands +familiarly with the magnates of the secretariat and bowing +condescendingly to the head-clerks of the tables. ‘Bah, hang it all,’ I +thought, ‘surely that is he! Who is that?’ I asked. + +‘Lazarev, a clerk of special commissions and a great authority in the +ministry.’ + +‘Was he once a police-captain in the Vyatka province?’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘Well, I congratulate you, gentlemen, nine years ago he kissed my hand.’ + +Perovsky was a master in the choice of men. + + + + + Chapter 18 + THE BEGINNING OF MY LIFE AT VLADIMIR + + +When I went to get into my sledge at Kosmodemiansk it was harnessed in +the Russian style, three horses abreast, and the shaft horse with the +yoke over its head was gaily jingling the bells. + +In Perm and Vyatka the horses are put in tandem, one before the other or +two side by side and the third in front. So my heart throbbed with +delight when I saw the familiar troika. + +‘Come now, show us your mettle,’ I said to the young lad who sat smartly +on the box in an unlined sheepskin and stiff gauntlets which barely +allowed his fingers to close enough to take fifteen kopecks from my +hand. + +‘We’ll do our best, sir, we’ll do our best. Hey, darlings! Now, sir,’ he +said, turning suddenly to me, ‘you only hold on, there is a hill yonder, +so I will let them go.’ + +It was a steep descent to the Volga which was used as a road in the +winter. + +He certainly did let the horses go. The sledge bounded from right to +left, from left to right, as the horses flew downhill; the driver was +tremendously pleased, and indeed, sinful man that I am, so was I—it is +the Russian temperament. + +So I raced with posting horses into 1838—into the best, the brightest +year of my life. I will describe how we saw the New Year in. + +Eighty versts from Nizhni, we, _i.e._ Matvey, my valet, and I, went into +the station superintendent’s to warm ourselves. There was a very sharp +frost, and it was windy too. The superintendent, a thin, sickly, +pitiful-looking man, made the inscription in my travelling permit, +dictating every letter to himself and yet making mistakes. I took off my +fur-lined coat and walked up and down the room in immense fur boots, +Matvey was warming himself at the red-hot stove, the superintendent +muttered, while a wooden clock ticked on a faint, cracked note. + +‘I say,’ Matvey said to me, ‘it will soon be twelve o’clock, it’s the +New Year, you know. I will bring something,’ he added, looking at me +half-inquiringly, ‘from the stores they gave us at Vyatka.’ And without +waiting for an answer he ran to fetch bottles and a parcel of food. + +Matvey, of whom I shall have more to say later, was more than a servant, +he was a friend, a younger brother to me. A Moscow artisan, apprenticed +to Sonnenberg to learn the art of bookbinding, in which Sonnenberg, +however, was not very proficient, he passed into my hands. + +I knew that if I refused it would disappoint Matvey, besides I had +nothing against celebrating the day at the posting-station.... The New +Year is a station of a sort. + +Matvey brought ham and champagne. The champagne turned out to be frozen +solid; the ham could have been chopped with an axe, it was all +glistening with ice; but _à la guerre comme à la guerre_. ‘May the New +Year bring new happiness.’ Yes indeed, new happiness. Was I not on my +homeward way? Every hour was bringing me nearer to Moscow—my heart was +full of hope. + +The frozen champagne did not exactly please the superintendent. I added +half a glass of rum to his wine. This new ‘_half-and-half_’ had a great +success. + +The driver, whom I also invited to join us, was still more extreme in +his views; he sprinkled pepper into the glass of foaming wine, stirred +it with a spoon, drank it off at one gulp, uttered a painful sigh and +almost with a moan added: ‘It did scorch fine!’ + +The superintendent himself tucked me into the sledge, and was so zealous +in his attentions that he dropped the lighted candle into the hay and +could not find it afterwards. He was in great spirits and kept +repeating: ‘You’ve given me a New Year’s Eve, too!’ + +The scorched driver whipped up the horses. + +At eight o’clock on the following evening I reached Vladimir and put up +at the hotel, which is extremely accurately described in the _Tarantass_ +with its fowls in rice, its dough-like pastry, and vinegar by way of +Bordeaux. + +‘A man was asking for you this morning, he’s waiting at the beer-shop,’ +the waiter, who wore the rakish parting and killing lovelocks, which in +old days were only affected by Russian waiters, but are now worn by +Louis Napoleon also, told me after reading my name on my travel permit. + +I could not conceive who this could be. ‘But here he is,’ added the +waiter, moving aside. + +What I saw first, however, was not a man but a tray of terrific size, on +which were piles of all sorts of good things, a cake and cracknels, +oranges and apples, eggs, almonds, raisins ... and behind the tray +appeared the grey head and blue eyes of the village elder, from my +father’s Vladimir estate. + +‘Gavril Semyonitch,’ I cried, and rushed to hug him. This was the first +of our own people, the first figure out of my former life whom I met +after imprisonment and exile. I could not take my eyes off the +intelligent old man, and felt as though I would never say all I had to +say to him. He was the living proof of my nearness to Moscow, to my +home, to my friends; only three days before, he had seen them all, he +brought me greetings from all of them.... So it was not so far away +after all! + +The governor, who was a clever Greek called Kuruta, had a thorough +knowledge of human nature, and had long ceased to have a strong +preference for good or evil. He grasped my position at once and did not +make the slightest attempt to worry me. Office work was not even +referred to; he commissioned me and a master at the high school to edit +the _Vladimir Provincial News_—that was my only duty. + +The work was familiar to me; I had in Vyatka successfully edited the +unofficial part of the _Provincial News_, and had published in it an +article which almost got my successor into trouble. Describing the +festival on the Great river, I said that the mutton sacrificed to St. +Nicholas at Hlynov used in old days to be distributed to the poor, but +now was sold. The bishop was incensed and the governor had difficulty in +persuading him to let the matter drop. + +These provincial newspapers were introduced in 1837. The very original +idea of training the inhabitants of the land of silence and dumbness to +express themselves in print occurred to Bludov the Minister of Home +Affairs. The latter, famous for being chosen to continue Karamzin’s +_History_, though he never actually added a line to it, and for being +the author of the report of the committee of investigation into the +affair of the 14th of December, which it would have been better not to +write at all, belonged to the group of political doctrinaires who +appeared on the scene at the end of the reign of Alexander. They were +intelligent, cultured, old ‘Arzamass geese’[154] who had risen in the +service. They could write Russian, were patriots, and were so zealously +engaged in the history of their native land that they had no time to +give serious attention to its present condition. They all cherished the +never-to-be-forgotten memory of N. M. Karamzin, loved Zhukovsky, knew +Krylov by heart, and used to go to Moscow to converse with I. I. +Dmitriev in his house in Sadovy Street, where I too visited him as a +student, armed with romantic prejudices, a personal acquaintance with N. +Polevoy, and a concealed disapproval of the fact that Dmitriev, who was +a poet, should be Minister of Justice. Great things were hoped of them, +and like most doctrinaires of all countries they did nothing. Perhaps +they might have succeeded in leaving more permanent traces under +Alexander, but Alexander died and left them with nothing but their +desire to do something worth doing. + +At Monaco there is an inscription on the tombstone of one of the +hereditary princes: ‘Here lies the body of Florestan So-and-so—he +desired to do good to his subjects.’[155] Our doctrinaires also desired +to do good, not to their own subjects but to the subjects of Nicholas, +but they reckoned without their host. I do not know who hindered +Florestan, but they were hindered by our Florestan. They were drawn into +taking part in all the measures detrimental to Russia and had to +restrict themselves to useless innovations, mere alterations of name and +form. Every head of a department among us thinks it his duty to produce +at intervals a project, an innovation, usually for the worse but +sometimes simply neutral. They thought it necessary for instance to call +the secretary in the governor’s office by a name of purely Russian +origin, while they left the secretary of the provincial office +untranslated into Russian. I remember that the Minister of Justice +brought forward a plan for necessary changes in the uniforms of civil +servants. This scheme opened in a majestic and solemn style: ‘taking +into special consideration the lack of unity, of standard, in the make +and pattern of certain uniforms in the civil department and adopting as +a fundamental principle,’ and so on. + +Possessed by the same mania for reform the Minister of Home Affairs +replaced the rural assessors by police inspectors. The assessors lived +in the towns and used to visit the villages. The police inspectors +sometimes met together in the town but lived permanently in the country. +In this way all the peasants were put under the supervision of the +police and this was done with full knowledge of the predatory, +rapacious, corrupt character of our police officials. Bludov initiated +the policeman into the secrets of the peasants’ industry and wealth, +into their family life, into the affairs of the commune, and in this way +attacked the last stronghold of peasant life. Fortunately our villages +are very many and there are only two police inspectors in a district. + +Almost at the same time the same Bludov had the notion of establishing +provincial newspapers. In Russia, although the government has no regard +for popular education, it has literary pretensions, and while in +England, for instance, there are no official organs, every one of our +departments has its own magazine, and so have the universities and the +academy. We have journals relating to mining, to dry-salting, to marine +affairs, and to means of communication, some in Russian, others in +French or German. All these are published at the government expense; +contracts for literary articles are made with the department exactly as +contracts for fuel and candles, but without competition; there are +plenty of statistics, invented figures and fantastic inferences from +them. After monopolising everything else, the government has now taken +the monopoly of talk and, imposing silence on every one else, has begun +chattering unceasingly. Continuing this system, Bludov commanded every +provincial government to publish its own newspaper, which was to have an +unofficial part for articles on historical, literary, and other +subjects. + +No sooner said than done, and the officials in fifty provinces were +tearing their hair over this unofficial part. Priests of seminary +education, doctors of medicine, high-school teachers, all who could be +suspected of a tinge of culture and ability to spell correctly were +requisitioned. After much reflection and reading over of the _Library of +Good Reading_ and the _Notes of the Fatherland_, with inward tremors and +misgivings, they at last set to work to write articles. + +The desire to see one’s name in print is one of the strongest artificial +passions of this bookish age. Nevertheless it needs favourable +circumstances to induce people to expose their efforts to public +criticism. People who would never have dared to dream of sending their +essays to the _Moscow News_ or to a Petersburg magazine, were ready to +publish them at home. And, meanwhile, the fatal habit of the newspaper +took root. And, indeed, it may not be amiss to have an instrument ready. +The printing press, too, is an unruly member. + +My colleague in the editorship was also a Moscow graduate and of the +same faculty. I have not the heart to speak of him with a smile because +of his sad death, and yet he was an absurd figure up to the end. Though +far from being stupid, he was extraordinarily clumsy and awkward. It +would be hard to find an ugliness not merely so complete but so great, +that is, on so large a scale. His face was half as large again as +ordinary and somehow rugged-looking; a huge fish-like mouth reached to +his ears, white eyelashes did not shade but rather emphasised his pale +grey eyes, his skull was scantily covered with bristling hair, and at +the same time he was a head taller than I was, round-shouldered, and +very untidy in his appearance. + +Even his name was such that a sentry at Vladimir locked him up on +account of it. Late one evening he was walking past the governor’s +house, wrapped up in his overcoat, carrying a pocket telescope; he stood +still and took aim with it at some planet. This perturbed the sentry who +probably regarded stars as public property. ‘Who goes there?’ he shouted +to the motionless stargazer. ‘Nebaba,’[156] answered my friend in a deep +voice, without budging. + +‘Don’t play the fool,’ answered the sentry, offended, ‘I am on duty.’ + +‘But I tell you I am Nebaba.’ + +This was too much for the sentry and he rang his bell; a sergeant +appeared and the sentry handed over the astronomer to be taken to the +guardroom. ‘There they’ll find out whether you are a woman or not.’ He +would certainly have spent the night in custody had not the officer on +duty recognised him. + +One morning Nebaba came to tell me that he was going to Moscow for a few +days; he gave a sly, rather appealing smile as he told me this. ‘I shall +not return alone,’ he said hesitatingly. + +‘What, you mean...?’ + +‘Yes, I am actually getting married,’ he said shyly. I marvelled at the +heroic courage of the woman who could bring herself to marry this +good-hearted but monstrously ugly man. But when two or three weeks later +I saw in his house a girl of eighteen, who was not exactly good-looking +but rather prepossessing and with a lively expression in her eyes, I +began to look upon him as a hero. + +Six weeks later I began to notice that things were not going well with +my Quasimodo. He was plunged in dejection, corrected his proofs badly, +did not finish his article on migratory birds, and was gloomily +preoccupied. It did not last long. One day as I was returning home +through the Golden Gate I saw shopmen and boys running to the +churchyard; policemen bustled about. I went with them. + +Nebaba’s dead body was lying by the church wall and beside him a gun. He +had shot himself just opposite the window of his house; the string with +which he had pulled the trigger was still on his foot. The inspector of +the medical board, in well-rounded sentences, assured the bystanders +that the dead man had felt no pain; the police were preparing to take +the body to the police station. + +How savage nature is to some people! What were the feelings in the heart +of the victim before he brought himself to stop with his bit of string +the pendulum that measured for him nothing but humiliations and +misfortunes? And why? Because his father was scrofulous and his mother +lymphatic? That may all be so. But what right have we to expect justice, +to call to account, to ask for reasons from—what? The whirling vortex of +life?... + +At that very time a new chapter in my life was opening, a chapter full +of purity, serenity, youth, earnestness, secluded and bathed in love.... + +It belongs to another volume. + +----- + +Footnote 1: + + Golohvastov, the husband of my father’s younger sister. + +Footnote 2: + + Governor of Moscow in 1812. Believed to have set fire to the city when + the French entered. See Tolstoy’s _War and Peace_.—(_Translator’s + Note._) + +Footnote 3: + + Mortier, duc de Trévise, general under the Revolution and Napoleon. + Killed, 1835, by the infernal machine of Fieschi.—(_Translator’s + Note._) + +Footnote 4: + + Fain, François, Baron (1778–1837), French historian and secretary of + Napoleon. + +Footnote 5: + + Commander-in-chief of the Russian army in 1812. See Tolstoy’s _War and + Peace_.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 6: + + Minister of War and the most powerful and influential man of the reign + of Alexander I., whose intimate friend he was, hated and dreaded for + his cruelty. + +Footnote 7: + + Secretary of State under Alexander I.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 8: + + One of the generals of the campaign of 1812. Military governor-general + of Petersburg at the accession of Nicholas in 1825, and killed in the + rising of December 14th. See Merezhkovsky’s novel, _December the + Fourteenth_.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 9: + + Gmelin, Johann Georg (1709–1755), a learned German who travelled in + the East. + +Footnote 10: + + Pallas, Peter Simon (1741–1811), German traveller and naturalist who + explored the Urals, Kirghiz Steppes, Altai mountains, and parts of + Siberia.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 11: + + My father had, besides me, another son ten years older. I was always + fond of him, but he could not be a companion to me. From his twelfth + to his thirtieth year he was always in the hands of the surgeons. + After a series of tortures, endured with extreme fortitude and + rendering his whole existence one intermittent operation, the doctors + declared his disease incurable. His health was shattered; + circumstances and character contributed to the complete ruin of his + life. The pages in which I speak of his lonely and melancholy + existence have been omitted. I do not care to print them without his + consent. + +Footnote 12: + + There were originally four brothers: Pyotr, the grandfather of ‘the + cousin from Kortcheva’ mentioned in Chapter 3; Alexander, the elder + brother here described, who is believed to have been the model from + whom Dostoevsky drew the character of Fyodor Pavlovitch in _The + Brothers Karamazov_; Lyov, always referred to as ‘the Senator,’ and + Ivan, Herzen’s father. Of the sisters one was Elizaveta Alexeyevna + Golohvastov and one was Marya Alexeyevna Hovansky. The family of the + Yakovlyevs was one of the oldest and most aristocratic in + Russia.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 13: + + British Foreign Secretary in 1791, and Prime Minister, 1806 and 1807, + when the Act for the abolition of the slave trade was passed. + +Footnote 14: + + _I.e._, of Jerome Bonaparte, king of Westphalia from 1807 to 1813. ‘At + the court of King Jeremiah’ is a popular phrase equivalent to ‘in the + days of Methuselah.’—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 15: + + Kleinmihel, Minister of Means of Communication under Nicholas I. + +Footnote 16: + + Benckendorf, Chief of Gendarmes, and favourite of Nicholas. See + Merezhkovsky’s _December the Fourteenth_ for character-study. + +Footnote 17: + + Perekusihin, Darya Savishna, favourite of Catherine II.—(_Translator’s + Notes._) + +Footnote 18: + + Father Matthew (1790–1856), Irish priest, who had remarkable success + in a great temperance campaign based on the religious + appeal.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 19: + + Senkovsky, Joseph Ivanovitch (1800–1878), of Polish origin, was a + whimsical critic on the reactionary side who placed a miserable + poetaster, Timofeyev, above Pushkin and preferred Le Sage to Fielding. + Under the pseudonym Baron Brambàeus, he wrote sensational and + bombastic novels. He edited a serial publication the _Library of Good + Reading_, employing poor young men of talent to write for + it.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 20: + + Payment in money or kind by a serf in lieu of labour for his + master.—(_Translater’s Note._) + +Footnote 21: + + _I.e._, clubs or guilds for messing or working + together.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 22: + + _Le Mariage de Figaro_, a satirical comedy by Beaumarchais (_né_ + Caron, 1732–1799), a watchmaker’s son, who rose to wealth and + influence, and by his writings helped to bring about the Revolution. + This play and an earlier one, _Le Barbier de Séville_, became popular + all over Europe, but are now chiefly remembered through their + adaptation to operas by Mozart and Rossini.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 23: + + The famous passage in Racine’s _Phèdre_.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 24: + + Mlle. George (1787–1867), French actress famous for her performances + in classical tragedy. + +Footnote 25: + + Mlle. Mars (1779–1847), French actress famous for her acting in + comedies of Molière.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 26: + + The organist and music-teacher, I. I. Eck, spoken of in the _Memoirs + of a Young Man_, did nothing but give music-lessons and had no other + influence. + +Footnote 27: + + The English speak French worse than the Germans, but they only distort + the language, while the Germans degrade it. + +Footnote 28: + + The story is told that on one occasion in his own household, in the + presence, that is, of two or three heads of the secret police, two or + three maids of honour and generals in waiting, he tried his Medusa + glance on his daughter Marya Nikolayevna. She is like her father, and + her eyes really do recall the terrible look in his. The daughter + boldly confronted her father’s stare. The Tsar turned pale, his cheeks + twitched, and his eyes grew still more ferocious; his daughter met him + with the same look in hers. Every one turned pale and trembled; the + maids of honour and the generals in waiting dared not breathe, so + panic-stricken were they at this cannibalistic imperial duel with the + eyes, in the style of that described by Byron in ‘Don Juan.’ Nicholas + got up, he felt that he had met his match. + +Footnote 29: + + The President of the Academy proposed Araktcheyev as an honorary + member. Labzin asked in what the Count’s services to the arts + consisted. The President was at a loss and answered that Araktcheyev + was the man who stood nearest to the Tsar. ‘If that is a sufficient + reason, then I propose his coachman, Ilya Baykov,’ observed the + secretary, ‘he not only stands near the Tsar, but sits in front of + him.’ Labzin was a mystic and the editor of the _Messenger of Zion_; + Alexander himself was a mystic of the same sort, but with the fall of + Golitsyn’s ministry he handed over his former ‘brethren of Christ and + of the inner man’ to Araktcheyev to do with as he pleased. Labzin was + banished to Simbirsk. + +Footnote 30: + + Victor Joseph Étienne de Jouy, a popular French writer + (1764–1846).—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 31: + + The officer, if I am not mistaken, Count Samoylov, had left the army + and was living quietly in Moscow. Nicholas recognised him at the + theatre; fancied that he was dressed with rather elaborate + originality, and expressed the royal desire that such costumes should + be ridiculed on the stage. The theatre director and patriot, Zagoskin, + commissioned one of his actors to represent Samoylov in some + vaudeville. The rumour of this was soon all over the town. When the + performance was over, the real Samoylov went into the director’s box + and asked permission to say a few words to his double. The director + was frightened, but, afraid of a scene, summoned the actor. ‘You have + acted me very well,’ the Count said to him, ‘and the only thing + wanting to complete the likeness is this diamond which I always wear; + allow me to hand it over to you; you will wear it next time you are + ordered to represent me.’ After this Samoylov calmly returned to his + seat. The stupid jest at his expense fell as flat as the proclamation + that Tchaadayev was mad and other august freaks. + +Footnote 32: + + Wife of Camille Desmoulins, who at his execution appealed to the + crowd, was arrested and also executed in 1794.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 33: + + Alibaud attempted to assassinate Louis-Philippe in + 1836.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 34: + + Line from Pushkin’s poem, ‘The Tsar Nikita.’—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 35: + + People, who knew the Ivashevs well, have since told me that they doubt + this story of the robber, and that, in speaking of the return of the + children and of the brother’s sympathy, I must not omit to mention the + noble conduct of Ivashev’s sisters. I heard the details from one of + them, Mme. Yazykov, who visited her brother in Siberia. But whether + she told me about the robber, I don’t remember. Has not Mme. Ivashev + been mixed up with Princess Trubetskoy, who sent letters and money to + Prince Obolensky through an unknown sectary? Have Ivashev’s letters + been preserved? It seems to us that we ought to have access to them. + +Footnote 36: + + _I.e._, the secret police. + +Footnote 37: + + ‘Cantonists’ were soldiers’ sons educated at the government expense + and afterwards sent into the army.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 38: + + Pestel, leader of the officers in the Southern Army who supported the + attempt to overthrow the autocracy and establish constitutional + government. The other four who were hanged were Ryleyev, Kahovsky, + Bestuzhev-Ryumin, and Muravyov-Apóstol. See Merezhkovsky’s novel, + _December the Fourteenth_, which adheres very closely to the + historical facts. + +Footnote 39: + + Mirovitch in 1762 tried to rescue from the Schlüsselburg the + legitimate heir to the Russian throne, known as Ivan VI., who perished + in the attempt. It is said that Catherine had given orders that he was + to be murdered if any attempt were made to release him. Mirovitch was + beheaded. + +Footnote 40: + + Pugatchov, the Cossack leader of the great rising of the serfs in + 1775.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 41: + + Nicholas’s victory over the Five was celebrated by a religious service + in Moscow. In the midst of the Kremlin the Metropolitan Filaret + thanked God for the murders. The whole of the Royal Family took part + in the service, near them the Senate and the ministers, and in the + immense space around packed masses of the Guards knelt bareheaded, and + also took part in the prayers; cannon thundered from the heights of + the Kremlin. Never have the gallows been celebrated with such pomp; + Nicholas knew the importance of the victory! + + I was present at that service, a boy of fourteen lost in the crowd, + and on the spot, before that altar defiled by bloody rites. I swore to + avenge the murdered men, and dedicated myself to the struggle with + that throne, with that altar, with those cannons. I have not avenged + them, the Guards and the throne, the altar and the cannon all remain, + but for thirty years I have stood under that flag and have never once + deserted it.—(_Polar Star_, 1855.) + +Footnote 42: + + Paul’s mistress, the daughter of Lopuhin, the chief of the Moscow + Police, better known under her married name as Princess + Gagarin.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 43: + + The date when the Polish rebellion broke out.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 44: + + Tatyana Kutchin, known in Russian literature under her married name, + Passek. She wrote _Memoirs_, which throw interesting sidelights on + Herzen’s narrative.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 45: + + Originally a convent, this was a famous girls’ school founded by + Catherine II.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 46: + + Heinrich Zschokke (1771–1848), wrote in German _Tales of Swiss Life_, + in five vols., and also dramas—as well as a religious work _Stunden + der Andacht_, in eight vols., which was widely read up to the middle + of the nineteenth century and attacked for ascribing more importance + to religious feeling than to orthodox belief.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 47: + + Translated by Juliet Soskice. + +Footnote 48: + + One of the leaders of the Decembrists.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 49: + + Biron, favourite of the Empress Anna Ivanovna, was by her made + practically ruler of Russia during her reign and designated as + successor by her.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 50: + + Joseph II. of Austria paid a famous visit to Catherine II. of Russia + in 1780.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 51: + + Karamzin (1766–1826), author of a great _History of the Russian + State_, and also of novels in the sentimental romantic style of his + period. + +Footnote 52: + + In the _Philosophische Briefe_. + +Footnote 53: + + See the _Tagebuch_ of Bettina von Arnim for the account of her famous + first interview with Goethe.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 54: + + Schiller’s poetry has not lost its influence on me. A few months ago I + read _Wallenstein_, that titanic work, aloud to my son. The man who + has lost his taste for Schiller has grown old or pedantic, has grown + hard or forgotten himself. What is one to say of these precocious + _altkluge Burschen_ who know his defects so well at seventeen? + +Footnote 55: + + Written in 1853. + +Footnote 56: + + Translated by Juliet Soskice. + +Footnote 57: + + The hero of _La Vie du Chevalier de Faublas_ (1787), by Louvet de + Couvray, is the type of the effeminate rake and fashionable exquisite + of the period.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 58: + + Beaumarchais, author of _Le Barbier de Séville_ and _Le Mariage de + Figaro_. + +Footnote 59: + + Casti (1721–1803), an Italian poet, ‘attached by habit and taste to + the polished and frivolous society of the _ancien regime_, his + sympathies were nevertheless liberal,’ satirised Catherine II. and, + when exiled on that account from Vienna, had the spirit to resign his + Austrian pension. The _Talking Animals_, a satire on the predominance + of the foreigner in political life, is his best work. The influence of + his poems on Byron is apparent in ‘Don Juan.’—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 60: + + Gonzaga was a Venetian painter who came to Petersburg in 1792 to paint + scenery for the Court Theatre. He planned the celebrated park at + Pavlovsk. + +Footnote 61: + + Derzhavin, Gavril Romanovitch (1743–1816), was poet-laureate to + Catherine II., and wrote numerous patriotic and a few other odes. + +Footnote 62: + + Krylov, Ivan Andreyevitch (1768–1844), was a very popular writer of + fables in verse.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 63: + + Marmontel (1723–1799), author of the _Contes Moraux_ and other + stories. + +Footnote 64: + + Marivaux (1688–1763), author of numerous plays and a novel called + _Marianne_—all distinguished by an excessive refinement of sentiment + and language. + +Footnote 65: + + Shalikov and V. Panaev were insignificant writers of the early part of + the eighteenth century.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 66: + + Arapov (1796–1861) wrote some twenty plays, but is chiefly remembered + for the _Chronicle of the Russian Theatre_ (published after his + death), a chronological record of everything performed on the Russian + stage up to 1825. + +Footnote 67: + + I. I. Dmitriev (1760–1837) wrote a number of fables and songs, of + which ‘The Little Dove’ is the best known. He was a great patron of + young literary men, and in 1810 was made Minister of Justice. + +Footnote 68: + + Vassily Lvovitch Pushkin, a minor poet, uncle of the famous + Pushkin.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 69: + + The uniform of the secret police of which Benckendorf was head was + light blue with a white strap. + +Footnote 70: + + See later, Appendix to Chapter 7 for a full account of this. + +Footnote 71: + + The Kritsky brothers were said to have broken a bust of the Tsar at a + drinking party.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 72: + + By the way, here is another of the fatherly measures of the ‘never to + be forgotten’ Nicholas. Foundling hospitals and the regulations for + their public inspection are among the best monuments of the reign of + Catherine. The very idea of maintaining hospitals, almshouses, and + orphan asylums on part of the percentage made by the loan banks from + the investment of their capital is remarkably intelligent. + + These institutions were accepted, the banks and the regulations + enriched them, the foundling hospitals and almshouses flourished so + far as the universal thievishness of officials permitted them. Of the + children brought into the Foundling Hospital some remained in it, + while others were put out to be brought up by peasant-women in the + country; the latter remained peasants, while the former were brought + up in the institution itself. The more gifted among them were picked + out to continue the high-school course, while the less promising were + taught trades or sent to the Institute of Technology. It was the same + with the girls. Some were trained in handicrafts, others as children’s + nurses, while the cleverest became schoolmistresses and governesses. + But Nicholas dealt a terrible blow to this institution, too. It is + said that the Empress on one occasion, meeting in the house of one of + her friends the children’s governess, entered into conversation with + her and, being very much pleased with her, inquired where she had been + brought up, to which the young woman answered, the Foundling Hospital. + Any one would suppose that the Empress would be grateful to the + government for it. No—it gave her occasion to reflect on the + _impropriety_ of giving such an education to abandoned children. + + A few months later Nicholas transferred the higher classes of the + Foundling Hospital to the Officers’ Institute, _i.e._ commanded that + the foundlings should no longer be put in these classes, but replaced + them with the children of officers. He even thought of a more radical + measure, he forbade the provincial institutions in their regulations + to accept new-born infants. The best commentary on this intelligent + measure is to be found in the records of the Minister of Justice under + the heading ‘Infanticide.’ + +Footnote 73: + + Immense progress has been made in this respect. All that I have heard + of late of the theological Academies, and even of the Seminaries + confirms it. I need hardly say that it is not the ecclesiastical + authorities but the spirit of the pupils that is responsible for this + improvement. + +Footnote 74: + + Griboyedov’s famous comedy, which appeared and had a large circulation + in manuscript copies in 1824, its performance and publication being + prevented by the Censorship. When performed later it was in a very + mutilated form. It was a lively satire on Moscow society and full of + references to well-known persons, such as Izmailov and Tolstoy ‘the + American.’ Griboyedov was imprisoned in 1825 in connection with the + Fourteenth of December.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 75: + + Stanislav Leszcynski, king of Poland from 1702 to 1709. His daughter + Maria was married to Louis XV. of France.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 76: + + Lalande (1732–1807), a French astronomer connected with the theory of + the planets of Mercury. + +Footnote 77: + + Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire (1772–1844), French naturalist and author of + many books on zoology and biology—in which, in opposition to Cuvier, + he advanced the theory of the variation of species under the influence + of environment. + +Footnote 78: + + Oken, German naturalist, who aimed at deducing a system of natural + philosophy from _à priori_ propositions, and incidentally threw off + some valuable and suggestive ideas.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 79: + + At that time there were none of the inspectors and subinspectors who + played the part of my Pyotr Fyodorovitch in the lecture-room. + +Footnote 80: + + A pun on the name—the phrase meaning also ‘Nine all but a + little.’—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 81: + + Merzlyakov, a critic and translator of some merit.—(_Translator’s + Note._) + +Footnote 82: + + Abencerrages, a Moorish family, on the legend of whose tragic fate in + Granada, Chateaubriand founded his romance _Les Aventures du Dernier + des Abencérages_. + +Footnote 83: + + Tredyakovsky (1703–1769), son of a priest at Astrakhan, is said, like + Lomonossov, to have walked to Moscow in pursuit of learning. He was + the author of inferior poems, but did great service to Russian culture + by his numerous translations. He was the first to write in Russian as + spoken. + +Footnote 84: + + Kostrov (1750–1796), a peasant’s son and a seminarist, wrote in + imitation of Derzhavin, but is better known for his translations of + the Iliad, Apuleius and Ossian. + +Footnote 85: + + Heraskov (1733–1807), author of an immense number of poems in + pseudo-classic style. Wiener says ‘they now appal us with their inane + voluminousness.’ But readers of Turgenev will remember how greatly + they were admired by Punin. The best known of his epics is the + Rossiad, dealing with Ivan the Terrible. + +Footnote 86: + + Knyazhnin (1742–1791) wrote numerous tragedies and comedies, chiefly + adaptations from the French or Italian, and of no literary + merit.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 87: + + Byelinsky, Vissarion Grigoryevitch (1810–1848), was the greatest of + Russian critics. See later, Chapter 25, Vol. II., for an account of + him. + +Footnote 88: + + Kavelin (1818–1855), a writer of brilliant articles on political and + economical questions. Friend of Turgenev. + +Footnote 89: + + Pirogov (1810–1881), the great surgeon and medical authority, was + the first in Russia to investigate disease by experiments on + animals, and to use anæsthetics for operations. He took an active + part in education and the reforms of the early years of Alexander + II.’s reign, and published many treatises on medical subjects. To + his genius and influence as Professor of Medicine in Petersburg + University is largely due the very high standard of medical training + in Russia.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 90: + + Glinka, author of patriotic verses of no merit. Referred to as ‘the + officer’ by Pushkin in a poem.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 91: + + How diversely Humboldt’s travels were understood in Russia may be + gathered from the account of an Ural Cossack who served in the office + of the Governor of Perm; he liked to describe how he had escorted the + mad Prussian Prince, Gumplot. What did he do? ‘Just the same silly + things, collecting grasses, looking at the sand; at Solontchaki he + said to me, through the interpreter, ‘Go into the water and get what’s + at the bottom’; well, I got just what is usually at the bottom, and he + asks, ‘Is the water very cold at the bottom?’ ‘No, my lad,’ I thought, + ‘you won’t catch me.’ So I drew myself up at attention, and answered, + ‘When it’s our duty, your Highness, it’s of no consequence, we are + glad to do our best.’ + +Footnote 92: + + Homyakov. See later, Chapter 30, for Herzen’s account of this leader + of the Slavophil movement.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 93: + + Pic-de-la-Mirandole (1463–1494), a learned Italian who was the most + famous of all infant prodigies, a mediæval ‘Admirable + Crichton.’—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 94: + + Ledru-Rollin (1808–1874), member of the French Provisional Government + of 1848, and one of the earliest advocates of universal adult + suffrage.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 95: + + Catherine II., born a German princess, rose to be Empress of Russia + through the murder—by her orders or with her connivance—of her + husband, Peter III., to the great advantage of the country. + +Footnote 96: + + Mrs. Radcliffe (1764–1823) wrote many stories, _The Mysteries of + Udolpho_ and _The Italians_ being the best known. All largely turn on + mysterious haunted castles, and had great vogue in their + day.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 97: + + Manuel (J. A.), a man of great independence and honesty, was expelled + from the Chambre des Députés for his opposition to the war with Spain + in 1823. + +Footnote 98: + + Dupont de l’Eure (J. C.), a leader in the revolution of 1830, was + afterwards president of the Provisional Government in 1848. + +Footnote 99: + + Armand Carrel (1800–1836), as editor of _Le National_, offered + spirited opposition to Charles X., as well as to aggressive acts of + the government of Louis-Philippe.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 100: + + Here is what Denis Davydov[101] tells in his Memoirs: + + ‘The Tsar said one day to A. P. Yermolov: “I was once in a very + terrible position during the Polish War. My wife was expecting her + confinement, the mutiny had broken out in Novgorod, I had only two + squadrons of Horse Guards left me; the news from the army only reached + me through Königsberg. I was forced to surround myself with soldiers + discharged from hospital.”’ + + The Memoirs of this general of partisans leave no room for doubt that + Nicholas, like Araktcheyev, like all cold-hearted, cruel and + revengeful people, was a coward. Here is what General Tchetchensky + told Davydov: ‘You know that I can appreciate manliness and so you + will believe my words. I was near the Tsar on the 14th December, and I + watched him all the time. I can assure you on my honour that the Tsar, + who was very pale all the time, had his heart in his boots.’ + + And again Davydov himself tells us: ‘During the riot in the Haymarket, + the Tsar only visited the capital on the second day when order was + restored. The Tsar was at Peterhof, and himself observed casually, “I + was standing all day with Volkonsky on a mound in the garden, + listening for the sound of cannon-shot from the direction of + Petersburg.” Instead of anxiously listening in the garden, and + continually sending couriers to Petersburg,’ added Davydov, ‘he ought + to have hastened there himself; any one of the least manliness would + have done so. On the following day (when everything was quiet) the + Tsar rode in his carriage into the crowd, which filled the square, and + shouted to it, “On your knees!” and the crowd hurriedly obeyed the + order. The Tsar, seeing several people dressed in parti-coloured + clothes (among those following the carriage), imagined that they were + suspicious characters, and ordered the poor wretches to be taken to + the lock-up and, turning to the people, began shouting: “They are all + wretched Poles, they have egged you on.” Such an ill-timed sally + completely ruined the effect in my opinion.’ + + A strange sort of bird was this Nicholas! + +Footnote 101: + + Davydov (see Tolstoy’s _War and Peace_) and Yermolov were both leaders + of the partisan or guerilla warfare against the French in + 1812.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 102: + + And where are the Kritskys? What had they done? Who tried them? For + what were they condemned? + +Footnote 103: + + _I.e._, Tatyana Kutchin, the ‘cousin from Kortcheva,’ mentioned in + Chapter 3.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 104: + + Venevitinov, a young poet whose few poems showed the greatest promise. + He died at the age of seventeen. + +Footnote 105: + + The members of the Petrashevsky group, of whom Dostoevsky was one, + were condemned to death, and led out to the scaffold. At the last + moment their sentence was transmuted to penal servitude in + Siberia.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 106: + + _I.e._, of supervision by the secret police, whose light-blue uniform + was worn with a white strap.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 107: + + The dynasty of kings of Poland from 1386 to 1572. + +Footnote 108: + + Karl Sand, a student of Jena University, who in 1819 assassinated the + German dramatist Kotzebue, because he threw ridicule on the + Burschenschaft movement.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 109: + + In 1844, I met Perevoshtchikov at Shtchepkin’s and sat beside him at + dinner. Towards the end he could not resist saying: ‘It is a pity, a + very great pity, that circumstances prevented you from taking up work, + you had excellent abilities.’ + + ‘But you know it’s not for every one to follow you up to heaven. We + are busy here on earth at work of some sort.’ + + ‘Upon my word, to be sure that may be work of a sort. Hegelian + philosophy perhaps. I have read your articles, there is no + understanding them; bird’s language, that’s queer sort of work. No, + indeed!’ + + For a long while I was amused at this verdict, that is, for a long + while I could not understand that our language really was poor; if it + were a bird’s, it must have been the bird that was Minerva’s + favourite. + +Footnote 110: + + Among the papers sent me from Moscow, I found a note in which I + informed my cousin who was in the country that I had taken my degree. + ‘The examination is over, and I am a graduate! You cannot imagine the + sweet feeling of freedom after four years of work. Did you think of me + on Thursday? It was a stifling day, and the torture lasted from nine + in the morning till nine in the evening.’ (26th June 1833.) I fancy I + added two hours for effect or to round off the sentence. But for all + my pleasure, my vanity was stung by another student’s winning the gold + medal. In a second letter of the 6th July, I find: ‘To-day was the + prizegiving, but I was not there. I did not care to be second at the + giving of the medals.’ + +Footnote 111: + + St. Just was a member of the Convention and the Committee of Public + Safety, a follower of Robespierre and beheaded with him at the age of + twenty-seven. + +Footnote 112: + + Hoche and Marceau were generals of the French Revolutionary Army. Both + were engaged in the pacification of La Vendée. Both perished before + reaching the age of thirty. + +Footnote 113: + + Desmoulins was one of the early leaders of the French Revolution, and + headed the attack on the Bastille; afterwards accused of being a + Moderate and beheaded together with Danton at the age of thirty-four. + +Footnote 114: + + Escousse (b. 1813) and Lebras (b. 1816) were poets who wrote in + collaboration a successful play, _Farruck le Maure_, followed by + an unsuccessful one called _Raymond_. On the failure of the latter + they committed suicide in 1832. Béranger wrote a poem on + them.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 115: + + _I.e._, Nikolay Pavlovitch Golohvastov, the younger of the two sons of + a sister of Herzen’s father. These two sons are fully described in + Vol. II. Chapter 31.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 116: + + This is the earliest record of Russian history. It begins with the + Deluge and continues in leisurely fashion up to the year 1110. Nestor, + of whom nothing is really known, is assumed to have been a monk of the + twelfth century.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 117: + + Enfantin, a French engineer, was one of the founders of + Saint-Simonism.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 118: + + Familiar to all English school-girls of the last generation in the + French as _La Jeune Sibérienne_ by Xavier de Maistre. I cannot + discover whether the Russian version is the original and the French + the translation or vice versa.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 119: + + Translated by Juliet Soskice. + +Footnote 120: + + J. S. Bailly (1736–1793), one of the early leaders of the French + revolution, and an astronomer and literary man of some distinction, + was Mayor of Paris after the taking of the Bastille, and executed in + 1793. + +Footnote 121: + + Fieschi, the celebrated conspirator, executed in 1836 for + the attempt with an ‘infernal machine’ on the life of + Louis-Philippe.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 122: + + The League of Public Welfare was formed in the reign of Alexander I. + to support philanthropic undertakings and education, to improve the + administration of justice, and to promote the economical welfare of + the country. The best men in Russia belonged to it. At first approved + by Alexander, it was afterwards repressed, and it split into the + ‘Union of the North,’ which aimed at establishing constitutional + government, and the ‘Union of the South’ led by Pestel, which aimed at + republicanism. The two Unions combined in the attempt of December the + Fourteenth.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 123: + + See Gogol’s _Dead Souls_.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 124: + + A character in Gogol’s _Dead Souls_.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 125: + + Philip Wouverman (1619–1668), a Dutch master who excelled in drinking + and hunting scenes. + +Footnote 126: + + Jacques Callot (1592–1635), a French painter and + engraver.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 127: + + The epithet in the last line is left to the imagination in Russian + also.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 128: + + Among those who have distinguished themselves in this line of late + years is the notorious Liprandi, who drew up a scheme for founding an + Academy of Espionage (1858). + +Footnote 129: + + I need not say that this was a barefaced lie, a shameful police trap. + +Footnote 130: + + Marlinsky (pseudonym for Bestuzhev) (1795–1837), author of numerous + tales, extremely romantic in style and subject. Readers of Turgenev + will remember that he was the favourite author of the hero of _Knock, + Knock, Knock_. + +Footnote 131: + + Zagoskin (1789–1852), author of popular historical novels, sentimental + and patriotic.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 132: + + The _Prisoner of the Caucasus_, _Voynarovsky_, and the _Fountain of + Bahtchisaray_ are poems of Pushkin’s. The line quoted is from the last + of the three.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 133: + + The Votyaks are a Mongolian tribe, found in Siberia and Eastern + Russia.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 134: + + Jean-Baptiste Carrier (1756–1794) was responsible for the _noyades_ + and massacre of 1600 people at Nantes, while suppressing the + counter-revolutionary rising of La Vendée.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 135: + + Pun on the Russian word for ‘translate,’ which also means ‘transfer + from place to place.’—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 136: + + In 1802, Alexander I. ordered a report to be sent him concerning the + management by Major-General Izmailov of the latter’s estates in Tula, + where serfs were tortured and imprisoned by their owner on the + slightest provocation. By the connivance of the local authorities, + Izmailov was able to retain control and persist in his brutal + practices till 1830. Even then he was only punished by being deprived + of the management of his estates and interned in a small town. Both + Izmailov and Tolstoy ‘the American’ are referred to in Griboyedov’s + famous play, _Woe from Wit_. + +Footnote 137: + + Mamonov was one of the lovers of Catherine II., declared insane for + having married against her wishes.—(_Translator’s Notes._) + +Footnote 138: + + Minih was a minister and general prominent under Peter the Great and + Anna. On the latter’s death he brought about the downfall of Biron, + was exiled by Elizabeth, and finally brought back from Siberia by + Catherine.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 139: + + Simon Konarski, a Polish revolutionary, also active in the ‘Young + Europe’ (afterwards ‘Young Italy’) movement, lived in disguise and + with a false passport in Poland, founding a printing press and + carrying on active propaganda till he was caught and shot at Vilna in + 1839. His admirers cut the post to which he was tied into bits which + they preserved as relics of a saint.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 140: + + Speransky, a leading statesman of the early period of the reign of + Alexander I., banished in 1812 on a trumped-up charge of treason, + recalled by Nicholas. He was responsible for the codification of + Russian laws. See Tolstoy’s _War and Peace_ for sketch of + him.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 141: + + This gave Count Rastoptchin occasion for a biting jest at Pestel’s + expense. They were both dining with the Tsar. The Tsar, who was + standing at the window, asked: ‘What’s that on the church, the black + thing on the cross?’ ‘I can’t distinguish,’ observed Count + Rastoptchin. ‘You must ask Boris Ivanovitch, he has wonderful eyes, he + sees from here what is being done in Siberia.’ + +Footnote 142: + + I see with great pleasure that the New York papers have several times + repeated this. + +Footnote 143: + + Seslavin was a famous leader of the guerilla warfare against Napoleon + in 1812.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 144: + + An epigram of Pushkin’s contains the two lines:— + + ‘“I’ll buy all,” said Gold. + “I’ll take all,” said Steel.’—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 145: + + All their prayers may be reduced to a petition for the continuance of + their race, for their crops, and the preservation of their herds. + + ‘May Yumala grant that from one sheep may be born two, from one grain + may come five, that my children may have children.’ + + There is something miserable and gloomy, the survival from ancient + times of oppression, in this lack of confidence in life on earth, and + daily bread. The devil (Shaitan) is regarded as equal to God. I saw a + terrible fire in a village, in which the inhabitants were mixed + Russian and Votyak. The Russians were hard at work shouting and + dragging out their things, the tavern-keeper was particularly + conspicuous among them. It was impossible to check the fire, but it + was easy at first to save things. The Votyaks were huddled together on + a little hill, weeping copiously and doing nothing. + +Footnote 146: + + A similar reply (if Kurbanovsky did not invent this one) was made by + peasants in Germany when refusing to be converted to Catholicism. + +Footnote 147: + + Cyril and Methodius were brothers who in the ninth century evangelised + in Thrace, Moesia and Moravia, invented the Slav alphabet, and made a + Slav translation of the Bible. They are saints of both the Greek and + the Catholic Churches.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 148: + + In the Province of Vyatka the peasants are particularly fond of + forming new settlements. Very often three or four clearings are + suddenly discovered in the forest. The immense waste lands and forests + (now half cut down) tempt the peasants to take this _res nullius_ + which is left unused. The Minister of Finance has several times been + obliged to confirm these squatters in possession of the land. + +Footnote 149: + + Zhukovsky (1786–1852), the well-known poet, was tutor to the + Tsarevitch, afterwards Alexander II. He was a man of fine and + generous character. His original work is not of the first order, + but as a translator from the European and classical languages he + was of invaluable service in the development of Russian + culture.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 150: + + Leroux, a follower of Saint Simon, of the first half of the nineteenth + century.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 151: + + Gebel, a well-known musical composer of the period. + +Footnote 152: + + I thought fit, I don’t understand why, to write these scenes in verse. + Probably I thought that anybody could write unrhymed five-foot + iambics, since even Pogodin[153] wrote them. In 1839 or 1840, I gave + both the manuscripts to Byelinsky to read and calmly awaited his + eulogies. But next day Byelinsky sent them back to me with a note in + which he said: ‘Do please have them copied to run on without being + divided into lines, then I will read them with pleasure, as it is I am + bothered all the time by the idea of their being in verse.’ + + Byelinsky killed both my dramatic efforts. It is always pleasant to + pay one’s debts. In 1841, Byelinsky published a long dialogue upon + literature in the _Notes of the Fatherland_. ‘How do you like my last + article?’ he asked me, as we were dining together _en petit comité_ at + Dusseau’s. ‘Very much,’ I answered, ‘all that you say is excellent, + but tell me, please, how could you go on struggling for two hours to + talk to that man without seeing at the first word that he was a fool?’ + ‘That’s perfectly true,’ said Byelinsky, bursting into laughter. + ‘Well, my boy, that is crushing! Why, he is a perfect fool!’ + +Footnote 153: + + Pogodin, chiefly known as an historian of a peculiar Slavophil tinge, + was co-editor with Shevyryov of the _Moskvityanin_, a reactionary + journal, and wrote historical novels of little merit.—(_Translator’s + Note._) + +Footnote 154: + + The reference is to the ‘Arzamass,’ a literary club of which Karamzin, + Batyushkov, Uvarov, this Bludov and some others were members. The town + Arzamass is noted for its geese.—(_Translator’s Note._) + +Footnote 155: + + _Il a voulu le bien de ses sujets._ + +Footnote 156: + + The name means ‘not a woman.’—(_Translator’s Note._) + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + Page Changed from Changed to + + 160 they used to keep them for going they used to keep them for going + walks, that strangers on walks, that strangers + + ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last + chapter. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76599 *** |